Officer, Surgeon...Gentleman!

Cole gave his hand to the corpsman, helped him from the table. Amelia watched the man grimace at the pain that shot up his leg at weight-bearing. She hated it that he’d have to rest in the uncomfortable bunks where he’d have no privacy. As an officer, Amelia had the privilege of sharing a small room with only Suzie, but most of the crew shared large open berths where crew were stacked in so tightly they could barely roll over without bumping the cot above them.

“If you get worse today, make sure you let us know.”

“Will do.”

The corpsman left the bay and Amelia stared at Cole. He watched her with an inquisitive light in his eyes. One that saw a bit too clearly below the surface.

“What do you think is going on?” she asked, making great effort to keep her voice cordial, pleasant even.

“With Corporal Wright’s leg or you?”

Good question. “With Corporal Wright’s leg, of course.”

“Most likely he has a secondary infection that’s spreading into the tissue. If he doesn’t respond to the new antibiotic, I’ll consider excising the area.”

“I doubt that’ll be necessary.”

“I hope not, but surgical excision would be preferable to him ending up with septicemia or gangrene.”

“True.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Do you want to stop by and see him with me tomorrow? That way you can decide if surgery should be arranged? You could schedule him if you feel that’s the best treatment option.”

Eyes narrowing, Cole nodded. “That would be great.”

“I’ll have Tracy see what time he’s supposed to come in.”

Amelia turned to step out of the bay, but Cole grabbed her arm. A thousand lightning bolts struck her at once, charring every brain cell to wispy bits of ash.

“About the other?”

“What other?” she gulped, although she knew exactly to what he referred.

“What’s going on, Amelia? Did you suddenly decide I deserve forgiveness?”

Forgiveness? She wasn’t touching that one.

“You wanted us to work in peace, right?” she challenged, biting her tongue to keep from correcting him on the use of her name. “I can manage being civil for five and a half months.”

“Why the change of heart?” He studied her closely.

So closely Amelia wanted to squirm. She didn’t. She held her chin up high and met his gaze head-on in a blatant dare. “Why do you think?”

“Amelia—”

“Hey, Dr Stockton, about that strep patient in bay one?” Tracy poked her head around the curtain, paused when she spotted Cole’s hand wrapped around Amelia’s upper arm and their low conversation. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No interruption,” Amelia assured her, smiling appreciatively at her nurse. “I’m on my way to check the strep patient. Tell Richard to bring back the next patient, and, Tracy, could you let Dr Stanley know what time Corporal Wright will be by tomorrow for his follow-up? If he’s not in surgery, he’ll have a quick look at the patient.”

CHAPTER FIVE

NEAR the end of Amelia’s shift, a corpsman was brought in who’d slammed his fingers in a hatch during a training exercise.

Amazingly his X-ray didn’t show any displaced breaks, only a hairline fracture of the proximal phalange of the index finger, which wouldn’t require an off ship consult with an orthopedic.

After washing her hands and donning gloves, Amelia removed the bloody towel pressed over the man’s hand. She didn’t wince at the bleeding, macerated tissue. She’d been trained to see far worse than the man’s sliced-open, deformed fingers.

“I hope the other guy looks worse,” she teased, hoping to ease the strain from his face. An aircraft carrier with its ladders, hatches and catapults was a host of injuries waiting to happen. Unfortunately.

“Not even a scratch,” the man responded, his eyes not leaving his injuries.