Edge of Time (Langston Brothers Series) (11 page)

“I can patch up the men who aren’t seriously wounded,” Marissa volunteered, close on their heels.

Craig and James looked at her
,
but it was Craig who said, “Very well
, do what you think you can. We’ll be out to help you as soon as we’re able.”

*
             
*
             
*

Marissa spent the next two hour
suturing, cleansing, and bandaging wounds. It felt good to do something she
knew.
For the first time working in this hospital she felt her internal switch flick to ER mode and she settled into a familiar groove.

Had she really compared the ER to a war zone? Little had she known…

The injured munitions workers may have been surprised to have a woman tending them, bu
t only one of them gave her
trouble. “I ain’t goin’ ta have no woman layin’ a hand on me,” the middle aged dullard of a man sneered at her. “Women should know their place and it sure ain’t doctoring!” The black, beady eyes scorned her and she drew a ragged breath, recognizing the man who’d been following her the other day, but... big and slow, with obvious mental handicap he hardly seemed the type to be dangerous.

“Come on, Christenson, she did a good job on us, and none
of the other docs look
as good as she does,” a younger man with a small
second degree burn to his back reasoned,
trying to calm the angry man.

Another patient she’d treated chimed in, “Yeah, Paul, give her a chance. She’s got nice, gentle hands,” but the middle-aged
Paul Christenson
turned a prejudiced gaze on Marissa. Blood trickled from an ugly flap of torn flesh on his arm and yellow fat protruded from the jagged gash.

“Sit down,” Marissa commanded, picking up a curved suture needle and thread. She’d dealt with plenty of men like this throughout her nursing career
—
performing a painful procedure could be
a bit satisfying, if the guy insisted on being a jerk.

Surprised by the commanding, no-nonsense tone of her voice, the dullard complied. “Ouch, woman!” he hollered and began to jerk his arm away as she picked up a cloth to cleanse the wound with alcohol. She ignored him and proceeded to suture the gash. “You’re hurtin’ me!” He tried to pull his arm away again.

“Hold still or you’re going to have an even worse wound on your arm.” She continued her work without as much as an upward glance. “Not that I care. I’ll stitch you up as you are, and then again after you’ve ripped all the sutures out.” Grumbling, the man complied but remained still for the remainder of her treatment.

“I’m impressed,” Craig’s voice startled her from her work
.
“I was just about to
step in and rescue
you, but obviously you’re not a damsel need of
rescuing.
”
He stepped up behind her and gestured to the eight sutures she’d placed in the man’s forearm.
“Nice work
.”

“Thanks.
”
S
he flashed a quick smile
, ignoring the nerves Craig ignited
,
before turning back to her patient. “It is very important that you don’t pick at your stit
ches even if they begin to itch. I
f your arm gets red, the sutures come out
,
or if you have any other problems, come back and we’ll take a look at your arm. All right? If you come back in about ten days someone here will take the stitches out.”

Paul’s expression suggested he was about to make a nasty retort
,
but Craig’s glare forestalled it.
Without a parting word Paul left.

Marissa glanced up at Craig.

Rocking back on his heels,
he pegged her with
a curious look. “You said your father taught you all of that?”

“I learned to suture on his hunting dog,” she answered, turning to pick up the supplies.

“I see.” The heat of his gaze burned even though she was not facing him.
“
You are a puzzle,” he murmured.

Marissa gulped, flashing him a nervous glance. She hoped he wouldn’t answer too many prying questions she didn’t have a suitable answer for. “Not hardly.”

“
You know, I’m awed by how you handled Paul Christenson. He can really be a bast-uh-um
—
” He cleared his throat. “He’s not a very nice man.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Marissa agreed, replacing her supplies in their proper drawers.

For a long while
Craig just stared at her with a questioning gaze, finally he said, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Yes. I feel as though my arms are going to fall off, they’re so sore from all the scrubbing I’ve done this week.”
Gesturing to the window she asked
, “When did it get dark out? I didn’t even notice.”

“About forty-five minutes ago,” Craig replied. “
Which gives me an idea, my dear,
h
ow do you feel about star gazing?”

My dear?

How many times had she heard those two little words spoken? She’d never thought of herself as a ‘
my dear
’
as any man’s
dear
for that matter, but coming from his lips…

Without waiting for an answer he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the front door of the hospital. As she stepped into the starry night, the toe of her shoe caught the bottom step and she cried out, twisting precariously off balance. Instantly Craig turned, wrapping strong arms about her waist and half lifted her against him. Marissa swallowed
hard
as she landed mere inches from his smiling visage. Her arms settled about his neck and the length of her body crushed against his deliciously hardened frame.

“Well, aren’t you accident prone?” Craig teased, tilting his head slightly.

“I’ve always been a little clumsy,” she murmured a little too breathlessly.

“Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take whatever excuse I can get to hold you this way.” He half turned, lifting her off the last step and setting her feet gently to the ground without releasing her.

Heart thundering in her chest so hard
he
must
feel it resonating through
her body and into his, she said
, “I wonder how your Miss Jamison would feel about your holding me this way.”

“Miss Jamison?” D
ropping his arms, he gazed down at her in surprise
. “Why would I care about Miss Jamison’s feelings?”

Sliding her arms away from his broad shoulders, she took a small step back, confused
.
“Aren’t you having dinner with her tomorrow night? I heard her ask you.”

A l
opsided grin traversed his face.
“I say, Miss McClafferty, were you spying on me? O
r eavesdropping? Or, better yet…” He leaned provocatively forward.
“A
re you jealous?”

“None of the above!” she said a bit too forcefully. Her cheeks must be on fire and she felt like an awkward teenager failing miserably at an attempt to flirt with the star quarterback. “However, it was imp
ossible for me not to hear her.”

“And did you also hear me decline?”

Marissa stopped short.
“Decline? Er… no.”

Craig just smiled, regarding her with a steady gaze, eyes warm and twinkling. “Come here.” He
slipped an arm about her shoulders and led her up a slight ris
e to a grassy field adjacent
the hospital yard. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
He
step
ped
forward,
allowing his arm to drop from around her and
sweeping
the other
toward the city spread before them.
A
silvery sheen
bathed
Charleston
, masking all evidence of the inner suffering of her citizens. And standing in the glow of the moonlight Craig looked rather like the gatekeeper, a warrior protecting the city from evil. It was almost surreal. The man looked rugged, athletic, and more like Apollo than any man had a right to. The heavy gray jacket was gone and in its place a white shirt gaped at the neck, revealing just a hint of the exp
ansive
muscular chest beneath. Surely he’d been carved from marble to look so perfect.

A warm blush crept into her cheeks and Marissa was glad for the blanket of night. It wouldn’t do for him to realize the extent of his effect on her. Craig reclined casually in the lush grass
, reaching for her hand,
pulling her down with him. She positioned herself to angle slightly away from him.

“What a day.” H
e
released a haggard breath,
leaning up on one elbow. “After an emergency like the munitions plant I can never fall asleep right away. I have to let my mind settle for a while no matter how tired I am. Star gazing always seems to help me relax.”

Marissa shifted, facing him directly.
“I know exactly what you mean. My mind whirls after a busy day. I hate feeling helpless to change things.” Remembering their conversation about Billy Cole a few days before, she turned compassionate eyes to him.

Craig nodded. Their eyes locked and true understanding sparkled in the depths.
Marissa’s heart did a little flip. He reached out, grazing a thumb along her cheek. “We are kindred spirits you and I,” he murmured, and Marissa marveled at the realization he was absolutely right. A harmony existed between them. A simple bond that could not be put to words, but existed just the same. They did not need  words or explanations. They just
k
new
what the other needed.

After a long moment Craig turned away from her and pointed upward.
“There is the north star.”

Marissa’s gaze followed his outstretched hand.
“
Yes,
Polaris, the only fixed point in the sky.
I find stars
immensely comforting as they seem never to change.”

“Ah,” he grinned at her, “so you know about medicine
and
astronomy. What next, botany?”

She laughed.
“I
wouldn’
t say I know Astronomy. I am able to recognize
the north star
and that is all
.”