the pain, the tears spilled from his eyes. “It…it hurts,” he gasped, his young voice shaking with anguish. “Real bad.”
Bella stroked her hand along his hairline. “I know it does, baby. But the doctor is going to make it better.”
Shutting out all thoughts but this small, helpless child, she boldly returned her gaze to the doctor’s face. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Shane?”
The sun chose that moment to break through a slit in the fast-moving clouds. Big. Hot. Illuminating.
The doctor stared at her for a long, tense moment. This time, Bella couldn’t look away. The bold, aristocratic angles of his cheekbones, the finely shaped nose and strong jaw covered with day-old stubble created a handsome portrait any leading man would covet.
Bella blinked.
Slowly—very, very slowly—Dr. Shane dropped his gaze to the child. “I’ll do my best, Ethan.”
The boy let out another shaky sigh. “I know.”
Dr. Shane cut his gaze back to Bella. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
His words were more statement than question, but there was an edge of doubt in his eyes. He was asking her to assist him, daring her perhaps, yet convinced she’d somehow let him down.
Would she? She had no training, no experience. Yet an injured boy needed her.
Lord, give me the courage to do what is needed.
Fortunately, the very moment she ended her prayer, Bella’s worries fell away. All that remained was a driving sense of purpose.
She swallowed back the last shreds of uncertainty and boldly held Dr. Shane’s gaze. “Tell me what to do.”
Chapter Two
Locked inside that startling amber gaze, Shane’s thoughts morphed into one undeniable realization. She hadn’t hesitated. The woman with the dark, golden curls, flawless features and refined British accent had defied his expectations. Instead of fleeing the unpleasantness of a child’s injury, she’d taken her place without question.
Could she be the answer to his prayer?
Wishful thinking at best. It was far too soon to determine if she had the character and necessary qualifications he required in an assistant.
Yet, even now, as she boldly held his gaze, conviction blazed in her eyes. What eyes. What depth of emotion.
His heart kicked hard against his ribs, warning him to beware of this woman, this stranger.
Lifting a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, she blew out a slow, impatient breath. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
It took another few seconds for Shane to empty the overload of thoughts and impressions twining together in his mind. “Tell me where it hurts, Ethan.”
The little boy moaned in response, pain twisting his young face. “My…my leg.”
“Let’s have a look.”
Careful to keep his features bland, Shane flicked his gaze past the boy’s torso. Shane’s first reflex was to pull in a sharp breath. Instead, he detached. Separated emotion from logic. And focused.
The right pant leg had been torn at a jagged, vertical angle. Blood soaked the material, turning the light brown cloth nearly black.
“Don’t move, Ethan.” He flipped open his medical bag. “I have to cut away the material surrounding the wound.”
“Oh…okay.”
Shane’s chest pinched tight at the sound of the boy’s anguish. Oh, Lord, he prayed. Fill me with Your Spirit. Guide my hands and use me as Your instrument for healing.
With slow, careful movements, Shane set a firm grip on Ethan’s thigh, and then looked up at the woman again. “I need you to keep him calm for me.”
Eyes wide, she sank her teeth into her lower lip. “How?”
“Hold his hand. Speak to him.” Shane lifted a shoulder. “Whatever it takes.”
Nodding, she braided her fingers with the boy’s. “Ethan. I want you to concentrate on me.” She waited for him to turn his head toward her. “That’s it. The doctor is going to have a look at your injury. Nothing more.”
Ethan sucked in big gulps of air. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me, too.”
Shane wanted to tell them both that everything would be fine, but he couldn’t make such a promise. Not yet.
“You talk funny,” Ethan announced. “I like it.”
Shane did, too. The proper British accent suited her.
“Why, thank you, Ethan. I like the way you talk, too.” Leaning toward the boy’s ear, she asked, “Do you have a favorite song?”
His dark brows pulled together in a frown of concentration. “I…lots… I don’t know…maybe… ‘Amazing Grace’?”
She smiled her approval. “I like that one, too.”
In a low, hushed tone, she began the hymn. Her soft, lilting voice was no piercing soprano as Shane half expected. Rather, she sang with a rich, smoky timbre. Pure velvety warmth. The perfect alto to calm the beast in any man. Or boy.
As Ethan’s leg relaxed under Shane’s touch, Shane found the restlessness inside him also stopping, pausing. Listening to the beautiful song.
Torn between shock and admiration, Shane shook his head and returned to his work. With quick snips, he cut away the tattered material and pulled it aside to reveal a long, nasty gash running down the side of Ethan’s leg. Thankfully, there was no swelling or misshapen bump to indicate a break.
As if on cue, the woman turned her gaze toward the injury, as well. To her credit, her singing never faltered. Nor did she flinch.
Astounding.
Shane had seen trained doctors fail to maintain their reactions so well. Stunned once again by her remarkable behavior, Shane sucked in a lungful of cold mountain air. Who was this woman? He was certain he’d never met her. Then why did he experience recognition when he looked into her eyes?
The sound of approaching footsteps cut off his thoughts.
Stabbing a glance over his shoulder, Shane barked out a set of orders for Marc. “I’m going to move Ethan to the kitchen. I’ll need water, clean rags and Laney’s sewing kit.”
Having experienced his share of injuries, Marc pivoted on his heel and flicked his wrist in the air. “I’m already on it.”
“Ethan, before we move you I want to make sure you haven’t broken anything.”
The boy squeezed his eyes shut, sighed.
