If Randi survived. His fingers clenched around the wheel and he found himself praying to a God he’d thought had long ago turned a deaf ear.
* * *
Thorne McCafferty.
The last person on earth Nicole wanted to deal with. But, no doubt, he’d be here. And soon. As she tore off her surgical gloves, she told herself to buck up. He was just another worried relative of a patient. Nothing more.
Nonetheless Nicole didn’t like the idea of facing him again. There were too many old wounds, too much pain she’d never really resolved, too many emotions that she’d locked away years ago. She’d realized when she moved here after her divorce that she wouldn’t be able to avoid Thorne forever. Grand Hope, despite its recent growth, was still a small town and John Randall McCafferty had been one of its leading citizens. His sons and daughter had grown up here.
So she’d have to face Thorne again. Big deal. It was only a matter of time. Unfortunately the situation—with his sister struggling for her life—wasn’t the best of circumstances.
Nicole stuffed her stethoscope into her pocket and braced herself. Not only would she have to face Thorne again, but Randi McCafferty’s other distraught brothers as well—men she’d known in a lifetime long, long ago when she’d dated their older brother. Her time with Thorne had been short, though. Intense and unforgettable, but thankfully short. His younger brothers, who had been caught up in their own lives at the time, might not remember her.
Don’t believe it for a minute. When it comes to women, the McCafferty men were almost legendary in their conquests. They’d known all the girls in town.
Another painful old scar ripped open because Nicole had come to face the fact that she had been nothing more than another one of Thorne McCafferty’s conquests, just another notch in his belt. A poor, shy, studious girl who had, for a short period one summer, caught his eye.
An archaic way of thinking, but oh, so torturously true.
Through a high window she saw the movement of stormy gray clouds that reflected her own gloomy thoughts. Though it was only October the weather service had been predicting snow.
She’d been in the ER all day, had nearly finished her shift when Randi McCafferty had been brought in.
Nicole’s feet ached, her head pounded and the thought of a shower was pure heaven—a shower, a glass of chilled Chardonnay, a crackling fire and the twins cuddled with her under the quilt in her favorite rocker as she read them a bedtime story. She couldn’t help but smile. “Later,” she reminded herself. First she had serious business to attend to.
Randi, still in recovery, wasn’t out of the woods yet, nor would she be for a while. Comatose and fighting for her life, Randi would spend the better part of the next week in ICU being monitored, her vital signs watched twenty-four hours.
The good news was that the baby, a robust boy, had survived the accident and a quick Cesarean birth. So far.
Sweaty and forcing a smile she didn’t feel, Nicole slipped into her lab coat and pushed open the doors to the waiting room where two of Randi McCafferty’s brothers sat on chairs, thumbing through magazines, their cups of coffee ignored on a corner table. They were both tall and lanky, handsome men with bold features, expressive eyes and worry written all over their faces.
Looking up as the doors opened, they dropped their magazines and climbed hastily to their feet.
“Mr. McCafferty?” she asked, though she’d spotted them instantly.
“I’m Matt,” the taller of the two said as if he didn’t recognize her. Maybe that was for the best. Keep the situation as professional as possible. Over six feet, with dark-brown eyes and near-black hair, Matt was dressed in jeans and a Western-cut plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Cowboy boots covered his feet and a stir-stick, chewed flat, was wedged firmly in the corner of his mouth. “This is my brother, Slade.”
Again, no hint of recognition lit Slade’s gaze. The youngest of the McCafferty brothers, he’d been tagged as the hellion. He was shorter than Matt by less than an inch and a thin scar jagged down one side of a face distinguished by hawkish features and deep-set, startling blue eyes. Wearing a flannel shirt, faded jeans and beat-up tennis shoes, he shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
“I’m Dr. Stevenson, I was on duty when your sister was brought into the ER.”
“How’s she doin’?” Slade asked anxiously. His eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at her and she realized he’d started the recognition process. It would take a while. It had been years since she’d seen him, her name was different, and there were dozens of women he would have to sift through unless she missed her guess.
She didn’t have time for any of that now. Her job was to allay their fears while explaining about Randi’s condition. “The surgery went well, but your sister was in pretty rough shape when she was brought in, comatose but in labor. Dr. Oliverio delivered your nephew and he seems healthy, though he’ll be given a complete examination by a pediatrician here on staff.
“Randi’s prognosis looks good, barring unforeseen complications, but she’s survived an incredible trauma.” As the brothers listened grimly, Nicole described Randi McCafferty’s injuries—concussion, punctured lung, broken ribs, fractured jaw, nearly shattered femur—the list was long and grave. Concern etched in both brothers’ features, storm clouds gathering in their eyes. Nicole explained the procedures that had been used to repair the damage, using as many lay terms as possible. Matt’s dark skin paled slightly and he winced at one point, looking out the window and chewing the stir-stick until it was thin as parchment. On the other hand, the younger brother, Slade, stared her straight in the face, his jaw clenching, his blue eyes rarely blinking.
As she finished, Slade let out a soft whistle. “Damn it all to hell.”
Matt rubbed the stubble on his chin and stared at her. “But she will make it. Right?”
“Unless she takes a turn for the worse, I think so. There’s always a question with head injuries, but she’s stabilized.”
Slade frowned. “She’s still in a coma.”
“Yes. You understand that I’m the emergency room physician, and other doctors have taken over your sister’s care. Each of them will contact you.”
“When?” Slade demanded.
“As soon as they can.”
She managed a reassuring smile. “I’m going off duty soon. Randi’s other doctors will want to talk to you as well. I came out first because I knew you were anxious.” And because, damn it, I have a personal connection to your family.
“Anxious doesn’t begin to cover it,” Matt said and glanced at his watch. “Shouldn’t Thorne be getting here by now?” he asked his brother.
“He said he was on his way.” Slade’s gaze swung back to Nicole. “Our oldest brother.” His eyebrows knit a bit. “He’ll want a full report.”
“No doubt,” she said and Matt’s eyes narrowed. “I knew him. Years ago.”
She could almost see the wheels turning in the McCafferty brothers’ minds, but the situation with
