The Mechanic & the MD Read online

  “No one has ever asked me that before.” He looked off into the distance. “Human anatomy is a mystery. The way our systems respond to injury and illness. We doctors only do so much with our techniques, whether surgery or pharmaceuticals, then the body takes over to heal and repair itself. I learn something new every day, which is exciting.

  “You make yourself sound not much more than a mechanic.”

  He shrugged. “God is the one who saves. I’m merely his instrument.”

  She blinked. Confident yet humble, the man was an enigma. An alluring mystery she’d love to solve.

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  Ron gripped the door handle as the jeep rattled over the washboard road. He peeked at Doris, who hunched over the wheel, eyes intent on their destination. She swerved, and he jostled her arm. She glanced at him. “Sorry.”

  He smiled. “You’re doing fine.” Only minutes earlier, they’d been arguing about her driving. Now, he appreciated her calm determination driving in less-than-ideal conditions. Most women he knew sat in the back of a chauffeur-driven sedan oblivious to the inner workings of the car or the challenge of navigating the highways. He cleared his throat. “My turn to ask questions. You told me why you’re a mechanic. What do you love about it?”

  “Don’t you really mean why didn’t I choose nursing or teaching?” She grinned, taking the sting from her words.

  “Yeah, about that—”

  “Forget about it.” She waved her hand. “My relationship with auto mechanics is complicated. Spending time with my dad was special. We could talk about anything as long as we were stooped over an engine or lying on the ground under a chassis. Working with him taught me the patience and skills to diagnose a problem.”

  “But that’s not the complication, is it?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “No. Being a grease monkey made me different from the other girls. I wasn’t interested in clothes or shopping or dreaming about movie stars. Being tall and gangly didn’t help either. Most of the guys were shorter than me—still are. I wasn’t considered girly enough for the kids.”

  His heart constricted. “Were you taunted?”

  “Teenage girls can be ruthless. I preferred the times they ignored me.”

  He patted her shoulder, the warmth of her body permeating the fabric under his palm. He pulled away and laced his fingers. “Too bad people aren’t as easy to analyze as cars, huh?”

  “Exactly! I considered trying to change so the girls would like me, but Dad convinced me I didn’t want those kinds of people as friends.”

  “Wise man.”

  “Maybe, but I still struggled with insecurity throughout high school.” She sighed. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this.”

  “Because I asked. Remember?”

  “Right. Anyway, I tried a year of college but was miserable. Dad let me drop out and work at his garage…the happiest time of my life. But his health took a turn, and he sold the business. None of the other places in town would hire me.”

  He cringed. No wonder she reacted with anger when he spouted his opinions about her vocation. Had the female medical students and residents had the same sorts of difficulties? He’d been so focused on his own career, he’d never noticed. Forgive me, Lord.

  “The thing about cars and engines is their predictability. Each vehicle is designed using specific parts with definitive purposes that can only be assembled one way. Predictability is comfortable. People are…you know…”

  “Unpredictable, and therefore uncomfortable.”

  “Yeah, very.”

  “How about the girls in the motor corps? Do you get along?”

  “For the most part. We have a couple of gals…well…uh…”

  “Who make it feel like high school all over again?”

  She giggled, bell-like. “Something like that.”

  His heart warmed. Her classmates were wrong. She was definitely girly.

  Chapter Six

  Rain pummeled the windshield, and the wipers struggled to clear the sheets of water. Thunder boomed overhead. Doris gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. A frog strangler, as her aunt would say. The taillights of the ambulance in front of her were barely visible through the torrent. Lord, please don’t let me drive into a tree. She licked her dry lips. Must remember to breathe.

  Next to her, Maureen kept up a constant stream of chatter. Did the woman not care about the four patients in the back of the ambulance? All Doris could think about was the horrific injuries on their bodies. Fortunately, no one died as a result of the explosion at the munitions factory. Yet. The desire to get the victims into Ron’s capable hands warred with the necessity of not worsening their wounds by jostling them over the uneven roads.

  “I hate what the weather does to my hair, don’t you? I’ll be a frizzled mess by the time we get back.” Maureen frowned and fiddled with her unruly hair. “You have it easy with those straight locks of yours. Just tuck ’em under your cap and go.”

  They were on a mission of life and death, and all the woman could care about was how she looked. Doris rolled her eyes. What kind of person does that?

  Show her grace, My child. As I have done for you.

  Guilt pricked Doris, and she sighed, searching her mind for something to say that wouldn’t sound like a criticism. She mumbled an incoherent response that could be taken as affirmation.

  The storm abated, and Doris swiveled her neck to unknot the muscles in her shoulder. Clothes damp from loading the patients during the worst of the downpour, her uniform clung to her skin. How long before she could peel off the wet garments, climb into her pajamas, and nestle under the covers?

  Maureen continued to prattle. “I thought if I worked for the Red Cross, I’d spend more time with the doctors or at least the medics. This driving up and down the roads in the backwoods of England is tedious. Don’t you think?”

  “No. I like driving, and I especially enjoy working on the vehicles.”

  “I like that, too, but we’re stuck in the garage for hours at a time.”

  “We’re mechanics with the motor corps.” Doris glanced at her passenger. “What did you expect?”

  With a shrug, Maureen inspected her fingernails. “The recruiting officer made the job sound glamorous, but so far the closest I’ve gotten to glamour is on my nights off when I can give myself a manicure and a pedicure. I want to end up with a husband after all this suffering, you know? And if he happens to be a rich doctor, so much the better. But I don’t want to settle down right away. Life’s too short, especially here, where we have to worry about being bombed.”

  “The raids do make our lives more precarious, but the uncertainty has given me a greater appreciation for each moment.”

  “Exactly! I plan to jam as much fun into every minute as I can. The wine isn’t that great, but the music, dancing, and ratio of guys to gals is a decent substitute. If I’m going to die, I’m going to savor each day as if it’s my last.”

  Doris took a deep breath. She didn’t want to offend Maureen, but she needed to understand the futility of her hedonistic lifestyle. “But what about after you die? Are you prepared for what comes next?”

  Maureen wrinkled her nose. “Nothing comes next. We live. We die. Poof. Then nothing.”

  “I believe differently. May I tell you about it?”

  “You’ve no right to judge me and my decisions. I’ve heard about you. How straitlaced you are.”

  “I’m not judging you, but I’d like to give you some information to consider.”

  “Fine.” Maureen flounced against the seat and crossed her arms. “But I’m not making any promises.”

  “According to the Bible—”

  “A bunch of fairy tales.”

  “There are many secular scholars who wrote about the events that are recorded in the Bible, including Jesus’ life. And He said many times there is life after death, and we have an opportunity to be in heaven with Him and His Father after we d
ie. Life is hard, especially now, but I’m able to have peace about my circumstances because of my belief in Him.”

  “So you never get upset?”

  Doris held up her hand. “Just the opposite. Unfortunately, I have a temper, and my knee-jerk reactions and mouth often put me in hot water, but when I remember to ask for God’s help in situations, I’m able to deal with them a lot better.”

  “But don’t you want to have fun?”

  “Absolutely. But I want my amusement to come without regrets.”

  Maureen’s face pinked. “Yeah, I’ve got plenty of those. But it’s too late for me to start over.”

  “No. You can begin anew at any time with God. He doesn’t have a deadline.”

  The gates of the hospital appeared, and Doris frowned. Who knew she’d be disappointed to arrive at their destination? She needed more time to explain.

  Patience, child. You’ve planted a seed.

  She braked the ambulance behind the other vehicles. Orderlies and nurses rushed patients into the building. “We better get hopping, but anytime you want to talk, I’m available.”

  “Okay. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks for not getting mad when I said some of those things.”

  Doris nodded.

  They jumped out and hurried to open the back of the ambulance. Maureen climbed inside, grabbed one end of the first stretcher, and then moved the wounded into the cavernous entryway of the hospital. Lined up along the walls, the patients waited their turns in the operating room.

  At one end of the room, Ron knelt beside a man who moaned and held his bandaged head. The doctor’s words were unintelligible, but calm assurance exuded from his posture and kind smile on his face. Doris stared at him for a long moment.

  Maureen poked her in the ribs. “I’m sure you’d like to spend all day watching Dr. Dreamboat, but there are three more stretchers to retrieve.”

  “Right.” Doris slapped her forehead. “He was…I just…never mind.”

  With a smirk, Maureen hooked her hand through Doris’s arm. “You can tell me all about it while we work.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “I don’t believe you, but we’ve got work to do so I won’t push you, but later…” She gave Doris a cheeky grin and waggled her eyebrows. “I want the lowdown on the good doctor.”

  Doris’s face warmed, and she ducked her head.

  “Now, I know there’s something.” She laughed. “And Strealer, don’t ever play poker.”

  They finished moving the patients, and Doris headed to the driver’s side to stow the ambulance in the garage.

  “Miss Strealer, putting away the vehicle can wait.” Ron stood on the pillared verandah, a clipboard in hand. “You’re needed in triage.”

  “I’m not a nurse.”

  “But as a member of the Red Cross, you’ve had basic first-aid training. There are three nurses down with the flu, and Sister Greene is managing the operating room, which is where I should be. You are capable of performing basic assessments. And this isn’t a request, it’s an order.”

  She pressed her lips together. The arrogant doctor was back in business. With a mock salute, she trotted up the stairs. “Yes, sir. Where should I begin?”

  He pointed to the far end of the foyer. “The last man in the corner. To review your responsibilities, take only sixty to ninety seconds to make your assessment. Is breathing labored? Does the airway seem impaired? What is the skin color and moisture level? Check the pulse speed and rhythm and level of consciousness.” He handed her a stack of tags and a pencil. “Mark the information on these, and tie the tag to a button or some part of the clothing. One of the junior cadet nurses will put patients in order of priority. Understood?”

  “Yes.” She clutched the cards in cold hands. Would someone die because she failed?

  Ron lifted her chin with his finger until her eyes met his. “You can do this. Don’t second-guess yourself. I’ll be over there if you need me.” He ran his knuckle along her jaw then pivoted on his heel and strode to the far side of the room.

  She shivered, and her skin tingled where he’d touched her. One minute bossy and the next encouraging. Her emotions got a case of whiplash when she was around him. She needed to spend more time in the garage. Chest tight, she gripped the pencil and picked her way through the stretchers to her first patient.

  What did she care how Ron acted? He would never be interested in someone like her: a girl who hadn’t finished college and got grease under her nails. Besides, there was a war on. No one in their right mind got involved in a serious relationship. Either one of them could be killed at any time. Their near misses during the bombing raids had proven that fact.

  Ron’s voice carried toward her. She resisted the urge to turn and watch him, but an image of his face flashed into her mind anyway. His intriguing hazel eyes with crinkles around the edges and his athletic build. Since when did doctors come in such hunky packages? Every shred of willpower would be necessary to focus on the job. Maybe she should put in for a transfer to a location where the doctors weren’t so enticing.

  Chapter Seven

  Ron eyed Doris as she made her way from stretcher to stretcher, her pale face determined yet compassionate. Pencil gripped between her fingers, she examined each patient with a studied gaze, then she made notations on the tags. With a smile and a quiet word, she moved on to the next victim. He glanced at his watch. She averaged two-and-a-half minutes with each man. Not bad for a first-timer.

  “Am I going to lose my leg, Doctor?”

  Ron gazed down at the soldier lying on the floor, his freckles dark against his ashen skin. The boy’s uniform was dirty and torn, his white bandages in stark contrast. “I can’t make any promises other than I will do my best to ensure you’ll be dancing on your wedding day. How does that sound?”

  The young man grinned, then grimaced, and clutched his side. “I think I mighta broke my ribs, Doc. Can you take a look at them?”

  “I’ll be sure to check you from tip to toe.” He tied the tag to the soldier’s uniform then patted his shoulder. It was dangerous to get chummy with the patients in case they didn’t live, but surely he could patch up this boy as good as new. “Close your eyes and rest.”

  “Thanks, Doc. Take good care of my buddy, too, will ya?”

  “Absolutely. We only offer the best service.” Ron rose, his knees protesting the sudden motion. He swayed, and a small hand steadied him from behind. He gained his balance and turned.

  Expression wary, Doris stood, one arm outstretched, the other tucked to her side gripping the clipboard. “I’ve finished with the group of patients along the far wall. Would you like me to take over here so you can get into the operating theater?”

  “Not just yet. I’d like to check your work.”

  Her lips thinned then relaxed. “Of course. My first assignment as triage nurse.” Her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. “Although in this getup, it’s a wonder the boys didn’t object to my ministrations. I’m missing that cute seersucker uniform with the jaunty hat.”

  “You don’t need any particular outfit to look cute.” He winked then held his breath. He’d not meant to blurt out his thoughts. Would she be offended at the off-the-cuff comment?

  “Thanks for that, but I’m sure you’re just being kind.” She swept her arm toward the line of patients. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, a Shakespearean student. You obviously know that line is often misquoted.”

  “I’m not just another pretty face, Doctor.” She batted her eyes and mugged a pinup pose. “I’ve got brains, too.”

  “Of that I’m sure.” Still grinning, he walked to the litters and quickly reviewed her assessments. Impressive. Her handwriting was neat and readable, the information concise and correct. “Well done, Miss Strealer. You may have found a new calling.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she dropped her gaze. “I’ll stick to cars, thank you.”


  “Not yet. There are a handful of patients yet to appraise, then I’ll need you to follow me into surgery.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Her eyes were so wide, her deep brown irises swam in a sea of white.

  “As I said, I’m down three nurses, and the orderlies have their own responsibilities. After we’re done here, we’ll scrub up, and you’ll assist me in the operating room.”

  The color drained from her face in a flash, and she gulped. “But—”

  “I won’t let you fail.” He curved his lips into what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Now, MacBeth, let’s hop to it.”

  Suspicion clinging to her expression, she nodded and took a deep breath.

  They squatted near the first of the remaining patients, and he cocked his head. “What is your appraisal, Miss Strealer?”

  “Uh, okay, patient is conscious and alert; his color is good, airway is not blocked, and”—she pressed her index and middle fingers against the inside of the man’s wrist—“pulse is steady and strong. His arm is splinted, therefore the medics feel the limb may be broken.”

  “Very good. I will confirm their theory later, but he should be fine until we can get to him.” Ron reached for the tag on which she’d made notations, and their fingers brushed. Electricity shot up his arm, and his heart rate jumped. His adrenaline surged. He failed on willing his hands not to tremble like a schoolboy’s with his first crush. If he didn’t get a handle on the attraction he felt when Doris was nearby, the patients might suffer, which he couldn’t allow.

  She was nothing like the women he’d dated. Not that there had been many. He’d been so focused on completing his education and starting his career, he’d had very little personal life. He’d also had no interest in the female med students. They were competitors, not marriage material. The few gals he’d walked out with during college were petite and perky, and hung on his every word. Granted, that was before they got to know him. Within weeks of their first dinner, they would break off the relationship, citing his self-absorption and arrogance.