He blinked and resumed suturing. "Ah, no. She won't be doing much with this arm for a week or so, but in a couple of months she'll be as good as new. I'll give you some instructions for the next few days."
"I know the drill," she said, smiling faintly. "Rest, keep an ice pack on the arm, antibiotics."
"That's it," he said, smiling back at her. "I'll write her a prescription for pain, but she may be able to handle it with just OTC meds. No aspirin, though; I don't want this bleeding."
You notice he was talking to Mom now instead of me. She has that effect on men.
The rest of my family had crowded into the cubicle, too. Dad moved to Mom's side and slipped his arm around her waist, consoling her through yet another crisis involving one of their children. Jenni moved to the lone visitor's chair and sat down, crossing her long legs. Dr. MacDuff looked at her and started blinking again. Jennifer has Mom's looks, though her hair is darker.
I cleared my throat and brought Dr. MacDuff back to earth. "Suture," I whispered to him.
"Oh-yeah." He winked at me. "Forgot where I was for a minute."
"It happens," Dad said in sympathy.
Dad is tall and lanky, with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He's calm and laid-back, with this really nutty sense of humor that came in handy a lot during our childhoods. He played baseball in college but majored in electronics, and he handled just fine the pressure of being the only man in a house with four females. I know he was anxious during the drive to the hospital, but now that he knew I was basically all right, he'd settled back into his usual unruffled demeanor.
I grinned at Siana, who was standing by the bed. She grinned back, and cut her eyes to the right. Then she looked back at me with raised brows, which is sister shorthand for: What's with the hunk?
The hunk in question, Wyatt, was standing at the foot of the exam table practically glaring at me. No, not glaring, and not even staring. He was focused on me, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set. He was leaning forward a little, gripping the footrail, and the powerful muscles in his forearms were taut. He was still wearing his shoulder holster, and the big black weapon rode under his left arm.
My family might have relaxed, but Wyatt hadn't. He was in a very bad mood.
Dr. MacDuff tied off the last stitch, then slid his rolling stool over to a counter, where he scribbled on a prescription pad and tore off the top page. "That's it," he said, "except for the paperwork. The scrip is for both an antibiotic and pain medication. Take all of the antibiotic, even if you feel fine. That's it. We'll get you bandaged up and you can go."
The nurses took care of the bandaging, applying a huge amount of gauze and tape that wrapped around my upper arm and shoulder and would make it virtually impossible for me to get into any of my own clothes. I grimaced and said, "This is so not going to work."
"How long before we can change the bandage?" Mom asked Cynthia.
"Give it twenty-four hours. You can shower tomorrow night," she said to me. "I'll give you a list of instructions. And unless you want to wait while someone goes to get some clothes for you, you can wear this beautiful gown home."
"The gown," I said.
"That's what they all say. I don't understand it myself, but, hey, when you like something you like it." She left to go do whatever paperwork needed to be done, pulling the curtain closed behind her with a practiced jerk.
The gown in question was half on, half off, with my right arm threaded through one of the armholes but my left arm bare. I'd been preserving my modesty by holding the gown in place over my breasts, but no way could I get the thing the rest of the way on without flashing everyone.
"If you men don't mind stepping out," I began, only to be interrupted when Mom picked up my date book, which was lying beside my leg because that's where Keisha had put it.
"What's this?" she said, frowning a little as she read. " 'Unlawful detainment. Kidnapping. Manhandled the witness. Snotty attitude-' "
"That's my list of Wyatt's transgressions. Mom, Dad, meet Lieutenant J. W. Bloodsworth. The J stands for Jefferson, the W for Wyatt. Wyatt, my parents-Blair and Tina Mallory-and my sisters-Siana and Jennifer."
He nodded at my parents while Siana reached for the list. "Let me see that."
She and Mom put their heads together. "Some of the things on this list are prosecutable," Siana said, her dimples nowhere in sight as she leveled her lawyer's stare at him.
" 'Refused to call my mom,' " Mom read, and turned an accusing look on him. "That's indefensible."
" 'Laughed while I was lying on the ground bleeding,' " Siana continued.
"I did not," Wyatt said, frowning at me.
"You smiled. Close enough."
"Let's see, there's coercion, badgering, stalking-"
"Stalking?" he said, doing a wonderful imitation of a thundercloud.
" 'Casual about severity of my wound.' " Siana was having a great time. " 'Called me names.' "
"I did not."
"I like the idea of a list," Mom said, taking the date book back from Siana. "It's very efficient, and that way you don't forget anything."
"She never forgets anything anyway," Wyatt said, aggrieved.
"Thank you very much for putting this list thing in Tina's head," Dad said to Wyatt, and he wasn't being sincere. "Way to go." He put his hand on Wyatt's arm and pulled him around. "Let's go outside so they can get Blair dressed, and I'll explain a few things to you. Looks to me like you need the help."
Wyatt didn't want to go-I could see it in his face-but neither did he want to pull any of his snotty attitude with my dad. No, he saved all of that for me. The two men walked out, and of course didn't pull the curtain closed again. Jenni got up and did the honors. She was holding her nose in an effort not to laugh out loud until they were out of hearing distance.