Chapter Nine

The sun was shining brightly when I woke up the next morning, which was a nice change from the rain the day before. I stretched and rolled over, cat-like, into the patch of light that warmed Martin's side of the bed. I could hear him on the phone downstairs, practically shouting at whoever was on the other end. In a second, his footsteps sounded on the stairs and he came abruptly into the room.

"I have to go," he told me, leaning over to give me a kiss on the cheek.

"Who was on the phone?" I asked, noticing the concern on his face.

"It was Al Large…I couldn't hear him very well but apparently he and Mark Mylow are camping in the woods somewhere…"

"Yes, don't you remember Mark inviting you?" I answered, grinning. He pursed his lips.

"Well from what I gather, Mark has been bitten by a snake and is having an allergic reaction," he finished. "And now I have to somehow figure out exactly where they are in the vast bloody wilderness of Cornwall." He truly looked as if he was at a loss at what to do. If Al didn't know exactly where they were, how would Martin be able to find them?

A thought popped into my head. "Stewart the ranger," I blurted. "Call Stewart James, he should be able to help, right?" Martin visibly relaxed a bit.

"Yes, I didn't even think of that…thank you. Could you call him for me please and tell him I'm on my way to his cabin?"

"Of course…" Martin kissed me again and was out the bedroom door as I added, "and honey, please be careful!"

Stewart James was a very nice man but I wasn't sure how well he would do in a crisis. Yes, he would no doubt be able to lead them right to where the men were camping, but he wasn't exactly what you would call mentally stable. Occasionally, he was prone to hallucinations of grey squirrels that were a direct threat to his imaginary best friend Antony. It sounds ridiculous, but there was no telling what he would do…including something dangerous.

I sighed and sat up in bed, making sure my stomach felt all right before venturing out of bed. I went downstairs to the surgery and found Stewart's phone number in the directory, and called him to relay Martin's message. He assured me he would be on the lookout for him.

I took a shower and ate a little breakfast, and then headed to the farm for my visit with Mom and Joan. They were in the barn when I arrived, dutifully watching over a sheep that had just begun laboring.

"This is the last one of the season, thank god," Joan lamented. "I hate to admit it, but I may be getting too old for this. Eight lambs this year and I'm worn out. I may have to hire someone to help me next year."

"I think this would wear anyone out," Mom replied, giving me a hug. "Hello, baby…how are you feeling this morning?"

"A little tired, but I feel all right. I'm a little concerned about Martin, though…he had to go out on an emergency call this morning." I told them both about Al calling from the middle of the woods somewhere.

"Don't worry, Anna…if anyone can find them, Stewart can. Oh dear, I hope Mark is okay. Since this is the first actual warm day we've had this spring, I suppose the adders are out enjoying the warmth. Their bites can be nasty," Joan said.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll find the campsite with no trouble. I'm just worried in general…Martin is not exactly the rugged outdoorsy type. He's out there running around the woods in a suit and tie, of course," I laughed.

"You know, his parents used to send him to visit me wearing the exact same thing in miniature. I will never forget the sight of him sitting on Phil's knee on the tractor, in his little suitcoat and short pants, while they plowed the back field," Joan replied, chuckling. "Bless him- he was a somber thing, even then." I smirked. I had met his parents…it was no wonder he was somber.

Madam sheep had no complications, and in a short time, there was another little lamb to join the others that had been born that spring. We were there to monitor the situation, but we really didn't have any reason to intervene. When we were sure the ewe and baby would both be fine, we made our way into the kitchen to fix some lunch. My own baby was starting to demand sustenance…my breakfast of toast and tea was long gone.

We had just taken our lunch out to the gazebo to take advantage of the gorgeous weather when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" I looked longingly at the sandwich lying on my plate.

"Anna? It's Al Large."

"Al? Is Mark okay? Did Martin find you?" I asked anxiously.

There was a pause. "Mark is fine…the Doc gave him a shot of some sort and it seems to be helping…" he trailed off.

"Oh, thank goodness," I said, letting out the breath I had been holding. "Where are you? Is Martin on his way home?"

Another pause. What was going on? "That's why I'm calling. Um…there's been an accident. The Doc is hurt…we're taking him to the hospital too," Al said calmly.

The edges of my vision went black, and I gripped the edge of the table for balance. I gritted my teeth- I refused to pass out. "What happened?" I managed to get out. I glanced across the table, and both Joan and Mom were staring at me with concern.

"He's going to be okay," Al assured me. "He lost his footing and took a pretty good tumble, but he was able to walk back to the car. He told me to tell you it's not that serious but to meet us at the hospital. They are putting him in the ambulance now."

"Okay…we'll be there soon. Thanks for calling, Al." I hung up the phone and abruptly got up from the table. My head was spinning. We had to go…Martin was hurt…

"Anna, sit down right now," Joan ordered, as Mom jumped up and came across to where I was standing. "Heavens, you're as white as a sheet. What in the world is going on?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, feeling bile rise in my throat. Mom helped me sit back down as I willed myself not to throw up. "Something happened to Martin…the ambulance is taking him to the hospital. We have to go," I said shakily. Joan and Mom exchanged worried glances, and without another word, Joan wrapped my sandwich in a napkin as Mom made sure I was steady enough to walk to Joan's truck.

"I want you to try to eat a little of this on the way…you need to have something on your stomach," Mom said, handing me half of the sandwich as Joan pulled out of the driveway and sped in the direction of Truro.

"Mom, there's no way I can eat anything right now," I protested, but she gave me the same look she had given me all my life when I dared disobey her.

"You need to eat something," she said emphatically. I sighed and took a bite, hoping I wouldn't end up making a mess of Joan's truck.

We made it to the hospital about ten minutes after the ambulance. Al and Joe Penhale were in the waiting area, after having brought Mark in Joe's cruiser. As soon as Al saw my face, he put his hands up, palms out.

"Anna, he's going to be fine," he said emphatically. "He's conscious and talking. They just took him back for a CT scan."

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Al, tell me what happened to him. You said he fell?"

Joe Penhale cut in. "I think I can answer that for you, Miss," he said formally, looking as if he was about to give me an official debriefing. I raised my eyebrows at him. "At approximately ten forty five a.m., Stewart James thought he saw what he called a "grey"…whatever that means…and raised his rifle to shoot. Doctor Ellingham was attempting to move out of Stewart's line of fire and tripped over some bracken, causing him to lose his balance and fall down a small ravine. When hitting the ground, the right side of his abdomen was impaled by a branch…"

I felt the spinning in my head again. "Jesus, Joe!" Al exclaimed. "Sorry, Anna…here, maybe you better sit down."

I was getting pretty damned tired of people telling me to sit down. All I wanted was to see Martin with my own eyes. I walked over to the nearest nurse and told her who I was, and she assured me that I could go be with him as soon as he was back from his scan.

I sat holding Mom's hand, my imagination coming up with every awful scenario it could muster. I think my nursing training made things even worse, making me think of all the organs that could be damaged, the infection that could set in…by the time the nurse called me back, I was visibly shaking.

"Do you want me to go with you, sweetie?" Mom asked, but I shook my head.

"I'm okay, I promise."

The nurse led me in to the A&E area, where the patient rooms were sectioned off with curtains. Martin was in the one at the very end of the line, and when we pulled the curtain back, I wasn't ready to see him looking so pale. I immediately burst into tears.

"Shh…I'm fine, Anna. Please don't cry," Martin said, and I rushed to him. I wanted to throw myself on him and hold him tight but I knew that would do more harm than good at the moment. I settled for kissing him all over his face, holding his cheeks in my hands.

"What did the doctor say? How bad is it?" I pressed, sniffling. He reached up to wipe a tear away.

"The doctor is a git, so he hasn't said anything," Martin answered flatly, "but I know it's not bad. I dislocated my shoulder, which they've already set…"

"Joe Penhale said you were impaled!" I practically yelled.

Martin scowled. "Speaking of gits…that man is completely incompetent! I fell on a branch and it…" he paused, raising an eyebrow. "Well, yes, I suppose it impaled me," he conceded. I wailed, putting my hands over my face. "Anna, shush. There is no active bleeding so that is a good sign. Let's just wait and see what the CT scan looks like, all right? Please stop crying."

I was trying. It was hard when Martin was visibly in pain every time he took a breath. I could also tell he hated the fact that he was now the patient instead of the doctor…I knew the last thing he wanted to be doing was lying in bed waiting for someone else to make a diagnosis. I took his face in my hands again and kissed him, and he seemed to relax a little.

In a few minutes, a man introducing himself as Mr. Dennison came in with what looked like several X-rays. "Well, Dr. Ellingham, it looks as though you have a grade two liver laceration," he said, putting the films on the lightbox for us to look at. "There also seems to be part of the branch left in the wound…"

"Fluids and BP remaining stable?" Martin snapped.

"Yes…"

"Capsule punctured on the liver?"

"Just barely. Not enough to be concerned. We will have to do minor surgery to clean the wound and remove the foreign matter, but you should expect to be up and around in no time."

"You've started a Cefoxitin drip, I see," Martin commented, looking at the IV bag hanging on the pole next to him.

"Yes, two grams to start."

"Hmmph." I guessed that was Martin's way of saying he would have done the same thing. Mr. Dennison glanced at me, and I gave him a small smile of encouragement. I had a feeling Martin was going to be his most difficult patient to date.

"As soon as we have an operating room open, an orderly will be back to take you down for surgery. It shouldn't be much longer." Martin scowled in reply, but I thanked the doctor enough for both of us. A minute later, a nurse came in to give Martin some pain medication, which seemed to help take the edge off. I could see him sort of melt into the bed a little, so I knew it was working.

"I'll be here as soon as you wake up," I promised him, and he squeezed my hand. "I love you so much, Martin. I'm so sorry you're in pain…I wish there was something I could do to help."

"It helps just having you here," he answered, the meds starting to loosen his tongue. "And I love you too…and our baby…more than I can ever tell you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, don't ever go away." His eyes were losing focus, his grip loosening on my hand. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love," I answered softly.