The Sapphire Brooch by Katherine Logan (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

over to the gurney. “You’re in good hands. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in Richmond.”

When Jack left, Braham shivered. He knew no one other than Jack and Charlotte, and Doctor Thomas, and this strange world stymied him. In a short time he had become dependent on Jack to shepherd him through the strange customs. Braham’s weakness and fear shamed him. What would he say to Kit when he saw her again? Admit her world frightened him? No, he would tell her he acclimated quickly. With that, he relaxed, slowed his breathing, and let his shoulders go slack.

The men rolled him headfirst into what looked like a miniature hospital room. One of the men climbed in beside him and locked the rolling bed into place. He attached the clear bag to a hook hanging from the ceiling. The walls were lined with cubbyholes and equipment.

“Are ye a paramedic?” Braham asked.

“Pretty close. An EMT. Been doing this work for ten years now.”

How many paramedics could there be? Maybe he knew Kit. Again, Braham bit his tongue. He mustn’t mention her name to anyone. “How long will the trip take? All day?”

“We’re only going to Richmond. About two hours. You relax, lie back, and enjoy the ride.”

The vehicle’s rolling, swaying motion made him queasy, and he gagged. The EMT cranked up the head of the gurney. “Ask the driver to slow down,” Braham said.

The EMT chuckled. “I doubt he’s going more than five miles an hour.” He put a cold compress on Braham’s forehead. “Riding backward often makes people sick. This should help.”

Braham didn’t think so. Jerky stops and starts kept his belly churning. All he could see through the back window was scenery. After a while he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the conveyance was backing up to a building.

“When are we leaving?” Braham asked.

“We’re here,” the EMT said. “You slept through the entire trip.”

The two EMTs rolled him out of the ambulance and into the hospital. As the gurney traveled down halls and around corners, Braham’s view of the ceiling didn’t change much. The confined space in the elevator made him break out in a sweat. When the door opened and he was rolled out, he let out a long-held breath. He never realized how small enclosed spaces terrified him, or maybe it was small enclosed spaces in motion which terrified him.

He entered a room much like the one in Winchester, except he couldn’t see any trees from the window. He groaned as the jolt of transferring into the new bed sent flashes of fire through his insides. The EMTs straightened him up then covered him with the blanket folded at the end of the bed.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. McCabe. Get well soon.”

The two men left the room just as Charlotte entered wearing a white coat with her name embroidered in blue above the breast pocket. On the other side of the coat were the words UVA Health Systems, also embroidered in blue. Her hair was pulled back into a tail at the nape of her neck, but a riot of curls fell loose around her face, a lovely face which appeared tired and drawn.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, reading a stack of papers the EMTs had given her. “This report said you were queasy. Are you still?”

He shook his head. The only thing wrong at the moment was he had to piss. He would have used the urinal, as Jack called it, but he refused to do so in Charlotte’s presence. Jack had assured him it was acceptable in medical situations, but it would never be acceptable to him. He squirmed.

Charlotte looked up from her notes, pursing her lips into a tiny smile. “The bathroom is behind me. Have you been out of bed since surgery?”

He shook his head again.

She put the papers down, lowered his bed, and helped him sit up. “You’ll be wobbly. Put your arm around me.”

He was almost twice her size. If he lost his balance, they would both end up on the floor. When his hand slid across her upper back and around her shoulder, her muscles flexed beneath his fingers. He cocked his brow in surprise. Although small, she might be able to support him after all. How could a woman who appeared so delicate have such strength? Her hands were not callused from heavy work, though. Where did her muscles come from? Kit was muscular, too. It must be the way women were made in this century.

“Are you ready?” she asked, gazing up at him. “Go slow, now. It’s going to hurt a bit when you stand.”

If he hadn’t had to piss, he would have been happy to sit on the edge of the bed, with her arm wrapped around him and his arm around her, while he sniffed the pleasing apple scent in her hair and enjoyed the warmth of her body pressed alongside his.

How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? Not long. So, needing a woman wasn’t the problem; it was because the woman in his arms was highly desirable. In fact, her presence was having an effect on him which would soon become obvious to anyone who noticed the tent in the front of his long shirt.

When he stood, he gasped. “Damn.” His rising tent collapsed.

“You had a serious injury. It’s going to hurt for a while.”

He took a step then stopped. Sweat beaded across his forehead.

“Let’s take another step,” she said.

He gritted his teeth.

Charlotte pulled the pole with the plastic bag along with them. Inside the bathroom was a white porcelain bowl.

“Pee in the bowl then push the silver lever down when you’re done.” She closed the door behind her.

Braham peed in the bowl, pushed the lever, and watched water swirl around and disappear. Hanging over the washbasin was a reminder note to wash hands. He did, although he didn’t find any soap. When he finished, he hobbled back to the bed, holding tight to the pole for