Protecting What's Mine(23)

Bryson and Leah followed suit.

“I am the victor!” Samantha shouted, taking a victory lap around the yard.

A dart pegged her square in the forehead. “Not anymore, Mantha.” Kinley smugly twirled her dart gun around her finger.

“No fair!” Samantha complained. “I didn’t know you were playing!”

“It’s called strategy. You should use it sometime,” Kinley said in a superior tone.

“You know the rules, Mantha. Let’s see the death scene. Make it Oscar-worthy,” Linc called.

Samantha stomped her foot and then swept a hand to her forehead. “I feel faint! I see light. Great-Granny Mildred? Is that you?” Her knees buckled. Sunshine, concerned with the moaning, trotted over to lick her reassuringly.

But Samantha couldn’t be revived. She fell forward and crawled the twenty feet to her audience. “Always remember,” she rasped. “That you’re all fart faces.”

And with that, she left the mortal coil.

Sunshine, confused and concerned, lay down next to Samantha and licked her ear.

“Bravo!” Linc started the standing ovation and was joined by the rest of the kids and Mack.

“I didn’t know you had almost an entire starting basketball team lineup,” Mack teased.

“Oh, we’re not his kids,” Samantha said, coming back to life.

“Yeah, he can’t settle down,” Kinley piped up from over her book.

“He likes practicing making babies more than actually making them,” Bryson said with a “what are you gonna do” shrug.

The kid had charm in spades.

“Are you single?” Leah asked Mack. “Do you like kids and hot dogs and darts and Sunshine?” Leah smooshed Sunshine’s face in her hands to emphasize the dog’s cuteness.

“We don’t know if he likes ladies or men yet,” Kinley reminded them.

“Ladies! I like ladies,” Linc said emphatically. “Not that there’s anything wrong with liking men or both or whatever. I like ladies, and you all can feel free to shut your traps right about now.”

Mack laughed. A low, rich rasp that caught him in the chest. And Linc decided he’d be happy to be the butt of all jokes forever if he got to hear that laugh again.

“Did you guys know that your uncle got hurt?” Mack asked, stepping off the deck and wandering over to the chest-high fence.

“Mom said he saved someone’s life,” Samantha said, tying her long hair back in a lumpy ponytail. “I like your hair.”

“Thanks.” Mack smiled. “I like yours. Uncle Linc hurt his shoulder and got burnt, and he’s supposed to be resting. I think you’re supposed to babysit him today and make sure he doesn’t do anything too strenuous.”

They converged on him like lions on a fresh kill.

“Dr. Mack is just kidding. She’s lying,” Linc said desperately when Kinley grabbed his good arm and started dragging him toward the house. The other kids pushed from behind.

“We’ll take good care of him, Dr. Mack,” Bryson assured her confidently.

“I can make him supper! Do you like toast with peanut butter and chocolate chips?” Leah wanted to know.

“See if you can get him to take a nap,” Mack called after them, and Linc heard that husky laugh again.

“You’ll pay for this,” he warned her.

“Have fun, chief.”





12





Mack stripped off her exam gloves, then washed her hands again for good measure.

“A case of pinkeye, Mr…” Ah, hell, what was his name? Rarely in the last several years of practicing medicine had she needed to know and remember a patient’s name.

“Botham,” the man supplied. She tried not to stare in medical fascination at his crusty, red, swollen left eye.

“Mr. Botham you and…your son will be just fine,” Mack promised. Dammit. She needed to figure out a mnemonic to temporarily memorize names. “I’ll write a script for both of you. You’ll start feeling and seeing better tomorrow.”

“How about we get some ice cream after we swing by the pharmacy, Spence?” Mr. Botham asked his seven-year-old son.

Spencer. Right.

The kid perked up.

“I’ll call in the prescriptions now. They should be ready for you shortly,” Mack said, fingers stumbling over the laptop keyboard. Typing and remembering patient names hadn’t been essential skills in her job until now. She’d work on both. “You should both stay home tomorrow, though, since pinkeye is very contagious.” Clearly.

“Thanks, doc. Welcome to town,” Mr. Botham said and ushered Spencer out of the exam room.

“Thank you,” she called after them.

Mack’s eye suddenly felt itchy, and she resisted the urge to wash her hands again. The Bothams had been the second and third cases of pinkeye today. A wild first day in family medicine.

She tore off the exam table paper and gave it, the doorknobs, and chair arms a quick swipe down with a Lysol wipe.

Glancing at the patient queue on the computer, she noted there were several more appointments on the calendar than there had been when she came in this morning.

She headed in the direction of the front desk. “Tuesday, is this a glitch—” Mack didn’t get to finish the sentence. The waiting room was full. Nearly everybody in the room had at least one red, crusty eye. While the majority of the patients were of elementary school age, there were also quite a few itchy-eyed adults. The oldest in the room was pushing ninety by her estimation.