Solemn Oath - Hannah Alexander Mills & Boon Steeple Hill

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“Don’t worry, Arthur, she’s in good hands. I know the flight nurse, and she’s one of the best. She took care of my daughter this spring when we had to fly her out for emergency surgery.”

      “Your daughter?” Arthur’s voice grew more slurred. “Sh-she okay now?”

      “She’s fine.” Physically.

      “How old is sh-she?”

      “Eleven going on fifty. Sometimes I wonder which of us does the most mothering and worrying. Tell me about your mission in Mexico.”

      He talked for several moments while Mercy finished her two-layer closure. He had thick, wavy red hair that was already showing a lot of gray, and the lines around his eyes revealed that he’d spent a lot of time in the sun and that he spent a lot of time smiling.

      Mercy checked his arm, then rechecked the wound. “Arthur, we’re almost finished with your head except for the CT. I’m hoping your shoulder will slip into place without much pain.”

      He paused for a moment, and Mercy could see his eyes tear up. He was thinking about Alma again.

      “Would you pray with me?” The words were soft, but not hesitant.

      Mercy blinked. This one hadn’t ever come up in medical school. It hadn’t come up afterward, either. “Well…I’m not sure….” How was she supposed to turn him down? And yet, how was she supposed to pray when most of the time she refused to even acknowledge the presence—

      “I’ll do the talking,” he said.

      She heard the pleading in his voice, and she thought about his love for his wife. What could it hurt? Mercy had watched Lukas pray and watched her mother pray. All she had to do was bow her head. The only time she’d actually prayed was when Tedi nearly died, and then it had only been a “Please, God, please, God, please, God” out of desperation.

      She nodded and bowed her head.

      “Thank you,” Arthur whispered to her. “Dear Lord, we can’t know what’s going to happen to us next, and we’re frightened and in pain. Please, God, please go with Alma. Give her comfort and peace that only You can give her. And help me depend on Your strength. Help us, through this tragedy, to keep our witness pure for You, and hold our hearts firmly in Your sheltering arms. We praise You for Your constant presence and for the assurance that we will go through nothing without You. Lay Your special blessing on Dr. Mercy today, and thank You for sending her to us as one of Your ministering angels. Fill her with Your special Spirit, dear Lord, in a way that will last. In our Lord Jesus’s name, amen.”

      He opened his eyes and looked at Mercy. “Thank you.” He gave a relaxed sigh. They heard a gentle pop. The shoulder was back in place.

      Lukas finished assessing the lady with the broken arm, looked in quickly on Cowboy, then checked on Mercy’s progress. He was relieved to find her and Arthur chattering about children and mission work and the beauty of the Missouri Ozarks while Claudia bandaged the wound and removed the weights from Arthur’s wrist.

      The quiet alto tone of Mercy’s voice drew Lukas like a symphony. He allowed his gaze to rest, just for a moment, on the strong, feminine lines of her face. He felt himself drawn into the glowing depths of her coffee-colored eyes as she chuckled at something Arthur said. Her long black hair was drawn back in a clasp, and several tendrils had come loose, giving the impression that she was always too busy reaching out to others to check a mirror during the day.

      Mercy had a talent for mothering patients. She was good at helping them through difficult and painful procedures with a minimum of panic or pain medication. Her self-deprecating sense of humor put everyone around her at ease, including the staff. Including Lukas. He found himself watching her when she worked in the same room, and he felt himself drawn to her in a way he’d never been before.

      She looked up at him questioningly. He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but the E.R. doors jerked open and in stumbled a trio of dirty firemen—two extremely young trainees carrying singed and blackened veteran fire fighter Buck Oppenheimer between them.

      Actually, Buck wasn’t being carried, but was trying valiantly to wrestle out of the clutches of his overeager charges, his soot-covered face filled with annoyance.

      “Doc!” he called out to Lukas in frustration. “Would you please tell these kids I’m not dying?”

      Lukas stifled a relieved grin. Buck worked a few shifts a month with the ambulance service as an EMT, and he was a first responder with the fire department, which meant Lukas and Buck saw a lot of each other. Buck’s down-home hillbilly charm—complete with butch haircut and ears that could paddle a canoe—belied a sharp wit and a deep compassion for others. Unfortunately for him, his leadership abilities had landed him the added responsibility of overseeing two eighteen-year-old members of an Explorer group throughout their training period. He’d grumbled about it to Lukas ever since the kids had arrived the week before.

      Lukas led the way into exam room six and instructed the young men to help Buck onto the bed. “Ease him down gently, guys. No telling what he’s gotten into this time.”

      “An explosion, that’s what!” Skinny Kyle Alder, whose hair was as long and curly as Buck’s was short and straight, kept a death grip on Buck’s arm as he and his buddy eased their grubby, smoke-stained patient onto the clean sheet. “Saved a gal’s life and almost died. Threw himself on top of her!”

      “Oh?” Lukas stepped out into the hallway and caught Lauren’s attention from her workstation at the central desk. He motioned for her to join him in the exam room, then returned to Buck’s side. “And where is the victim?”

      Buck fought off his overeager charges at last and started unbuttoning his shirt, still sitting up. “Roxie refused to come in, and believe me, I fought to get her in the ambulance. Should’ve just wrapped her in a straitjacket and shoved her in the back. You know how cantankerous she can be sometimes.”

      Lukas looked at Buck in alarm. “Wouldn’t she let you check her out?”

      “Barely. I listened to her chest and took her vitals. She sounded okay. She said she’s fine except for the ribs I broke pouncing on her like that.”

      “What?”

      Buck shook his head and frowned. “I think she was kidding, although with her it’s hard to tell. After all I went through to get to her, she asked what took us so long, because she’d called ten minutes before I got there. That’s the thanks I get for risking my life to—” He winced and bent forward. “I wasn’t even on duty. I didn’t know about any call.”

      “I told you that you oughta have that looked at,” Kyle said.

      “I’m having it looked at now,” Buck snapped.

      “It’s his chest, Dr. Bower,” Kyle explained. “It’s been hurting him since the explosion. He says it’s just a scrape, but…” His attention refocused with sudden interest as blond-haired, green-eyed Lauren walked into the room and began her assessment.

      “Let’s get a c-collar on him before you start that, Lauren.” Lukas reached out and felt the back of Buck’s neck for any step-off deformity. “Does this hurt, Buck?”

      The fireman did not move his head. “Nope.”

      “Good. We’ll go ahead and do a collar until we get the X-rays, just to be safe.”

      “Oh, come on, Dr. Bower, I’ll be good. My neck doesn’t hurt.”

      “You know it’s protocol.” Lukas leaned forward to take a look at Buck’s exposed back and felt hot air hitting his own neck. He glanced around to find Kyle and his partner, Alex, hovering over him, eyes wide, jaws slack.

      “Why don’t you two go out into the waiting room,” Lukas suggested. “The police are around somewhere, and they might want to question you about the fire.”

      With a look of sudden eagerness, the young men left, and Buck

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