Highland Doc's Christmas Rescue
Autore
Susan Carlisle
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10
CHAPTER ONE
AS THE TAXI rolled up the rise Cass Bellow looked out the window at the snow-blanketed Heatherglen Castle Clinic in northern Scotland. Why had she been sent here?
More than once she’d questioned her doctor’s wisdom in transferring her to this private clinic for physical therapy. Weren’t there plenty of other places in warmer climates? Particularly in her native US. Or, better yet, couldn’t she have just gone home and handled what needed doing on her own? But, no, her doctor insisted she should be at Heatherglen. Had stated that he sent all his patients with extensive orthopedic injuries there. He declared the place was her best hope for a full recovery. Finally, at her argument, he’d bluntly told her that if she wanted him to sign off on her release she must complete her physical therapy at Heatherglen.
As the car came to a stop at the front door she studied the Norman architecture of the building with its smooth stone walls and slate roof. The place was huge, and breathtaking. There were more chimneys than Cass had a chance to count. This place was nothing like what she’d expected. Though it was early November, festive Christmas wreaths made of greenery and red bows already hung on the outside of the lower floor windows. They further darkened her mood.
When she had been given the search and rescue assignment assisting the military after an explosion in Eastern Europe, she had never dreamed she’d end up in traction in an army hospital on a base in Germany. Her shattered arm and leg had finally mended, but she needed physical therapy to regain complete use of them. Now she’d been sent to this far-flung, snowy place to do just that. All she really wanted was to be left alone.
She opened the cab door and wind blasted her. Despite the heat coming from the still running car, she shuddered. As Cass stepped out, one of the large wooden castle doors, decked with a huge Christmas wreath full of red berries, opened. A tall man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with the wide shoulders of an athlete stepped out. With rust-colored hair and wearing a heavy tan cable sweater and dark brown pants, he looked like the epitome of what she thought a Scottish man should be. As he came down the few steps toward her, he smiled.
“Hello, you must be Ms. Cassandra Bellow. I’m Dr. Lyle Sinclair, the medical director here at Heatherglen. You may call me Lyle.”
His thick Scottish brogue confirmed her earlier thoughts. Yet she was surprised by the way the sunny cheerfulness of his voice curled around her name, nudging at her icy emotions. Irritated, she pushed that odd notion away. This doctor was far too happy and personable for her taste. Her goal was to do what must be done with as little interaction with others as possible. She planned on nursing her wounds in private.
“Yes, that’s me.” To her satisfaction her flat, dry tone dropped the brightness of his smile a notch. If she could just get to her room and collapse she’d be happy. Her right side was burning from the ache in her arm and the agony of putting her full weight on her right leg.
“Flora McNeith, the physiotherapist whose care you’ll be under, couldn’t be here to greet you and asked that I get you settled in.” Concern filled his face. “Do you need a wheelchair? Crutches?”
“No, I can walk on my own. Run, that’s another thing.” She pulled at her jacket to stop the biting flow of air down her neck.
A light chuckle rolled out of his throat and over her nerve endings. “I understand. Then let’s get inside out of this weather.” He looked up at the sky. A snowflake landed on the dark red five o’clock shadow covering his cheek.
Cass averted her eyes and gave the cobblestone drive, cleared of snow, a searching look. It was farther than she wanted to walk, yet she wouldn’t let on. The three steps up to the door looked even more daunting.
All she needed was fortitude to make the walk and climb those steps. She had plenty of that. Soft snowflakes continued to drift down as she took a deep breath and steeled herself to put one foot in front of the other. With another silent inhalation, she started toward the entrance. Dr. Sinclair walked beside her.
She managed the first two steps with no mishap but the toe of her short boot caught the edge of the last one. Grabbing at air, Cass finally found the fabric covering Dr. Sinclair’s arm. She yelped with the effort to hold on. Being right-handed, she’d instinctively flailed out that arm and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through it, but not as sharp as it had been weeks earlier. She gritted her teeth, thrusting out her other arm to ease the fall.
Instead of tumbling onto the steps, her body was brought against a hard wall of human torso. The doctor’s arm circled her waist and held her steady. Her face smashed into thick yarn. A hint of pine and smoke filled her nose. For some reason it was reassuring.
“Steady on, I’ve got you.” His deep burr was near her ear.
Cass quickly straightened, getting her feet under her even though pain rocked her. She refused to show it, having already embarrassed herself enough. Her lips tightened. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Glancing at him, she got the weirdest impression that the concern in his eyes had nothing to do with her physical injuries, as if he was able to see her true pain. That was a crazy idea. She shook that odd thought off and focused on where she was.
Taking a third fortifying breath, Cass stepped into the massive foyer.
No way was she going to let him see the effort it took to keep walking. She’d lived through much worse. She’d always been self-sufficient. Weakness wasn’t in her vocabulary. As a young girl she had learned the power of being emotionally strong.
Still, that brief human contact had been nice.
There were two enormous cement urns filled with pine and berries on either side of the doors. Cass looked further to see the stone arched beams of the ceiling then on to a grand staircase. On the floor beside it lay a pile of pine wood. Here she was in this strange place for the holidays when all she wished for was home. She would get her arm and leg strong again as fast as she could, then return to America to grieve her loss in private.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The doctor stood too close as if he was afraid she might stumble again.
“I’m fine.” The words sounded sharp and overly loud in the cavernous entrance hall. If she could just get to her room, she could nurse the excruciating throbbing in her arm and leg. She would be limping by then as well.
“On our way to your room, let me tell you where a few things are. This is Admissions.” He waved a hand to indicate a room off the hall. “Louise, my administrative assistant, and I have our offices there. She’s out this afternoon as well. You two can sort out the paperwork in the morning. I’m sure you’re tired.”
Cass was beyond tired. The effort it had taken her to travel from Germany to Fort William then the drive north had worn her out. She hadn’t recovered anywhere near as much as she wanted to believe.
“Over here is the dining room.” He walked across the hall and stood in a wide doorway.
Cass joined him. Despite her physical distress, she loved his accent. It was soothing, for some reason.
The room he wanted her to see was long and wide with a dark barrel ceiling sculpted out of wood from which hung large, black iron chandeliers. A fireplace Cass could stand up in filled the wall on the far end with flags arranged overhead. The walls were partially covered in wainscoting. Above that were a few male portraits in impressive frames. A huge table, surrounded by imposing matching chairs, capable of seating at least twenty people, stood in the center of the room. An oriental rug in blue and red lay beneath it. The only thing out of place was a pile of greenery on the floor in one corner and a few boxes stacked beside it.
He must have noticed the direction of her gaze. “Pardon the mess. We’re in the process of decorating for Christmas.”
Cass pretended he hadn’t spoken. Not even the holidays could heal her broken heart.
Dr. Sinclair was saying, “All meals are served here, unless there’s a reason the resident is incapable of joining us. We dress for the evening meal. It’s at seven.”
“Dress? As in diamonds and tux?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “No. More like no workout clothes allowed. The idea is for the residents to use their skills and have something positive to look forward to. We work on the principle that if you don’t use it, you lose it.”
She glanced at him. He really was quite handsome in a rugged way. “Like?”
“Fastening a button, passing a bowl or even manipulating a fork.” He turned toward the central hall.
“I have no trouble with any of those so why must I attend?” She joined him.
“Because we want our residents to feel like they’re part of our family, which they are,” he said over his shoulder as he started down the hall.
She had zero interest in being sociable. All she wanted was time to herself to think about what she would do next, where she wanted her life to go. How she could get past the mass of emotions churning inside her. Could she continue working in search and rescue? Work with a new dog? Learn to trust another man?
Maybe she could just make sure she wasn’t around when it was dinnertime. This place sounded more like a prison than a clinic. “Hey, do you mind telling me why I was sent here?”
That got his attention. “So you can regain your mobility.”
“I know that. I mean why here in particular? Couldn’t I have gone to a clinic in America? What makes this place so special?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “As I understand it, your orthopedic doctor believes this is the right clinic for you.”
She stepped toward him, pinning him with a direct look. “What led him to believe this specific clinic was the right place for me to complete my physical therapy?”
Dr. Sinclair shifted his weight and raised his chin. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for but our residents have an uncommonly high success rate of making as complete a recovery as possible, and by recovery I mean holistic recovery. Our state-of-the-art clinic features a peaceful atmosphere conducive to healing...” he waved a hand around, indicating the castle “...and our canine therapy has proved to be fundamental in facilitating that recovery as well. Does that reassure you?”
Canine therapy. Cass took a step back, her chest constricting. She couldn’t deal with this right now. It was too soon after the loss of her dog and partner, Rufus. “I’m not interested in canine therapy.”
Her German shepherd-wolfhound mix partner had been with her for four years. She’d had him since he was a puppy. She’d even gone to Germany to pick him up from the breeders. They had trained together at a search and rescue school in California. They’d understood each other, trusted one another.
Now he was gone. Despite him being an animal, the hurt of his loss was more acute than the pain of broken bones or her ex-boyfriend’s assessment of her ability to maintain a relationship. She and Rufus had been all over the world together, crawling in and over disaster sites that others only saw on TV while drinking their morning coffee. As a team, they had been a part of tragedies that no one should ever see or experience. Gratitude and guilt filled her in equal measure.
She felt the doctor’s keen observation and focused on his mild expression. He turned and started down an adjacent hall to the left, saying, “This way to the lift.”
Cass glanced at the staircase in relief then followed, taking careful steps to ensure there wasn’t a repeat performance of what had almost happened outside.
He looked over his shoulder. “As our residents improve, they use the stairs whenever possible.”
Cass once more eyed the daunting set of wide steps made of gray marble. “And that’s mandatory?”
Dr. Sinclair gave her a grin. “‘Mandatory’ is such an unfriendly word. Why don’t we go with ‘greatly encouraged’? It’s part of the graduation program to be able to walk up and down the stairs, but we don’t require that until you’re ready.”
Did her relief show on her face? “What makes you think I’m not ready?”
“Maybe the tight line of your lips that indicates that little stumble outside hurt more than you wish to admit.”
Cass grimaced inwardly. The man had an acute sense of awareness. Could he see that more than her body pained her? That her heart hurt? Cass hoped not. She was nowhere near ready to share her feelings. “I don’t hurt.”
“Liar.” He gave her a flash of a smile. One she was sure made people want to confide in him, which she wasn’t going to do. As if he knew what she was thinking, he said in a gentle manner, “You do know it isn’t weakness to admit you’re in pain or that you need help. That’s what we’re here for.”
She’d had enough of this. All she wanted was to get to her room. “Who’re you, the resident shrink?”
They walked out of the elevator and started down a wide hallway lined with portraits. A few decorations were already in place here and there. A red carpet runner muffled their steps.
“No, but as clinic administrator and emergency medical doctor I help develop the patients’ therapy. All the doctors here work together to form patient plans. Recovery is as much mental as it is physical.”
“So you think I have emotional issues?” Cass certainly did have them. She couldn’t keep her job without a dog, and she wasn’t sure she could handle having another one. To possibly lose another best friend would be too much, too painful. To get close enough that someone or something mattered was more than she wanted at this point.
Lyle’s...wasn’t that his name?...mouth quirked as he stopped to face her.
“Why, Ms. Bellow, in some ways I think everyone has issues. So don’t go thinking you’re special. Here we are.” He pushed open a thick wooden door. “Your room belonged to the lady of the castle.”
Cass couldn’t deny it was a grand room. Its large canopy bed was hung with seafoam green curtains and covered with a matching spread. Beneath a bank of windows was a seating arrangement of a loveseat and two cushioned chairs. A chest, which she guessed held a TV, was nearby and on the opposite wall was a large fireplace with a fire already burning. The gleaming oak floor had a plush rug in the center of it. The festive fairy had been at work decorating in here as well. There was greenery along the mantle and groups of candles on tables. If she must be in this clinic, then she had won the lottery for the perfect room. She could hide out here in comfort.
“One of the staff should’ve put your luggage in here.” He looked around. “There it is. Great.” He pointed to the far side of the room where there was another door. “Through there is your bath. You’ll find a hot tub, which I encourage you to use often. I’ll leave you now to settle in. You don’t have to be at dinner tonight. A tray of food will be sent up. Breakfast is between six and eight in the dining room. I’ll let Flora know you’ve arrived. She may not have a chance to check in with you this evening, but you can expect to see her first thing in the morning. One of the staff will come and collect you at seven for breakfast. Is there anything you need before I go?”
Cass had slowly wandered around the room as he spoke. “I don’t think so.”
“If you have any questions, just pick up the phone. Somebody is on duty twenty-four hours a day. I hope your stay is a positive one.”
Before he could say more a man appeared in the hallway behind him. “Lyle, you said to let you know when Andy Wallace arrived. The ambulance is at the back entrance. I’m on the way after the wheelchair now.”
“Thanks Walter. I’ll go down.” Lyle turned to her. “See you around, Ms. Bellow.”
Later that evening after dinner, Lyle bowed his head against the howling wind as he walked to his cottage. Seeing the once strong, always smiling Andy Wallace with sunken eyes and needing a wheelchair had made for a tough last few hours.
Andy was older than him. They had only been acquaintances growing up. Still, Lyle could remember Andy and Nick, Lyle’s best friend Charles’s older brother, laughing and always into something. Now Andy was a shell of that person. After an IED had exploded under his Humvee in Afghanistan he was a patient in a clinic started in honor of Nick. The irony was sickening.
Ms. Bellow wore the same sad expression as Andy. That look implied the weight of the world lay on her slender shoulders. His staff had their work cut out for them with those two. He and Charles, the Laird of Heatherglen and a doctor as well, had discussed both patients but Lyle suspected there was more to Cassandra Bellow than was on paper. She didn’t even try to hide her desire to be elsewhere.
That resolute and dejected air about Cass indicated a serious psychological injury, but she carried her issues like a backpack they were so obvious. Maybe being at Heatherglen would help her with not only her physical problems but with what was bothering her heart and soul as well.
He recognized that look in both his residents because he’d seen it in his own eyes every time he’d shaved while serving in the Royal Army Medical Corps. All the men in his family had been expected to make a career in the armed forces and he hadn’t disappointed. As one of his father’s two sons, Lyle himself had been encouraged, then expected, to join the army. The importance of serving had been drummed into him his entire life. Yet medicine had pulled at him. To find a happy medium he’d combined the two.
Despite that compromise, he’d found the discipline and unwavering devotion of military life wasn’t for him. He wanted to concentrate on caring for people in the way he loved best, personally. To his father’s disappointment and ongoing puzzlement, Lyle had resigned his commission and returned home, remaining in the reserves.
His father still hadn’t given up on the belief that Lyle would return to active duty someday soon. Every time they were together the subject came up. Now that his father’s health was declining, the pressure had grown. If Lyle resumed active service, he could make his father’s last few years happier, make him proud. But the exchange would be that Lyle would be miserable.
Charles had been in the process of setting up the clinic when Lyle had returned home from overseas. He’d asked Lyle if he would consider being the administrator, as well as run the emergency centre for the surrounding villages. Lyle had accepted and never looked back. He had found where he belonged. Still, his father’s disappointment weighed on him.
The decision to return to the military hung there. Then there was his obligation to the clinic...
While he’d been in the Middle East that hopeless look he recognized in Cass’s and Andy’s eyes had grown in his own after receiving his “Dear John” letter from Freya. He had been caught in a net with no way out. Freya had called a halt to their relationship while he had been thousands of miles away, unable to talk to her face to face. For months the pain had been like a gnawing animal in his chest. It wasn’t until he had returned and started work at the clinic that he could at last breathe and see the relationship for what it was.
Lyle continued along the snowy, muddy path toward his cottage. He knew this walk by heart. The moon was large tonight and he didn’t need his torch. From experience he was sure his housekeeper had left a fire laid. The thought of lighting it and a warm drink kept him moving. Thankfully he had a full belly from the meal he’d shared with the residents before leaving the clinic. He wasn’t required to dine at the castle, but Mrs. Renwick was a much better cook than he was. Since he didn’t much enjoy eating alone, he ate most of his meals at the clinic. And just as he’d expected, the two newest residents hadn’t been in attendance.
Going through some paperwork in his office the next morning, he allowed his thoughts to wander to Ms. Bellow. He had gone to Andy Wallace’s room to make sure he was comfortable and had spoken to the overnight nursing staff about him. Yet despite his curiosity about Cass, Lyle hadn’t searched her out. Because she wasn’t under his direct care, he couldn’t think of a reason to do so. Flora would have her case well in hand. Still, he felt compelled to see Cass.
She’d whetted his curiosity for some reason. Something about her sharp, self-assured tone and unwillingness to show her obvious pain made him want to understand what was going on behind those gloomy eyes. He’d felt her fragility when she had leaned against him. All bones and skin, as if she had lost weight. Being injured would have caused some of that but she was too thin. He felt the odd need to protect her, reassure her. Not that he would let that show. Still, just before lunch he couldn’t stop himself from walking to the physical therapy department.
Lyle found Flora, with her dark head down, working at her desk. He knocked lightly on the door.
She looked up and smiled. “Hello, Lyle. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to check in on Cass Bellow. I haven’t seen her today.” He put his hands in his pockets.
“She was here for therapy this morning.” Flora put down her pen. “She was ready to start when I arrived.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “Great. When we met yesterday, I was afraid she might be resistant.”
Flora shook her head a little. “If there was a problem it was with her working too hard. She acted determined to be finished with her recovery well before the prescribed time. I had to remind her that she could hurt herself further if she pushed herself too hard.”
“I’m sure that you’ll see she takes it slowly and easily.” Lyle took a step into the office. “By the way, did you tell her there’s animal therapy as well? I got the impression it was a surprise to her when I mentioned it. I don’t think she was told by her doctors in Germany that it’s a central part of our program here.”
Flora’s eyes darkened with concern. “I did mention it but was called away before more was said.”
“I’ll speak to Esme. If Cass doesn’t show up at the canine therapy center, then I’ll talk to her.”
Flora nodded. “Good.”
“I told Cass the residents eat together, and she didn’t look any happier about that.”
Flora picked up the pen and tapped it on the desk once. “You and I have been at this long enough to know how to handle an uncooperative patient. We know physical issues often include adjusting to a new way of life.” She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “Why would Cass be any different?”
“Agreed. What about Andy Wallace? Have you had your session with him?”
“I’ll see him this afternoon.”
“Let me know how it goes. I don’t think he’s in any better frame of mind than Ms. Bellow.”
Flora grinned. “We don’t get all those great accolades for being the best therapy clinic for nothing.”
“You have a point.” He nodded his head at the door. “I’m on my way to get a sandwich for lunch. Care to join me?”
“Thanks, but I need to finish some paperwork for the boss.”
Lyle chuckled. “And he appreciates your efforts. See you later.” He left, walking to the dining room to pick up some food before returning to his office. Lyle planned to continue checking up on Cass and Andy for a few days until he was satisfied with their compliance, then he’d back away.
After lunch, Cass sat in her room by the fire, rubbing her thigh, glad therapy was over for the day. It had been grueling. Less from what she had been asked to do and more from her pushing herself. She had broken into a sweat and had clenched her teeth more than once not to cry out as pain had shot through her leg. Flora had warned her to slow down. It had been strenuous and stressful at best. Even her arm had resisted a couple of the exercises.
Making matters worse was the discovery Cass had made that she had stamina issues. The hospital stay in traction had taken a lot out of her. She’d always been fit, had worked out regularly with ease. Now she just felt frustrated. Regaining her strength wasn’t going to happen fast enough.
That morning she’d been up and dressed by the time Melissa, a staff member, had knocked on her door. She had slept well the night before. Sleeping in the hospital hadn’t been ideal. The peace and quiet of this country castle did have its appeal.
She had on some of the few clothes she habitually kept packed in her to-go bag. The knit sweatpants and T-shirt would have to do for workout clothes. When she and Rufus had caught the transport plane to Eastern Europe, nowhere in her plans had she thought to prepare for weeks of being in a hospital or being in a physical therapy clinic in Scotland in the winter.
Melissa had escorted Cass by elevator to the ground floor. There she had been led to the dining room.
“I’ll return in a few minutes to show you to the physical therapy department,” Melissa had said.
There hadn’t been anyone else in the room. Cass had been thankful for that. She’d gone to the buffet and helped herself to a boiled egg and a slice of toast. She had just finished her second glass of orange juice when the woman returned.
“Flora’s ready for you.”
After placing her dishes on a tray, Cass followed Melissa down a long hall off the main one. They entered an area that looked like a gym where exercise equipment faced a bank of three large windows. In another corner of the spacious room were mats. Two high padded tables sat in the middle.
“You can have a seat on a table and I’ll let Flora know you’re here,” she’d been told.
Cass scrambled up on the table with more effort than she liked.
A leggy, dark-haired woman wearing what looked like the latest fashion in exercise clothes soon joined her. Dressed in a hot pink jacket over a black top and leggings that came to mid-calf she made Cass feel extra-frumpy in her outfit. The woman even wore makeup.
She offered her hand, “Hi, I’m Flora McNeith. It’s nice to meet you, Cass. I apologize that I wasn’t here to meet you yesterday. I’m sure Lyle took good care of you.”
“Who? Oh, yeah, the doctor.”
She chuckled. “Most woman consider him more memorable than that. We should get started on your therapy.”
Over the next hour Cass showed Flora the range of motion in her leg and arm. For the first thirty minutes they concentrated on her leg and the last half-hour on her arm. Flora applied a cold compress before working with either part of her body, then a warm one after.
When they were through Flora said, “I’m sending you to the whirlpool for half an hour. After lunch someone will show you to your afternoon therapy at the canine therapy center.”
She didn’t give Cass time to respond before she turned to another patient who had entered the room. Cass had no intention of going to the canine therapy center. She wasn’t ready to be involved with a dog again, any dog. Wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready. Why had her doctors in Germany insisted on sending her to this clinic when they knew her background? Maybe they had thought it would be what she needed since she had been a dog handler, but she wasn’t emotionally ready. She would just make it clear, without explanation, that she wouldn’t be going to the canine therapy center.
As she walked toward the door marked “Whirlpool” Cass groaned. She almost cried with pleasure as she slipped into the hot swirling water. Today she had taken the first step towards her complete discharge and regaining her life. The one that didn’t include Rufus.
After her trip to PT she’d stopped by the dining room long enough to grab a sandwich, leaving the soup behind. With food eaten, a warm shower taken and clean clothes on, Cass now had a nap on her agenda. She would be perfectly happy spending the rest of the day in her room.
She woke with a start when there was a sharp knock on her door. “Coming.” Cass opened it to find a staff member there. This time it was a young man.
“I’m here to show you the way to the canine therapy center.”
“I’m sorry but I don’t feel like going.” What she really meant was she wasn’t going.
The man studied her a moment as if he expected her to say more, then nodded. “I understand.”
Cass settled back in the chair and looked into the fire. She knew her abilities and strengths. The wound of losing Rufus was too raw. Her emotions in general were stretched to snapping point. She couldn’t cope with the thought of interacting with a dog even if it was supposed to speed up her recovery.
She loved her job, but could she ever return to it, ever get so involved with another animal that she risked reliving this almost unbearable suffering? What if it wasn’t a dog? Could she ever open up enough to anyone again to take the chance of losing her heart?
