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Excerpt
Somewhere Between Worlds
by
Susan Anthony
Chapter One
Prince Troidan removed the
crimson-soaked cloth from his arm. Within seconds, blood began to
flow again from the jagged tear, and he covered the wound with a
fresh bandage.
The prince’s escort shook his head.
“This was a bad idea. You’re too big a target. If that spear had
come any closer, we could kiss our last chance at peace goodbye.”
“What are you afraid of, Kurt? Is it
Diel’s men? Or Jen?”
“This is no joke, Troidan. We need a
new plan. You should go back to the island. Let one of us get the
medicine.”
“And risk everyone being discovered?
No. It has to be me. I have no ties to the surface world.” Troidan
muttered an oath. “Besides, this is my responsibility, my mission. I
will save my father.”
Kurt glanced at the red stain
creeping across the recently placed dressing. “Just as soon as
you’re done bleeding.”
“Right.”
* * * *
Samantha picked up the chart and
read the triage report. Dan Jacobs. Upper arm laceration. Patient
reports fall from ladder. She turned to the nurse. “Fall from a
ladder? You don’t see that every day around here.”
“Darn shame, too. The guy is hot.”
“Now you’re trolling for dates among
the patients, Carol? Very nice.”
The nurse grinned. “Go in and see
for yourself. And let me know if you need someone to assist.”
Samantha shook her head and pulled
back the curtain to room four. Inside, two men conversed in hushed
tones. They both looked up at her approach.
Samantha’s breath caught at the
sight of the man on the table. Carol was right. Muscular build,
hypnotic blue eyes shown off perfectly by his longish brown hair.
His skin looked a little pale, probably due to blood loss. Samantha
held out her hand to the man.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Singer. What happened
today, Mr. Jacobs?”
The patient’s companion stepped
forward. “This is my, uh, cousin. He fell off a ladder. Landed right
on a broken board.”
Samantha turned. “Thank you, Mr—”
“Davis. Kurt Davis.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davis. But it helps
me if the patient tells me what happened. Mr. Jacobs?”
“Call me Dan. There’s nothing left
to tell. I fell off a ladder and landed on a broken board.”
The man’s voice moved over Samantha
like warm caramel. She tried to focus on his words, to ignore the
timbre of his voice and the intensity of his eyes. What’s the
word for that deep rich blue? Ultramarine, maybe? Man, Carol really
was right. This man is beautiful. He probably has women waiting by
phones all over town.
Dan removed the cloth from his arm
then, and the sight of blood snapped Samantha out of her daydream.
The gash, long and deep, would need staples. Quite a few of them.
She excused herself and went to get the supplies she needed to clean
and close the wound.
* * * *
Dan regarded the doctor as she told
him how to care for his arm and instructed him to return in ten days
to have the staples removed.
Then she handed him his discharge
papers. Their fingers touched, warming Dan’s skin in a way he never
felt in his human form. He caught Samantha’s slight pause and knew
she felt it, too. That was no surprise. Surface folks always
responded strongly to the mer-people’s touch. But he did find it
interesting, and disappointing, that Samantha did not attempt any
further contact. Instead, she gave a professional goodbye and headed
toward the exit.
Just as Samantha reached the door it
swung open, and another female doctor stepped inside. She aimed a
wide smile at Dan before turning her attention back to Samantha.
“Hey, Samantha. I have a favor to
ask. My shift isn’t over until ten, and the girls are going out. I
hate to miss it. Can you stay late?”
Samantha paused, and Dan thought he
saw her shoulders droop slightly. But then she straightened up and
spoke. “Sure. Have a good time.”
“I knew I could count on you.
Thanks.” Then both women walked out the door.
As Dan got down from the examining
table, he turned to his friend. “Cousin,” he said, drawing
out the word. “I think I have a new plan.”
* * * *
The clinic’s glass door pressed
heavily against Samantha’s aching muscles as she left the building,
a perfect metaphor for her emotions. Day after day, she pushed
against the tide of patients coming through that door, struggling to
help people. To make a real difference in their lives the way her
father had done with his clinic. Had her father ever felt so
overwhelmed? So lost? If he had, he kept it secret from his family.
She wished she could ask him about it.
Taking another move from her father,
she paused just outside and took a deep breath. She held it for a
moment and looked up at the sky as she exhaled. The ritual was
intended to leave professional concerns at work, clear her mind
before heading home. It was effective, too.
Her problem was that she had no
personal life to fill the vacuum. When had that happened? At what
point had Samantha allowed Dr. Singer to become indispensable? To be
all there was to her?
Samantha swallowed against tears
that threatened as self-doubt washed over her. She’d dreamed of a
career in medicine since she was a teenager helping out at her
father’s office. She’d worked to the point of exhaustion to earn
scholarships for college and worked harder still through medical
school and residency. And she’d made it. Why wasn’t it enough?
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