Page 19 of Risk of a Lifetime
Marcy seeing him in the hospital’s so-called gown didn’t sit right with him. Made him appear weak. Wrong, if that’s what she thought.
“You basically said you still can’t stand to be in the same room with me. That you had a moment of weakness when you thought I was gonna die, and that I shouldn’t get any ideas you meant anything you said or did out there.” He fought to control his tone.
“And?” Hands on her hips, she pushed to get her answer.
“Listen lady, I’m not going to stand here and repeat everything you said. Just know that line of thought goes two ways. This is just another case to me. And you are just another victim to protect.” He gritted his teeth and glared in her direction. “Now, where are my clothes?”
Dressed in a set of blue scrubs the staff had given her after she’d cleaned up, Marcy eased into the chair by the window and leafed through the same magazine she’d been looking at for the past hour. “They smelled to high heaven. Betsy’s taking Mama to the house to pick up clean ones for you.”
“Sadie had better be back soon, or I’m leaving this place the way I am.” JB kicked the sheet off the bed, tugging the gown’s hem down to mid-thigh. “Do you think there’s a law against walking out of a hospital wearing nothing but one of these?”
“I wouldn’t know.” She tossed the magazine in the chair next to her. “You’re the big, fancy FBI agent around here.”
“Ex-FBI agent.”
“That may be, but you’ll always be a lawman. Just like I’ll always be a counselor. We don’t know how to do anything else.” She sighed. “Besides, you’re damn good at what you do. The world needs people like you who risk their own lives to save the rest of us.”
JB needed to solidify his position. Make sure she didn’t get any ideas about him being her own personal hero of the moment. “I’m trained to protect people, among other things. It just happened to be you this time. Next time might be somebody heading into witness protection. All the same to me.”
Dr. Crowley walked in, carrying a file. “JB, the trauma unit says you’re tied for first place as the worst patient they’ve encountered in the past ten years.”
“What’s the prognosis? When can I get out of here?” Showered, shaved, and shampooed, JB still had the smell of soot and grime permeating his senses. Brought back memories of a drug bust explosion last year where the factory blew up right as they entered. Took forever to feel clean again.
“If you pipe down and let me recheck your wounds, I might let you leave.” The doctor poked and prodded, pressed on JB’s ribs, hips, chest, and back. “Got any blurred vision?”
“Nope.”
“Headache?”
“Nope.”
“Ringing in your ears?”
“Nope.”
Doc looked at his paperwork again, then found the right spot to retest with his fingers, hard and to the point. Raw hellfire and brimstone cranked into JB’s lower back, shooting up his spine.
“Any pain?” Doc asked.
JB’s brow furrowed, along with the powerful clench of his teeth. “Nope.”
“Would you tell me if you did?” The elderly doctor released his pressure point.
“Nope.”
Doc glanced in Marcy’s direction. “He still staying at the house?”
She nodded.
“I’m concerned about a possible concussion, but I’ll sign the release since she’s there to keep an eye on you tonight.” Doc sighed, flipping the chart closed, then he turned to JB. “And, don’t you think for one minute I believed your denial about pain in your back.”
“Wait one minute.” She sprang to her feet, hands propped on her hips. “You forget. I’m not responsible for him anymore.”
The doc raised his eyebrows and lowered his gaze on her. “Is that so?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “That’s so.”
“Marcy Marie Bradley, did you forget I’m the deacon in your church? Birthed both of you. Know most everything goes on in Crayton. And I’m not past divulging non-medical information when push comes to shove.”
