The anxious father had agitatedly told him the story of how the three-year-old girl had been sitting on his shoulders as they’d walked through the crowds. The dad hadn’t expected his daughter to suddenly lunge sideways to get a better look at a toy store’s glittering Christmas window display, and he’d lost his grip on her legs.
“I just couldn’t catch her all the way, you know?” the father repeated as Mateo and the other EMT lifted the stretcher out of the ambulance. “I partially broke her fall to the sidewalk, but I’m so scared she might be really hurt.”
“I know it’s scary,” Mateo said in a calm voice he hoped would keep the poor guy from hyperventilating. “But Manhattan Mercy’s ER docs are the best so, whatever’s going on, they’ll figure it out. Try not to worry.”
The man nodded and gulped in some air, and Mateo turned to his patient. “Almost there, Emily,” he said, giving the girl an encouraging smile. “Soon the doctors will figure out why you’re hurting and get you something for your pain, okay?”
“What do you think is wrong?” the girl’s father asked. Apparently, Mateo’s attempts to reassure him weren’t working. His voice was panicky, and his knuckles were white as he hung onto the gurney Mateo propelled through the ER’s doorway. “It...it didn’t look like she hit her head, but I couldn’t tell for sure, you know?”
“Her vital signs are normal, other than an accelerated heart rate, probably caused by pain. I’m guessing it’s not anything major, but we’ll have the doctor take a look.” Hopefully, whoever the doctor was would do a better job calming the dad than he’d managed to accomplish.
A nurse sent them to an exam room, and when a white-coated doctor with chin-length brown hair appeared in Mateo’s peripheral vision, he knew it was Miranda Davenport before he’d even looked up. As if he’d somehow sensed it was her, and how strange was that? Also strange that he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face just from seeing her again.
“Hi,” Miranda said with a sweet smile as she came to lean over the child and give her a comforting pat. “What’s going on?”
“Three-year-old girl fell from her dad’s shoulders onto the sidewalk.” Mateo began his report as he unbuckled her from the gurney. Being careful to not jostle her, he gently moved her to the bed. “Ambulatory at the scene. Heart rate one twenty, BP ninety over fifty. Her name is Emily, and this is her father.”
“What do you think, Doctor?”
The man’s anxious eyes stared at Miranda, and Mateo decided that the professional but still warm smile she gave him would have had anyone breathing slightly easier. “We’re about to find out,” Miranda said as she turned that smile to Emily. “I know you’re hurting, but can you be brave for me? Just like the princess here always is?”
Miranda tapped the sticker of a glittery cartoon princess she had attached to her name badge, and, remarkably, the child nodded and hiccupped as her crying lessened a little.
“Wow, you really are brave, like her! So, can you tell me where you hurt?”
The child waved her left hand toward the right side of her body, and Miranda moved her hands gently over Emily’s head, then her arms and torso. Her careful fingers slowly went to touch Emily’s neck, and Mateo instantly saw the swelling forming there. The child shrieked again, and Miranda lifted her head, her gaze meeting Mateo’s for a long moment before moving on to the child’s father.
“It looks like she has a fractured clavicle. See the bulge here on her collar bone? That might not sound like good news since she’s hurting so much, but it’s a comparatively simple injury that will heal well on its own. We’ll get her pain meds right away to make her comfortable, then an X-ray to confirm the diagnosis. But I’m sure that’s what the problem is.”
That smile, her quick diagnosis, her ability to calm the child and her father, and the utter confidence illuminating her amazing blue eyes, all wrapped up in what Mateo knew was a hell of an attractive body, were one irresistible package.
“Thank God it’s nothing super-bad,” Emily’s father said, swiping his hand across his brow. “What can you do for it? My wife is probably gonna kill me. I really need to know what to tell her when she calls me back.”
“We’ll get her a sling called a clavicle strap to keep her arm and shoulder from moving as it heals. And you can tell your wife that it’s very common for young children to fracture their clavicles, sometimes even from a simple fall in their own homes. So she’s actually a pretty tough cookie, aren’t you, Emily?”
The child sniffled between whimpering cries and nodded as Miranda pulled one of the princess stickers from her coat pocket and handed it to Emily. “I hope this will always remind you how brave you were today. Your mom and dad should be proud of you.”
Another nod, and as Emily even managed to smile through her sniffles this time, Mateo realized that Miranda had a special gift for soothing little ones.
“You don’t put a cast or anything on it?” the father asked.
“If the two ends of the broken clavicle are in the same state, I promise it will heal on its own.” Miranda sent the man another encouraging smile before giving instructions to the nurse about not moving Emily’s arm or shoulder, and what pain medication to give her.
Mateo’s job was done here, and though he would have liked to stay a little longer to watch Miranda work her magic, he figured he should get the ambulance back to the station. He pushed the gurney from the room, but as he passed Miranda in the hallway, she paused in typing her instructions into the computer chart and turned to look at him.
“Busy day?”
“Not too bad. No collapsed tunnels with crazy doctors running inside.”
“Or dusty dogs to deal with.” Her lips curved. “Did John’s family come and get Benny?”
“Yes. My apartment seemed quiet after the little guy was gone.”
“So getting a dog might be on your to-do list?”
“Probably not.” He had other things on that list. Like being forced to move back home when he didn’t want to, despite being needed there, and the guilt of his feelings about all that gnawed at his gut. He couldn’t tell his parents he didn’t deserve to step into his brother’s shoes to take over the family’s estate full-time. That his not being there for Emilio, for not doing more to help him, might be part of the reason he wasn’t alive anymore. That memories of his laughter and jokes, of their closeness and all they’d done together their whole lives, were a constant ache every moment he was back in Spain.
The weight of all that hung heavily on his shoulders, as it had for the past six months, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it. Didn’t know how he could convince his parents that it would be fine for him to be home just a few months of the year, when they expected him to be there full-time now that Emilio was gone.
As he stared at Miranda’s pretty face and smiling eyes and thought about the disapproving looks his parents had given her, a radical idea struck him, slowly forming fully in his mind. And the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.
Yes, it just might be brilliant, and actually work. But would she possibly agree? He had no idea. But what he did know? Trying to persuade her just became the number one thing on that to-do list.
* * *
By the end of the day, Mateo had become convinced that the idea that had developed in his head earlier was the perfect solution to his problem. If Miranda was willing to go along with it, that was.
After all, what did he have to lose by asking her? He definitely couldn’t suggest it to one of the women he casually dated, because they might read more into it than he wanted them to. But since he and Miranda barely knew one another, he couldn’t imagine she’d read his proposal the wrong way. Plus, she was a Davenport.