A Texas Ranger's Family Read Free

the room. “I am Dr. Agawa.”
    Fabric rustled on the bed as shoes and chairs bumped about. Erin assumed a path was being cleared for his approach.
    â€œI see your Texas visitors are here again today. You are fortunate to have such loyal friends.”
    â€œHow are you, sir?” Daniel’s greeting was personable, followed by the sound of palms slapping together as the men shook hands.
    â€œI am good, Daniel. Excited to see our patient alert, as I’m sure you and Dana are, as well.”
    The words were like poking a fresh bruise. Strangers had been attending to her most personal needs. Not only had they invaded her privacy, they seemed to have bonded right under her itchy nose. For the first time she felt kinship with the images in her portfolio of suffering individuals helpless to change their circumstances.
    â€œMy ophthalmic team has been treating the thermal burn to your corneas. You are healing very well, indeed. Time for a look,” Dr. Agawa announced.
    â€œYou’re going to remove the bandages?” Erin was hopeful and horrified in the same breath. She’d be brought out of this darkness before an audience.
    â€œYes, and if all is what I expect, we won’t reapply them,” the doctor reassured her.
    An electric motor hummed as the head of the bed began a steady incline. The shifting of her spine and therepositioning of her weight was painfully pleasant. A loud groan accompanied her long sigh.
    The movement stopped. “I’m sorry to hurt you,” a woman spoke from the foot of the bed. “This is the first time we’ve raised your head since we brought you out of the coma.”
    â€œActually, it’s lovely to change positions. Please continue,” Erin encouraged the attendant.
    â€œThat is very good to hear, Ms. Gray.” The doctor seemed pleased. “Having you upright will make it easier to remove the compresses. I believe you will see fairly well. But if your vision is blurred for a time, do not be overly concerned.”
    Her heart’s naturally slow rhythm shifted like a souped-up Humvee. Her cardiac monitor beeped into high gear. Someone leaned past the bed and turned down the volume.
    â€œThere is nothing to fear,” the kindly doctor promised.
    Fear? There was no way this pounding of her heart was a sign of fear. She’d been calm when she’d photographed the execution of Saddam Hussein. She’d never broken a sweat when her World View crew had come under guerrilla fire in Somalia, and not even a close encounter with Brad and Angelina in a Parisian restaurant had made Erin’s pulse quicken.
    No, she’d survived the worst fear had to offer at nine years old, when her drunken father had beat her mother to death. Since then there hadn’t been a threat Erin couldn’t look in the eye while she kept a steady hand on the shutter release.
    â€œMay I have a sip of water?”
    â€œI’ll do it,” Daniel’s daughter insisted, shufflingcloser to the bed, rattling more ice into the cup and angling a straw into Erin’s mouth.
    The liquid was a cool blessing. She curved her lips in a smile of gratitude.
    â€œWhat was the last thing you recall seeing before your convoy was ambushed?” Dr. Agawa made conversation as he helped to gently raise her head away from the mattress.
    â€œActually, not much. We were in the middle of an Iraqi sandstorm. Our battalion had pulled to the side of the road outside of Kirkuk to wait for it to pass. The center of those storms is as black as any darkness you’ve ever encountered. So, we never saw it coming.”
    Scissors snipped through thick tape and confident hands unwound the long strips that secured soft pads to her eyelids. As she waited for the pressure of the bandages to abate, a warm hand covered her fingers that had gone cold and trembling with anticipation.
    Would her eyesight be the price she paid for the talent that had earned her a Pulitzer