The Greek Doctor's Proposal Read Free Page A

compassion running deep in her veins. As if she understood what it meant to be on the other side of the gurney.
    “I’m going to have to take him to surgery as soon as the dad signs the operative consent.”
    “I thought you were the medical director,” she said.
    “I am, but I’m also a maxo-facial surgeon.” Miklo hesitated until Jeannine looked up at him. “I’m wondering if you would be able to accompany Roberto to the OR.”
    Jeannine blinked in surprise. “Me?” she squeaked. “I’m not an OR nurse.”
    “I know this is out of the ordinary, but I’m not asking you to perform the operation.” Miklo gave a sideways smile. “He hasn’t let go of your hand even under the sedation. Having a friendly face in the OR will go a long way to keeping his stress level down and my repairs in place.”
    Jeannine looked down at Roberto’s gauze-covered face and then at the intensity in Miklo’s. Could she refuse to help either one of them? “You’re right. I know that having staff who care about you helps you heal faster.” She was living testament to that. When her fiancé had fled in the face of her tragic illness, she had looked to her family, friends, and the nurses who had cared for her to get her through the worst of her crisis. She gripped the metal side rail with one hand. With her other hand, she touched the neck of her uniform.
    “You sound like you have some personal experience in that arena,” Miklo said, watching her with those dark, dark eyes.
    Before she could answer, she was interrupted by frantic, rapid Spanish being yelled down the hallway. “I think the father’s here,” Jeannine said with a cringe.
    “I’ll get him.” Miklo left the room and returned shortly with a hysterical man who spoke non-stop between sobs.
    Miklo explained the situation to him, pointing out the problems of the facial injuries, the IV, and what the plan was. Jeannine produced a clipboard with the Spanish consent form, and the father signed it with a trembling hand. After returning the clipboard, he took a handful of tissues that Jeannine offered him. “Estoyapesadumbrado,” she said, one of the few Spanish phrases she knew, and she was sorry for his pain.
    Miklo squeezed the man’s shoulder in a gesture of support as he wiped his tears from his face. “Gracias,” he said, and shook Miklo’s hand as well as Jeannine’s. Tears gathered in her eyes as he struggled to control himself.

CHAPTER THREE
    R OBERTO clung to her hand as Jeannine walked alongside the gurney to the OR. Images she tried to suppress of her own recent trips to the OR attempted to insinuate themselves into her mind, but she forced them back. Now was not the time for a trip down the memory lane from hell.
    Miklo bent over the stretcher. He had quickly changed into OR scrubs and a bandanna-style head cover. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a toy race car and placed it in Roberto’s hand, curving the little boy’s fingers around it.
    “What do you have there?” she asked.
    “Just a little something for him to hold.” Miklo shrugged and offered a quick smile. “I’ve found that children do better with some little token that they hold through procedures. Officially, it’s called a transitional object, but I just like to call it a car.” He shrugged, seeming to dismiss the idea.
    Jeannine smiled. “That’s a great bit of insight.” She leaned over and stroked Roberto’s hair back from the bandages on his face. “I should have thought of that.”
    “It’s not a big deal,” he said.
    “Really, it is. Not everyone would go to such lengths to see to the comfort of their patients. Especially the little ones.”
    “It’s just a toy car…”
    “That will go a long way to keeping Roberto’s stress level down.” She looked at the little car clutched in the bruised fingers. “I could have used one myself not long ago.”
    Miklo watched as her mind seemed to wander a bit. What could she have meant by that comment? Observing