Not that looking at it was going to fix it. The tendons in thehand lie close to the surface, vulnerable to lacerations of the kind Houston had suffered. Only surgery could fix it. And Josie knew that coupled with the loss of feeling from the severed nerve, the probability of regaining full function in the affected area was slim.
More likely, there would be reduced mobility and lifelong problems with arthritis and inflammation. Worst-case scenario, the thumb and finger would no longer bend. Plain and simple, you can’t bend a finger that you can’t feel.
Not good news for a man like Houston, who loved his career and being in control.
With a last look at his immobile form, she left the room. In the hallway, she put a hand on her stomach. She felt like tossing her guts in the hazardous waste bin along with her gown, even though she was reasonably sure she had conducted herself well in there. The leg wounds she had dealt with competently, and she had prepared the hand for Dr. Williams to examine.
Then why did she feel like her stomach was tied into slipknots?
Possibly starting with the fact that her feelings for Houston were muddled and confusing, to say the least. Then ending with the fear that a man who was a brilliant surgeon might no longer be able to share that talent with his patients.
A shiver coursed through her, and she took a deep breath to steady herself before proceeding forward.
The waiting room contained the usual assortment of crying babies, the elderly, and a family sitting solemnly together, a middle-aged woman crying. Josie expected they belonged to the cardiac arrest Dr. Matthews had been dealing with.
There were also two men about Houston’s age, wearing T-shirts, swim trunks, and sandals. She approached them. “Are you here for Dr. Hayes?”
“Yes.” The man with blond hair stood up quickly. “How is he?”
“He’s fine.” Relief crossed both theirfaces as she continued. “He lost a lot of blood, but the wounds to his leg weren’t as severe as they could have been. No arteries were severed, and there doesn’t appear to be any muscular damage.”
She paused a second, then decided to give the abridged version of his hand injury. It was Houston’s right to hear about his injury first before his friends did. “He’ll probably be having surgery on his hand to repair some damage, but it’s a standard surgery and he should sail through with no problems.”
All of that was true. The surgery was routine, though complex, and Houston wouldn’t be in any danger from the procedure itself. She simply neglected to give further details.
“Thank God.” The man ran his fingers through his curly blond hair. “I’m Christian Drake, by the way, Houston’s brother-in-law. I was next to him on the water, but I didn’t see it happen. And when I saw him on the beach, he was bleeding so much.” Christian shuddered. He jerked a thumb at his dark-haired companion. “This is Dennis Madsen.”
“Nice to meet you both. I’m Dr. Adkins.” Josie was distracted by a disturbance at the door. A tall brunette rushed in and gave a frantic cry of dismay before launching herself at them and bursting into tears.
Startled, Josie stepped back a foot as Christian caught the woman and began making comforting sounds.
“Shh. Kori, it’s okay. Houston’s going to be okay.”
Dennis gave Josie a rueful look. “Christian’s wife. Houston’s sister.”
“You’re sure he’s okay?” the woman asked, tears streaming down her face. “I mean, ashark?God, it’s just awful.”
“Ask the doctor if you don’t believe me.” Christian gestured to Josie. “Kori, this is Dr. Adkins.”
Josie smiled, trying not to notice the fact that Kori was wearing a black bikini top, tiny little shorts, and wedge sandals. She was tall and lean, without an ounce of fat on her anywhere, her skin agolden bronze, and her long dark hair flowing down her back. Josie felt like a pale elf next to her.
“Is Houston really going to be okay?” Kori demanded anxiously.
She forced herself to smile. “He’s going to be fine. He won’t be surfing for a while, though.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Kori said through her tears, then pointed her finger at her husband. “You can forget about surfing anymore, Christian. Just forget it.”
“Kori, don’t overreact.”
Josie ran her fingers through her hair, exhausted and feeling a tad this side of uncomfortable meeting his friends and sister. It occurred to her there were really valid reasons for not engaging in personal relationships with co-workers. She couldn’t distance herself, couldn’t stop her thoughts. How would his friends look at her if she announced she’d spent the night with Houston? Or almost spent the night, if they hadn’t been interrupted.
Probably wouldn’t believe it, she thought ruefully. Chances were she wasn’t his usual type.
“Houston’s asleep right now so he’s not up for visitors. We’re going to schedule surgery, but I really don’t know when. You should probably leave and get some rest for the night. Why don’t you leave a number with the triage nurse where we can contact you, and we’ll call you when he’s awake.”
After answering a few more questions, and facing a fresh bout of tears from Kori, who hadn’t heard about the surgery, Josie was able to head back to Trauma Three. Dr. Williams was walking down the hall in jeans and a T-shirt and she intercepted him.
“Dr. Williams.”