Under My Care by R.L. Dunn

6

Rowena walked into curtained cubicle eight, where a young mother sat holding her daughter, Matilda, on the bed. Parker appeared barely twenty-one. According to the chart, Matilda hadn’t been feeling well for five days. Parker took Matilda to the reservation clinic, but instead of the ear infection Parker thought she had, the clinic sent her to the hospital to rule out a serious diagnosis.

Rowena raised a brow as Parker’s phone vibrated. The patient’s mother paled and gagged. “Are you sick to your stomach?” Rowena asked.

“I’m sorry, Maddy’s dad, instead of being at Maddy’s side, is demanding I come home to serve as hostess for a business meeting and take care of our other children.” Parker sent the repeated calls to voicemail.

Rowena held the chart for Matilda Goff tightly to her chest. She was about to change this little girl’s life forever. “Mrs. Goff?” Is she married to Silas? “I’mDr. Andersen.”

“It’s Lane. I’m not married to Matilda’s father.” Parker looked at the doctor through tired dark chocolate eyes.

“Ms. Lane, there really is no easy way to tell you this. Matilda is very ill. Her blood tests indicate she has a type of cancer, either leukemia or lymphoma. An oncologist will need to test her further. As soon as possible, we will arrange for Matilda to be transferred to Missoula and then to Great Falls for treatment. Unfortunately, the weather is getting in our way. I will start stabilizing her the best I can until we can move her.” Rowena held the young woman’s hand. “I am so sorry. I’m sure you have questions. I hope to be able to answer them. But first, I need your permission to treat her.”

Parker signed the consent. “Dr. Andersen, is Maddy going to die?”

“I pray not. But she is very ill. Is there someone I can call to help you with Matilda or your other children?” Rowena asked. She hated how her voice sounded cold. Her own anxiety was preventing her from being more empathetic.

“I’ll call Maddy’s Uncle Nuka,” Parker sighed.

That answered Rowena’s question. She knew Nuka was Silas’s brother. The Goff family ran Golden Watch, which controlled the town of Guardian. They also owned the land adjacent to her family’s. Silas Goff and her ex-husband were friends. Both wanted her land, and both were cruel men.

Matilda was Silas’s daughter. She stared at the beautiful little girl whose snow-white skin now held a gray pallor, and her pink lips were tinged with blue despite the nasal oxygen.

“I’ll be back soon.” Rowena took a deep breath. As she left the curtained area, she heard Parker answer the ringing cell phone.

“Dr. Andersen says Maddy has cancer. You need to come. God, Silas, she’s not making it up.”

Rowena’s body stiffened. With a breath, she moved up the hall with Noah who, hearing the same phone exchange, remained stoic at her side. She checked on the man with sky-high blood sugar on an insulin drip and the woman with a blood clot in her leg threatening to cause a stroke. Those two, plus one more critical patient—a cancer patient with an infection—would be the last moved up to the small intensive care unit.

The other patients would remain under her and four nurses’ care. The saving grace was the storm had worsened to the point she didn’t expect any fresh patients to make it in. She could handle it either way. But could she handle Peter Walter, who was lying in a bed down the hall?

* * *

Nakoma handed Pete a second epinephrine nebulizer. “You know Dr. Rowena from another life?”

Pete nodded. “We served in Afghanistan together.” He inhaled the medicine deeply, finally easing his breathing.

Nakoma shook her head. “It’s more than that. You have history.”

Pete fidgeted in the bed, a bit uncomfortable with the nurse’s keen insight. “We had history.” He inhaled again, filling his lungs with medication and his head with memories.

Staff Sergeant Peter Walter sat in the helicopter’s hell hole and stared out into the Afghanistan darkness. Joined by the two pilots, two gunners and two other pararescue men, they lifted off from their base in the Parwan Province in an HH-60 Pave Hawk helicopter. A second one flew in tandem with them. Peter was both a warrior and angel of mercy, an Air Force pararescue man, en route to pick up three badly injured special operators and two children who were badly burned in the same firefight.

Peter’s eyes heavy with fatigue, he watched through night vision goggles for activity below. The Taliban was becoming increasingly dangerous, creating booby traps for the rescuers. The fighting in the area was fierce, and the runs were more frequent. The soldiers and children were en route to a second landing zone because the first one was compromised.

“Approaching the LZ,” his headset chirped.

Pete mentally ran through his pediatric burn care skills. He was the most experienced of the six rescuers. His usual rescue partner, Tucker Hanlon, was on leave. Each PJ would take one patient. Pete would float between the two kids. Guns at the ready, his helo would touch down while the second flew air cover. They would retrieve the two children. Once airborne, the other helicopter would retrieve the three soldiers.

A fight he had with a particularly argumentative and green commanding officer always came to mind when he picked up any of the spec ops guys. His CO found no use for the PJs and the tonnage of equipment their unit carried. Pete quirked a smile and, in his gravelly Boston accent, told him, “Even the Spec Ops need to call 911 occasionally.”

Dust churned up as the helicopter touched down. Sand attacked their faces like shards of glass flying at them. In the darkness, a group of Afghani men approached with the two burned children. Two male adults tried to board the helicopter with them. Pete stepped into the fray. They could not bring unvetted locals onto an American base. Thankfully, one of the injured soldiers spoke Pashto.

The petty officer, bleeding heavily from shrapnel wounds to his shoulder, right side, and right thigh, explained the situation. Pete gave him a thumbs-up and headed to his aircraft. His mind was divided between leaving the critically injured men on the ground and the fact that neither child was making noise.

The smell of burned flesh, oil and gunfire filled the cabin. Another airman looked at him like a deer in the headlights. Pete remained all business. If he internalized the severity of the injuries to the innocent patients, he wouldn’t be able to help them.

The first child, a boy no older than six, was burned over eighty percent of his small body. “Drill a line. Run fluids, six hundred ccs per hour,” he ordered the other PJ. Pete did the fluid calculations in his head. He helped the other PJ give fluids to the other child.

As the two PJs worked, Pete kept an eye on the gunners. He’d seen their uptight posture before. They expected another attack. He moved to examine the first child, who was now moaning. “Morphine.” He injected the drug into the child’s line.

“We are heading home, boys,” his headset chirped again.

He looked into the disturbed faces of his colleagues; they all knew these kids had no chance of survival. The Reaper was gaining two today.

At the base hospital, all three soldiers refused treatment until the children were brought in. The six PJs loitered at the doors of the hospital. Peter was always amazed at the sacrifices these warriors were willing to make. He never thought of himself as heroic. To him, it was his job.

Hours later, Rowena walked out to greet them. Her heavy honey-colored eyes were damp. “I’m sorry, boys. The children… they didn’t make it. Their injuries were too extensive.” She wrapped her arms protectively around herself. “The soldiers, they’re all going to Landstuhl. But they will recover.” She forced a small smile. “Good job.” She continued walking out of the building. Her long shift was over.

Peter had seen her after losing patients before, but her expression was especially sad after losing the two children. “Hey, Doc, let me walk you to your quarters,” he offered. Together they walked past the showers and through another row of barracks’ huts.

* * *

Rowena listened to Linde’s chest, remembering the one extra special day she spent with Peter in Afghanistan so many years earlier.

“Staff Sergeant, would you like to come in? My family sent me a care package. I have some chocolate chip cookies.” Rowena did not want to be alone with her thoughts. At least at work, she didn’t feel the sting of rejection, nor the emptiness caused by the senseless loss of two young lives.

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.” He smiled.

His Boston accent always made her chuckle. “Bastin?” she asked, imitating his tone. “I could use a good glass of whiskey.”

“Me too.” He laughed.

Rowena held the door. The first thing anyone would notice was her billet had only one bed made. The other was empty. She saw him looking. “My roommate rotated home. Her replacement is a man.” She walked to her small desk and lifted a bright red tin. “Cookie?”

Peter nodded, took a cookie, and sat on the empty bunk. “Mm. This is so good.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the sweet taste. “Tough shift,” he said matter-of-factly.

She sighed, sitting on her own bunk. “You had one too. I hate this so much. I went to medical school to make a difference. This place, it takes so much away.” The tears she was holding back for the past few days began to fall.

Peter moved to her side. Gently, he wiped the tears away with the pads of his callused thumbs. His intake of breath sharpened the minute he touched her damp skin. “I better go.” He moved to stand.

Rowena grabbed his hands. “Please don’t. I need to feel something other than this ache.” She pulled his hands over her heart. She’d never done something like this before. She was sure the look in her eyes was as pained as she felt. “Please.” She let go to press a hand on either cheek and placed a soft kiss on his mouth.

He stared into her eyes with the same intensity as her need. Her tongue swept along the seam of his lips. “Ro,” he gulped.

They had spent the last months growing as friends but never crossed any romantic lines. He was enlisted, and she was an officer.

She kissed him again, her long lashes fluttering against his cheek. The heated look she gave him now answered any doubts. The line between friends and lovers exploded.

Peter took control. His tongue pressed forward, twirling with hers and exploring every crevice of her mouth. They shared the taste of chocolate chip cookies and salt from her tears. The fire smoldering between them for months quickly turned to an emotion-filled blaze. He unzipped his flight suit and pulled off his tee shirt.

She crossed her arms in front of her, lifting her scrub top to reveal a black lace bra.

Peter chuckled. “That definitely is not Air Force issue.” Reaching around her, he opened the clasp, releasing her full breasts into his palms. Rowena ripped her hair tie free. Long, silky raven strands spilled over her shoulders. “You are so beautiful.”

“Peter,” she whispered. Rowena ran her fingers over the sinews of his neck, across his broad shoulders, over his muscled chest, down the six-pack of his abs while she nibbled the length of his throat, placing a soft kiss to his Adam’s apple.

Peter’s long fingers tugged her nipples and rolled them between two fingers to Rowena’s delight. The pressure increased to pain, immediately followed by warm, soothing suckles from his lips. Peter lifted her curvy body into his lap. With the building sensations from his touches, her bottom squirmed against his growing hardness.

“Ro,” Pete groaned and pulled her closer to him, her breasts mashing against his naked chest. Cupping her head with one hand, his other hand beneath her knees, he rotated her, pressing her onto her back.

“I’ve got you.” With Rowena’s body beneath his, he nipped her lower lip before seizing her mouth and kissing her deeply.

Rowena met his kiss with her own growing desire. Peter nuzzled the pulse point at the base of her throat. He continued his tour of her flesh, which flushed warmer with his every touch. His tongue lapped the underside of her breasts, down her tummy to circle her belly button.

She cried out and arched up beneath him. Her panties were dampening. Peter slipped his hands into her waistband, and Rowena lifted her bottom off the cot, allowing him to remove her underwear and pants. In one smooth move, she was naked.

She’d always been on the chubby side, and she felt inhibited with Fred. His bed skills were crude and selfish. With Peter, she felt alive and beautiful. If he sensed her inexperience, he never said. He placed a hand on each knee and parted them to reveal her slickened crease. She could feel the moisture coating her inner thighs.

“I can’t resist.” He kissed the black curls covering her mound before taking a long lick along her swollen seam.

Rowena moaned and rubbed against him, seeking more contact from him. “Peter, I want…”

His eyes lifted to look at her. Specks of gold now surrounded each dilated pupil. She keened when he pulled her swollen bud between his teeth before lathing it with warm, wet strokes.

“Peter, please,” she begged, unsure of what she needed while he continued his oral assault. His tongue—one moment soft, the next firm—teased her, finally parting her lips to reach her core. His tongue swirled inside her, and she rewarded him with a gush of her delicious honey. She rocked hard against him, panting with pleasure. Her eyes closed, and her fingers massaged his short hair, pulling him closer.

“Shh, I’ll take care of you.” He did just that. He alternated between licking and sucking her sensitive tissue while sliding two fingers into her tight tunnel. Curling them, he found that special, sensitive spot she’d believed only existed in romance novels. Rowena’s muscles grabbed at him, attempting to pull his fingers deeper.

Peter inhaled deeply, her scent filling the air. His arousal increased in length as her hips rocked against every thrust of his fingers. Increasing his pace, he sucked her bud between his lips. With a soft nip, Rowena drowned in a sea of pleasure.

While she floated back to earth, Pete gently pulled his fingers free. “You are so beautiful when you come.”

Stripping the rest of his clothing, including his boots, was no easy task when all she wanted was for him to bury himself inside her. He rifled through an outer pocket of his uniform to find a condom. It was common to carry them to serve as an easy water reservoir in an emergency.

Rowena’s eyes raked down his body, admiring how masculine Peter was. He was long and thick with a full mushroomed head reaching toward her, a few drops of his essence covering its tip. Pete ripped the condom wrapper apart with his teeth. Rowena sat up and took the rubber ring from his fingers.

She swiped her tongue over his tip and licked his slit. “Now that’s delicious.” She took another long lick from his tip to his curls and swirled her tongue on its way up.

“Rowena, you’re killing me.” His head rolled from side to side.

Rowena sheathed him. “Take me hard.” Though she’d never been one to ask for what she needed, Peter made her feel safe to express her desires. She stood from her cot and kissed him deeply. Swinging her hair over her shoulder, she knelt on the bed on her hands and knees.

Pete leaned over her, peppering the length of her spine with kisses. Her round bottom invited attention. He slapped her full cheek once, soothing it with wet kisses as she screamed into the pillow, accompanied by a rush of her fluids. He repeated the love tap and kiss on the other side.

She lowered her chest to the pillows, exposing her beauty fully to him. His mouth feasted on her a second time, his fingers filling her while he massaged her nub. Her skin flushed red before she exploded again.

Peter wrapped his hand around himself, circling her soaked entrance with his cock, and pressed inside her as the aftershocks of her climax continued. He filled her to the hilt in one deep thrust.

Rowena arched her back, her flesh stretching to receive him. “Oh my God,” she said breathlessly.

Peter thrust into her, gripping her hips tightly so she wouldn’t slide off the cot, each stroke harder than the previous. She was coming close again, stifling her moans in her pillows. After licking his finger, he pressed it against her muscled ring. As her body ceded to the pressure, his other hand reached around her, letting his thumb work her from the top. With the triple stimulation, Rowena flew again. Her tunnel convulsed tightly to milk him.

He moved his hands back to her hips. Four more thrusts, her internal spasms urging him on, he bit her shoulder to muffle the moan threatening to give them away. Black dots filled her sight as he found his release, plunging against her cervix.

Peter collapsed against her back then rolled them to the side. He nuzzled the sensual skin beneath her ear. His warm breaths felt like butterfly wings.

Rowena’s body reluctantly released him, rolling in his arms. Her eyes expressed unreadable emotion. They lay silently in each other’s arms for a long while.

Pete stared into her eyes, and, taking her face between his palms, he kissed her softly, reverently. His touches were no longer feverish. They were slow and deliberate. These were not the touches of a release fuck. Peter made love to her.

Rowena’s heart beat with new emotion. How could she feel attached to a man she barely knew? He made her feel desired and satisfied. He made her feel safe and alive. He made her feel loved. The ways, she realized, she never felt once with Fred. These were the first orgasms she’d ever had. Unfortunately, her anxiety was winning.

“Peter, I need to tell you something.” She sighed. “I’m married.”

His neck flushed red as he leaped from her embrace. “You sure have a nice way of keeping your vows.” He jumped from her side and viciously grabbed at his clothing. His breaths came deep and fast.

She pressed her palms to her lips. “Peter, I’m sorry,” Rowena pleaded. “But…”The rest of the words didn’t come.

“I’m sorry too.” He tore out of the tent.

She listened to his retreating footsteps. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, pulling the letter from beneath her bed. She knew this would be her first and last time with this honorable man she was on the verge of falling in love with.

Rowena pulled her knees to her chest. Closing her eyes, she thought about every minute she had spent with Peter Walter. If this wasn’t love, what was?