The Army Doctor's Wedding

The Army Doctor's Wedding

By

Helen Scott Taylor

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Copyright © 2013 Helen Taylor

Cover design © Helen Taylor

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The right of
Helen Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by
her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

This is a work
of fiction. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing
the same name or names. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the
Copyright owner.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Mona
Risk, my excellent critique partner, who has been with me through thick and
thin since the start, to my son Peter Taylor for his skill creating book
covers, and last but not least, to my trusty editor Pam Berehulke for her sharp
eye and good commonsense suggestions.

Chapter One

Alice Conway stumbled across the arid, rocky ground, a
precious newborn baby clutched to her chest. The rattle of gunfire sounded
behind her, each shot searing along her nerves. The three African women with
her held their children in their arms, still running fast. Alice couldn't keep
up with them for much longer. Her legs felt so weary, the muscles weak and
aching, her feet sore.

She glanced over her shoulder as
a rebel jeep crested the hill behind, about two hundred yards back. Pure terror
streaked through her. Her little group of survivors was nowhere near the
refugee camp yet. She would not get these women and children to safety in time.
They would all be mown down in a hail of bullets like the rest of the
villagers.

Her breath sawed in and out, so
loud in her ears that it took her a few moments to notice the rhythmic beat of
a helicopter approaching. She blinked away dust and sweat and realized there
were two helicopters coming from the direction of the refugee camp. Were they
friendly?

If they were government troops,
they were likely to fire on the rebels and cut down the women and children in
the crossfire. Neither side fighting over this war-torn country cared about the
safety of civilians. If the vulnerable died they were just collateral damage,
or worse still they were raped and murdered to spread terror. The charity Alice
worked for did its best to help the women and children, but it was like trying
to hold back a tide of hatred.

The smaller helicopter drew
level. Alice's heart leaped with hope at the NATO logo on the side. The rebel
jeeps sped up behind them, bullets thudding into the ground all around. NATO
soldiers returned fire. The other helicopter hovered, preparing to land fifty
yards ahead.

An almighty bang sounded behind.
Heat and dirt blasted in all directions. Spatters of burning fuel showered the
area, setting the small dry bushes on fire. One of the jeeps must have
exploded. Alice ducked her head and hugged the tiny baby, running faster.

A stab of hot pain jabbed her
calf. She stumbled, tried to right herself, but knew she was going down. She
threw out an arm to save herself and angled her body to protect the baby.

***

Poised at the door of the Merlin helicopter, ready to jump
out, Maj. Cameron Knight recoiled at the thunderous sound as a shell hit a
rebel jeep. With a fiery flash and burst of black smoke it exploded. His gaze
jumped back to the women and children. The three native women had cowered,
huddling together. He couldn't tell if they were injured, but the blonde woman
had gone down.

Cameron shifted his boots on the
metal rim of the door, his gaze darting from the ground to the downed woman.
His fingers flexed on the strap that held his medical kit on his back, eager to
be down there.

"Wait, Major." The
voice of the captain in charge of the unit shouted over the noise.

Cameron outranked him but as a
doctor his rank was meaningless in combat situations. He was supposed to do
what he was told. Nevertheless, he'd learned a long time ago that the British
army cut doctors a lot of slack, and he took every inch he could get. He was
here to offer front-line medical care, life-saving resuscitation, and
damage-control treatment in combat situations. He did what needed to be done
even if it was dangerous.

The second the chopper touched
down, Cameron leaped out and dashed towards the casualty. She hadn't moved
since she fell. If she'd taken a bullet she might be bleeding out. There was no
time to waste. With a curse, the captain sent two soldiers out to protect him.

Doctors weren't supposed to be in
the line of fire but the fact Cameron didn't carry a gun was irrelevant. He
needed to be out here where the wounded were.

He slid to his knees beside the
woman, a gun discharging over his head. He tuned out the metallic rattle and
concentrated on the patient.

She groaned as he gently rolled
her over. Her eyelashes fluttered, revealing blue eyes. "The baby,"
she whispered, trying to move the arm she had fallen on. She winced in pain and
Cameron realized she had a cloth-wrapped bundle inside her jacket. He pushed
aside the fabric to reveal the head of a tiny newborn. The infant had a
unilateral cleft lip. Something to be checked when they got back to base.

"Major Knight, there are
more rebels coming. You need to get the woman in the helicopter," the
captain shouted.

Gesturing his acknowledgment, he
examined her quickly. Blood covered her lower leg, but it was only a flesh
wound. With a bloodied nose and bruised cheek, she'd probably have a couple of
black eyes—but it was her arm that worried him most. It lay at a strange angle,
almost certainly broken in a couple of places.

The baby's vitals should be
checked, but that would have to wait until they were in the helicopter. Not
that he could do much for the child if it were distressed. He certainly wasn't
a neonatologist, and he didn't have the equipment to treat a newborn.

He signaled to his combat medical
technician, who ran over with a stretcher. They lifted the woman on and carried
her back to the helicopter.

Cameron tried to take the tightly
wrapped baby from her good arm, but she hung on. "No."

"I need to examine him. The
baby will be safe. You can still see the little guy."

"Okay." She released
the infant.

Cameron unfolded the bright red
and yellow fabric from the tiny body, noting the tied-off umbilical cord, which
should be dealt with. Tension gripped him while he completed his visual check.
The child had not sustained an injury. He released a breath and took the baby's
temperature and pulse.

"He seems fine."
Cameron settled the boy in a secure pouch beneath a seat. They weren't
outfitted with transport cribs.

He turned his attention back to
the woman. "I'm Major Knight, a doctor with the British army."

From the few words she'd spoken
he thought she had a British accent, but he wasn't certain. He recognized the
logo on her jacket, a hand cradling a baby. It was a charity caring for women
and children in conflict zones. "What's your name?" he asked gently
as the helicopter rose into the air.

"Alice Conway. How are the
others?" Raising her head, she tried to see. Cameron glanced over his
shoulder to where the medical technician was checking the African women. They
squatted in a group, their children tight to their sides. Their suspicious dark
eyes fixed on the soldiers distrustfully. It was little wonder considering the
way they were used to being treated.

Cameron pressed his lips together
with a burst of frustration over how powerless the British army was to really
make a difference here. As soon as NATO pulled out, everything would go back to
how it was before. But now wasn't the time to say such a thing. He returned his
attention to Alice and forced a smile. "They're safe." For now.

Alice relaxed and her eyelids
fluttered as she fought to stay awake. "My arm hurts."

"I'm afraid it's broken, but
we'll fix you up at the military field hospital."

"My leg burns as well."

"That's nothing to worry
about. Just a flesh wound. I'll dress it in a moment. Let's make your arm more
comfortable first."

The baby let out a thin, urgent
wail. Alice reached out her good arm and touched the tiny bundle. "It's
all right, sweetheart. I'm here."

Whether the baby responded to her
or it was just coincidence, Cameron didn't know, but the child quieted.

"He must be hungry,"
Alice said. "He was born about three hours ago and he hasn't been fed yet.
I gave him a few drops of water on my finger but that's all I could do." A
sigh whispered between her lips and her eyelids fell.

"I'll have him checked over
by someone with more experience in pediatrics when we get to the
hospital." Cameron stroked the sweaty blonde bangs off her forehead. He
had an overwhelming urge to touch her, comfort her.

She shifted her position and a
moan slipped between her lips.

"Your arm?"

"Yep."

"I'll give you a shot for
the pain and strap it up."

***

It was so good to be safe, to be lying down with someone
taking care of her. The doctor cut away the sleeve of her jacket to expose her
arm. He retrieved a small glass ampoule from his pack and held it upside down
before jabbing the syringe needle in and drawing out the liquid.

She closed her eyes as he gave
her the shot, willing it to take effect. Her arm ached like crazy. Every time
she moved, pain shot into her shoulder and down her body. The throb in her head
and sting of her lower leg were nothing in comparison.

"We'll give that a few
minutes to take effect before we move your arm."

Alice opened her eyes to find the
doctor leaning over her. His fingers gently probed the bridge of her nose and
beneath her eye.

His eyes were dark brown and
gentle. A man who did his job must be kind and compassionate. His gaze moved to
hers. A smile curved his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. "The
good news is there're no bones broken in your face. You'll look like you've
gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, though."

She smiled in response, despite
her pain. "What did you say your name was?"

"Major Knight." He
leaned a little closer. "As you're a civilian, you can call me Cameron if
you like."

Alice reached a hand towards the
baby again and stroked the little cloth-wrapped bundle, hoping her touch let
the tiny boy know he was safe. Just the thought of what the villagers would
have done with him made her eyes tear up. All because the poor little guy had a
cleft lip.

Cameron moved to work on her leg.
Alice closed her eyes and drifted. She was so exhausted; she struggled to stay
awake. She and the women from the village had run for three hours, driven by
fear to reach the refugee camp on the outskirts of Rejerrah before the rebels
found them.

The sound of the soldiers' voices
merged with the noise of the helicopter engine and the floor vibrated against
her back. Strange smells assailed her: the metallic stink of oil, the tang of
antiseptic. Something cold rubbed over her leg. It stung, then paper ripped and
a soft dressing pressed onto the wound.

Cameron touched her shoulder.
"Are you okay, Alice?"

"Just dopey."

"Nothing to worry about. The
analgesic has a mild sedative effect. Your leg wound is only minor. I suspect a
stone or piece of debris hit you when the jeep exploded."

He pulled a blue sling out of his
pack and unfolded the straps. "This is going to hurt a little, but your
arm will be more comfortable once we have it supported."

Alice gritted her teeth against
the jab of pain as Cameron gently moved her arm, folding the forearm against
her chest before securing it in the sling. After fastening it, he touched a
hand to her cheek. "There you go. That will keep it still until we reach the
field hospital and set it properly."

"Will you do that?"

"I can if you like."

"Yes, please."

Alice didn't like men much. She'd
seen enough evidence that they weren't to be trusted. Not just here, in the
conflict zone, but back in Britain as well. Yet she did trust Cameron. There
was something about him that made her feel safe. Maybe the red cross on his
jacket sleeve, or maybe his caring smile, or the way he handled her so gently.

***

The tension eased from Cameron's shoulders. It looked like
there was nothing seriously wrong with Alice. In a few weeks the minor injuries
would have healed. By six weeks the broken arm would be mended as well.

Lifting the tiny baby, he settled
him in the crook of Alice's good arm. Despite the ordeal the infant had
suffered in its first few hours of life, its pulse was strong and its
temperature normal. Some people were survivors and this baby seemed to be one
of them.

With a smile, she kissed the
baby's head. "You're such a good boy, aren't you, sweetie?"

She seemed very attached to the
child considering he was only a few hours old and obviously not hers. How had
she come to have him? From what he'd seen, she had fallen hard because she
tried to protect the baby. That was why she'd hurt her arm. She'd protected the
child at her own expense.

He glanced at the small blonde
woman with respect. He did his bit to help the locals if they were sick or
injured but he operated under the protection of the military. Charity workers
like Alice had no such protection. Their charity status did not always shield
them from violence.

"The baby's cleft lip can be
repaired, can't it?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

Cameron poked his little finger
in the child's mouth and explored the soft palate. "I can't feel a gap in
the roof of the mouth. If it's only the lip involved, then the surgery is
straightforward. You will need a plastic surgeon for it, though."

"ETA five minutes,
Major," the captain said.

"Understood."

He fastened straps around Alice
to secure her. "Hold the baby tight. We'll take you both in together on
the stretcher."

"Where are we landing?"
she asked.

"The military base at
Rejerrah. You and this little guy will be admitted to the field hospital. I'm
afraid the three women and their children will have to go to the refugee camp.
At least they will have food and shelter and a measure of protection."

"As long as they're
safe." Alice hugged the tiny boy and settled back on the stretcher as the
helicopter landed.

The medical technician took one
end of the stretcher and another soldier on the team took the other.

"Ready," Cameron said,
touching the back of Alice's uninjured hand.

"Yes. I want to get myself
sorted out quickly so I can look after the baby." She gripped Cameron's
hand, and he met her determined blue gaze. "You will help me get the best
care for him, won't you?"