Page 44 of Protecting What's Mine

He was average height and weight for an eight-year-old. But unlike the average eight-year-old, he was dressed like a mini grandpa in shorts, a t-shirt, and suspenders. Mack couldn’t decide if it was adorable or creepy.

“I’m going to look you over real quick, okay?”

The boy nodded again. “Okay,” he rasped.

During the physical exam, Leroy kept up a running patter of conversation. His daughter was a single mom, and he and Tyrone were close. The school nurse called him when Tyrone threw up at school.

The boy’s lymph nodes were swollen, and he had a decently high fever.

She took out her scope. “Let’s take a look at your throat, buddy. Can you open wide and say ‘ah’?”

Tyrone did as he was told.

The poor kid’s tonsils were covered in white goop and red spots.

“It looks like strep throat,” she told the grandpa, reaching for a swab.

“What does strep throat look like?” Tyrone asked in a rasp.

“There’s white junk and red spots all over your tonsils.”

“Cool!”

“The test is fast, and we can do it here. If it comes back positive—which it will—I’ve got a prescription for antibiotics with Tyrone’s name on it.”

“When will he start feeling better?” Leroy asked.

“Once he starts the course of antibiotics, he should start feeling better within a day or two. Lots of fluids will help the antibiotics work to flush out the bacteria. You can give him acetaminophen for the pain.”

“Am I contagious?” the kid asked.

“Yes, you are. But after twenty-four hours on the medicine, you won’t be. I need you to ‘ah’ again while I swab your throat, okay? I promise I’ll be quick.”

She made quick work of it, in and out with the swab before the boy could gag.

“So you like gross things, Tyrone?” she asked.

“Yeah!”

“Want me to take a picture of your throat?” she offered. “Then you can show everyone what it looks like before the medicine starts working.” And not breathe on anyone while doing so.

“That would be so cool.”

She snapped a shot with the grandfather’s cell phone.

“That was smart,” Leroy said, while Tyrone admired the photographic evidence of his strep throat. “Now, he won’t try to show everyone the real thing.”

Mack smiled. Maybe she was getting the hang of this country doctor thing.

IT WASN’Ta twelve-hour shift in the emergency department or a trauma call. But a day in family practice was still exhausting.

She stirred the reheated soup she hadn’t had a chance to eat the first time around when a walk-in with medication side effects showed up.

Russell had been busy, too. Though he’d seen fewer patients than she had. She kept an eye on the numbers and felt like she’d won there.

She turned the page in the medical journal, keeping an ear out for any trouble in the waiting room.

But the trouble was coming to her. Russell stalked into the break room, his white coat billowing out behind him.