“No.”
That meant he had no choice but to go to the emergency room for treatment, where he’d wait for hours. Unless …
“My father is a doctor. I’m sure he’d be willing to come check on you and bring you a prescription for antibiotics.”
“I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to go out of your way.”
“Like you did for me?” He was stubborn. Fine. So was she. “Strep isn’t like a cold. It can permanently damage your heart if it goes untreated.”
“Seriously?” He sounded like he didn’t believe her.
“Hey, I’m a registered nurse, remember? I’ll call my dad and let you know when we’re on our way.”
Chapter 4
“Thanks for doing this, Dad.”
Ellie’s father nodded. “You’re welcome. He helped you out. I think he’s the same fellow who fought like hell to save the poor Fisher girl last summer. Seems to me he deserves a break.”
Ellie’s father turned into the gravel driveway, his headlights illuminating Jesse’s A-frame cabin. Its steep, overhanging roof covered a wide porch in front and was extended horizontally on the east side to serve as a carport, sheltering Jesse’s SUV and a covered boat. All the windows were dark.
“Are you sure he knows we’re coming?”
She nodded. “Maybe he fell asleep.”
Ellie had called her father the moment she’d gotten off the phone with Jesse. She’d told him about the situation and asked him to help. He’d agreed when he’d heard who the patient was. Her parents had driven to her house straight away, her mother staying with the kids, who were asleep, so that Ellie could accompany her father.
Her father parked behind Jesse’s SUV, and they climbed out, Ellie grabbing his medical bag from the backseat. No path had been shoveled to the front door, so they walked to a side door beneath the carport.
Ellie knocked, her gaze traveling over a pile of neatly stacked firewood, the polished planks of the heavy wooden door, the skis leaning against the wall. A minute crept by with no answer. She was about to knock again, when she heard the sound of a deadbolt turning.
Jesse opened the door, wearing a red and black flannel shirt, which he’d left unbuttoned, and a pair of faded jeans. He flicked on a light and stood back to let them enter. “Sorry. I drifted off.”
His face was pale, dark circles beneath his blue eyes, his short, dark hair rumpled.
“I’m sorry you caught this. After everything you did to help us…”
Dark brows drew together. “It’s not your fault.”
Ellie’s father stuck out his hand. “I’m Dr. Rouse, but you can call me Troy. Thanks for watching out for my daughter and grandkids. Let’s see if we can get you feeling better. Why don’t you have a seat somewhere, son?”
The cabin’s main room had wood floors and was divided between a kitchen, a living area with a leather sofa and a big television, and a dining area with a rectangular wooden dining set. A wood stove stood on a raised platform of brick in the center of the space, giving heat to the entire cabin, firewood piled beside it. There were two doors in the far wall, no doubt leading to his bedroom and the bathroom. It was cozy and clean, if a bit Spartan. The log walls were almost bare—no artwork or photographs, no shelves with books or keepsakes, nothing but a calendar hanging by the phone and a large, plastic fish mounted as a fake trophy in the kitchen.
Jesse led them to the table, drew out a chair, and sat, his shirt opening to reveal firm muscles and a trail of dark curls that disappeared into his jeans.
He’s sick, for God’s sake.
Ellie shifted her gaze to her father, watching while he took Jesse’s temperature with an ear thermometer, chatting him up.
“I heard you served with the Army Rangers.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And now you’re with the Team.”
“Yes.”
“Two upstanding institutions. I thank you for your service to both. My son-in-law, Dan, served as a special operations pilot flying Black Hawks. He was killed in Iraq.”
Ellie wished her father wouldn’t bring this up with people, but she knew he’d loved Dan like a son. She wasn’t the only person who was still grieving.
“That’s what Ellie told me. I’m sorry.”
Her father read the digital temperature display. “You’ve got a fever of one-oh-three-point-eight. I bet you feel like hell.”
Jesse nodded and raised a hand to his throat. “I’ve got a sore throat and a bad headache. I keep getting chills.”
Poor guy! He wouldn’t be sick if he hadn’t stopped to help her.
“That’s the fever. Let’s take a look at your throat.”
Ellie took the ear thermometer from her father and handed him his pocket scope and a tongue blade.
“My daughter’s a registered nurse. I trained her so she could help me when I make house calls. It’s hard to get good help these days.”
Jesse nodded, as if seeing the wisdom of this.
Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t listen to him. He told me not to be a nurse.”
“Someone with her brains ought to be a doctor.”
Ellie shook her head. “I wanted to be a nurse, Dad.”