Chapter 7
SEVEN
GABI
I paused in my chart notations as the radio shifted from music to the announcer.
It had been a while since we’d had a storm this strong.
For about the fiftieth time today, I wished I weren’t the only doctor on island.
Of course, all our firefighters were certified EMTs, and there were a half-dozen nurses of varying skill levels—if we included the retirees.
But I was extra cognizant that a lot of people were depending on me.
“I hope everyone has secured properties and finalized storm preparations. This is a life-threatening situation. As a reminder, the final ferry departing Hatterwick will leave from Sutter’s Ferry in just under an hour at 3pm.
After that, all ferries will be suspended.
Emergency management has opened the high school gym and the community center for additional shelter capacity.
For transportation, please call the emergency hotline number.
I’ll continue providing live radio updates as Category 3 Hurricane Hannah approaches.
Stay safe, and remember we’re all in this together, Hatterwick! Talk to you again soon.”
The day had been a complete and utter shitshow from start to finish.
Starting with this morning’s evidence of an attempted break in, we'd rolled into a non-stop parade of patients with everything from minor cuts requiring stitches to more serious injuries that convinced me people lost all common sense when a hurricane was bearing down on us.
Throughout the entire chaotic day, I scrutinized every single person who came through the door, analyzing their behavior with the intensity of a detective to assess whether they might be casing the place for another attempt.
I found myself watching for lingering glances toward the pharmaceutical storage area, noting who seemed overly interested in the layout of our facility, cataloging every nervous gesture or furtive look.
But nobody paid any undue attention to the drug room or seemed to act particularly sketchy beyond the normal pre-storm jitters.
Plenty of folks were jumpy and on edge, their movements quick and agitated, but given the hurricane rolling in with winds that could reach 120 mph, that level of anxiety wasn't at all surprising.
None of it made me feel any better about the security situation, though. The nagging worry sat in my stomach like a lead weight.
"Doc, you're up. Got a nasty sprained wrist in room two," Kristie announced, appearing in the doorway of the break room where I'd been trying to grab thirty seconds to down some lukewarm coffee. "Rads already pulled up for you."
Blowing out a long, exhausted breath, I added a few more lines about my previous patient to the electronic chart notes, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I documented the treatment plan.
Then I pushed back from the computer and stepped into room two, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor.
Marion Zimmerman sat perched on the edge of the exam table, her legs dangling like a child's, cradling her left wrist close to her body in a protective gesture that told me she was in significant pain.
Even from across the small room, I saw the angry purple and black bruising blooming across her joint, along with the obvious swelling of her wrist almost twice its normal size.
"Well now, Marion, what's happened to you?" I moved toward the sink to wash my hands.
"There was an unfortunate incident at the market over the last gallon of milk," she said with a rueful shake of her head, wincing as the movement jarred her injured wrist. "I got caught up in the crush when everyone made a mad dash for the dairy case.
Went down hard when someone's cart clipped my legs. "
I would never understand why people bought perishables like milk and eggs when the chances we'd lose power for days were almost a hundred percent.
They'd have been so much better off stocking up on bottled water, canned goods, and protein bars—things that wouldn't spoil when the electricity went out.
But it was a truth universally acknowledged among islanders that the milk, eggs, and toilet paper would always be the first items to disappear from the shelves whenever a storm threatened, as if these particular items possessed some magical hurricane-repelling properties.
"Dangerous place to be this close to a hurricane.
" I pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves.
"Half the island's probably crammed into those aisles right about now, grabbing whatever's left.
" I rolled the wheeled stool over to the exam table, positioning myself so I could get a better look at her injury.
"You're not wrong about that," Marion agreed with a bitter laugh. "It was like Black Friday in there, but with more panic and less organization. I even saw Willa and Sawyer trying to navigate through all the chaos."
At the mention of one of my oldest and dearest friends, my gaze flicked up from her swollen wrist to meet her eyes. "Oh, yeah? How were they holding up in all that madness?"
"Bless her heart, Willa looked a little green around the gills with all those people pressed in so close together." Sympathy colored Marion's voice. "You could tell she was struggling with the crowd."
Yeah, that was on-brand for Willa. She'd struggled with severe social anxiety all her life, ever since we were kids.
Even back then, she'd always hung out on the fringes of crowds and social gatherings, despite the fact that she was basically island royalty as the latest generation of the founding Sutter family.
Her discomfort in large groups had always been palpable, but that was always fine with me.
As the youngest daughter of an absentee mother and a father with a reputation for being an abusive asshole, I hadn't exactly been cream of the social crop myself.
But our differences in social standing had never mattered to either of us.
We'd bonded over being outsiders in our own ways.
Marion continued talking as I gently began to palpate the injured area, though I hadn't done more than murmur a noncommittal "mmm-hmm," in response while I focused on my examination.
"But Sawyer did such a good job shielding her from the worst of it, keeping people from bumping into her and creating a little buffer zone around her.
I swear, watching those two together, they're absolute relationship goals. "
Having somebody to stand by you no matter what?
Hell yeah, that was relationship goals. I could admit that left me feeling a little twinge of envy that one of my best friends had found it.
And I had no patience for that twinge. I didn’t begrudge her an iota of joy, and I was thrilled she’d finally gotten to marry the love of her life.
It had no bearing on the fact that I was currently single.
I’d find someone someday. It wasn’t as if I were in the market right now.
I still needed to process the dissolution of my last relationship.
He’d put his career ahead of me. And you know what?
That was fine. Right now, I was putting my career ahead of everything else.
I’d worked my ass off to earn my medical degree so I could come back and serve the island that had always held my heart.
My exam backed up what Marion’s x-rays had already told me.
“Not broken, which is the good news. The bad news is you’ll need to keep this immobilized for at least the next few days.
We’re going to put you in a splint. Over-the-counter anti-inflammatories for pain.
Ideally, you’d ice it for fifteen or twenty minutes several times a day, but do the best you can, depending on what happens with the power.
I’ll send home a list of range of motion exercises for you to start in a few days, if the swelling has gone down.
Under normal circumstances, I’d say come back in a week or two for a follow up, but who knows what we’ll be dealing with after the storm.
If you’re not improving, come see us. Otherwise, it should heal just fine on its own, so long as you don’t overtax it. ”
"Got it. Thanks, Doc."
"You stay safe, you hear?" I stepped out into the narrow hallway, the familiar antiseptic smell of the clinic mixing with the humid air that seemed to seep through every crack in the building.
My phone had been vibrating against my hip for the past few minutes, and I finally fished it from my scrubs pocket.
"Justin, can you get a wrist splint in here for Marion? "
"You got it," came his reply from somewhere down the hall, followed by the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing.
Glancing down at my phone screen, I saw my sister Caroline's name flashing across the display.
She knew damn well I'd be slammed today, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and Caroline wasn't the type to call over anything trivial.
My stomach clenched as I swiped to answer. "Caro? What's wrong?"
"Why does anything have to be wrong?" Her voice carried that familiar note of forced lightness that meant she was definitely calling about something.
"Because my pregnant sister is calling me at work when we're less than twenty-four hours out from a Category 3 hurricane making landfall. So, forgive me for assuming this isn't a social call. What's going on?"
There was a pause, and I practically heard her organizing her thoughts.
"I just wanted to know if you wanted me to go ahead and pack you a bag to take over to Hoyt's folks' house tomorrow?
I know you left the house before dawn this morning, and I figured you're too slammed today to want to think about packing when you finally drag yourself home tonight. "
I leaned against the wall, suddenly realizing this was yet another thing I could file under items I hadn't planned well enough.
But then again, my plans had shifted dramatically since this morning, anyway.
"No, actually. I'm going to be staying here at the clinic instead.
" The decision had been crystallizing in my mind all day, but saying it out loud made it feel more real, more final.
"The clinic?" Caroline's voice pitched higher with concern. "Gabi, is it even properly prepared for something like this? Will anyone be with you? I heard about that attempted break-in last night."
Of course she had. That was the Hatterwick Island grapevine for you—news traveled faster than wildfire, especially when it involved anything remotely scandalous or dangerous.
"Caroline, I really don't have time to get into a whole discussion about this right now.
" Through the small window at the end of the hall, I could see the wind picking up, sending leaves and debris skittering across the parking lot.
"I'm the only doctor on this entire island.
I need to be somewhere I can access proper medical facilities if anything goes wrong during the storm. "
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone pushing through the front door, a bloody cloth wrapped around their hand, crimson already seeping through the makeshift bandage.
My brain shifted back into full work mode.
"And speaking of things going wrong, I've got another emergency walking through the door right now.
I love you, and I'll see you when I make it home tonight. Just... be safe, okay?"
I ended the call before Caroline could launch into full big-sister mode and try to browbeat me into changing my plans. She'd have plenty of time to lecture me about my life choices after I got home.
Twenty minutes later, I had the deep gash on my patient's palm cleaned and stitched with eight precise sutures.
In the distance, carried on the increasingly gusty wind, the deep, resonant boom of the ferry horn announced the final boarding call of the day.
Two minutes to three o'clock. We were definitely getting down to the wire now.
Unless more patients were expected or another emergency came stumbling through our doors, I needed to let my staff go finish battening down their own homes for the storm.
And I needed to complete my own preparations for turning the clinic into my temporary hurricane shelter.
Escorting my last patient out to the front waiting area, I opened my mouth to ask Nina about whether anyone else was on the schedule when I spotted a familiar figure standing near the reception desk.
A tall, familiar figure in a Coast Guard uniform who had absolutely no business being anywhere near Hatterwick Island.
A man who was supposed to be stationed on the other side of the damned country right now.
"What the hell are you doing here?" The words escaped before I could think better of them, but at least they came out cool and controlled rather than betraying the way my heart was hammering against my ribs.
Daniel tucked his hands deep into his pockets and slipped into that slow, laconic drawl that I both loved and hated in equal measure.
"Well, at this particular moment, I'm here to help board up these windows and get this clinic ready to weather whatever Mother Nature's planning to throw at us.
But if we're talking about the bigger picture, I'm on the Outer Banks for you, cher. "