Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
T he second time Aiden Lawrence saw June Kellogg, her head was stuck in a pipe. He didn’t recognize her right away, obviously because of the pipe that stuck up three feet off her body, obscuring her face completely. Still, she turned toward him when he opened the curtain, giving the comical appearance that the pipe was alive. He should have known, as he stared at that blank expanse of white PVC pipe that stared expectantly back at him, should have had a feeling all the ways his life was about to change.
“What do we have here?” he asked, for lack of anything better. What else was there in such an absurd situation? So, head stuck in a pipe, huh?
“Dr. Lawrence?” the pipe replied, muffled and echoed.
He glanced at the chart. “June?”
She nodded, the pipe ducking low and bobbing back up again.
“What happened?” He eased forward and tested the pipe, giving it a soft yank that jerked her body forward.
“I had another date.”
“I meant with this. How did you end up in a pipe?”
“I told you. I had another date. Hence the pipe.”
“June, no one starts out on a date one minute and ends up in a pipe the next,” he said. He sat on the bed and began trying to ease his fingers under the pipe on the side of her neck. Giggling, she jerked away from him and tipped her head, collapsing her neck and inadvertently bonking him hard on the top of his head with the open end of the pipe. Wincing, he reached up to rub the top of his head.
“Sorry, did I get you?” June said, her muted voice echoing with regret.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Can you breathe okay in there?”
“Oh, sure. It’s kind of nice, actually. Peaceful. If I asked you to draw a face on it and let me go, would you charge hospital prices for the artwork?” She tipped her head as she awaited an answer, causing the pipe to tilt jauntily. Her hand eased around to the front of the pipe, stroking it as if it were a beard.
Aiden laughed. “June, are you flirting with me?”
“No, no, no. I value doctors too much to want to decimate their population. The world needs these.” She groped for his hands, failed to find them, and ended up making a weird motion in front of herself, as if milking an invisible cow.
“How did you end up in the pipe? Specifically. Can you lie down when you talk? I’m going to try to gain some purchase so we have a starting place here.” He helped her ease back onto the bed and began circling around her, looking and feeling for some space to begin to make the cut. The pipe was tight—not enough to cut off her air supply, but enough to make removing it a danger to her arteries.
“I met this guy at my gym, Daltry.”
His glance fell inadvertently to her body, toned and well proportioned. “What kind of name is Daltry?”
“It’s a gym guy name. Anyway, he asked me out, and I said no, not wanting to be the cause of his imminent demise or preternatural physical suffering, but he was persistent. I tried telling him about,” she waved vaguely toward the pipe, “but he wouldn’t believe me. No one can until they experience it.” She paused, her tone sinking. She tried to shake her head but couldn’t lying down, so continued without. “He thought it would be fun to go to the skate park.”
“Why? Do you skate?”
She pointed to the pipe. “Obviously not. But he’s a physical guy, you know? A total meathead who wanted to do something robust and manly on our date, something off the wall and unique.”
“Were you attempting to skate when you fell in the pipe?” he asked.
“No, that came later. Skating actually went well. It was fun. We took a walk to the edge of the park to look at the horizon. That was when I tripped, fell down a ravine, and landed in the pipe.”
“What happened to Daltry?”
“He called an ambulance, and then I don’t know. It’s possible I blacked out for a while.” She sighed. “I’m going to have to find a new gym.”
“Don’t let some guy chase you away from your gym,” he said.
“It’s not one guy. It’s three. Pretty sure I’ve struck out now. Maybe I’ll have to change my name.”
“Buck up, June. It can’t be that bad,” Aiden said.
She remained silent a few beats, then, “Doc, my head is literally stuck in a pipe. I look like a dog that can’t stop licking a hot spot.”
He snickered a laugh and cleared his throat to hide it.
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I’m laughing with you,” he clarified. “I think I’ve found a little purchase here, by your carotid. I’m going to have to cut it by hand, obviously. It’s going to be a slow process.” He stared at the tray of instruments one of the nurses had helpfully assembled, wondering what to try first. He reached for a pair of scissors and wedged them under the pipe by laying them flat against her neck.
June crossed her hands over her chest. “So, Doc, tell me about yourself.”
He glanced at her, expecting to see her face and seeing only blank white pipe in return. Getting personal with patients was a no no. On the other hand, she was right. It was going to be awhile, he thought this in disgust as he tossed the useless scissors away and picked up a tiny saw.
“Not much to tell.” The saw made progress, but slowly. “Boy genius makes good, goes to med school, proves all the bullies wrong, achieves world domination, puts them all in prison, the end.”
“Just your average American fairy tale,” she said.
“Exactly, with revenge and retribution. What fairy tale is complete without it?”
“Pardon me for calling you out, but I think you’re a big, fat liar. No way you were bullied in school.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“I have a sense about these things,” she said.
“Fine, I was not bullied, but I also wasn’t an A-lister. I fell somewhere in the middle. I warned you this story was boring. I’ve lived a bland, vanilla existence, good kid, good family, good brains, good gravy this pipe is really wedged on here.” He tossed down the saw and picked up something else, a non-medical instrument that looked like it came from the overflowing junk drawer in the lounge. It made slightly faster progress, but that wasn’t saying much, considering he’d only managed to cut a half inch.
“Is there a Mrs. Doctor Lawrence?” she asked.
“No, but there is a girlfriend.”
“What’s her name?”
“Erica.”
“Is it serious?”
“Yes.”
“Noice.
“Did you just say ‘noice’ like a frat boy?”
“Yes, sorry. I was raised by my dad and brother, so basically I’m a dude with, you know, lady parts. ”
“Why did you whisper lady parts?” he asked, smiling. She might be a total klutz, but at least she was funny.
“Because I can’t see. Who knows who else could be in here with us? Maybe it’s someone important I would otherwise like to impress.”
“And what sort of person might that be?” he asked.
She thought for a few seconds. “A UN Ambassador, the president of a prestigious university, and Harry, the guy who runs the fryer at Shrimp Shack .”
“Why him?”
“If he likes you, he throws in free hush puppies,” she said. “If he really likes you, he’ll toss one at your face and say, ‘hush, puppy,’ while you try to catch it.”
“Harry sounds like a sadist,” he said.
“Yeah, I guess he kind of is, but you know the old saying: Whosoever controls the fryers controls the world.”
“Believe it or not, I’m unfamiliar with that saying,” he said.
She clucked her tongue. “I’d expect more culture from a physician.”
“Maybe I’d recognize it in the original Latin,” he said.
“Ah, the old ‘controlercus fryercus’ idiom, right.”
He laughed, which was incongruous with his action of tossing the tool on the table in disgust. “June, how do you feel about living in this thing? This is seriously not going well.”
“I have an idea.”
“I’m open to anything, at this point.”
She reached into her pocket, withdrew a phone and held it out to him. “Text my dad and ask him the best way to cut PVC pipe.”
He took the phone from her, swiped to her contacts, and found one marked, “Daddy.” “Should I tell him who I am and why I want to know this information?”
“Nope. Pretend you’re me.”
“He’s not going to think it’s weird if you text him out of the blue to ask how to cut a plastic pipe?”
She pointed to her face/pipe. “Hello? He’s pretty well versed in my life.”
“Here goes nothing,” he said, texting, Best way to cut a PVC pipe.
The answer came immediately. Use nylon rope as a saw.
“Well, there we go. Be right back, I’ll send someone out to get some nylon rope,” Aiden said.
“Hold up,” June said. She reached in her other pocket and handed him a length of coiled rope.
“Should I ask why you have this ready for me?” he said.
“My brother makes me carry it for self-defense purposes.”
“How does it aid in self-defense?” he asked. He reached his hand up and dropped one end of the rope into the tube.
“That tickles,” she complained, presumably blowing it away from her face. “It makes a handy garrote.”
“Could you really garrote someone, you think?” he asked.
“It’s likely I’d curl into the fetal position and cry instead, but if it makes my brother feel more secure about me dating people, then so be it,” she said, shrugging one shoulder.
“No more of that, I’m trying to fish this rope out the bottom half of the tube.” The action brought him in close relief with her neck. She smelled good, really good. He was accustomed to not noticing his female patients, to not noticing any other women besides Erica. The fact that he was doing so now made him feel both guilty and creepy. Her face was stuck in a pipe, she was counting on him to get her out, and he was noticing her scent. What a cursed fool hormones made him sometimes.
Distracted, he lost sight of the top of the rope, belatedly realizing the entire thing had fallen into the pipe.
“Uh-oh,” he muttered.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t part of the plan,” June said.
“That was not part of the plan,” Aiden said, annoyed. Oh, how he hated messing up, not getting things perfect on the first try. He moved to the head of the bed and peered down into the pipe. June stared up at him. It was like glimpsing a bird in a tree hollow.
“Hello,” she said, smiling. “You seem stressed.”
“Not my finest moment,” he admitted. “I’m going to reach my hand in and grab that string back, okay?”
“Ok. I’d offer to get it for you but,” she put her hands up and attempted to reach into the opening of the pipe. They fell about eighteen inches short and butted uselessly against the pipe instead, “you know.”
“Hold still.” He turned his head and reached his arm all the way in the pipe, fishing for the lost string. His fingers snagged on her nose and accidentally gave it a yank.
“Dat’s by dose,” June said.
“Where…is…” his fingers sifted her hair, grabbing a hank of it by mistake.
“Yah, ouch,” she ducked away from his touch, bashing him in the face with the open end of the pipe.
“I said hold still,” he snapped and she froze. “Sorry, it’s just…” was his nose bleeding? He felt like it was, but he was probably being a baby. For a doctor, he was ridiculously averse to pain.
“To the right. Sorry, your right. Down, down, not my wips,” she added unnecessarily as his fingers brushed her lips. At last he fastened on the elusive rope and eased it out of the opening. He dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling as he took a couple of deep breaths, calming his frustration.
“Doing okay there, doc?” June asked. Her tentative, sweet, caring voice cajoled him out of his snit. He was with a patient, not the time to have a tantrum because her treatment was taking longer and more annoying than he’d predicted.
“Yes, I’m fine, June. You ready for this?”
“I don’t know. I’m having second thoughts. If we ran a wire in here, I’d make a stunning lamp. Or maybe some type of water feature. The possibilities are endless.”
He smiled. “You’re pretty cheerful for someone who has a pipe stuck on her head.”
“When the choice is laughter or tears, I generally choose laughter,” June said.
He perched beside her on the bed again and began feeding the rope up from the bottom so he could make sure he had it where he wanted it. When it was finally free of the tightest spot, he maneuvered back to the head of the bed, reached into the pipe and once again began searching for the other end.
“I have a whole new sympathy for fish now,” June said as Aiden’s fingers once again snagged on her nostrils.
“Sorry, almost…this is…got it,” Aiden said triumphantly, holding both ends of the string aloft. “Okay, June, here’s where it gets tricky because I’m going to get you out of there, but it might cause a bit of rope burn. I’ll do my best to hurry, and then I’ll put some ointment on your skin, okay?”
“I was about to make a joke, but when I played it back in my head, it sounded horribly inappropriate. So instead I’m going to say okay, Dr. Lawrence, I trust you completely.”
He hoped her trust was well placed. At the moment, he wasn’t sure. He’d certainly never used a rope to cut a pipe off a patient’s head before. “Count of three, ready? One, two, three.” He pulled the two ends of the string taut and began to saw quickly back and forth. June winced and sucked in a breath. He could only imagine how painful the motion must be where the rope rubbed tight against her skin. But her father had been correct because not more than thirty seconds after he’d started, the rope sawed the pipe from top to bottom. He had expected it to fall off June’s head, but it didn’t. Gently, he let go of the string and pried the pipe apart, exposing her sweaty, tear-streaked face.
“So this is what it feels like to be born,” June said as her wet head emerged into the world.
Aiden snorted a laugh so unexpected he almost lost his grip on the pipe and sent it snapping back together. “Stop making me laugh, June. You’re putting yourself in danger here.” At last he pried the pipe completely off her head. Her hair was plastered to her head, proving the pipe must not have been as comfortable as she pretended. He pushed the sticky hair off her face and leaned in for an inspection, making sure she had no abrasions or contusions.
Her head was fine, minus the copious amount of sweat, but her neck had been upbraided by the rope and now sported a nasty burn approximately four inches long. “Sorry about that,” he said. He spoke into his lapel and ordered some ointment. Once his inspection was finished, he smiled. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but she seemed tired. He had the sudden urge to take her hand and resisted it, of course. It would be inappropriate on a number of levels. If she was very old or very young he might have given in, but she was only a few years his junior, and she was pretty, attractive to him in a compelling way he didn’t understand. Maybe it was merely that he was a fixer by nature, and June Kellogg was most definitely broken. Three minutes ago her head had been in a pipe, for goodness sake.
“Think you’ll get a second date out of this guy?”
She laughed. “No, and henceforth I’m fairly certain my nickname at that gym will be ‘Pipe Girl.’”
“I’ve heard worse,” Aiden said. “And I know it’s a cliché, but honestly if a little thing like getting your head stuck in a pipe sends a guy running, then he wasn’t worth it in the first place.” The nurse arrived with the ointment, intending to put it on. “I’ll do it,” he said, reaching for the tube. The nurse gave him wide eyes. He ignored her and returned his attention to June. He couldn’t say why he felt like he needed to do it himself, beyond the fact that she’d had a rough day and didn’t need one more set of hands on her. Or maybe it was some kind of penance. After all, he was the one who’d caused the burn. Or maybe he just liked her. June was sweet, a soft soul in a dark world. Whatever the reason, he opened the tube of ointment, applied it gently to her wound, and covered it with a bandage.
“I think you’re all set here, June.” He wagged his finger at her. “No more pipes.”
“Are you trying to make me give up my pipe dreams?” she said, and he groaned.
“Leave the dad jokes to the dads, June,” he said.
“You’re chock full of good advice, Doctor L.” She pushed herself to a sitting position. “Thanks for getting me unstuck.”
“You’re welcome, and I think you’ll take it the right way when I tell you I never want to see you again.”
“I think we’re safe. This town is running out of men who don’t scare easily.” She said it lightly, but there was a hint of seriousness in her tone. Aiden gave her a final pat on the knee and stood. He needed to do his orders. He took a step toward the door and paused, turning back. June stared at the pipe, a sad little smile on her face. He opened his mouth and closed it again. She wasn’t his responsibility; she was only a patient. The sooner he figured out how to keep the line of demarcation fully in place, the better off he’d be.
With that bracing thought in mind, he strode from the room, closing the curtain behind him.