Holding Out For A Hero (The Five Sisters Series) Read online

  Holding Out For A Hero

  V A Browning

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Any names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  © VA Browning, 2012

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  http://www.vabrowning.com

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 1

  Mike saw the wreck as soon as he crested the hill. It was a silver Lexus, smashed all to hell, but the telephone pole wasn't hurt too badly. He hoped it was not a fatality; he was not sure that he could handle that. He quickly pulled the truck over and stopped, jumping out and wishing he had his medical bag with him. As he ran toward the car, he could see small flames starting up underneath the front end. He also saw a person in the driver's seat that had been knocked unconscious; her head had bashed against the car door window. He quickly tried the door, but it would not open.

  Standing back, he kicked the window with all his might. He knew it would be the only way, and with the flames, he didn't have time for anything else.

  The window broke, and her body pushed away from the window with the force. At least she was wearing her seat belt. He felt her neck for a pulse, and found it, even though it was very faint. He breathed a sigh of relief. He grabbed the door handle and opened it, then quickly cut the seat belt open with his pocketknife. He cradled her head as he scooped her up and pulled her away from the seat. Once he had her head stabilized on his shoulder with one hand, and the other holding her bottom, he started running toward his truck which was about 50 yards away. He did not want to be there when the car exploded.

  Just as he reached his truck, the car burst into a fiery flame that pushed him forward into the side of the truck. He ran around to the other side to shield them from any flying parts, and tried to open his door. While he was holding the girl, he noticed a small brown and tan longhaired Yorkshire terrier dog running around after him, following him. The dog must have been in the car with her, and probably belongs to her.

  It was difficult to open the door, especially with a woman over his shoulder with injuries he was not sure about. He finally got the door opened, then he pushed his groceries off the back seat onto the floor with one hand. He gently laid her down in the backseat, carefully on her back, and using the paper towels and any other items he could wedge her in with, he propped her up hoping she would not slide.

  He jumped into the driver's seat and the little dog followed him. As he started driving away, the dog scrambled to the backseat to be with his owner. As Mike drove, he called the sheriff to tell him what had happened and what he was doing. He knew it would be the gossip all over town, and he didn't want that kind of publicity, but he could not refuse to help.

  He drove slowly toward his ranch. The ranch was another 10-minute drive, and he did not want her to have any further damage to her neck or back—he was afraid of what might have already been damaged.

  She groaned a little, and that made him glad to know she was still breathing. He had dealt with trauma for the last 10 years, and he knew how to take care of her in a hospital. But his ranch was another story. Problem was, there were no hospitals within an hour drive, which was why he liked it here. She was lucky he had driven up on the accident when he did; another minute or two and she would have been dead. But he didn't want to think about what-if's now.

  As he pulled into his driveway, he had already taken an inventory of what he had in his house to care for her. Much of his emergency room equipment was stored elsewhere, but he probably could find his stethoscope and bandages, too, even if they ended up being towels. He stopped at the door, pulling up close enough so he could carry her without a lot of fuss. He would put her in the guest bedroom downstairs so he could sleep on the chair nearby until he knew what her condition was.

  He opened the house, and gingerly picked her up again. She was still unconscious, and her head and arms had many cuts and bruises. As he walked in, the little dog followed him, its nails making a clickety-clack sound on the wood floors of the log cabin. Mike made his way to the guest bedroom, and laid her on the bed. He gently placed a blanket underneath her to keep from getting the sheets dirty so he could put her in the bed after she was cleaned up. Being a doctor, he started to clinically evaluate her. He removed her clothing, having to cut some of it off so as to not hurt her any further to look for further damage, then looked closely at her head. She moved all of her limbs sporadically, so he didn't think she had any spinal cord damage. He covered her with a blanket, then left to find his tools.

  The little dog curled up at the woman’s feet and started licking her. Mike returned a couple of minutes later with a washcloth, bucket of water and soap, stethoscope, and bandages. He knew he needed to prevent any infections because he did not have any antibiotics for her. He started with her arms, removing glass from her cuts as he washed them. The little dog just stared at him, but did not seem to mind Mike tending to his owner. She was still breathing, and appeared to be in a state of unconsciousness post trauma. As he started to clean her face, her eyes fluttered open. They were a gorgeous blue color, the color of the ocean in the Caribbean, he thought. With her dark brown hair and luscious lips, she was a knock-out. But they closed back just as quickly, and he could tell she was starting to go into shock.

  With more blankets added to keep her warm, he and sat and continued to clean her face and body uncovering her nakedness just a little bit at a time. He tried not to notice her perfect breasts and smooth skin and just work as a doctor.

  She had a small gash over her left eye, and he pulled out the small kit he had to bandage her up. He hated the thought that he might not do it the best and that he would damage her flawless skin, but she needed it covered and closed. He would rather do it now before she awakened, to avoid pain and to keep his focus on work and not on her body. He used butterfly closures so he didn’t have to use the stitches he had in the kit for her forehead, and he hoped that would preserve the porcelain skin and not leave a scar.

  He then started feeling through her long and flowing brown hair for damage. He could not easily tell what was wrong in the area over her ear, and made the decision to cut her hair where she had hit the window. Mike knew it was the right thing to do, but it pained him to cut her soft hair, and as he ran his hands over her skull searching for other wounds, his body reacted to touching her. Finally he decided to remove some, and with his scissors, he carefully cut the hair out over her left ear, about 5 inches up. As he cut, he could see the head wound that needed to be cleaned, washed, and stitched up. As much as he hated it, he shaved the area around her gash, cleaned it, and sewed it up well, after making sure she had no more glass in it. Once he had her completel
y checked out, he removed the blanket from under her and gently covered her again to keep her warm.

  But she continued to shiver from the shock her body was going into, so he removed his shirt and lay with her against him for warmth. He held her for about 30 minutes until her shivers stopped. She was very lucky, and it appeared that she had no broken bones, but he was not sure how bad the head injury would be. He felt she would recover based on his past experience, and he suspected her dog was not going to leave her side until she woke up.

  He went out and got his groceries, and put them away as he listened closely to her sounds. He called the sheriff after she finally seemed to be in a relaxed and sleeping state, and told him what he knew of the situation. He informed the sheriff that she was not awake, but that he would call him immediately when she woke up so she could be interviewed. The sheriff said there was nothing identifiable about the car left, and he was hoping she could tell them what happened.

  "Dr. Mike, I’m glad you were there for her, she couldn’t have been in better hands," said the sheriff.

  "Thanks, Sheriff, I just hope that she really is ok because I only have my gut to go on right now.” Mike replied.

  After he hung up, he whispered a prayer for her to God, with the understanding that he had no control over the outcome of this car accident either, but that he had done what he could. He only hoped it was enough.

  Chapter 2

  All that evening, Mike continued to worry about whether or not the woman would wake up. He sat in the chair in the room with her, watching her closely and seeing the dog laying at her feet like a guardian. He could tell that she was breathing, but not much more. He occasionally got up and walked over to the bed and listened to her heart beat with his stethoscope to reassure himself. She was naked under the covers, and he could see the outline of her breasts as she breathed; her nipples pushed against the blanket. He needed to cover her with something to keep her warm and keep him from being aroused by her. That would need to be kept under control, it had been a long time since he even thought about a woman.

  He went to the closet in his room and got a t-shirt and some boxers from his closet. He cut the shirt up the middle in the back to allow him to put it on her without pulling it over her head. First, he gingerly pulled her arms through the sleeves and tucked it around her back. Then he gently pulled the boxers over her feet and up her legs, trying hard to not pay attention to that area of her body that was clean-shaven at the juncture of her legs. He covered her back up and sat back in the chair. The dog seemed to be unfazed with his caring for her, and continued to lie at her feet like a guard.

  Mike started to pick the dog up and move it, but it growled and snarled at him, so he left it alone. Not that he was scared of it, but he didn't want to cause any more stress in the little one's life than what had already happened. Mike went to the kitchen and retrieved some bowls, added some canned chicken to one bowl and water to the other. He brought them into the room, and the little dog eventually jumped off the bed to eat and take a few laps of water. Then he jumped right back up onto his post.

  As night fell, the vigil over her continued. She slept; sometimes she kicked, moaned, and moved her arms. He hoped she would awaken tomorrow. He slept in the chair in the room, getting up every now and then to check her pulse and breathing—doing what he could to make sure she was comfortable but mainly still alive.

  Then next morning, he got up out of the chair and went for a walk. Just a short walk, to make sure everything was ok. He needed to get out of the room, because he was very worried about her and her non-responsiveness. He picked up the little dog, and despite the growls, he carried him outside. He figured he needed to walk his little legs around too. The dog did its business and immediately returned to the glass door to look in. Mike continued to walk out toward the old barn. His conscience got the best of him, and he was afraid that she would awaken and be scared, so he turned about halfway out and walked back to the house. As he entered the house, he heard her screams. He ran to the room, and she was sitting up in bed, screaming.

  She looked at him, and continued to scream, and tried to scramble off the bed. Nothing broken, Mike thought to himself. He said to her, "Calm down, you’re in a safe place. No one is going to hurt you." He repeated this several times before she stopped yelling.

  She said, "Where am I…what am I doing here?"

  He said, "You’re in Big Sky, Montana, in my log cabin, and my name is Mike. What’s your name?"

  She said, "What happened to me? And why can't I remember who I am? Should I know you?"

  He walked over to the bed, and grabbed a blanket to cover her with as he spoke to her. "You had a car accident, and I pulled you out of the wreckage just as your car exploded. I have no idea who you are, I am just tried to help you out."

  He had no idea how to proceed, what if she really didn't know who she was?

  He knelt down in front of her, and said, "I am Mike, and you are safe here. I will help you figure some stuff out. You are in my house, and you are welcome to stay here until you are recovered." She started to look around. He could tell she had no idea whether or not to trust him. "I am a doctor, and I want to do some evaluations to see if you are doing ok. Please be calm so I can get my equipment from right over there and check you out. Then we will find some clothes for you to wear." Mike told her gently.

  Mike grabbed his bag of doctor's equipment and examined her again. He had her breathe deeply and evaluated whether or not she could see. She was claiming she had no idea who she was, and continued to ask where she was. Once he was done examining her, Mike sat on the side of the bed and sighed.

  "Ok, it looks like you are ok. Let’s go upstairs, and you can pick out some of my wife’s clothing to wear. You are welcome to wear them, as it looks like you are close to the same size. While you are upstairs picking out your clothes, I will call the sheriff and tell him you woke up. And I will make us some food to eat. Do you feel like eating?" She nodded.

  He helped her get up, then he remembered the dog, "Do you recognize the dog? Does he ring a bell?" The dog jumped onto her lap and started licking her.

  She said, "No, he doesn't, but he obviously recognizes me."

  He helped her stand, and walked her to the stairs. He walked beside her to make sure she could get her bearings, and then behind her up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, he led her to his room. Mike was not sure how he felt about her wearing Jocelyn's clothes, but he felt it was the right thing to do. He wasn't sure what types of memories it would bring into his conscious; things he had been trying hard to forget.

  He walked with her to the closet, and opened the doors. "Choose anything you feel like wearing. Her undergarments are in the dresser. Are you comfortable doing that? I will be back up in a few to help you with whatever you need."

  "Where are my clothes I was wearing before the accident?" She asked.

  Mike told her, "I have them in a bag, but I had to cut them off of you to make sure you were properly cared for. So you won’t be able to wear them, but they are here. If you feel woozy or anything, please sit down and stop. I will be back." He was not sure about leaving her, but he was hungry and he knew she had to be.

  He fixed them sandwiches and called the sheriff, who said he would be out later to interview her. Mike told him about the amnesia. "That will make this a tough one, because I have nothing left of that car." Sheriff told him. He walked upstairs toward the bedroom with the sandwiches, and he heard her humming to the radio he left on in his room. That was a good sign. She came out of the closet and jumped a little when she saw him. Then she giggled.

  Suddenly her face clouded up and she said, "My hair…why did you have to cut my hair?"

  "You have stitches, and I had to cut it to put them in—I am very sorry." He said. She was standing in the doorway to the closet with Jocelyn's shirt and jeans on. She had chosen a plain pink t-shirt and Miss Me jeans; they fit like a glove. He was not sure how he would react, but he could feel the sadness start to cree
p back into his heart with the memories of her. Jocelyn was gone, he thought, and they have not even figured out what happened to her.

  He turned away from her and told her, "I will give you a tour of the house after you eat your lunch. I’m sure you’re starving." She walked over to him, and said, "Thank you for saving me, giving me clothing to wear, and feeding me!" She started eating, picking off little pieces of food and handing them to the dog to nibble on.

  "What is wrong with me, am I ever going to know who I am? Is this going to be forever?" She asked him.

  Mike told her, "I don’t really know. It seems like you have amnesia, and that can be temporary or permanent. For your sake, I hope it’s temporary. I’m sorry I don’t have better answers than that. Now let me give you a tour by walking around the house so I can show you everything. This room is my bedroom."

  She told him how gorgeous it was, and how very manly. The house was a log cabin, and his room was furnished with a huge king-sized wooden four-poster bed. He had a couple of rocking chairs and a couch in there, and his computer was on a desk, next to a picture of a beautiful woman. He had quite a few books laid out ready to read by his bed. Then next to his room was a large library filled with all kinds of books.