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Doctor Holliday (Doctors of Eastport General) Chapter 3 14%
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Chapter 3

Thursday, December 7

Lucy

“That’s why I don’t do blind dates,” Lucy announced when Jade had filled her in. Jade Barlowe worked in radiology; ten years Lucy’s junior, she was still searching for Mr. Right. Lucy had been married, a mom, and divorced before she turned twenty-two. While she hadn’t sworn off men in general, she definitely didn’t do blind dates or setups. Jade’s latest blind date had been a recent college grad who wanted to move to the country and live on a goat farm. His hobbies included fly fishing and bird watching.

“He was nice enough,” Jade mumbled as she tipped her pint glass up to drain it. “But talk about nothing in common. Not to mention so young!”

Lucy gave her young friend a look. She was old enough to be Jade’s blind date’s mother.

Her phone rang before she could say anything else. Cheri, who worked at the Eastport Women’s Medical Group with Lucy, eyed the mobile phone as Lucy turned it over. She didn’t recognize the number, but that was the thing with being on call. The hospital could call her, but so could a patient with a simple question to a potential life-threatening problem.

“Dr. Holliday.” Lucy turned her head away from her friends’ conversation to focus on the call.

“Dr. Holliday, hi. Um. This is Keaton Thatcher. You don’t know me. But I have a very young girl in my stockroom out at Coastal Plaza. She looks like she’s ready to deliver any minute.”

“Did you call 911?”

“No. The girl is in distress, and she’s screaming at me not to call for help. She’s very agitated.”

Lucy bit her tongue before she could ask the male caller about the last time he delivered a baby. Of course the young woman was agitated. Childbirth was not a party.

“I think your best bet is to hang up with me and call?—”

“Dr. Holliday, she looks like she’s not even fifteen years old. And she’s scared to death. She’s asking me to leave her alone to die. I promised her I was calling a friend and not 911.”

A friend . Lucy frowned and pushed those words away. Keaton Thatcher . She had never heard the name before, but she had no time to worry about that now.

“Coastal Plaza?” Lucy asked him.

“Yes. Around the back. I found her in my stockroom.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ended the call and turned to find all three of her friends watching her.

“What’s up?” Echo asked for the group. Also in the medical field, Echo Bloom was a pediatric nurse.

“Young girl about ready to give birth,” Lucy answered. “Refusing medical treatment or 911.”

“You want me to tag?” Cheri asked her.

As a neonatal nurse, Cheri would be handy. But she had been here longer than Lucy, and she’d had a few drinks.

“No. I got it. Thanks.” Lucy dropped her phone in her purse and told them goodnight as she rushed out of the bar. She threw a wave at the bartender when he called goodnight to her, hustled out the door, and across the parking lot to her car.

She used voice-to-text to let Callie know she would be late. Mumbled a disgruntled curse when she remembered the groceries in the SUV. She didn’t have dairy or meat, but there was a good bit of produce back there.

Frustrated that the guy hadn’t just called 911, Lucy whipped out of her parking space and aimed the SUV northeast to the new shopping plaza. She and Callie had just been out that way Monday night, looking for new boots for Callie. If she remembered correctly, only two stores in the new strip mall were open—the shoe store and a soap store. Callie had talked her into going into that place, too, and then proceeded to strong arm her into buying her a whole bath set.

Not that Lucy minded. Callie was too good a kid most of the time to argue when she asked for something.

“Jingle Bell Rock” played quietly on the stereo, but Lucy didn’t pay much attention to it. She liked Christmas music; she loved the holidays. But she was thinking about what she was about to walk into. A very young girl. About to deliver a baby. A strange man calling her for help. Granted, it’s what she did, so she shouldn’t be suspicious.

But she was.

What if the girl was his daughter? Or stepdaughter? Foster child? What if he had molested her? Didn’t want authorities involved? The thought sent her stomach rolling as she pushed the gas pedal a bit harder. Maybe she should just call the police before she got there.

She didn’t, though. If this guy was dangerous, he might go ballistic if cops showed up, and Lucy needed the girl calm to either get her to the hospital or deliver the baby.

A smattering of cars dotted the lot at the Coastal Plaza. It wasn’t quite closing time for the shops, but with only two stores open out in the strip mall and a box home improvement store about five seconds down the street, there wasn’t much happening right now. Lucy swung her SUV into the lot and drove around to the back of the building. She noticed a steel door open as she jammed the vehicle into park. Bright light shined behind the silhouette of a man, but that was all she could make out.

Not necessarily concerned for her own safety, and yet, still a bit wary, she snatched up her keys, her bag, and her phone and climbed out of the SUV.

“She’s in here,” the guy called as she swung the door closed, beeped the lock, and hurried across the parking lot. Her aching feet no longer bothered her as they had as she navigated the grocery store earlier while talking to Kim. Nothing existed for Lucy at the moment but the girl in need of help.

The guy stepped aside to let her into the building. Wearing worn, faded jeans and a blue and red flannel shirt, he looked more like a lumberjack from a Hallmark movie than a dangerous sexual predator who would harm a child. Still, Lucy eyed him cautiously as she walked inside and he followed her, letting the door close behind them.

“Keaton Thatcher,” he told her.

“I don’t know you.”

“My ex-wife’s stepson is in your daughter Callie’s class.”

She tipped her head and frowned.

“Will Giroux.”

“You’re Alyssa Giroux’s ex-husband.”

“I am.” He nodded.

“Where’s the girl?” she asked, though she hadn’t needed to. A whimper behind her had her spinning around to find a young red headed girl lying on the floor. Her belly was huge in relation to the rest of her skinny little body. Her head rested on a wadded-up jacket or two; Lucy assumed the guy who called her had done that to try and make the girl more comfortable.

“Go away.”

The mumbled words lacked energy or venom.

“What’s your name?” Lucy dropped her bag to the ground. She tossed her keys and phone on the bag and moved to kneel at the girl’s feet.

“Logan.”

“Okay, Logan.” She drew in a deep breath. Right now, the hard cement beneath her knees was mildly uncomfortable. By tomorrow, her knees would ache like she had run a marathon. Just one of the perks of getting old. “I’m Lucy Holliday. I’m an ob-gyn at the Eastport Women’s Medical Group. I deliver babies at Eastport General.”

“Please don’t make me,” Logan whispered.

“Make you what, hon?” Lucy let her eyes roam over the girl’s pale face down over her swollen belly and finally to the huge wet spot in her jeans. Lucy flinched when she realized Logan was lying in a puddle.

“Go to the hospital. Have this baby.”

“Sweetie, your water broke.” Lucy glanced at Keaton Thatcher. “You’re having this baby whether you want to or not.”

Logan sniffled and raised her hands to cover her eyes. Lucy shot another pointed glance in Keaton’s direction.,

“What do you need?” he asked immediately.

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