Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
All thoughts of my little speech flew out of my head as Dr. Frankenstein smiled as he rubbed his hands together and announced, “Now for the ankle!”
“No!” I shouted. Well, make that tried to shout, but Lincoln assured my silence by simply patting his chest where my recent gag was still bunched into a wad of wet cloth. Soon enough he had a matching wad on his other lapel as Igor adjusted me until my poor ankle was left totally exposed to the doctor’s evil plans. If there was any kindness left in the world, it was given when I felt Lincoln first kiss the top of my head and then rest his cheek against it. His whispered, “I’ve got you, pixie,” wrapped around me like a beloved patchwork quilt.
Five hours passed, or perhaps as little as fifteen minutes, until I felt another kiss brush against a curl, and heard the nurse state, “You were very brave,” which cut my pity party short. Or that might have happened when the doctor informed me that good patients got a prize.
“What is it?” I asked suspiciously.
And the scary Dr. Frankenstein turned into the fabulous Dr. Eastman right before my eyes when he grinned and said, “All the ice cream you can eat.”
“Wait, does your definition of ‘all’ fall along the same line as ‘teensy-tiny’?” I asked.
The doctor chuckled. “Nope, it’s more like the Grand Canyon,” he said while scribbling something on the papers attached to the clipboard the nurse handed him. Once he finished, he looked up and met my eyes. “Does that make me less a monster?”
If my mouth just happened to drop open, it wasn’t because he’d evidently seen right through me, but because… well, just because he was most likely psychic.
“And let’s save the jumping for happiness for later, okay? It might further damage your ankle and we don’t want to have to do any realignment do we?”
I shook my head. Nope, we certainly did not want that!
“No jerking your head either, little girl,” Lincoln said in a tone that had me instantly stilling before ever so slowly tilting my head back to stare up at him. “That’s better, pixie.”
Wow, he might not have a medical degree like Dr. Eastman, but I was beginning to believe Linc’s expertise was in an entirely different field.
Dr. Eastman stood from his stool. “He’s right. Your neck might not be as tender as your jaw and chin right now, and while you’re not showing signs of a concussion, both your head and your neck are going to compete with your ankle to see which can ache the most when the adrenaline from the accident wears off. Keep your foot elevated as much as possible and absolutely no weight on it at all for the rest of today. You can try walking using the crutches tomorrow, but only for short distances. The longer you give your ligaments a chance to rest, the faster your recovery will be. Do you have someone to watch over you for the next twenty-four hours or so?”
Even before I began to shake my head, Lincoln’s hand moved to gently cup the nape of my neck to keep me still. “She does. If she shows any signs of nausea or her pupils dilate, I’ll bring her right back here.”
Dr. Eastman nodded and reached out to pat my knee. “I know that hurt but you did great. There’s an ice-cream parlor on Main Street. Make sure Linc buys you the biggest sundae they offer and”—his finger lifted to point at my mouth—“make sure you take small bites. Give your teeth time to do a bit of recovery of their own. I’d hate to have to refer you to our dentist on staff.” He leaned closer. “Word is, he’s got quite the laboratory down in the basement. Got it?”
He’d drawn out the word “laboratory” and said it in an exaggerated accent that had me shiver and giggle even as I said, “Got it.”
After pocketing the paperwork, Lincoln thanked everyone while I smiled my thanks on our way out of the hospital. Granted, a great deal of that appreciation might be due to the fact that I was able to carry the crutches instead of having to wobble about on them as I rode in the complete comfort of Lincoln’s arms as he carried me toward the truck.
“Than’ ’oo,” I said, then gasped in horror. “’ay ’ugge’ ’ee!”
He looked down and grinned. “No one drugged you, pixie. That’s your jaw telling you to stop opening your mouth so much.”
When I just huffed, he chuckled and opened the door and set me on the seat. After taking the crutches from me and transferring them to the back seat, he helped me maneuver my legs inside, then gave me a grin. “How about we make a deal? I remember how much you used to like to draw. What if we stop at the drugstore and grab you a notepad and a pencil before we go get ice cream? That way you can rest your jaw while still talking, so to speak. What do you say?”