The Mechanic & The MD

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Doris stepped out of the sedan behind the other two girls who’d been assigned to Heritage Hall. A frigid wind lifted her wool cover from her head, and hurled the brimmed cap into the stone fountain in the circular driveway. She scurried to the empty basin and snatched the hat. The calendar might say August, but the weather shrieked November. She was to divide her time between the hospital and the dispatch facility in the next village. Hopefully, there would be at least a few warm days before winter set in.

She stifled a yawn as she traversed the gravel trying not to get her heel stuck in the stones. Would she be able to catch some shut-eye before jumping into her new role? Not that she could sleep with the excitement of finally being in England. The flight across the ocean in a troop transport had been exhausting and exhilarating. Being one of only two gals on an airplane full soldiers provided hours of entertainment while the men each tried to outdo the others with stories of bravery and readiness to take on the enemy. How many would still be alive at the end of the month?

Where had that maudlin thought come from? She shook her head. Squashed between the two nurses in the back of the car, she could see out the windshield as the driver navigated the crowded streets of London then the skinny, washboard roads of the countryside. She lost count of the number of times she closed her eyes when a vehicle passed them on the right side. Which would always be the wrong side as far as she was concerned.

“You okay, luv?” Amanda O’Reilly, a first generation Irish gal from Brooklyn, New York beckoned. Her flaming hair glinted in the sun, and a smile lit up her porcelain face. “Yer standing there a bit dumbfounded. Never seen a castle, have you?”

“No, and neither have you, I’d guess.”

“I’ve seen pictures from the old country. I can’t imagine havin’ to heat the place, can you? My granny worked as a scullery maid at some grand estate when she was young, and she would tell us stories about how drafty and cold these monstrosities are. Worse than a barn.”

“Now, you’ll be able to tell your own tales of woe.” Doris giggled. “And I’ll be working in the barn. Maybe. Or wherever they store the trucks and ambulances.”

Amanda snorted a laugh. “Oh, honey. You’ve got that all wrong. The people who gave up these homes have scads of money, and they’ve got a building for just about everything. No need for them to pile their stuff all in one place, like us poor folks.”

“Well, then maybe I’ll be warmer than you in my cozy little garage.” She shivered. “I wonder if it’s always this cold over here. Although the scenery is gorgeous. All these rolling hills with cattle and sheep everywhere you look.”

“Granny packed extra sweaters for me, so there’s your answer.”

“Oh, bother. I only brought one.” She hurried up the steps next to Amanda. “How did the government get hold of this property?”

“It depends. Some of the rich folks have offered their places in order to control what they’re used for, but most of the houses were requisitioned. I guess there’s a list somewhere of all the big, old, fancy houses, and the government picked the ones they wanted then sent the owners packing.”

“Is that fair?” Doris wrinkled her nose. “Where do the occupants go?”

Amanda shrugged. “There’s a war on, so I guess it’s what’s best for the country. I’m not sure where the folks live now, but hopefully they’re not too inconvenienced.”

They entered the vast foyer, and Doris gasped. A shimmering crystal chandelier dangled from the twenty-foot ceiling, rainbow shards of light dancing across the mosaic tile floor. Nurses in dazzling white uniforms hurried through the massive foyer, their voices barely above a whisper.

An elderly nurse stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands clasped in front of her. “Welcome, ladies. I am Sister Greene, head nurse of this facility. You may stow your personal items behind the desk, then follow me. The nurses will follow me for a brief tour, and I will explain my expectations for you.”

Doris leaned toward Amanda. “She’s a nun?”

“No, silly. Nurses are called sisters over here.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Sister Greene clapped her hands. “No talking, ladies. We have much to cover in a short time.” She peered at them. “Which of you is Doris Strealer?”

Doris raised her hand.

“As an ambulance driver, there’s no need for you to see the wards, so you are to report to the stables that have been converted to a garage where you will be trained in hospital procedures and driving techniques. It is unusual for hospitals to house their own ambulance, but the size and nature of our facility has called for this variance from normal protocols. Your services will also be shared with the dispatch facility, and a schedule will be worked out accordingly.”

“Yes, ma’am. Where will I find the stables?”

“On the northeast corner of the estate.” Sister Greene’s gaze slid to Amanda and the other nurses, silently dismissing Doris.

“Thank you.” Doris bowed at the retreating back of the head nurse then grinned at Amanda. “See you around, sister.” She shoved open the heavy wooden door and barreled into the firm chest of a white-coated figure. “Oh!” She stumbled backward. Strong hands grabbed her, and she regained her footing. “I’m sorry.”

“This is a hospital. Please show some decorum.”

Doris lifted her chin and glared at the doctor. “I apologized. There’s no need to chop off my head.”

He released her then stared down his nose, his piercing hazel-eyed gaze raking her from head to toe. “What are you doing here? Civilians are not allowed to visit.”

Aware of her rumpled outfit and travel-weary appearance, she resisted the urge to smooth her hair and clothes for the condescending man. Just because he was a doctor, didn’t mean he had the right to be rude. She crossed her arms. “I’m an ambulance driver with the Red Cross Motor Corps. Sister Greene sent me to find the garage. Not that I owe you any more of an explanation, but I’m thrilled to be here, and in my excitement I didn’t pay attention. It won’t happen again.”

“Pertinent little thing, aren’t you?”

Head c****d, she frowned up at the handsome physician who towered over her. Tall and good looking. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to look up to a guy. Whoa, where had that thought come from? His height was irrelevant. She was there to work, not date.

“Look, I apologized and—” Her eyes widened, and she chuckled. “Wait a minute…I recognize you…I can’t believe you’re here. Not surprising that you’ve given me a tongue lashing for a minor infraction. You always were a bit pretentious. Sure, I’ll straighten up, but you need to lighten up.”

He puffed out his chest. “You can’t speak to me like that, and I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“Yes, you have. I’m Doris Strealer, and you’re Ronnie McCann. You were ahead of me in high school, a senior when I was a freshman. You used to bring your car to my father’s garage before he sold it.”

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Ron’s mouth gaped, and the air whooshed from his lungs. This statuesque, self-assured brunette was nothing like the gangly, brown-eyed teenager who had looked like a scarecrow in her oversized coveralls and a newsboy cap on her head. Visions of her hunched over the engine compartment of his car, wrench in hand and a grease streak on her cheek flitted through his mind. “How…why...”

Hands on her hips, she grinned. “At a loss for words, Doctor McCann? Well, that’s a first.”

He cleared his throat, his face warm. Since when did he blush? Good grief, the girl…er…woman would think him an imbecile. With his current behavior, she wouldn’t be far off in her estimation. He swallowed. “We’re in England. I didn’t expect to run into anyone I know. You surprised me. That’s all. Are you one of our new nurses?”

“Gracious me, no. I’m with the Red Cross Motor Corps. Driving ambulances for you and maintaining the vehicles.”

“Driving for me?” He blinked. Why couldn’t he think straight while standing in front of her? He really was a buffoon.

“Not for you personally. For the hospital.” Her chocolate-brown eyes danced. “Unless, of course, you need some sort of chauffeur. Then I’m your gal…well, once I get the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“You’re a smart one. I have no doubt about your abilities.” Where had that come from? He barely knew the girl…woman. He needed to get away. She addled his brain. “Welcome to England, Miss Strealer. Glad to have you on board. Please excuse me. I must begin my rounds.” He extended his arm, and she shook his hand. Soft, yet firm, her palm nestled in his. Tingles of electricity shot up to his elbow, and he pulled back as if stung.

Her smile faltered, and she shrugged. “See you around, Doc.” She trotted down the steps and hurried across the meadow that separated the main house from the cottages and outbuildings.

Unable to tear away his gaze, he watched until she became a speck at the far end of the property. She been a cute teenager, but Doris Strealer had transformed into a beautiful woman. Beguiling brown eyes set above porcelain cheeks. Her hair gleamed even in the setting sun. He scrubbed at his face. She'd sure changed a lot in ten years, but he had, too.

No ring graced her left hand. Was it possible she was unmarried? Or did she refrain from wearing jewelry because of her work?

Ron shook his head. What did he care about her marital status? He was here to win the war against injuries and disease, and the gorgeous Miss Strealer would distract him from his mission. In another time and place, a distraction he would be glad of.