Read Online 03_The Doctor's Perfect Match by Irene Hannon - Free Book Online Page A

good part of one afternoon untwining the ivy and wild morning-glory vines from the hardy canes, and based on the profusion of buds she’d uncovered, the bush would be a showstopper in another couple of weeks.
    “Henry, are you back here?” Marci pushed through the gate, clicking it shut behind her.
    No response.
    Hmm. If he wasn’t in the house or the yard, where was he?
    A few seconds later, when she rounded the corner of the clapboard cottage and got a full view of the backyard, she got her answer.
    The older man was lying on the ground, the bowl of theconcrete birdbath upside down on his chest. And he wasn’t moving.
    She froze, her heart slamming against her rib cage. Pulse pounding, she raced across the lawn and dropped down beside him. Reached for his hand. It was cold.
    “Henry? Henry, can you hear me?”
    At her frantic question, his eyelids fluttered open. For a moment he seemed disoriented. Then he blinked and slowly focused. “Hey, Marci. Got myself…into a real pickle…didn’t I?”
    The words were gasped rather than spoken. And etched with pain.
    But at least he was conscious. That was a good sign. She hoped.
    “Don’t move, Henry.”
    “Can’t. That’s why…I’m here.”
    She tried to stay calm. Think logically. Okay, the bowl of the birdbath was resting on the ground on Henry’s left side. That would give her some leverage to push it off without putting any more pressure on his chest.
    Moving to his right side, Marci knelt and grasped the elevated edge of the bowl. “I’m going to lift this off of you, Henry. Hang on.”
    She took a deep breath. Tightened her grip. Raised the oversized concrete basin inch by inch, her muscles straining. The thing weighed a ton.
    When it was standing on end on Henry’s left side, she rose and stepped over him, keeping a firm grip on the concrete edge. Then she lowered the bowl to the ground.
    “That’s a relief. Thank you.”
    Henry started to move, but Marci pressed him back with a hand on his shoulder as she knelt beside him. He was way toopale, and his skin still felt cold. And clammy. “We need to get you checked out by the EMTs. Does anything hurt?”
    “My left side is kind of sore. Might have cracked a rib.” He blinked up at her again. “You look a little fuzzy, too.”
    She fumbled in her purse for her cell phone, her fingers shaking so badly it took her two tries to punch in 911. As she waited for the call to go through, she rested one hand on Henry’s shoulder and did her best to sound calm. “Just stay still, Henry. Help will be here soon.”
    While answering the dispatcher’s questions, Marci kept an eye on the older man. His eyelids had drifted closed again, and she took his hand, pressing her thumb to his wrist.
    “Ticker’s still working, if that’s what you’re checking,” he told her wryly.
    Despite the gravity of the situation, her lips twitched at his humor.
    Ending the call, Marci shoved the phone back into her purse. “The ambulance is on the way.”
    “Last time an ambulance came here was when Marjorie had her heart attack. She never came home.”
    Marci’s throat constricted at his melancholy tone. “This isn’t a heart attack. You’ll be back. We’re not done with the garden yet.”
    A whisper of a smile touched his lips, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re a good girl, Marci.”
    His voice was weakening, and another wave of panic washed over her. “How long ago did you fall, Henry?”
    “I came out about noon. Thought I’d get the birdbath out of our way, since we were going to work in that section today. Guess I’m not as strong as I thought I was. Used to be able to lift stuff like that with no problem. But I twisted my ankle when I turned and lost my balance. Fell back with the bowl on top of me. Not my most graceful moment.”
    She checked her watch. He’d been lying out here fifteen minutes before she arrived. Not good.
    The faint wail of a siren pierced the air. Although it was a