Dr. Charlene Wilson

"Hey, lie back, I don’t want you hurting yourself," Dr. Wilson told the frantic Shane. "Let me look at his leg. I’m a doctor."

Dr. Wilson brushed the sand off of Shay’s leg, which didn’t seem to be bleeding very quickly. "Where else are you hurt?"

Shay blinked at her. "I’m not."

"That’s probably someone else’s blood," the doctor told Shane. It was all coming back, the way to speak calmly, the way to act. It didn’t matter if the patient had a complicated pregnancy or a gaping wound. She ripped a strip of denim from the bottom of her skirt, and tied it around Shay’s leg.

She tore another piece of denim and put it gently on Shane’s face. “Shane, tell me where you hurt.” 

Shane McCutcheon

Shane tried to shake her head but stopped; it hurt like hell, felt like an earthquake to her brain. "I’m fine," she repeated, taking short, sharp breaths but not enough air seemed to reach her lungs.

Why couldn’t the doctor just leave her the fuck alone and focus on Shay? She wasn’t sure if she believed that he was really okay. He’d say that just to get her to stop worrying.
 

Dr. Charlene Wilson

Charlene raised her eyebrow at Shane. She reminded her of a former patient, who had denied that childbirth hurt. It was clear to her that Shane was in tremendous pain. For the sake of the kid, she decided to play it casually and with a little humor.

"If you’re not in pain then I’m a natural blonde." She pulled the fabric from Shane’s temple; it came away with blood that was mostly dried.

She turned the kid, who was watching her, "Honey, go wash this off in the water, ok?"

Shay nodded, eager to help. He took the cloth and went running for the water’s edge.

"Shane, I’m gonna ask you again. Where else are you hurt?"