Page 12 of A Touch of Charm
She nodded, her skirts rustling as she moved across the room. Her fingers traced the rows of neatly arranged medical supplies before she found what he needed and brought them over. Their fingers grazed, the lightest contact, as she passed the tools into his waiting hand. A shiver started at her fingertips and shot up her arm, sending a warm, electric pulse straight to her core.
Her eyes lingered on the veins running along the back of his hand, and she marveled at their strength and precision.
“Thank you,” he murmured, setting to work. He gently palpated the coachman’s arm, trailing his fingers over the bruise and carefully moving it except where it couldn’t move. He felt for the break, narrowing down the exact spot. The coachman grimaced, yet kept his composure, as even more sweat dotted his forehead.
“The radius is broken cleanly,” Andre said, his tone clinical as he reached for the bandages. “We’ll need to set it and apply a brace to stabilize the radius and the ulna. This will help minimize movement while it heals. It will take time, but you’ll recover.”
Emotions coursed through her—admiration, longing, and frustration. She yearned to contribute more, to match his expertise with her own. The difference in their abilities pressed heavily on her chest. As she watched him move with seamless proficiency, her eagerness to help felt like a pale shadow. Yet, when their hands brushed, she felt a connection that bridged their skill gap.
“You will be alright,” Andre assured him. “But you must avoid using this arm until you are better.”
Thea watched as Andre positioned his hands on the coachman’s lower arm, his movements confident and precise. The room fell into a tense silence, punctuated only by the coachman’s ragged breaths. Andre leaned in close, his ear almost touching the patient’s skin as if he could hear the fracture whispering its secrets.
“Would you like to step out for a moment?” Andre asked Thea, his voice calm but charged with an undertone of intensity. “I’m going to set it now.”
The driver gasped and seemed to hold his breath.
Thea shook her head, her resolve firm despite the unease twisting in her stomach. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Andre’s face, the concentration etched in every line on his forehead.
Andre nodded once, then turned his full attention back to the broken limb. His fingers moved with deliberate care, probing the area around the break. Thea marveled at his focus, noticing how his jaw tightened as he assessed the damage. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and manipulated the bone.
The sound that followed was a sickening crunch, like the crack of a hard nut underfoot. Thea nearly convulsed, but she was too captivated to even breathe. The coachman let out a cry, his body tensing with the sharp pain, but Andre’s grip remained steady. Sweat trickled down the patient’s temples, but Andre’s eyes never wavered from the task. Thea’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the moment’s urgency.
Andre’s fingers worked meticulously, nudging the bone fragments into alignment. She saw the exact moment when the pieces slid into place, a subtle shift that seemed monumental. Andre’s face showed a flicker of relief. He pressed down a bit more, ensuring the alignment was perfect.
“There,” he whispered, his voice barely breaking the tension in the air. “It’s set.”
It had been no more than a second, perhaps two, but Thea felt as though she’d been through so much more while watching Andre work.
Fascinated, she didn’t want to leave his side.
Without pausing, Andre reached for the splints and bandages she’d brought him. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, snugly wrapping the bandages around the arm. The coachman’s grimace softened slightly as the support took hold, and the pain eased from his face.
Thea stepped closer, and she admired Andre more with each passing second. She handed him the final strip of cloth, their fingers brushing again. The touch rooted her in the moment, a silent acknowledgment of the skill she was witnessing. And this time, Andre held her gaze. Just for an instant—a meaningful moment in time—Thea felt seen as a valuable person in an important moment, not merely glanced over as a princess who didn’t live up to her purpose in life.
There, in the treatment room with the doctor with deep, dark eyes, her existence mattered in a way that she’d never felt before.
And she wanted to matter even more.
I want to matter to him.
Andre tied off the last bandage, his movements precise and sure. He looked up at the coachman, offering a reassuring nod. “You’ll need help. Is there anyone waiting for you at home?”
“Yes, I will go home to my wife.” The man looked down at the brace. “But I can’t work like this.”
Thea barely had time to consider how quickly fortunes could turn when a dark cry echoed through the hallway. Thea’s eyes widened in alarm, and without a word, they both rushed to the source of the sound.
In the hallway, Stan stood, clutching his shoulder, his face contorted in pain. A heavy piece of luggage lay at his feet, evidence of his ill-advised attempt to carry it despite what seemed to be a grave injury.
“Stan!” Thea exclaimed, rushing to her brother’s side. “You shouldn’t have!”
Andre was at Stan’s other side in an instant, his hands already assessing the damage. “Your shoulder is bleeding,” he said grimly. “Come in here.” Stan gritted his teeth, nodding his consent.
Andre guided him to Nick’s treatment room since the driver was still in his. He lit the lamp on and indicated where Stan should lie. Thea froze for a moment, taking the room in. There were cupboards similar to Andre’s room, two desks, one with a stand and a prism on a small velvet cloth.
“This is Nick’s room, the eye surgeon and oculist.” Andre tended to Stan but must have seen Thea’s momentary confusion when she looked at how different this treatment seemed compared to Andre’s.
Thea’s heart raced as she watched Andre’s firm but careful movements, examining Stan’s arm with unerring focus.
