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Saved by a Christmas Angel

By Karen Malley

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Lauren threw another log on the fire and settled on the sofa. Not a minute later, a crash shook the entire cabin. What on earth? She ran to the window, wiped away the condensation, and peered out. Headlights illuminated the pine trees in the forest beyond. A driver lost control on the slick roads. Through the swirling snow, she couldn’t tell anything more.
Her nursing instincts kicked into high gear. She pulled on a heavy parka and boots and slogged through the deepening snow to the vehicle. The snow already covered the car. As she drew closer, it appeared the driver took the turn too quickly, skidded off the road and plowed headfirst into a pine tree.
Lauren reached the car and assessed the situation, peering into the window. A single driver, probably male. She couldn’t very well leave him out here to bleed or freeze to death. She drew in a breath. What if he was already dead? No, now was not the time for worst-case scenarios. She tried pulling open the driver’s side door, but it wouldn’t budge. Moving around the car, she yanked open the passenger-side door. She pushed the air bag out of the way, reached over, and found a pulse in the man’s neck. Still strong. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was alive. Hunched over the steering wheel and bleeding, but alive.
Lauren felt along both sides of his neck and gently eased him against the seat. Blood trickled down his face, but the cut wasn’t deep. His arms and torso seemed intact, but it was difficult to tell through his heavy coat. She moved her gaze downward. His left leg appeared unnaturally twisted where the door bent inward. Not good. She needed to get him out of the car and into the cabin where she could treat his injuries properly. She leaned over the man, trying to ignore the enticing woodsy scent he wore, and forced the door open from the inside. The man groaned as his leg shifted, but didn’t regain consciousness. How would she get him into the cabin? From what she could tell, he was solidly built. Inspiration struck, and Lauren raced to the garage. She returned to the car, pulling a toboggan behind her. Fortunately, she had plenty of practice lifting patients, even those who outweighed her.
Lauren removed the man’s seatbelt and carefully splinted his leg. Before easing him onto the toboggan, she sent up a prayer. “God, please help me ease this man’s discomfort. Please help me not to injure him further by transporting him. You know I can’t leave him here.” Leaving it in her Father’s hands, she pulled him in the cabin, thankful there were no steps to maneuver.
After dragging the toboggan into the cabin’s main living area, she assessed her patient. She eased him out of his coat and felt his arms and chest. Her quickening pulse had less to do with concern for his injuries and more to do with the solidness of his muscles. This was a man in peak physical condition. Or at least he was, until the accident. Now for his leg. The temporary splint worked for immobilizing his leg for the trip into the cabin, but was not adequate for support if he broke it. She grabbed the trauma shears from her medical bag and cut away the pant leg above the knee. His knee cap was shifted inwards, but after palpating the upper and lower parts of his leg, there didn’t appear to be a break. A partially dislocated patella she could handle. Normally she’d give the patient painkillers before popping it back into place, but since he appeared to be out cold already, she maneuvered it into its normal position, wrapped it, and set an ice pack on it. The man’s eyes flickered open. Two stunning pools of blue met her before they drifted closed again.
Who was this man, and why was he out here in the middle of nowhere in a storm? She should check his ID. No, first, his face. Lauren cleaned the wound on his forehead, thankful it was shallow. No need for stitches. She pushed his sandy hair back and bandaged the wound. Once she cleaned him up, she studied his features. Thick hair, a firm chin and laugh lines around his eyes. A good sign. He appeared to be about her age, or a few years older. One way to find out. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Lauren turned him on his right side and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. She read his license. Justin Foster. His birthdate put him at two years older than she was, and he lived in Philadelphia, not too far from her place. Interesting. She pushed the wallet back into his pocket and carefully lifted him onto the sofa.
Stomach rumbling, she moved into the kitchen. No sense starving just because a handsome stranger crashed into her life. She popped a new Christmas CD into the player and her mood lifted. She sang along while she chopped veggies and put on a pot of water to boil.
****
Justin blinked and struggled to focus. He must be dreaming. If so, why did he hurt so much? He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember. He’d been on his way to Eric’s place when the storm hit. He’d lost the signal on his phone, could barely see ten feet in front of the car, and he’d skidded several times. But, no, there was a face. He’d seen an angel, with golden hair framing her, smiling down at him. It must’ve been a dream. He risked opening his eyes. A fireplace and wooden log walls. Oh, good. He made it to Eric’s cabin after all. His other senses slowly came to life. Christmas carols played in the background and an amazing smell tantalized his nostrils, reminding him he hadn’t eaten dinner. Was Eric cooking? Somehow, he doubted it. Shifting on the sofa, pain shot through his leg. He reached out to touch it and found his knee tightly wrapped. What happened? He struggled to sit up and glimpsed the kitchen. A kitchen where the angel stood stirring a pot. His breath caught. She was real. She glanced his way and hurried over.
“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
Even her voice sounded like an angel’s. “Honestly? Starving. Where’s Eric?”
Her brows drew together. “Who’s Eric?”
“Isn’t this his cabin?”
The angel shook her head. She knelt next to the sofa, and her words were gentle. “This cabin belonged to my grandparents. It’s been in my family for decades.”
Justin tried to clear the fog from his head. “How did I get here?”
The angel smiled. “I dragged you in.”
That made no sense. Justin started to get up, but another wave of pain traveled down his leg.
“You crashed your car into a tree by my cabin,” the angel said. “I dragged you inside so you wouldn’t freeze to death, bandaged your scalp wound, and splinted your leg. Without an X-ray, we can’t be sure there’s no fracture, but I’m pretty sure you got away with nothing more than a dislocated kneecap and a few cuts and bruises from the airbag. You’d better keep off your leg as much as possible.”
Justin reached his hand to his forehead at the mention of a scalp wound and felt the thick bandage. “I guess I crashed in the right place.”
The angel gave a brief smile. “I’m so relieved you’re awake. Look here.” She pulled a small penlight out of her pocket and shined it in his eyes. “Does your head hurt? Any nausea?” “No, and no. I’m sore all over, but my head seems fine. Are you a doctor?” Justin asked.
The angel handed him a cup of water and two over-the-counter pain killers. “Sorry I have nothing stronger, but this should take the edge off.”
Justin gulped down the medicine and waited for an explanation.
“Trauma nurse.” Her face fell. “Well, I was until a few days ago. Budget cuts at the hospital, and a week before Christmas, I’m out of a job.” She quieted. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear about my problems. I’m Lauren, by the way.”
Ahh, so the angel had a name. “I’m Justin. I’m sorry about your job.”
“Nice to meet you, Justin. Now about you being starving…” She took the glass and helped him get fully into a sitting position. Justin drew in a breath at her nearness. She smelled like flowers. Her silky hair brushed his cheek and his heart beat a little faster. What was wrong with him? She was helping him as a nurse. She pulled a tray table in front of him and walked back to the kitchen. Justin’s eyes followed her. She returned a moment later with her hands full. She set a steaming bowl of soup and a thick slice of crusty bread on the tray table. She pulled up a second tray table in front of the chair across from him and laid out the same food for herself. As Justin took his first spoonful of soup, Lauren’s melodic voice started praying.
“Dear Lord, thank you for this food. Thank you for the safety of this cabin and for bringing Justin to a place he can receive care. Please let this be a place of healing for him. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
A warmth traveled through Justin which had nothing to do with the soup. He couldn’t remember the last time someone prayed for him. And healing? Time would tell whether God heard Lauren’s prayer. He should–she was an angel, after all.

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