An Officer but No Gentleman(7)

“Two cups?”

“Morty’s hung over.”

“The other one is for you?” he asked, one eyebrow shooting upwards.

“Aye.”

Brody Kirk looked at her askance. “Do we need to talk privately?”

In other words, was she having female problems? Warmth reddened her face. “No, I just have a headache.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She did have a headache from too much brandy and not enough sleep, but she needed it because she was incredibly sore from the walloping she took during her fight.

“You must really have a bad headache if you’re asking for willow bark tea. I know how much you hate the taste.”

It was true. The bitterness of the brew was sometimes worse than the malady. When she was younger, it made her gag, but now, with effort, she willed herself to swallow it down.

Brody Kirk handed her one of the mugs. “Drink up, my boy,” he said and laughed at the expression she made as she threw it back, drinking it in large gulps. As she held the empty cup towards him, he slapped her on the back.

Charlie winced in pain.

“Charlie? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m just sore. I must have picked up something wrong,” Charlie lied.

The doctor scrutinized her expression, and then, noticing a slight swelling in her jaw, he moved her head to the side to put the swelling into the sunshine. “Did you get into another brawl? Damnation, Charlie! When are you going to stop this nonsense?” The doctor thrust the second cup into the helmsman’s hand. “You’re in charge, man. See that Ness gets this.” Then he turned to Charlie, “Let’s go.”

“It can wait ‘til the watch is over,” Charlie protested.

“Maybe I should ask your father if it can wait.”

Knowing she had no choice, Charlie reluctantly left the bridge. “Nothing’s broken,” she said as she followed him to his quarters where he had set up a medical bay.

He handed her a sheet. “I’ll step out for a minute.”

“I’m fine, really. You don’t need to do this,” Charlie said, fighting to keep her voice from rising in pitch.

The doctor’s eyes narrowed at her. “The more you resist, the worse I know it is.”

He knew her well, too well.

Within a few minutes, she had removed her clothing above the waist except the strip she used to bind her breasts and wrapped the sheet around herself allowing it to drape loosely around her back. The doctor knocked and waited for her answer before coming in. Her face burned with embarrassment, her eyes never leaving the floor as he moved behind her.

“Dear God,” he gasped at the sight of the massive swollen bruise stretching the width of her back between her shoulders. He tugged slightly at the sheet and his finger slipped into her bindings, pulling down.

Charlie clamped her arms down at her side as embarrassment flooded her body with heat.

“You’re going to have to take this off, Charlie. It’s too tight for me to see to the bottom of the bruise. I’ll turn around. Tell me when you have the sheet back in place.”

Charlie wanted to cry. Could this be any more humiliating? She craned her neck around to make sure Dr. Kirk turned away before she removed the strip.

“It’s off,” she whispered, her eyes shut tightly.

She heard the rustle of his clothing as he turned. “Have you seen this?”

“No. I don’t need to, I can feel it.”

None too gently, he pushed through the tender flesh trying to feel the bones. She fought to keep from wincing with every poke and prod.

“Did you get thrown against a bar counter?” he asked trying to understand the injury.

“I got hit with something—a board or chair leg, I think,” she admitted.

“Your father is going to tan your hide when he finds out,” the doctor said, sternly.

“There’s no reason he has to know,” she said quickly, hopefully.

Brody Kirk sighed. “We have to explain why you’re not working for the next few days. I want you in bed, on your stomach with a poultice on this.”

“No!” Panic raised the timbre of her voice. “It must look worse than it really is. I’m fine. Really,” she tried to convince him. “I was fine all day long—I’m just a little sore. Tomorrow I’ll be even better than today,” she said, though in truth, she suspected she would feel worse before she felt better.

“I’m not going to argue with you, Charlie. You know when it comes to this sort of thing, my word is law. Just stay like you are. Your father is going to want to see for himself why you’re not working.”

“No! Please….”

He strode out the door before she could argue leaving it slightly ajar. She heard him knock on her father’s door. “John, Charlie’s been in another fight. I think you need to see this,” she faintly heard the doctor say. A moment later, her father stood behind her. He had an immediate visceral reaction and cuffed the side of her head with an open hand. Charlie didn’t see it coming, but somehow managed to suppress her reaction to only cringing slightly.