Excerpt: 'Mercy's Rescue' by Debra Holt

Debra Holt shares a scene from her new inspirational romance, Mercy's Rescue.

About the book:

Finding himself fighting for his life after an ambush, Sheriff Josh Wellman awakens to find himself looking into the eyes of a real-life angel of mercy.

When their hands touch, he knows his life has changed in that instant.

But devastating heartbreak has left Mercy Smith's faith in tatters, her heart guarded against more loss. Her dedication to the air evac trauma team she leads has insulated her from the realities of the earth below, so now Josh faces the biggest challenge of his life.

Can he find a way to get past the walls around Mercy and convince this angel to stay on the ground with him? Can Mercy open her heart to life again and find a way to restore her faith in God…as well as love?

Debra sets the scene for us …

Debra: An invisible clock begins ticking the moment a call for help comes and a highly skilled air-evac medical crew begins its mad dash to the waiting helicopter. For a craft that is built for speed, to those on board, it can seem to fly in slow motion as they anxiously wait to utilize their life-saving skills. The heroine in Mercy's Rescue is just such a person. She flies to aid those who face life and death situations. Mercy will also find, as her story progresses, she is in need of rescuing, but in a different manner. Her heart and her loss of faith need to be found again. The Texas sheriff who Mercy rescues at the beginning of the story will do his own rescuing before the pair can find their way to their own happy-ever-after ending.

In the following scene, Mercy is drawn by some unknown reason she doesn't want to examine too closely, to check on the patient.

EXCERPT

A quick pop in and out, she told herself. Just to see how the sheriff is doing. She had the time. She could still feel the way his fingers had clasped hers during the flight. She told herself she just wanted to be sure that the man had a chance. That's all. Stepping from the elevator, she avoided the lobby and family waiting area.

"What brings you to our neck of the woods?" The woman smiled, looking up from the patient charts in front of her. "Tired of your glamor job upstairs?"

"Some glamor job," Mercy responded with a half-smile. A running joke among hospital personnel was that the air-evac team members were "special." Flying around in a jet helicopter all day had to be glamorous, right? Hardly. "Just thought I would stop by and check on the patient we brought in this afternoon. He's the shooting victim from Powell County."

"Yes, indeed. He's one lucky man to still be among the living. He's in Cubicle C. You can look in on him if you'd like."

Mercy hesitated. She'd just meant to stop by and get an update. She hadn't counted on seeing him again. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Candy watching her expectantly. Just sticking her head through the door wouldn't hurt. Mercy gave a half-shrug and moved toward the room, pausing just inside the doorway.

A white blanket covered most of his body. Both arms lay still by his sides on top of the covers, an IV attached to his left hand. Bandages were evident across one shoulder and down one arm. A metal frame kept the blanket lifted off his left leg, and an oxygen line ran to his nose.

The fixture above his head cast a soft light, highlighting the broad planes and darkening the hollows of his face. His skin still looked pale, but not as much as it had when she'd first seen him. Mercy quietly moved closer to the workstation at the foot of the bed. Her fingers went automatically to the tablet's keyboard attached on a stand to the station. Inserting her code, she found the notes. Cutting through most of the medical jargon, she saw the surgery had lasted almost three hours. Three bullets had been recovered from his wounds. Prognosis was guarded. The man was lucky to still be alive. You have a mighty powerful guardian angel looking over your shoulder, mister. The thought took her by surprise, but not as much as the voice that came from the bed.

"Am I dreaming?" The words were low and muffled as if by wads of cotton. Mercy first thought she had imagined the raspy voice. Closing the computer screen, she inched closer to the head of the bed. She didn't speak for fear of disturbing him, thinking he might slip back into sleep. Then she saw his eyelids flicker, that startling blue gaze come into view. The contact made her stomach knot in a totally unexpected way. The patient watched her solemnly for several seconds, perhaps allowing his mind to focus through the drugs.

"You're the angel. You took me flying." His weak voice dwindled off, but his gaze stayed locked on hers.

She was touched in a way she had forgotten … somewhere in her chest, very close to her heart. Mercy tried to hide a responding grin. The meds clouded his memory. Angels and flying. It made perfect sense, given the patient's full load of drugs.

"I had a dream you were here. You held my hand, and the pain went away."

"I just stopped by to check on you and make certain they were treating you right—looks like they are. You should go back to sleep now." Her voice remained low and steady as she stepped back. His hand moved from his side. With great effort, his palm rose from the covers toward her.

Mercy paused, and her hand automatically reached to meet his. She didn't realize what she had done until she felt the warmth of his fingers grasp hers. Once again, the warm tingle skipped up her arm and through her whole being. She stood still in stunned surprise.

"Stay. Please. Promise you won't leave me." His words, slow and slurred, fought against the meds grasping for control. His lids lowered further, still a hint of deep blue holding her firmly to the spot. "Promise me. Angels keep their promises."

"I promise," Mercy replied. He managed a slight squeeze to her hand as his eyes closed the rest of the way. One corner of the strong mouth lifted slightly as the rest of his battered body relaxed under the healing powers of the medicine.

Her hand content in his, Mercy stood silent watch for a few more minutes. Her eyes roamed his features, moving now and then to read the numbers and graphs on the monitors beside the bed. When she felt satisfied that he slept, she gradually placed his hand back onto the top of the cover at his side. She crossed silently to the doorway and hesitated. Casting a last glance over her shoulder, Mercy—for the first time in a very long time—actually hoped that, if indeed this man had a guardian angel hovering over him, he wouldn't find disappointment in believing in his/ her powers. With that thought and a final glance, she left the building.

Find out more about Debra and her books at www.debraholtbooks.com.