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Yet whenever an email from Kelli had come in on the department site during the past weeks he’d read it avidly to see what she was up to. Her account of fishing far out from land in a tiny canoe with the locals had had his heart racing, even though she’d obviously returned safely. There’d been a photo of a grinning Kelli holding up a trevally she’d caught. That grin had got to him, tightened his gut and other parts of his anatomy, but, worse, it had started gnawing away as if he was missing the point somehow.
He’d wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat only to lie staring at the ceiling, his heart pounding while images of Kelli paraded through his skull. Kelli in that figure-defining bridesmaid dress, Kelli dancing at Tamara and Conor’s wedding celebrations, Kelli strolling down Darling Harbour pier afterwards in six-inch-high green shoes as if she were in sneakers. In his arms, reminding him of what he’d lost and couldn’t contemplate opening up for again. In case he...
‘Mac?’ Stephanie waved a hand in front of him. ‘Your patient’s in cubicle two.’
Truly? How had he missed the stretcher being pushed past? Was it possible that Fiji Hospital ED needed to swap out a doctor requiring to upgrade his or her skills? Could it be a twelve-month exchange? Because he was available, as of right now. ‘I’ll just grab Michael.’
‘He’s already there.’
If he didn’t know better he’d believe Stephanie was laughing at him. So he didn’t answer, didn’t give her anything else to be amused about. Pushing through the curtain into cubicle two, he introduced himself to the young man. ‘Beau, I’m Mac, a doctor. I hear you got into some trouble surfing this afternoon.’
‘The ambo guy said I drowned. But that was ages ago. Why am I in here? The surf club guys brought me round.’ His hands were picking at the bedcover. Grumpy and twitchy.
‘Drowning’s no picnic. We need to monitor you for a while. Also I want to see if there’s any water still in your lungs.’
‘I reckon I coughed it all up. A little bit can’t hurt, can it?’ The words were snapped out. Aftershock from drowning, or his normal mannerism? He did appear a little bewildered.
‘Do you remember much about things before the helicopter picked you up off Piha Beach?’
‘Lots of people hanging around, talking at me.’
Kelli already had the pulse oximeter on his finger to keep tabs on his oxygen saturation. She was focused on their patient.
As he should be.
‘Can you sit still for me, mate?’ Michael asked. ‘I can’t listen to your lungs while you’re moving so much.’
Beau scowled but sat stiffly, only moving to breathe deep when Michael asked.
Mac explained. ‘You drowned, and had to be resuscitated. We need to keep an eye on you for a while yet in case there are any complications.’ Mac glanced at Kelli. ‘Heart rate?’
‘Sixty-nine.’
Near to normal. Moving in beside her, Mac said quietly, ‘Watch for mood swings. Beau seems edgy, but that might be his personality.’ He tried not to breathe in that scent of flowers, but his lungs couldn’t hold out until he’d moved away. Roses. Red ones. Like the ones in his mother’s garden when he was growing up. But this scent was beguiling and tempting and—unwelcome. He bit down on the groan of longing building in the back of his throat. The night ahead stretched out interminably.
A bell sounded from the ambulance bay. Relieved to have an excuse to get out of this airless cubicle, Mac turned to head away. Drawn back to Kelli, he coughed. Let it go, man. But he just couldn’t. ‘It’s good to have you back. The place’s been dull lately.’ It had? She hadn’t even worked the same shift as him until today.
‘I’m not noisy.’ The tone might’ve been sharp but her mouth twisted in that adorable way he’d begun noticing at the wedding dinner.
‘I always know when you’re around.’ Talking too much, Mac Taylor. There were hours to get through yet. And this was only day one of three hundred and sixty-five minus weekends. All those days to get to know Kelli and maybe understand why he felt different around her, if there was some hope for his future.
Kelli’s head shot up. Despair and puzzlement shone out of her cobalt eyes. A faint pink blush stained her cheeks. ‘Just as well I’ve been away then, isn’t it?’
Mac forced his mouth shut and made for the curtain again, his stomach in a knot. He didn’t trust himself not to come out with something equally stupid as that last little nugget. Before she’d taken the job in Fiji he’d only ever seen her as her shift was finishing and his beginning. Yes, and he’d always noticed her. Now he’d gone and told her much the same. Didn’t make sense. It wasn’t as though he was interested in her outside work.
Then why had he taken her to that Sydney night club after Conor and Tamara’s wedding? How could he not, when she’d been beautiful in her emerald-coloured fitted gown and those shoes that weren’t made for walking? Yet Kelli had walked the length of the pier and back in them. She had to be some kind of acrobat to be able to do that without falling off the heels and breaking her long neck. A delectable, beautiful, annoying acrobat whom he’d kissed—a lot. And ever since then, he’d not been able to forget any moment of that night. Was that why he’d agreed to go to this next wedding with her? Because after the last ceremony they’d made out together, and might repeat the scenario? He needed his head read—by an expert in craziness.
Behind the curtain he heard Beau ask in a wavering voice, ‘Can I phone my mum?’
‘Of course,’ Kelli answered. ‘Here’s your daypack. Will your phone be in there somewhere?’
‘I hope so.’ The guy suddenly sounded much younger and vulnerable.
‘I’ll leave you alone to call her, but I won’t go far in case you’re worried something might happen. Want a coffee?’
Mac made a beeline for Resus and the patient being wheeled through from the ambulance. Having Kelli find him hanging around outside the cubicle was not an option. He might feel like a seventeen-year-old in lust but for Kelli to recognise that would blow the lid on any hope of working together with some semblance of normality. As for what spending the weekend in close proximity of each other would do to him, he couldn’t begin to imagine.
The paramedic greeted him with, ‘Mac, this is George Falkiner, fifty-one, a digger driver. The ground gave way under his three-ton machine and he was tossed out and then hit by the bucket. He’s stat one, hasn’t regained consciousness in the time we’ve been with him. Multiple fractures to both arms and the right leg. Suspected internal injuries around the spleen and liver.’
‘I’m surprised he’s still breathing. Let’s get him onto a bed and hooked up to our gear. On the count, everyone.’ Their patient was quickly transferred from the stretcher to the bed, and Mac began an examination. ‘Stephanie, I need blood bank on the line yesterday.’ The guy was losing blood from a torn artery in his groin faster than water leaving a bath. Those internal injuries would be bleeding too. ‘Get some group O sent down and a tech to take a crossmatch sample for further transfusions.’
‘Onto it.’
‘Then call Radiology.’ Mac had started at the man’s skull, gently probing for crushed bones and bleeds. He did not like the guy’s chances, but that wouldn’t stop him doing everything within his power to save him. Including putting all thoughts of Kelli aside.
Around him nurses and another doctor worked quietly and efficiently stemming blood flows, monitoring heart rate and blood pressure, examining limbs and probing for other injuries. A lab tech arrived with blood and a test kit to take a sample for blood grouping. George Falkiner had a damned good team on his side.
The cardiac monitor emitted the flat sound of no heartbeat. Mac snatched up the paddles. ‘Stand back.’ With a check that everyone had done as ordered he applied the electric jolt needed to restart the man’s heart. It worked. ‘Now there’s a wonder. He’s lost so much blood I didn’t e
xpect to bring him back.’ But for how long? Sometimes things worked right, and sometimes: well, Mac wasn’t going there. His patient didn’t need the negative vibes. He’d managed to score enough on his own.
Mac was completely unaware of anything going on outside Resus. His focus was entirely on his patient, and it wasn’t until they’d finally stopped the bleeding except for some internal strife, that he began to think there was a chance this man might make it. Radiology took their pictures, Theatre was on standby, and a general surgeon and orthopaedic surgeon were up to speed on what was required for their patient.
When George was finally wheeled away to Theatre Mac straightened his aching back and rolled his neck to loosen the muscles that were sporadically cramping. ‘Glad that’s over.’
‘Grab a break while you can.’ Michael spoke from the desk. ‘The numbers are starting to crank up out in the waiting room but nothing urgent. I’ll go after you get back.’
‘Think I will.’ A cold drink and something to eat would do wonders for the weariness gripping him now that the urgency of that case had gone. Tossing his scrubs into the laundry bin and pulling on clean ones, he headed for his office and the snack he’d put together earlier at home.
Once at his office desk he decided to stay put and do a bit of paperwork while he chewed on sandwiches. Even signing off a single document was one less to worry about. Not mentioning that in this airless pokey room he was safe from Kelli scent, Kelli comments, and definitely the wariness in those blue eyes that had appeared from the moment he’d agreed to be her partner this coming weekend.
Knock, knock. A head popped around his door. Kelli. Of course. So much for a few minutes’ escape.
‘Hi, everything okay?’
She stayed in the doorway. ‘Just giving you the heads up. A nine-year-old girl fell ten metres off the family deck onto a fence post. Stat one. The chopper’s bringing her in from Waitakere, ETA approximately ten minutes.’
