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‘I’m here now.’ She paused, then, ‘I did love you when I left. But I had to go. We weren’t working. I couldn’t deal with anything any more.’
She had loved him—as in the past. His lungs seemed to stop functioning; air clogged his chest. So there really was no hope of rekindling their marriage. Well, idiot, haven’t you always known that? Admit it, all those years you waited for her to come back you knew deep down she didn’t love you any more. What happened to keeping Fi at arm’s length this week? See, you’re calling her Fi again. Talk about setting yourself up for the long drop.
Anyway, he should be relieved. He’d never wanted to get as deeply involved with a woman again as he had been with Fiona. He’d given his heart once. To do it twice and have it rejected would be foolish—especially if that second time was to the same woman.
Fiona was still talking, and he wanted to ignore her, but he heard her loud and clear.
‘I know I was spoilt, impetuous and fiery, and we had some tempestuous times, but we were great together, you and I. Great enough to survive what happened to Liam if only we’d known how. I really believe that. Talk to me, Tom.’
Sure thing. Spill his guts and then get on with his life.
Her fingers dug into her palms as she willed him to answer. But when he did, he thought he’d never seen anyone looking so desolate. But he had to stop this conversation in its tracks. It wasn’t doing either of them any good. He felt as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice, totally unsure where he was going.
‘It’s too late for us, Fiona. I have other responsibilities now.’ His heart ached. He’d missed her in his life so much. Damn it. He wanted to grab her up and hold her for ever. But he wouldn’t.
Loud knocking, followed by the front door being thrown back against the wall, had his head jerking round.
‘Tom, are you here? There’s been an accident down by the bridge and you’re needed.’ Stella’s voice echoed through the cottage as she advanced down the hall. He saw her pass the bedroom door, heard her heavy steps stop, backtrack to the bedroom.
‘Tom? I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed outside knocking, but it’s urgent.’
Tom crawled out from under the bedcovers, glad of the interruption. ‘What’s this about an accident?’
‘A car skidded on ice at the approach to the one-way bridge and slammed into the bank. Pierce says the snow-laden bank took some of the impact, but to him the injuries look serious. Robert’s already there, but he needs a hand.’
‘How many people are injured? And where are my keys?’ Tom searched through his pockets.
‘On the top of the fridge.’ Fiona brushed past Stella, still standing in the doorway. ‘I’ll get them. I’m coming with you.’
‘Two couples. They’re here for the golf tournament. According to Pierce, alcohol’s involved. And, worse, the road is treacherous between here and the highway to Christchurch. He doesn’t think you’ll get an ambulance through tonight.’
Tom followed Fiona into the kitchen, with Stella right on his heels. He caught the keys Fiona tossed to him and swiped up his jacket.
‘Pierce is the local cop, and Robert’s our GP,’ he explained to Fiona on their way to his vehicle. ‘We’ll be busy if the injuries are serious, and if the road’s as bad as Pierce says we’ll have to bring the victims back here.’
Fiona grimaced. ‘The injured people can be thankful you’ve got such a well-equipped theatre. Have we got kits to take to the scene?’
‘Liz is getting two ready,’ Stella answered.
‘Hop in, Fiona,’ Tom called to her. ‘Stella, can you get Theatre ready in case we have to perform surgery? Can you also phone Kerry and warn her we might need her?’
‘Of course. Have you got your cell phone so you can let us know what’s happening?’
‘I’ll get Pierce to phone through.’
A figure loomed up through the murky night air. ‘Here you go, Tom. Two bags full of everything I could think of.’
‘Thanks, Liz. Can you give Stella a hand, and stay on in case you’re needed later?’
As Liz answered in the affirmative Tom already had the engine revving, and Fiona slammed her door shut. She shivered, and said, ‘I wouldn’t have thought this town was big enough to have its own GP.’
‘Robert Greison is semi-retired. His wife died of cancer two years ago, leaving him with two teenaged boys. He decided to bring them here, where he could practise part time and be with the lads at the weekends and school holidays. They go to boarding school in Christchurch during the week.’
Tom drove carefully on the treacherous road, and a few minutes later lights beckoned through the falling snow.
Fiona pointed. ‘Looks like that’s it.’
Parking where directed, Tom shoved his door open and saw Fiona flinch as the bitterly cold air snatched at her. But she braced herself and gingerly stepped down onto the slippery roadside. After grabbing the kitbags from the back seat, she followed him to the wrecked car, lying on its side in a ditch. A tow truck had backed up close to the front of the vehicle, its strong searchlights lighting up the area brighter than day. Two people—presumably men, though it was hard to tell with their thick jackets and woollen hats—were squatting down beside someone lying on a stretcher.
Screams rent the air spasmodically. The hairs rose on the back of Tom’s neck as he hurried towards the wreck, Fiona at his side. Someone needed them. He and Fiona were here to help. That, at least, felt good.
‘Hey, Tom!’ A deep male voice boomed out from beside the car and one of the figures rose from next to the inert body. ‘Over here.’
Tom took Fiona’s elbow and led her across to introduce her to Robert and Pierce. ‘Thought an extra medic wouldn’t go astray.’
Robert eyed Fiona up and down. ‘Even better. You’re slim and might be able to squeeze inside beside the guy jammed under the dashboard. He’s unconscious. I’ve managed to reach in and establish there’s a pulse. A lot of blood too, but I’m not sure where from. It’s tricky getting to him with the car tipped over like it is.’
‘Sure—anything you want. Do we have a name?’ Fiona asked.
‘Dave Fergusson, according to the women passengers.’
As Fiona snapped on latex gloves Tom felt a hitch around his heart. He didn’t want her putting herself in any danger by climbing into that scrunched vehicle. Jagged metal could tear clothing and skin in an instant. A sudden question came to him. ‘What about airbags?’
‘Deactivated,’ a fireman replied.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ he murmured to Fiona. ‘That mangled wreck will be full of hazards. And it doesn’t look terribly steady, lying on its side.’
‘I’ll be fine, and as Robert pointed out no one else will fit through that narrow gap that used to be a window.’
Tom knew she was right, but that only made him want to try harder to dissuade her from her mission—and yet he understood she’d agreed to go in because a man needed her doctoring skills. Fiona would never let him down. ‘You’d better watch out for pieces of metal. You’ll slice yourself if you’re not careful.’
She gave him a smile and nudged him. ‘Tom, just help me up and stop worrying. I don’t think I can squeeze in without a bit of a shove from behind.’
‘You haven’t grown any over the years, have you?’ He tried to lighten the panic in his heart and bent so she could stand on his thigh, his hands holding her around her waist until she was steady. Even as he let her go he wanted to snatch her back against him, keep her safe. So much for keeping her at arm’s length.
Placing her feet carefully around her patient, she bent down awkwardly. ‘Can someone get me a torch?’
A low, keening moan filled the air as Tom saw Fiona carefully feel the man’s head, talking softly, reassuringly, all the time.
‘Dave, I’m a doctor. You’ve been in an accident. Can you hear me?’
The man didn’t answer.
‘Here’s the torch. Tell me what you find as you go,
then I’ll know what equipment to get you.’ Tom peered into the wreck, frustrated at having to wait outside.
The full horror of the scene was apparent in the yellow beam. Fiona’s patient stared sightlessly, his face streaked with blood. Blood coated everything. If it was all his, the man had lost too much.
Inside the vehicle, Fiona talked as she worked with her patient. ‘I’m starting with his ribs, hoping we’re not dealing with a flail chest. As far as I can tell the ribs have not been pushed into the chest cavity.’
‘One thing in his favour, then. How about his airways?’
‘Clear, and his breathing’s laboured but regular.’
