Surgeon in a Wedding Dress. Sue MacKay
she’d bought them back at some one-store town with a forgettable name. Not a lot of food to survive on if this storm didn’t hurry up and pass through.
Sarah returned to staring out the window. Was it raining in Paris? She hoped so. Then she blinked. And craned her neck forward. There was the road she’d abandoned half an hour ago. And the edge of the precipice she’d parked on—less than two metres from the nose of her car. A chill slid down her spine, her mouth dried. Her eyes bulged in disbelief at how close she’d come to plummeting down to the sea.
With the rain easing, she could hear the wild crash of waves on the rocks below. Reaching for the ignition, she suddenly hesitated. It might be wise to check her situation before backing onto the road.
Outside the car she shivered and tugged her jacket closer to her body. A quick lap around the vehicle showed no difficulties with returning to the road. Then voices reached her. Shouts, cries, words—snatched away by the wind.
Pushing one foot forward cautiously, then the other, she moved ever closer to the cliff edge. As she slowly leaned forward and peered gingerly over the side, her heart thumped against her ribs. The bank dropped directly down to the ocean-licked rocks.
More shouts. From the left. Sarah steeled herself for another look. Fifty metres away, on a rock-strewn beach, people clustered at the water’s edge, dicing with the treacherous waves crashing around their feet and tugging them off balance. Her survey of the scene stopped at one dark-haired man standing further into the sea, hands on hips. From this angle it was impossible to guess his height, but his shoulders were impressive. Her interest quickened. He seemed focused on one particular spot in the water.
Trying to follow the direction of his gaze, she saw a boat bouncing against the waves as it pushed out to sea at an achingly slow pace. She gasped. Beyond the waves floated a person—face down.
Happy New Year.
Daniel Reilly stood knee-deep in the roiling water, his heart in his throat as the rescuers tried to navigate the charging waves. Aboard their boat lay an injured person. Alive or dead, Dan didn’t know, but he’d have a cardiac arrest soon if these incredibly brave—and foolhardy—men didn’t get back on land before someone else was lost.
The whole situation infuriated him. If only people would read the wretched signs and take heed. They weren’t put there for fun. It was bad enough having two people missing in the sea, a father and son according to the police. It would be totally stupid if one of the volunteer rescuers drowned while searching for them.
‘Doc, get back up the beach. We’ll bring him to you,’ a rescuer yelled at him. ‘It’s the lad, Anders Starne.’
‘He doesn’t look too good,’ Pat O’Connor, the local constable, called over the din.
Like the middle-aged cop, Dan had seen similar tragedies all too often around here. It wasn’t known as a wild, unforgiving coastline for nothing. But most calamities could be avoided if people used their brains. His hands gripped his hips as he cursed under his breath.
The kid had better be alive. Though Dan didn’t like the chances, it was inherent in him to believe there was life still beating in a body until proven otherwise.
Waterlogged men laid Anders on the sand, a teenager with his life ahead of him. Dan’s gut clenched as he thought of his own daughter. Even at four she pushed all the boundaries, and Dan couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d cope with a scenario like this. He totally understood why the father had leapt off the rocks in a vain attempt to save his son. He would do anything if Leah’s life was in jeopardy.
‘Except take a long break to spend time with her.’ The annoying voice of one of his closest friends, and boss, resonated in his head.
Yeah, well, he was doing his best. And because of interference from the board’s chairman, Charlie Drummond, he was taking time off, starting tomorrow. Pity Charlie couldn’t tell him how he was supposed to entertain his daughter, because he sure didn’t have a clue. Hopscotch and finger puppets were all very well, but for twelve weeks? What if he got it all wrong again? He’d be back at the beginning with Leah an emotional mess and he distraught from not knowing how to look after his girl. That scared him witless. He focused on the boy lying on the beach. Far easier.
Dropping to his knees, he tore at the boy’s clothing, his fingers touching cold skin in their search for a carotid pulse. A light, yet steady, throbbing under his fingers lifted his mood. He smiled up at the silent crowd of locals surrounding him. ‘He’s alive.’
‘Excuse me. Let me through. I’m a doctor.’ A lilting, female voice intruded on Dan’s concentration.
Annoyed at the disturbance, he flicked a look up at the interloper. ‘That makes two of us,’ he snapped, and returned his attention to his patient. But not before he saw a vision of a shapely female frame looming over him. Very shapely.
‘Where’d you come from?’ he demanded as he explored Anders’s head with his fingers.
‘Does that matter at this moment?’ she retorted.
‘Not really.’ He was local and therefore in charge.
‘What have you found so far?’ She, whoever she was, knelt on the other side of the boy.
He was aware of her scrutinising him. ‘His pulse is steady.’ He was abrupt with her as he straightened and looked her in the eye. Her gaze slammed into him, shocking the air out of his lungs. Eyes as green as the bush-clad hills behind them. And as compelling.
‘Then he’s one very lucky boy.’ Her tone so reasonable it was irritating.
And intriguing. Who was she? He’d never seen her before, and she wasn’t someone he’d easily forget with that elegant stance and striking face. He shook his head. Right now he didn’t need to know anything about her.
Jerking his gaze away, he spoke to the crowd again, ‘Someone get my bag from my truck. Fast.’ To the doctor—how did she distract him so easily?—he said, ‘I’ll wrap him in a survival blanket to prevent any more loss of body heat.’
The kid coughed. Spewed salt water. Together they rolled him onto his side, water oozing out the corner of his mouth as he continued coughing. His eyelids dragged open, then drooped shut.
‘Here, Dan.’ Malcolm, his brother and the head of the local search and rescue crew, pushed through the crowd to drop a bag in the sand. Dan snapped open the catches and delved into the bag for tissues and the foil blanket.
‘Thanks.’ The other doctor flicked the tissues from his grasp. Dan squashed his admiration for her efficiency watching her cleaning the boy’s mouth and chin as she tenderly checked his bruised face simultaneously. Her long, slim fingers tipped with pale rose-coloured polish were thorough in their survey.
‘I don’t think the cheek bones are fractured.’ Her face tilted up, and her eyes met his.
Again her gaze slammed into him, taking his breath away. The same relief he felt for the boy was reflected in her eyes. Facial bones were delicate and required the kind of surgical procedures he wasn’t trained to perform. He gave her a thumbs-up. ‘Thank goodness.’
The rain returned, adding to the boy’s discomfort. Dan began rolling Anders gently one way, then the other, tucking him into the blanket, at the same time checking for injuries. He found deep gashes on Anders’s back and one arm lay at an odd angle, undoubtedly fractured. For now the wounds weren’t bleeding, no doubt due to the low body temperature, but as that rose the haemorrhaging would start. The deep gash above one eyebrow would be the worst.
‘Where’s the ambulance?’ Dan asked Pat.
‘On its way. About three minutes out. It was held up by a slip at Black’s Corner.’
Anger shook Dan once more. This boy’s life could’ve indirectly been jeopardised because of some officious idiot’s unsound reasoning. For years now the locals had been petitioning to get Black’s Corner straightened and the unstable hillside bulldozed away,