She couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Sunshine and fresh powder, it was going to be great.
Chapter 19
Margo stood at the top of the mountain and tucked her mitten back into her sleeve. Jess, Matt, and Hannah had peeled off for lunch, but she stayed with Trace and Daniel to do one more run from the top. They hadn’t made first tracks in the morning, but even getting out at 10 a.m., they’d had fresh powder and plenty of runs.
She raised her chin to catch the warm sun. Blue skies, cold, but not fingertip numbing temperatures, and fresh air. Couldn’t ask for a more beautiful day.
“Coming?” Trace asked. He threw her a smile and leaned into the run. Margo glanced at Daniel who smiled that he was ready to go.
She gave a little jump, twisted to line up her board, and edged forward. What a rush. It was so effortless cruising down the hill carving a big S, frosty wind on her cheeks. And Trace in her sight. Not a bad view all round.
She shifted her weight and changed direction. Her board chattered under her feet and she tensed and bent at the knees. Rippling ice? She watched her edge, but it didn’t feel icy. She felt the grip and let it go again. She looked up to watch Trace shredding down the hill.
As they rounded a bend at the edge of the forest, a young skier, crouched low and flying straight down the hill, blew past Trace. Trace instinctively pulled back, caught an edge and launched five feet into the air. He raised his arm to break his fall against a tree and landed with a splash in the snow.
Oh my God, Trace. Margo’s heart pounded as she carved toward him and came to a stop with a spray of snow off the board. She leaned down, snapped off her bindings, and raced over. “Trace. Are you okay?”
He was lying on his back in the snow. “Fuck. Where the hell did he come from? Fuck.”
“Are you hurt?”
“My shoulder.”
Daniel raced over to join them. “What happened?”
“He was cut off by a skier. Flew through the air and hit the tree,” Margo explained. “Did you hit your head, Trace? Any neck pain?”
“No. Dammit. My shoulder stings like a bitch, though.”
“The left?”
“Yeah.”
Margo tore off her gloves and unzipped the top of Trace’s jacket to feel his arm.
“I dislocated it playing basketball two years ago. Feels the same,” Trace managed through gritted teeth.
She knelt beside him and palpated his shoulder. No pain along the clavicle. Prominent acromion, abnormal contour of the shoulder. No pain along the humeral shaft. “Can you feel this Trace?” She brushed the skin of his upper arm with a light touch.
“Yes.”
She checked the pulse at his wrist. Weak and fast, but present. “There’s a good chance it’s dislocated again.”
Trace nodded.
“I could try to reduce it,” Margo said, watching beads of sweat form on Trace’s brow.
“No. It’s too risky. If it’s fractured, you’ll make it worse,” Daniel argued. “I’ve called for help. They patrol this area. We should just wait.”
“But the quicker it’s reduced, the better the outcome. He’s had a previous dislocation. He’s young. It’ll help with the pain,” Margo said, as Trace winced.
“I think you should wait,” Daniel insisted.
Trace looked at Margo. “Can you do it?”
“I could try. Daniel’s right about a fracture, though. There is that risk.”
“Go for it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I trust you. Do it.”
With shaking hands, Margo gently grasped Trace’s arm and flexed it ninety degrees. Trace clenched his jaw.
“Try to relax.” Slowly, she applied force as she externally rotated the shoulder. Sweat dripped down her back. At sixty degrees, she felt a clunk as the bone moved into place.
Trace let out a breath with a groan. “Better.”
“Can you touch your right shoulder with the left hand?” Margo asked.
Trace slowly moved his hand toward the shoulder. “Yeah. It feels better.” He looked at her. “Thank you.”
Margo nodded. “Rest your arm at ninety degrees. They’ll put it in a sling.” She zipped up his coat. “Are you cold?”
The roar of a snowmobile filled the air.
“I’m okay.”
The ski patrol pulled up and after a quick assessment, they immobilized Trace’s arm. They shifted him to a stretcher and covered him with a blanket.
“We’ll meet you at the bottom, Trace.”
As they pulled away, Daniel turned to her. “That was a fool move, Margo. You could have made it worse.”
Margo stared at him. “But I didn’t.”
“You were lucky. I wouldn’t have done that without an x-ray. With a history of trauma, you couldn’t rule out a fracture.”
“I examined him.”
“With his coat on. In the middle of ski slope. Less than ideal conditions.”
“Maybe. But if his pain increased, I would have stopped. The risk was pretty low. Pain equals shock and early reduction lessens disability. You know that.”
“How many of those have you done?”
Margo was silent.
“None? You’ve never done that?”
“I’ve seen it. Isn’t that how it’s done in medicine? See one, do one, teach one.” She put her hands on her hips.
Daniel shook his head. “You don’t even have a license to practice medicine. You should be more careful. The next time you might not be so lucky.”
Margo turned away and slipped her goggles over her eyes. She picked up her gloves and retrieved her board. With shaking hands, she tightened the bindings. Pointing her shoulder in the direction she wanted to go, she crouched and let it go.
Tears worked on foggy goggles, too.
Chapter 20
An ambulance waited at the bottom of the hill. Margo rode as close as she could, then unstrapped one foot and skated over.
“I don’t think I need to go to the hospital in an ambulance. It actually feels a lot better,” Trace told the paramedic.
“Trace, you should have your shoulder x-rayed,” Margo said and released her other foot.
Trace looked over and grimaced. “Really? Couldn’t it wait? I’m sure my parents will want me to see a doctor in Rivermede.”
Margo hesitated. It probably could wait, but Daniel had her rattled. “Why don’t you go for the x-ray here? They can always send it electronically to a specialist in Rivermede. That won’t be a problem.”
Trace sighed. “All right. Whatever. Can you come?”
Margo glanced at the paramedic, who nodded. “Sure.”
Daniel skated over and lifted his goggles off his face. “What’s going on?”
Margo stayed silent. Trace looked from her to Daniel and then spoke, “I’m going to the hospital for an x-ray. Margo’s coming with me.”
Daniel nodded briskly. “Good idea. I can take the boards.”
The ambulance ride to the hospital was short, and Trace was whisked away to a room. After a few minutes, a nurse told Margo she could join him and showed her to his room.
Trace was sitting on a stretcher in a hospital gown, texting, and frowning.
Margo walked in, and he looked up.
“This is such a waste of time,” Trace complained.
Margo shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s better to know.” She took a seat in the chair in the corner of the room. “It was an impressive jump. The landing needs a little work though,” she said with a small smile.
Trace snorted. “We need boarder-only hills.”
“Beginner snowboarders are just as bad. I hear skiers complaining about them all the time.”
“True. Not sure how that kid got on a double black diamond, though.”
“He made it down safely,” Margo said tongue-in-cheek.
Trace laughed. “Maybe I should go back to the green runs.”
The emergency room doctor came in. He was a big, burly man wi
th a quiet voice. Trace told Margo to stay when she started to leave.
The doctor asked about the accident and performed a thorough physical examination. Trace winced at the extremes of movement of his arm, but otherwise was pain-free.
“Was it subluxated? Popped in and out?” the doctor asked.
“No, it was out.” Trace nodded to Margo. “She put it back in.”
The doctor turned to Margo with a raised brow. “Really? Good job. The quicker you get these back in, the better. Looks good now. We’ll get an x-ray to check the position, and put it in a sling, but you should be good to go. Sling for one to two weeks, physio for a few more. No sports until it’s healed completely, probably ten to twelve weeks.”
Trace nodded. “Okay. I’ll arrange that at home. Thanks.”
The doctor wrote down the instructions and gave Trace a prescription for painkillers.
Soon after, Trace was taken for the x-ray. When the result came back normal, he turned to Margo. “See, waste of time.”
Margo made a face. “It helps us sleep at night.”
Before they left the hospital, Trace checked his phone and scowled. “It’s a dislocated shoulder. You’d think I’d broken my neck.” He looked at Margo. “My mom wants me back in Rivermede.”
“She’s probably worried.”
“Yeah.”
“Is she coming to get you?”
“Not exactly.” He gave her a sheepish look. “She’s sending the chopper.”
Margo laughed. “What? A helicopter?”
“Yeah. I have to be at the airport in twenty minutes. They’ve got a small window to land and hit the air again.”
“I’m surprised a town this size has an airport.”
“Apparently it’s not too far out of town.” He shook his head, exasperated. “We can grab a cab back to the chalet and drop you off, and then I’ll head to the airport. What a pain.”
Margo shrugged. “You can’t snowboard, and it’ll be more comfortable than three hours in a car.” Three hours with Suburbababy. Or silence with Daniel. Any room for her in that chopper? She glanced at her watch. “I don’t think we’ll have time to return to the chalet first. We can go to the airport, and I can get to the chalet from there.”
“Sorry about all this,” Trace said.
Margo smiled. “Are you kidding? Reducing dislocations and delivering patients to helicopters is all in a day’s work.”
Trace laughed. “Let’s go. It’ll probably take longer to find a cab than it did to arrange for the chopper.”
They made it to the airport as the helicopter landed. Margo asked the taxi to wait and helped Trace through the gate. He was waved out onto the tarmac while the blades whirred overhead. The pilot stopped him, gesturing about his arm and they huddled with their heads together, talking. Suddenly, Trace turned toward Margo and gestured for her to come.
Margo pointed at herself and raised her hands to question it. Trace started to walk over, but the pilot brushed his shoulder and indicated he should wait.
The pilot jogged over. “You’re a doctor?”
Margo raised her brows in surprise. “Yes.”
“Can you come with us? I know it’s a shoulder dislocation, but as a rule, if it was severe enough to warrant a hospital visit, I shouldn’t be in the air without a medic. Can’t fly a chopper and save a life at the same time.”
“Cool. I’d love to go,” Margo said.
Trace had already settled the taxi fare, so she told the driver about their change of plans and raced out to the helicopter.
“I’m so sorry about this, Margo. It ruins your weekend,” Trace said with sad eyes.
“Not at all. This is fantastic. I’ve always wanted to fly in a helicopter. This is so awesome.” She grinned from ear to ear. “Not that I would have wished a dislocated shoulder on you, but as silver linings go, this is pretty shiny.”
Trace laughed and sat back in his seat.
Margo enjoyed the weightless feeling as the helicopter lifted, dipped, and flew toward Rivermede. The view, oh the view. Lots of white snow. Blue frozen ponds. The ridge of mountains dotted with ski lifts, opened into stretches of flat fields. Tiny houses with smoking chimneys. The highway looked like a stream of moving ants on a gray ribbon. She recognized Rivermede as they flew overhead. The buildings were denser, the parking lots bigger. Her heart beat to the rhythm of the blades as they followed the edge of the lake toward the airport. She must have been a helicopter pilot in another life. The ride was way too short.
Margo spotted the limo waiting on the tarmac as the chopper started to descend.
Shit. Of course his parents would meet him. His mom was anxious enough to send a helicopter.
Margo had met his dad many times in the course of business. He was a nice guy. She liked him. She had met his mom only once, briefly, when she had to break the news of her father’s death. Margo’s heart beat faster as the chopper blades slowed. Yeah, the ride was way too short.
Chapter 21
Margo slammed on the brakes as the Hummer cut in front of her. She was tempted to lean on the horn, but by the time she thought of it, the Hummer had sailed across two lanes of traffic and beat the rest of them through the yellow light. An orange Hummer, no less. Big honking box of steel in a neon wrapper. No need to learn the rules of the road. Not when you drove a flashing orange, make way, step aside, I’m coming through, Hummer. At that moment, she wished she had one.
Margo tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel. Why did red lights always seem longer when you were running behind?
She wondered if Trace would show up at Breaking Bread. He hadn’t missed a Tuesday, but he also hadn’t been recovering from a dislocated shoulder.
She had declined his offer of a ride home from the airport. It turned out his parents hadn’t been there, but the reality of it all came crashing down, and she knew she had to cut the ties. If she could find someone with sexy eyes, a disarming smile, and that hormone-hopping pull, without all the heart-wrenching history, it’d be golden.
And single. Single would be good too. She didn’t want someone with a back-up girlfriend in the wings. She couldn’t compete with no-underwear-line Suburbababy.
A car honked and Margo jumped. Oops. Green light. She gave a guilty look in the rearview mirror and accelerated with a jerk.
She pulled into the parking lot at Breaking Bread and turned off her car. She took a moment to zip up her coat and pull her hat over her ears. It was a short run to the door, but the air was icy cold. The day had been gray and damp, and the temperatures dropped even further with the setting sun.
“Hello, honey,” Hattie said with a smile as Margo slipped off her coat.
Hattie turned back to the stove and lifted a spoonful out of the tall pot on the stovetop. She blew the steam away and tasted it gingerly with her lips. “Just right,” she said, as she set the spoon aside.
Margo wandered over to the stove, drawn by the hearty smell of beef, and wrapped her arm around Hattie. She peered into the pot and inhaled appreciatively. “They’re in for a treat. The perfect meal for a cold winter day.”
Hattie squeezed her back. “And your sunny smile. What more could they need?”
Margo rested her head briefly on Hattie’s shoulder. She needed this. More than they needed her, she needed them. “Bowls and spoons might be useful,” she said as she pulled away. “What else can I do?”
“We have some rolls there. You could put them out. It’s a hearty stew with carrots and peas, so no salad tonight. But a bit of bread might be good for sopping up the broth.”
“Wonderful.” Margo prepared the baskets of buns and then filled the sink to start the washing up.
“Ottie’s best friend is out there again today,” Hattie remarked.
Margo’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“Yessiree. Hasn’t missed a day. Even with a sling on his arm, he’s there givin’ Ottie grief over the latest Shields loss.”
Margo snorted. “Is he taking
back the ice cream?”
“Oh, no. Ottie would never risk that. But that blond hair sure looks nice under that black top hat.”
Margo rolled her eyes as she plunged her hands in the hot water and started on the dishes that Hattie had used to make the stew. “Seriously? He took the hat?”
Hattie shrugged and smiled. “Ottie’d sooner give up his hat than his ice cream.” She transferred the stew to a serving dish and disappeared into the dining room.
Margo worked away at cleaning up the kitchen until Hattie poked her head in.
“Carl’s here.”
Margo nodded and dried her hands. She poured glasses of juice and water and carried them out to the dining room, opening the swinging door with her hip.
Carl was in his usual spot and looked and smelled a lot fresher than the week before.
“Things back to normal, Carl?”
“Yup, I’m back at the Y and back to work. I waited an extra two days, but the tests are clear. I let it run hot to be sure.”
Margo nodded. If that’s what it took to get him clean and productive, it was worth it. “I’m glad it worked out. They probably missed you at work.”
Carl nodded. They chatted for a few more minutes and then Margo turned to head back to the kitchen.
It was odd to see Ottie’s hat on someone else’s head. Trace sat with his back to her, but she could see the sling around his neck. She hesitated, but her heart pulled her over.
Ottie laughed at something Trace said and looked up when she reached the table. “Hi, Doc. I hear you fixed up wonder boy here.”
Trace turned laughing eyes to Margo. Her heart melted.
“I might not have, if I thought he’d take your hat,” Margo said.
Ottie hooted. “Better watch your step,” he said to Trace.
“Maybe you should help him with his gambling addiction,” Trace said, trying to look innocent.
“Hard to when everyone is enjoying butterscotch ripple,” Margo said.
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