Their helicopter landing pad was on the stretch of grass between the hospital and the marina. The surrounding outer reefs protected Cairns’ beaches, so the waves that had pounded the dive platform were non-existent here and the water had the famous Queensland sparkle.
Dave brought the helicopter expertly over the hospital grounds and down smoothly onto the clearly marked landing pad. They were doing a hot transfer, so they kept the helicopter running while transferring the patient. When the helicopter door opened, air generated by the still rapidly swirling blades blasted their faces.
A nurse and two orderlies came over a with a hospital trolley. Between Brigid, Matt and two extra pairs of hands, they successfully transferred Joe to the hospital trolley. Once a safe distance from the helicopter, Brigid gave the crew the thumbs up and signalled for them to head back to base without her.
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Excerpt from Mistaken Engagement by Jenny Schwartz
“Go away.” Grace Nguyen tried to push the door shut, but her five foot nothing frame was no match for the six foot surfer god pushing from the other side. Her bare feet slid on the old wooden floor.
Saul Wharton let himself into her home. Then he politely closed the door behind him.
“I hate you.” She glared up at him.
“I’m not feeling too fond of you at the moment, either.” He strolled down the hallway and into the sunny modern kitchen. “Coffee? Good.” He poured himself a mug.
She folded her arms, but retreated step by step as he strolled around the island bench and into the casual living area. She sat abruptly on the arm of a large leather sofa.
It wasn’t that he was menacing or she was afraid of him. It was just that he overwhelmed a person. She’d seen it happen time and again. What Saul wanted, he got. She studied his back resentfully as he stood at the French doors and stared out into the courtyard with its green, leafy jacaranda tree.
He stood with his legs apart, balanced, ready even at rest to spring into action. One hand was hooked in the pocket of his jeans. The faded denim pulled taut across his muscled butt and thighs.
Guiltily, she jerked her gaze away.
As a med student, she’d seen enough male anatomy that one sexy package shouldn’t have the effect of iron filings to a magnet. Besides, she was angry with him. He had no right to meddle in her life or make her look ridiculous. “Why are you here?”
He turned back to her. With his sun lightened blond hair, you expected he’d have blue eyes. But Saul’s eyes were a rich, dark brown. They’d lured more than one woman to foolishness. Just now, though, his eyes were cross. A frown marred his forehead and drew his eyebrows together.
“You’ve made me the bad guy.”
“Me?” she squeaked, and stopped to draw a steadying breath. Anger wasn’t nearly as impressive when your voice went shrill. “You’re the one who claimed we were engaged.”
One eyebrow lifted and his mouth twisted in ironic observation.
It infuriated her. “And don’t say you were saving me. I didn’t ask you to play Galahad.” All the hurt fury of two months ago surged up, as raw as ever. “I don’t believe you even did it for me. You were worried about Carrie. You didn’t want me and my feelings to spoil her day.”
“Carrie can look after herself,” said Carrie’s loving cousin.
The fact that he was right only annoyed Grace more. Carrie was her stepsister, one year older, tall, ash blonde, a friendly socialite princess who dabbled in public relations. She shared a family trait with Saul; what she wanted, she got.
Last December, she’d wanted Ryan Holland.
Grace pushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes. Usually she wore it coiled tightly in a bun, a severe style that she hoped made her seem older and more professional, more worthy of being entrusted with other people’s health. Life as a student doctor was frantic. She didn’t need to waste time assuring patients that no, she wasn’t some visitor’s teenage daughter, and yes, she was qualified to treat them.
Tiredness weighed down her muscles. The hours of a student doctor were long. She’d worked through Christmas and New Year. Other people had families; whereas she wanted to avoid hers. Now with the Australia Day public holiday falling on a Monday, her supervisor had insisted she take the Friday off, too. She’d earned a four day weekend, he said.
She planned to use it to sleep. She grimaced. Yeah, that was her. A real party girl. No wonder Ryan had preferred Carrie. She cut off the thought.
“Believe it or not, I thought I was helping you,” Saul said. “You looked…defenceless.”
She shuddered. The whole evening had been a nightmare. She’d arrived late to her mum and stepfather’s tenth wedding anniversary. She hadn’t told anyone that a patient had died or that she was late because of the time she’d spent with the boy’s family. She’d been feeling vulnerable though.
It had been the best surprise to see Ryan across the room. He was a recently qualified architect, newly arrived in Perth. She’d met him at a local coffee shop, falling into conversation because, well because he looked nice. She’d invited him to one of Carrie’s parties as a way for him to meet new people. He had a quiet way of talking and an easy friendliness that helped her conquer her shyness.
Then she’d barely seen him for a couple of months. Her shifts had changed and they didn’t run into one another at the coffee shop.
Across the crowded patio of her parents’ riverside house, she’d smiled when she saw him. But she’d done her duty first. Found her mum, gave her a hug and a kiss and a small gift. Hugged Stuart, her step-father, who made her mum happy.
“There you are.” Carrie had pounced on her as their parents were claimed by other guests. The music went up a notch. Through the hidden speakers came old favourites her parents enjoyed and that everyone could hum along to, or dance to.
Ryan stood beside Carrie.
“Hi.” Grace smiled. He really was nice. It would be heaven to relax with a nice man like Ryan and let the stresses of the day just float down the river.
“We’re not making the announcement yet,” Carrie lowered her voice, but the joy bubbled through it. “It’s a total secret till Dad and Kylie have been toasted, but … Ryan and I are engaged.”
Grace couldn’t forgive herself that she’d physically flinched. Sure, she’d been tired. It was no excuse for such a self-betrayal. No one needed to know that she’d woven dreams around — her stomach roiled — Carrie’s fiancé.
In the whirling universe, a hard arm slid around her waist. She looked up blindly and saw Saul. Watchful, powerful Saul who’d been like an older brother to Carrie. But he was beside Grace now, holding her up. She leaned into his strength, unable to trust her own. There was concern in his eyes and she felt protected. For once, despite everything, she felt as if she belonged in the loud, gregarious Wharton clan.
“Now, there’s a coincidence,” Saul drawled. “Grace and I are engaged, too.”
“What?”
But she barely heard Ryan’s exclamation. Her eyes were on Saul, stunned. She searched his expression and the final blow fell. The floor under her feet opened with agonising shame.
The expression on Saul’s face was pity.
She tore herself out of his arms. “We’re not engaged.” Her voice rang out. Heads turned. “There’s no way we could ever be.”
And though she didn’t run, no one had stopped her determined exit.
A giggling teenage Wharton cousin later told her that Saul and her drama had definitely upstaged Carrie’s announcement.
“Everyone thinks we broke up and I’ve driven you out of the family,” Saul said now. He lowered his voice till it stroked over her skin like a caress. “I never thought you were a coward, Grace.”
Nor had she. But she’d faced the truth that night and every day since. Not only was she not engaged, she wasn’t in love, had never been in love, and couldn’t bear the kindl
y meant intrusion of her family.
She’d been an A-grade focussed student and was a dedicated doctor, but being a woman seemed to have eluded her. Where Carrie flirted and beguiled, Grace withdrew to focus on her own goals: education, independence and career ambition. Since high school she’d striven to become a GP. Now she was nearly there — and it wasn’t enough.
She wanted to be the centre of someone’s world, and she wanted to give them that same gift. She wanted to build a life with a man who would laugh with her in the good times and hold her in the bad.
“The family missed you at Christmas and New Year,” Saul said.
The Wharton clan gathered at Eagle Bay every summer holiday. They’d been going there for years, before it became fashionable. When her mum married Stuart, she’d joined them. She’d gotten used to the lazy summer idleness, a short break in her determined study schedule.
“I was busy at work,” she said. “Christmas and New Year are peak times for the Emergency Department.”
“Yes, your mum repeated your excuses.”
“They’re not excuses.” Her temper flared up. “I’m not Carrie,” she said nastily. “I don’t flit around like a butterfly doing pointless make-work. I have responsibilities.”
The scorn in Saul’s eyes stopped her.
She dropped her gaze, ashamed. Carrie had never been anything but kind to her. Her kindness had been of the careless variety, but it had been genuine. She’d done nothing to justify this attack on her. Nothing except…
“Carrie didn’t steal your precious Ryan,” Saul said. “He fell in love with her.”
“I know.” Grace slipped off the arm of the leather sofa and curled into its seat. She didn’t need Saul telling her she wasn’t loveable.
“You’ve got to face them some time.” He sat beside her on the sofa.
“Why do you care?”
He stretched his long legs in front of him. “Like I said, everyone thinks I’ve driven you away. If you come down to Eagle Bay with me this weekend, they’ll see there’s no strain between us. You’ll make Gran and your mum happy. They both worry about you.”
Her guilt became tinged with suspicion. “Why do they worry about me?”
“All work and no play make Gracie a workaholic.” He tugged at her hair.
She flicked it away. “I planned to stay here and … do laundry.”
He laughed. “The laundry can wait. What’s the good of a long weekend if you use it to be sensible?”
“Spoken like a playboy.”
“I’ve never been that.”
But she ignored his sudden seriousness. She frowned, recalling his assumption that she had the whole long weekend off. How had he even known she’d be home this morning?
“You pack your bags and I’ll pick you up early tomorrow morning. I’ll fly us both down to the bay.”
“Saul, why are you assuming I have the whole weekend off work?”
“Because I checked with your supervisor.”
Her eyes widened at his gall. “You didn’t.”
“You bet I did. Gran’s donating a whole wing to that hospital, in Pop’s memory. The least they can do is tell me your schedule.”
She bounced up from the sofa. Her hands went to her hips. The old yoga pants she wore had slid down. She angrily hitched them up. “You arrogant, manipulative … You didn’t just ask for my schedule, did you? You made sure I had the whole weekend off.”
Infuriatingly, he relaxed into a grin, holding his palms up in a gesture of innocent, misunderstood goodwill.
“Ooh.” She picked up a cushion and threw it at him. She’d spent years proving that she was herself, and not Stuart Wharton’s stepdaughter. She’d worked for everything she had. But with Saul throwing his weight around the hospital, they would all look at her differently.
“It’s not so bad, Grace.” He put the cushion aside and stood. “The family wants you at the bay, and you look like you need a holiday. Come and celebrate Australia Day with us. I’ll pick you up at six o’clock tomorrow morning.”
She fumed silently.
“And the two of us will show everyone we’re the best of friends,” he continued remorselessly. “Pack your bathing suit.”
“I won’t go surfing with you.”
“Then you can sit on the beach and admire my style.” A finger tapped her nose.
She nearly went cross-eyed watching it approach and retreat.
He grinned and let himself out of the house.
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Excerpt from Unforgettable by Elise K. Ackers
In Case of Emergency
Emma was only in Connor’s life for as long as he was asleep. The moment he opened his eyes, figured out where he was and remembered who was to blame, he’d cast her out.
Again.
Her guilt shadowed her from room to room, slept beside her in bed. She’d taken up a daily vigil of suffering in the hospital alongside him. For as long as he was here, she would be.
As he slept in the recovery ward, she waited in the cafeteria. Cutlery scraped against ceramic, chairs groaned over the tiled floor and people spoke quietly, ever mindful of where they were and what that meant. Sickness lingered in the air, mixed in with the scents of food, cleaning products and people. Everything about Zouki Café offered an attractive distraction, from the roof tiles that looked like puzzle pieces to the letters carved in the backs of the chairs, but it couldn’t make people forget…especially when a man shuffled to a table wearing a white gown, dragging after him an IV stand on a mobile pedestal.
Emma turned from one of the many televisions to watch him. He held a mobile phone with both hands, clearly waiting to receive a call. He shifted every so often, checked the screen. Sighed quietly. She wished she knew his number.
It was raining outside and everyone within the walls of the Royal Melbourne Hospital appeared to know it, even if they hadn’t seen the sky in days. It was a long, wet Sunday and some people had tried everything on the varied Zouki menu by now. People like Emma.
Today she’d packed lunch. She couldn’t face another slice of cake or stuffed croissant and all the hot food was starting to look and taste the same. She’d been coming here too long. Long enough, in fact, to know which seats caught the sweet aromas of the flower shop down the hallway. Roses, gerberas, Australian natives. She’d bought a bunch yesterday and taken them home. Connor wouldn’t have wanted them. Or even known they were there.
Just as he wouldn’t know about the horrid purple bear sitting on one of the visitor seats, or the naff ‘Gone but not Frog-otten’ card that his colleagues had signed. If he could open his eyes he would cringe. They were an eyesore and an insult to taste.
“Are you still thinking about that bear?” her best friend Affni asked.
Emma spooned a scoop of yoghurt into her mouth. It tasted sour. “That purple hurts my eyes.”
“It could have been worse. She could have bought the blue.”
Emma conceded this point with a nod. The blue was infinitely uglier.
Four nurses seated themselves at the table beside them. Each looked weary, and Emma wondered how many hours they had been tending the sick. One of the women began to speak in fractured English, gesturing wildly with her hands. Spanish slid in and out of her sentences as the others listened on, eating their meals and cradling their coffees. The man in the gown struggled to his feet and left. His phone hadn’t rung.
“This place is sucking the life out of me,” Emma grumbled. “Everyone’s waiting for something. Waiting to leave, waiting to die.”
Affni’s fingertips brushed against her wrist—mocha against vanilla. “You’ve been here every day for a fortnight. Maybe you should take a day off. Recharge.”
Emma shook her head. “I shouldn’t complain.”
“You’ve every right to. He won’t know, Emma.”
“I’ll know.”
Affni squeezed the back o
f Emma’s hand then began cutting up her schnitzel. She hid her eyes behind her liquorice-coloured fringe, but Emma didn’t need to see them to know there was judgement there. Affni didn’t approve of Emma’s guilt.
They ate quietly for a time, then Affni said, “I saw Asha in the gift shop again.”
“Maybe she bought him a pillow with his name on it today.”
“Maybe.”
Emma pushed her yoghurt aside and snapped open her container of carrot sticks. They didn’t taste good either.
A grey-haired woman in a white patterned dressing gown walked past, a loaded plate of stir-fry in her hands and two chattering friends in tow. The three sat down and began discussing grandchildren, a neighbour called Maggie and Donna’s crook hip. Combined they had the appetite of ten men.
“What will you do when he wakes up?” Affni asked. She kept her head down, her focus on her lunch.
Emma stopped chewing and considered. That question had haunted her since the accident, and her answer had changed every day. “I don’t know. Maybe I should just buy one of those God-awful cards from the gift shop and apologise in that. Should I even be here?”
Affni looked up. “I don’t know, Em.” She poked at her potato, as if unsure whether to continue. “Not because it’s your fault, but because of who you are.”
“Explain it to me again,” Dana insisted.
Emma struggled to control any sign of her impatience. She didn’t have time to repeat herself; a truckload of steel would be turning into Southbank Boulevard any minute, and she still needed to brief the Auditorium’s General Foreman. But pushing against the client wouldn’t get her out of this meeting room faster, so she took a steadying breath and started again.
Dana Vickers watched her through narrow pink-rimmed glasses. Her hair tumbled about her face in a kind of controlled chaos, and the enormous peacock broach on her collar winked and glittered in the light. It had been distracting Emma for over an hour. Dana took notes as Emma spoke, her handwriting utterly illegible to Emma’s eye, and made soft sounds in her throat whenever she agreed or understood something. Ten minutes later Emma had heard that sound only twice.
What Love Sounds Like Page 17