‘We’ve got a Stokes basket here. I can put the boy in that for you,’ Owen offered as he helped Joe climb out of the truck.
‘I’ll carry him,’ Joe stated firmly. ‘He’s pretty frightened.’
It seemed a long walk out and the surface was painful and probably dangerous for the barefoot medic. There was a difficult clamber up to the next level to where the rescuers had broken an entrance to the basement car park but Joe still declined any assistance. He and Ricky had made it this far by themselves. They could manage just a bit longer. Owen and Roger walked protectively on either side of their classmate.
‘What’s with the new team?’ Joe queried. ‘And why haven’t you got any medics?’
‘There’s been an accident,’ Roger informed him. ‘Ross fell several metres and it sounds like he’s got a bad spinal injury.’
‘Fletch and Kelly are treating him,’ Owen added. ‘In fact, they should have got him out and away to help by now. And Wendy stayed with Ross, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Joe was stunned by the news. He swallowed. ‘And Jessica? Is she all right?’
‘She was stood down back when you disappeared. She was looked after in the church hall for a while but nobody could stop her going back to wait. I reckon she’s been pacing around the main entrance for the last eight hours, waiting for news.’
‘We got put on this team at the last minute when someone decided they could get through to the car park.’ Owen was grinning broadly beneath his mask. ‘Great, eh? We’ll be heroes. You won’t believe the media circus that’s waiting outside for you, mate.’
It was too much. Spotlights from television crews, flashbulbs from photographers and the sound of what seemed like hundreds of people cheering and clapping. Joe strode on doggedly, managing not to limp and holding the small boy a little more securely as he tried to adjust to the light and noise—searching all the while for one particular face.
There it was. And the expression on Jessica McPhail’s face was enough to have made all the danger and discomfort worthwhile. Joe knew he had tears in his own eyes as he transferred Ricky to his mother’s arms and this time he couldn’t give a damn. He had helped save more than one life here, judging by Jessica’s relief, and he had never experienced an emotional reaction to a job quite like this. Mind you, he’d never had a job quite like this before. Still, he tried to bury his reaction and remain professional in front of the eager crowd.
‘He’s OK, Jess. Broken arm, cuts and bruises and very dehydrated, but he’s going to be fine. We’ll get him into the emergency department right now.’ Joe could see the crowd parting to allow an ambulance to back slowly towards them.
The paramedics wanted to check both Ricky and Joe.
‘I’m fine,’ Joe insisted. ‘A bit of dust inhalation and a bruise or two. All I need is a shower and a hot drink.’
‘How ‘bout you, Ricky? How’s that arm feeling?’
Jessica was now sitting on one of the stretchers, still holding her son. ‘Ricky doesn’t talk,’ she told the ambulance crew. ‘Not to strangers.’
‘He talked to me,’ Joe told her quietly.
Jessica’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’ She shook her head. ‘But he never talks to men. He never has.’
Joe didn’t contradict her. He could see Ricky watching him from the safety of Jessica’s arms. Joe winked and was rewarded by the faint hint of a curve on Ricky’s lips. The smile was all the more special because it was private.
None of them had much to smile about in the next few hours. Joe saw a very different side to Ricky as the terrified child struggled and screamed at any intervention. Jessica was too exhausted to cope well and Joe divided his time between trying to give her support and keep up with what was happening to his friend, Ross Turnball, the doctor who had been seriously injured because of his involvement with USAR.
‘They’ve taken Ross up to Intensive Care,’ he reported to Jessica finally. ‘Fletch and Wendy have gone with him. They’ll probably transfer him to the spinal unit tomorrow or the next day.’
‘Is he going to be OK?’
‘Too early to tell but it doesn’t look great and they’re talking about emergency surgery.’
‘Ricky’s going up to Theatre in a few minutes.’ Jessica looked as though she had reached the end of her emotional reserves some time ago. ‘They had to sedate him to get the X-rays.’
Joe watched the struggle to contain tears and then he smiled. ‘It’s going to be OK, Jess,’ he said softly. ‘Ricky’s going to be fine.’
‘I know.’ Jessica nodded jerkily and then burst into tears. ‘And I still haven’t even said thank you.’
There was no hesitation as Joe took Jessica into his arms and made soothing noises as he held the sobbing woman. In fact, he was astonished to find some satisfaction in continuing the role of being depended on. Normally, he gave distraught mothers as wide an emotional berth as possible. He couldn’t stand the sound of feminine grief and had never wanted to feel any empathy with their fear for their children. But Jessica was Ricky’s mother and that kid was something different. Joe wasn’t about to walk away until he knew everything had been sorted out.
The sorting out was not going to be that quick, however, and every hour Joe spent in the hospital seemed to increase his involvement with this child and his mother. Like the time spent waiting with Jessica outside Theatre while Ricky’s arm was pinned and plastered.
‘He did talk to me, you know. About cars.’
‘That’s his absolute passion.’ Jessica nodded. ‘He doesn’t know his colours or numbers and can’t read or write his own name but he knows about every car there is. He’s never spoken to anyone other than me or Mum, though.’ Her glance at Joe was almost a smile. ‘You must be a bit special.’
‘Nah!’ Joe brushed off the admiration. ‘It’s just that we had something in common. I love cars, too.’
‘Ricky’s autistic,’ Jessica told him sadly. ‘He got diagnosed by the time he was two.’
‘I’ve never been sure what that means exactly,’ Joe responded. ‘Isn’t it just a convenient label for a range of antisocial behaviours?’
‘It’s a spectrum disorder,’ Jessica agreed. ‘And symptoms can occur in any combination or degree of severity. Ricky can talk but doesn’t choose to with other people.’ She glanced at Joe. ‘Most other people, anyway.’ She sighed. ‘He also displays a lot of the classic symptoms, like repetitive movements—rocking, for instance, or flicking light switches on and off or arranging objects in meaningless patterns.’ Jessica smiled briefly. ‘Usually his toy car collection. He also reacts very badly to any changes in surroundings and daily routines and hasn’t come anywhere near being able to cope with any kind of play with other children or schooling. It was a really big deal, deciding to bring him to Christchurch while I did the USAR course. It might have helped him a lot if it hadn’t turned into such a disaster.’
‘Maybe something good will come out of it,’ Joe suggested. ‘There will be a lot more in the way of expertise available here than in Silverstream.’ He knew Jessica’s home town was tiny, maybe four to five hundred inhabitants, and any specialist help was a good hour and half away in the closest city of Dunedin. ‘Make the most of whatever you can find in the next few days. The hospital staff will be only too pleased to help.’
The staff were very helpful. Joe discovered a new side to the hospital during visits over the next couple of days. Ricky had a private room in the children’s ward with a bed for Jessica to sleep in. The medical care of Ricky’s injuries could not be faulted and the staff coped brilliantly with the uncommunicative and often difficult child. And Jessica was given more support than Joe could offer. A social services referral was made and Jessica found herself becoming friendly with a woman who was very keen to help Ricky. She organised a psychology referral and then an educational one. Jessica’s excitement over the possibility that Joe had been correct and that something good might come out of the disaster was contagious and Joe found himself determi
ned to help.
A little too determined, maybe.
Two days off to recover from his ordeal had been deemed sufficient by an ambulance service under pressure from low staff numbers. Joe was rostered back on by Wednesday and, arriving at headquarters to collect the vehicle designated for the helicopter base, he found that Kelly was also back at work already.
Some of the day shift crew was in the staffroom and the usual pre-duty vehicle and equipment checks were being delayed by the interest the morning’s newspaper had created. Joe hadn’t seen a copy yet and he had almost had enough of the media coverage of the disaster anyway. Along with the human-interest stories from lucky survivors and the heartbreaking accounts from families who had lost members there were reports being updated daily on the condition and progress of those who had been seriously injured. Political repercussions were also beginning to claim more media space. The City Council was being blamed for questionable enforcement of building codes and a link between a property development company and a prominent local member of parliament had been seized on with alacrity.
There was no way Joe could ignore today’s feature, however. The huge photograph on the front page was an image that would probably be used in years to come to sum up the impact of the whole event. And it was Joe who was the star. The photograph had been taken as he had carried Ricky out of Westgate Mall. Flanked by Roger and Owen, Joe’s height made him stand out. It also made the child he was holding seem heart-wrenchingly tiny and fragile. Joe wondered if the image had been captured the moment he’d spotted Jessica. That might explain why he looked on the verge of tears yet had the hint of a smile curving his lips. The expression came across as being poignant and that was why it encapsulated so well the feeling of the whole disaster. So much had happened that had been unspeakably dreadful but the occasional miracle had occurred—like saving the life of a small and disabled boy.
Joe had known an article would surface at some point because he and Jessica had both spoken to journalists at some length over the last two days. He had planned to shrug off the publicity but it was clear he wasn’t going to be let off the hook that easily by his colleagues.
‘Gorgeous photo, Joe,’ Kelly told him. ‘I think you’ve been having us all on about hating kids.’
‘No, he hasn’t.’ Kelly’s crew partner, Callum Jones, was grinning. ‘You’ve never worked with Joe, Kelly. You have no idea of the grumbling that comes with any job involving rug rats.’
Joe thought back to some of the occasions he had avoided being involved with paediatric patients. Callum wasn’t wrong. He had always delegated whenever possible and he’d always had something deprecating to say about children when the job had ended. It had become a joke but everybody knew that Joe couldn’t stand the shrieks, tears, dependency and sticky fingers children presented. Or the effort it took to win their trust and co-operation. But Ricky wasn’t like most children.
‘Ricky’s all right,’ he said gruffly. He didn’t want to come across as having gone soft in the head to his mates, however. ‘For a kid,’ he added dismissively. ‘At least he’s quiet.’
‘Says here he’s autistic.’ Another paramedic was reading the article.
‘No wonder you managed to survive all that time shut in a van with him,’ someone quipped. ‘You had a lot in common.’
‘Can he talk?’ Kelly sounded curious. ‘Jess never said very much about his problems.’
‘He can talk,’ Joe said casually. He walked towards the kitchen area. ‘When he wants to.’ He busied himself making a cup of coffee hoping to disguise any of the pride he still felt that Ricky had chosen him as the first stranger he had ever communicated with. He had spoken to Joe again yesterday when he’d arrived at the hospital with the model cars he had tracked down in a city toy shop. The tiny red Porsche had certainly been a winner.
‘His mother’s a bit of all right.’ Callum had turned to page three where they had published the photograph that Jessica had provided of herself, her mother and a slightly younger Ricky.
Joe ignored the comment. Sure, Jessica was an attractive woman but he wasn’t going to admit his initial reaction to anyone. It was history now, anyway. Joe wasn’t about to change his rules about single mothers so it made no difference whether Jessica was attractive or not. He could still keep an eye on the kid for a while without an ulterior motive of getting Jessica into bed, couldn’t he?
‘How is Jessica?’ Kelly had followed Joe to the kitchen area. ‘Did you see her last night? It was too late for me to get in after I’d been out to visit Ross.’
‘They’re going to discharge Ricky today. Or maybe tomorrow,’ Joe told her. ‘The swelling from his broken arm has gone down enough to change the cast and his other bruising is settling well.’
‘I’m going down south with Jess tomorrow night.’ Kelly lowered her voice. ‘Her mother’s funeral is on Friday. I’ve arranged a day off.’
‘I know. She told me. You’re a good friend.’
‘She’ll need help. She’s worried about how Ricky’s going to cope.’
Joe knew just how worried Jessica had been. She had spoken of little else yesterday. Ricky seemed to have accepted the information that ‘Nana’ wasn’t around any more quite philosophically but being back in his grandmother’s house without her being present might be a lot harder to accept or understand. He would also hate being near the numbers of people expected to attend the funeral and would probably be entirely unmanageable during the service. The stress of dealing with everything that needed to be done would be more than enough for Jessica to try and handle, without worrying about her son as well. Joe cleared his throat.
‘She’s not going to take him.’
‘Really?’ Kelly’s eyes widened. ‘But he’s due to be discharged.’
‘He’s going to stay with me.’ Joe tried to sound offhand but it was difficult to pull off. He had been astonished enough at himself for making the offer, let alone trying to override Jessica’s objections concerning the difficulties it might present. It was only for a day or two, however, and they were rostered days off for Joe. Ricky hated long journeys as well, and two in as many days could have been physically as well as psychologically detrimental. ‘Jessica’s coming back after the funeral,’ he offered by way of an explanation for his unprecedented invitation. ‘There’s a social worker at the hospital who’s persuaded her to have Ricky assessed by a specialist educational service. He’s going to go to school here for a couple of weeks.’
‘Oh-h-h…’ The sound was drawn out. Maybe Joe hadn’t made it clear enough that his offer to help Jessica was purely as a friend. ‘Good for you, Joe.’ Kelly was trying not to sound too pleased. ‘Sounds like I’m not the only good friend Jessica’s got.’
Joe grunted. He wanted to change the subject—quickly. He only needed to fill in a minute or two while he drank his coffee and then he could head off to the helicopter base and immerse himself in work for the day. He didn’t want to think about the imminent and potentially arduous commitment of coping with a kid for two days. Doubts about whether the offer of assistance had been wise were surfacing frequently enough as it was.
Jessica smiled as she finished carefully clipping the photographs and articles from the newspaper. She had been given a copy by a staff member arriving for the day shift at 6.30 a.m. It was now 7.30 and she would need to wake Ricky soon for his breakfast. She was still smiling as she looked over to where her son lay, his unruly hair dark against the white pillow and an expression of contentment that was only there when he was soundly asleep. One small fist was curled on the pillow near his face and Jessica knew what the fist contained—a little red car which Joe had given him yesterday.
‘Thank you, Joe.’
Remembering Ricky’s words still gave her a thrill. She hadn’t really believed that Ricky had spoken to Joe as freely as he had claimed but now there was no doubting the rapport—no, the breakthrough—he had achieved with her son. Maybe it had been what had persuaded her to accept Joe’s amazing offer
of caring for Ricky while she coped with the funeral. Or maybe it had been Ricky’s reminder to Joe of the promise to show him the Mustang. It was a terrifying risk to take. If Ricky had even one of his destructive tantrums it would be enough to convince Joe that he wanted nothing more to do with Ricky. Or herself.
On the other hand, if the rapport they had established was strengthened in some way, it might give Jessica the chance she hadn’t dreamed of being given.
The chance of a relationship with Joe Barrington.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE Automobile Association sign announced that the township of Silverstream was still one hundred kilometres away.
Kelly had insisted on driving to give her friend a much-needed break.
‘Tell me about Silverstream,’ she invited. ‘Is it a good place to live?’
‘It’s just your average New Zealand small town, I guess,’ Jessica responded. ‘A few shops and a war memorial on the main street. A few hundred inhabitants. More pubs than churches. A district high school an hour away by bus. Lots of sheep farms around and a good rugby team. A medical centre but no hospital.’
‘That’s where you work, yes?’
‘Yes. I’m the practice nurse. Our GP, Jim Summer is getting on, though. He’s in his seventies so he’s been getting me to do more of the house calls. It was Jim who encouraged me to go nursing in the first place and he’s always got some idea on how I can improve my qualifications. He was the one who found out about the USAR course and persuaded me to apply for it. I qualified as a midwife a while back and then I did a PRIME course two years ago.’
‘Good for you,’ Kelly said warmly. ‘The ambulance service had just started running those courses for isolated rural medical centres when I went to Australia. How did you find it?’
‘It was brilliant.’ Jessica found herself sighing lightly as she remembered the thrill of receiving that qualification. Primary responder in medical emergencies. Jessica had the knowledge and equipment to deal with at least the initial response to any major trauma and medical crises that occurred in and around Silverstream. She wore a pager and had a magnetic flashing light she could attach to the roof of her car. ‘It’s my favourite part of the job now but I only get a decent callout once a month or so.’ Her face lit up. ‘I had a great save a few months ago with an unstable infarct that arrested on me. I had him back in sinus rhythm and conscious by the time the helicopter arrived from Dunedin.’
THE NURSE'S RESCUE Page 6