by Julie Cannon
The harness around her butt fully supported her weight, letting her legs dangle free. The rush of air on her face would have been refreshing if she hadn’t been too scared to enjoy it. The whine of the pulley across the metal cable was the only sound except for her accelerated breathing.
Before she knew it, Elizabeth approached the landing platform. Guy was shouting encouragement and somehow she ended up on her feet and not her butt, as she expected. Guy unhooked her pulley from the cable and gave her a pat on her helmet. Her legs were still a little unsteady, but that was due to excitement this time, not fear. She walked to where the other zippers were waiting and turned around in time to see Colby jump off the platform.
Colby was practically flying across the canyon. Even from this distance, Elizabeth could tell she was enjoying herself. She was smiling and looking in every direction, not at her hands on the pulley straps like everyone else had. She nailed the landing like a bird coming in from flight.
“What did you think?” Colby asked before Guy had her completely unhooked.
“It was great,” Elizabeth admitted, finally relaxing. Now that she had done it once, she knew what to expect and would thoroughly enjoy the remaining seven lines. It was an absolute blast. The ride had been short, but less than halfway across she realized it was fun. Colby was right. It struck her how often this was the case.
“I knew you’d like it. Wait till we get to the last one. It’s the longest and absolutely takes your breath away.”
Colby was more animated than she had ever seen her. Her cheeks were flushed and her smile filled her entire face. Actually, your smile is what takes my breath away, she thought.
As Colby watched the remaining zippers cross the canyon, Elizabeth watched her. The harness around her waist emphasized her tight ass and had made her shorts creep higher on her firm, tan thighs. A tan line enticed Elizabeth to keep looking every chance she had.
On the last line of the day, the groom was ten feet from the landing platform when he got turned around and landed hard. Elizabeth heard a snap followed by a scream before he collapsed in a heap in front of her. Blood seeped out of his mouth. Someone cried out, somebody else swore, and the man’s wife fainted.
Before she could move, Colby came in fast on the line. She unhooked herself and knelt over the now-unconscious man. “I need something to stop the bleeding. Shirts, anything,” she said calmly. Several of the other men stripped theirs off and passed them to her. She pressed on the wound, barely stanching the flood of blood.
Seconds later Sherri arrived. “What happened?” she asked no one in particular.
The other guide answered. “He caught his toe on the edge and went face-first before I could grab him. He went down hard.” His voice was shaky.
Elizabeth had never seen so much blood. It was deep red and streaming down the man’s cheeks and neck, pooling under his head.
“Shit, some of his teeth are gone. Get somebody up here now,” Colby shouted to Sherri, who immediately opened her cell phone.
Elizabeth heard her say something about a helicopter and emergency before turning her attention back to Colby. Blood coated her hands and wrists and had splattered on her arms and legs. Elizabeth felt woozy but pulled it together. “What can I do?” she asked, hoping Colby wouldn’t ask her to actually do anything.
“Hold this. Just apply as much pressure as you can,” she commanded, indicating that she wanted Elizabeth to hold the shirt over the gash in the man’s face. His breathing became more ragged and Colby moved closer and listened. She lifted his shirt and watched him breathe. “Shit.” She looked around frantically, reaching into the pocket of her shorts and pulling out a small pocket knife. “I need something hollow like a straw or a pen.”
“How about this?” the guide asked, pulling a long, hard plastic straw from his water bottle.
Colby frowned. “Shit. It’ll have to do. Get it as clean as you can,” she barked. Directly in front of her Elizabeth watched as Colby doused the side of the man’s chest with the water from her bottle, then did the same to her hands until the supply ran out.
“Here,” Elizabeth said, instinctively pouring her water over Colby’s hands.
“Thanks. Now hand me the straw when I ask for it.”
Colby’s head was low, but Elizabeth could still see a mask of concentration on her face. Colby felt around on the man’s side, adjacent to his nipple, as if she were counting ribs. When she located what she was looking for, she directed the small knife in that direction.
“What are you doing?” someone shouted behind her.
“He’s either got a pneumothorax or his chest is filling with blood. I have to release it or he’ll die.”
Elizabeth watched, stunned, as Colby deftly inserted the knife. Then, a few seconds later, her fingers followed the straw into the man’s side. Blood slid out of it onto the ground. The man was still unconscious, but the awful gurgling sound he had been making quieted, and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths.
“I need some string, rope, a couple of shoelaces, anything I can use to tie this in place.” Several shoelaces were quickly handed to her and she deftly tied them together, then around the straw protruding from the man’s side, and finally around his chest. She had barely finished when the rumble of a helicopter sounded.
Within minutes it landed and two flight nurses rushed to the platform. Elizabeth could hardly make out what Colby was telling the crew, but she heard words like chest tube, thoracotomy, and hemorrhaging. She had some idea what they meant, but it was obvious that Colby definitely knew what she was talking about.
Ten minutes later the helicopter, injured man, and his wife were gone, leaving Colby, Elizabeth, and the rest of the group staring at it as it disappeared into the clear blue sky.
Sherri finally broke the silence. “Okay, everybody, let’s get back.”
No one said a word as they hiked the half mile back to the staging area. Colby walked beside her, not making eye contact. She was a little pale and Elizabeth needed to talk to her, hold her hand, anything to reestablish their connection. But something about Colby warned her not to.
Silently they unbuckled their harnesses, removed their helmets, and took their previous seats in the van. As Sherri drove back down the mountain, the only sound was the creaking of the van on the rough road. Elizabeth looked at Colby sitting in the seat in front of her. Her jaw was clenched and she stared straight ahead. She looked scared, and not because of what had just happened. The way she had handled herself and the situation around her told Elizabeth this wasn’t the first time Colby had made a life-and-death decision. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out when those other times were.
“Where did you learn how to do that?”
Colby looked at Elizabeth, then quickly away. What had she done? “Just some basic first aid I picked up,” she said evasively. She was surprised that Elizabeth had waited until they were back in her villa before she asked. She hadn’t wanted to come in when Elizabeth asked, but agreed anyway.
“Bullshit. What you did for that guy was much more than first aid, basic or advanced. You’ve had some serious medical training.” When Colby didn’t answer, Elizabeth pushed.
“What did you do before you were a surf instructor?”
“Lots of things, Elizabeth. Let’s just drop it.” She didn’t need an advanced degree to know Elizabeth wouldn’t. She was tenacious, and when she wanted something she didn’t give in until she got it.
“I don’t want to drop it. You saved that man’s life.”
Colby sank into the couch that they had made love on only a few days earlier. Dropping her head back she closed her eyes, exhausted. Instinct and training had kicked in when she saw the man hit the deck, and even after all this time she knew what he needed. It felt like forever since she’d had her hands inside someone. She opened her eyes and looked at Elizabeth, a light of comprehension starting to appear in her angry green ones.
“Tell me,” she said, one part request, one part demand
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“We’ve all had other lives, Elizabeth,” Colby said.
“Yeah, but not many surf instructors can insert a straw in a man’s chest in the middle of the flipping mountains.”
“Leave it alone, Elizabeth.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded threatening.
“No, I will not leave it alone.” Elizabeth paced back and forth in front of her. “There’s more to you than you let on and I want it. I want all of it.” Elizabeth stopped suddenly and looked at her intensely. “Are you a doctor?”
“No.”
“Bullshit.”
It was ironic that in the middle of all this Colby realized that “bullshit” was Elizabeth’s favorite word, especially when she was angry. And she was definitely angry now. At the risk of pissing her off even more she repeated her answer.
“Stop lying to me, Colby. Or is everything about you a lie?”
The hitch in Elizabeth’s voice was what did it. Regardless of how hard she’d tried not to, Colby had fallen hard for this woman. She didn’t want to be the cause of the pain on her face or the fear in her voice. “I don’t practice anymore,” she said flatly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t.” Her voice was stronger than she intended, and Elizabeth looked as though she’d been slapped.
“Why not?” Elizabeth insisted.
“Because I just don’t,” Colby repeated. The answer was good enough the first time, and it was still good this time. If Elizabeth asked her again, it would continue to be her answer.
But she was wrong. When Elizabeth repeated her question a third time, she said, “Because I killed my lover.”
Chapter Fourteen
Elizabeth reacted exactly how Colby expected her to if she ever found out. Her mouth was open, an incredulous look on her face. “What did you say?” she asked.
That night seemed like it was last night, not three years ago. With a voice devoid of emotion, Colby told Elizabeth the story.
The first five days in March three years ago had been brutal for her. Baby Justin Hanover had been in such a hurry to join the human race that he was born at twenty-five weeks instead of the normal forty. Like all premature infants he had a multitude of medical issues for her to deal with.
Colby was the best pediatric surgeon in the U.S. and often consulted on critically ill children. Many times she would fly across the country to see a child, then turn around and return to her own thriving practice in a Seattle suburb.
But Justin was her patient this time. His internal organs weren’t ready to function on their own and his lungs were critically underdeveloped. He was anemic and jaundiced, and needed a ventilator to help him breathe. The main blood vessel leaving the heart that supplied blood to his lungs had a hole in it, and he was scheduled for surgery the next morning. Colby had practically lived in the neonatal intensive-care unit the eight days of the baby’s life and had finally stepped away long enough to go home, grab a few hours of sleep, and be back in the morning for his surgery.
Her house was dark when she pulled into the driveway and opened the garage door. She lived in Grant, just outside Seattle. She had wanted to live closer to the city and the hospital but Gretchen had insisted, and at the time Colby was still too much in love to deny her anything. As she got out of the car her cell phone rang. She answered without looking at the caller ID, thinking it was the hospital. “Dr. Taylor.”
“Dr. Colby Taylor?”
“Yes.” She didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the phone but didn’t think twice. It was probably a new nurse.
“Dr. Taylor, I’m with the Seattle Police Department. Do you know a Gretchen Thomas?”
Colby’s pulse raced, not out of concern but out of anger. “Yes. What’s she done now?” she asked.
“Doctor, we’d like you to come down here. We have a problem concerning Ms. Thomas and she’s asking for you.”
“If she’s drunk somewhere tell her to call a cab. I’ve got better things to do than go across town and bail her ass out.” It wouldn’t be the first time Gretchen had done something stupid to draw the attention of the police, and certainly not the second or even the third time she’d tied one on and found herself stuck in the middle of nowhere with no car. The last time she didn’t even know where she was when she called. Hopefully she wouldn’t get behind the wheel.
“I’m afraid it’s more than that, ma’am.”
Colby felt old when the officer called her “ma’am.” His voice even sounded like he was fifteen. She was exhausted and furious. “What is it exactly?”
The young officer hesitated. “She’s…uh…”
“For Christ’s sake, just say it. I don’t have all night.”
“She’s on the I-90 bridge, ma’am.”
“I repeat, tell her to call a cab.” Colby slammed the car door and jabbed at the numbers on the security key pad on the wall just inside the laundry room.
“Ma’am, she’s threatening to jump.”
Colby stopped. Gretchen had flippantly threatened to kill herself a number of times, but this one was new. She had never got anywhere close to doing something so stupid and selfish until now. “What?”
“She’s threatening to jump. The crisis negotiator has been talking to her for a couple of hours, but she won’t get down. She asked for you an hour ago. We need you here, Dr. Taylor.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Colby shouted into the darkened kitchen. She always turned her cell phone off while she was in the NICU and had only remembered to turn it back on when she pulled into the driveway.
“Are you sure? She’s threatened to do this before and it’s always been bullshit manipulation.” Colby knew she sounded insensitive, but she was sleep-deprived and tired of Gretchen’s ploys for attention.
“Ma’am,” the officer said.
“Stop calling me ma’am,” Colby shouted into the receiver.
“Dr. Taylor, we wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t serious. The crisis counselor really thinks she’ll jump and asked me to call you. I can send a patrol car to come pick you up—”
“I don’t need a goddamn ride. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She snapped her phone shut and stormed back out of the house. Eight minutes later the phone rang again. She assumed it was the police.
“So help me, Gretchen, if this is another false alarm, I’ll personally throw your sorry ass off the fucking bridge.”
It wasn’t. Colby had pulled out everything in her arsenal to save Justin Hanson, but two blocks from the bridge she learned that he had died.
Exhausted from fighting for Justin’s life and enduring Gretchen’s increasingly neurotic, manipulative behavior, she stormed across the bridge. The officer who had stopped her had verified her identity and sent her in this direction. She was filled with rage. Rage at Gretchen, rage at God for letting that sweet little baby boy die, and rage at whoever got in her way. She brushed away the tears on her cheeks before she jumped out of her car, and her face was dry as she approached the police van.
It was drizzling again and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees. The puddles of rainwater reflected the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles, making it seem like more of Seattle’s finest were at this scene than actually were. She stepped in a puddle and cursed.
“I’m Colby Taylor,” she said through gritted teeth. A police radio crackled, a fog horn blasted in the distance.
The crisis negotiator introduced himself, briefed her on the current situation, and after what felt like forever led Colby to Gretchen, who was standing on the top of the rail that separated the pedestrian walkway from the edge of the bridge. Her left hand was holding one of the support cables, her back to the asphalt lanes now emptied of traffic.
“Gretchen,” Colby spat. She had to repeat her name before she turned around. Colby was about ten feet away and couldn’t tell if Gretchen was crying or if rain slid down her cheeks. Her hair was plastered to her head and her eyes held that same wild look they did every time they fought.
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“I’m surprised you came.” Gretchen’s voice was full of hatred.
“Gretchen, what in the hell are you doing?” The crisis counselor had told her to talk to Gretchen in calm, soothing tones and to say whatever she needed to get her off her perch. Fuck it. She was tired of coddling her.
“Why are you here? You don’t love me anymore.”
Here we go again, Colby thought. Gretchen had been pulling this crap for months. Her schedule was demanding, and more often than not she was at the hospital when Gretchen thought she should be home. Gretchen was an expert on passive-aggressive behavior and was equally adept at getting what she wanted through manipulation. When that behavior was no longer effective she had begun threatening to hurt herself if Colby didn’t come home, go to a party, or whatever other inconsequential, stupid thing she wanted her to do.
They argued constantly, Gretchen demanding more of Colby’s time and attention. They had been partners almost eight years, and Gretchen had known her career was demanding when they got together. Why now, after all these years, was it a problem? And tonight of all nights she had to pull this crap.
“Gretchen, we’ve had this discussion more than once, now get down from there.”
“I swear I’ll jump. I’m not coming down unless you promise to spend more time with me.” She stuck out her bottom lip like a petulant child. That behavior always infuriated Colby.
“Gretchen.” Colby shook her head. “This is un-fucking-believable. It’s three in the goddamn morning, and the baby I spent the last week trying to save, a baby who fought so hard for life, is dead. I can’t believe you have the nerve to stand up there and threaten to jump because I’m not giving you enough attention.”
Gretchen looked right through her.
“I’m tired of your empty threats, Gretchen. Get down.” Colby heard the intake of breath from the crisis negotiator. She felt him move closer and ignored him.