by Fiona Lowe
Her hands moved to his shoulders. ‘Do you think you did?’
She’d just asked the question that tormented him every single day. ‘No. Yes. I don’t know. I never had before.’
Intelligent eyes scanned his face. ‘Were you exhausted at the time?’
He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them she was still waiting for his reply. ‘No. That’s the thing. I was working at Le Centre Léon-Bérard in Lyon, doing post-cancer reconstructive surgery. We’d been there a couple of months and I always had mercredi…’ He corrected himself. ‘Wednesday afternoons off. We used the time to visit somewhere new in the Lyon district and that day our neighbour had offered to mind Amber and insisted we dine at Le Petit Cochon. The accident happened on the way there.’
‘What do you remember about it?’
He squinted, trying yet again to visualise the scene and to conjure up more information, but he saw the same image he always got. ‘Anna was laughing at something I’d tried to say in mangled French. She spoke it so much better than I did.’
The dull throb behind his eyes intensified. ‘The next thing I can remember is waking up to crushed metal, the scream of sirens and no clue where the hell I was.’ He gripped her arms tightly as his throat threatened to close. ‘I killed her, Chloe, and I can’t remember a damn thing about it.’
He wanted to lean his forehead against hers, seek her comfort and warmth, but he didn’t deserve any of it. He spun on his heel, moving fast, away from the touch of her hands and the sympathy in her eyes. The abrupt movement made the floor tilt and silver spots bounce in front of his eyes. Nausea clogged his throat and everything spun.
He grabbed at a metal dressing trolley, trying to steady himself, but it skated away from him. He tried again and heard the jarring clatter of metal hitting linoleum. The contents of his stomach burned his throat and then he gagged. Vomit filled his mouth and he hurled.
‘Luke!’
Chloe’s voice sounded shrill and faint. Darkness crept across his mind and he threw out his arms, trying to grab her. His knees jerked out from under him. Everything went black.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR A SPLIT second Chloe stared, horrified, as Luke writhed on the floor at her feet with his eyes rolled back, vomit and blood pouring from his mouth and his muscles jerking and spasming. He was fitting—a full-blown, tonic-clonic seizure.
Move! She slammed her palm onto the emergency buzzer located on the wall, grabbed a plastic oropharyngeal airway and fell to her knees, knowing she had to wait until the fit finished before she could slide it into his mouth. As his arms and legs flailed, she protected him from hitting any more equipment and injuring himself further.
Time slowed down to nothing, the fit seeming to go on and on for ever when in reality she knew it was less than two minutes.
Jean, the agency nurse, appeared, summoned by the emergency buzzer. ‘Can I—? Oh, God.’
‘Draw up diazepam, pass me that oxygen mask and then ring a code red.’ Chloe tried to sound cool and controlled when every part of her screamed, I am so scared for him.
‘I’m on it.’
Finally, Luke’s jerking slowed and his pale face and blue lips started to flush pink.
‘Luke.’ She had no idea if he could hear her because, although he was breathing on his own, she was certain he was unconscious. ‘I’m going to roll you onto your side.’
She went through the motions of preparing him for the recovery position. Starting on his right side, she placed his right arm at right angles to his body with the palm of his hand facing up and then she put his left hand onto his chest, palm down. Lifting the knee of his top leg, she bent his leg so his knee pointed at her and then she tugged. His body moved slowly onto his side.
She heard Jean hang up the phone after calling the code red. ‘Luke, I’m suctioning your mouth.’ She deftly moved the sucker around his mouth, and after checking his throat was clear she finally slid the plastic airway into his mouth. ‘Now I’m going to put an oxygen mask on your face, okay?’
His beautiful green eyes fluttered open for a moment, their gaze unfocused and glazed, before closing again. His inky lashes brushed his cheeks.
Chloe bit her lip and stroked his forehead. What’s going on inside that intelligent brain, Luke?
She didn’t want to think about the thousand possibilities—none of them good—so instead she fitted the green elastic of the oxygen mask over the back of his head and tried to make the mask as comfortable as possible. Jean passed her a pillow she’d grabbed off the trolley and Chloe put it under his head.
The doors to the treatment door were flung open with a thud and the emergency response team rushed in. ‘What have we got?’ the ICU registrar asked.
Still on the floor, Chloe turned to face them. ‘Luke Stanley. Postictal.’
The shocked expletive that fell from the registrar’s mouth matched the stunned expressions on the rest of the team’s faces. A fitting patient was never good, but it was always worse when it was one of Gold Coast City Hospital’s own.
‘I’ve given him oxygen and I’m about to put in an IV,’ Chloe said, needing to focus on the clinical stuff because her mind didn’t want to go anywhere near the fear that was tearing up and down her veins. Fear for Luke. Fear for Amber. Fear for herself. ‘Then I’m accompanying him to MRI.’
Not one of them disagreed.
‘Chloe?’ Luke asked groggily, his eyes struggling to focus.
He knew he was lying down and all he could see were fuzzy silver bars, but his nostrils detected the fresh, fruity scent that was synonymous with Chloe. He tried to raise his head but pain ricocheted through him, making him gasp.
‘I’m right here, Luke.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t try to move. Do you know where you are?’
Banks of bright white lights made his head ache and a stinging sensation burned the back of his left hand. He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it. The last thing he remembered was being in surgery. ‘I’m at work.’
‘You’re in the radiography department.’
He heard her matter-of-fact tone but the words sounded like jabberwocky and skated across his mind, not sticking. Nothing made sense, especially not this foggy feeling. His free hand touched his leg. Skin. Where the hell were his scrubs? What was going on? His fingers found the edges of a hospital gown.
What the—?
Fear ripped through him, halting all the questions with a primal need to protect his child. He struggled to sit up. ‘Amber. Where’s Amber?’ Searing pain dropped his head back to the pillow. ‘Amber. Daycare. I need to pick her up.’
‘Luke, you’re about to have an MRI,’ Chloe said softly. ‘I’ve spoken to the daycare centre and if I have your permission, I can collect Amber for you.’
She’ll be safe with Chloe. Relief flowed around the edges of confusion about an MRI. ‘You have it.’
‘I just need you to say that to the director.’
She held a phone to his ear and he heard the director’s voice asking him if Amber could be released to Chloe Kefes. His mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage and his tongue felt thick and unwieldy but he managed to say, ‘Yes.’ A moment later the touch of the phone left his ear.
‘Luke, it’s Ken Mendaz,’ a gravelly voice said.
He felt a broad hand touch his ankle as he recognised and decoded the broad accent of Gold Coast City’s neurosurgeon. ‘Why are you in Theatre with me, Ken?’
‘We’re in Radiography, Luke. Remember? You’re going to have an MRI.’
MRI? Did he remember? Everything seemed to jumble together into a tangled mess he couldn’t unravel. God, why did his brain feel like sludge? The only clear thought he had was that Amber was with Chloe. No, going to be with Chloe. He didn’t know why but it felt right.
Male voices he didn’t recognise told him to roll over and then he felt himself being lifted and lowered onto the machine’s bed. As it started to move he called out frantically, ‘Chloe.’
�
��Yes, Luke?’
‘Amber needs her bunny.’
‘It’s all going to be fine, Luke. It’s all going to be fine.’
Why did Chloe sound like she was going to cry? It was the last clear thought he had before the blackness crept back in.
‘Hey, bro’, how’s it going? You’ll never guess—’
‘I’m not Luke. I’m Chloe Kefes. Is this Stephanie Markham?’
Chloe pressed Luke’s phone up against her left ear while holding Amber on her hip with her right arm. The little girl had finally fallen asleep after fretting for over an hour and sobbing, ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.’ Chloe had wanted to sob with her.
‘Yes, this is Steph.’ The voice was friendly but firm. ‘Why are you using Luke’s phone?’
‘I work with your brother and I’m afraid he’s not very well.’ Chloe crossed her fingers. ‘Are you able to get back to the Gold Coast tonight?’
‘Oh, God. What’s happened?’
Chloe closed her eyes at the dread in Luke’s sister’s voice. There was no easy way to break this news. ‘Luke’s being operated on right now for a…’ she grabbed a steadying breath ‘…brain tumour.’
A cry of despair howled down the line and then she heard a deeper male voice in the background saying, ‘Honey, what’s wrong?’
That was followed by a fainter, ‘It’s Luke.’
‘Is he going to be all right?’ Steph’s tremulous question hung in the air.
I don’t know. I wish I did. The picture of Luke on the operating table with the back of his head devoid of curls and shaved clean, with a central line in his chest and an endotracheal tube in his mouth, slugged her. The tear on her heart, which had been lengthening all evening, ripped a little bit more.
‘We’ll know more when he’s out of the operating theatre and after the pathology comes back,’ Chloe said, trying to sound professional and together. ‘I’m ringing you because you’re listed as Luke’s next of kin and Amber needs her family. I’m caring for her at the moment but how soon can you arrive?’
Silence vibrated up and down the line.
Slight panic skidded through her. ‘Stephanie?’
‘Oh, Chloe,’ she wailed. ‘We’re stranded in Arkaroola. It’s been raining here and further north for over a week. All the creeks are flooded, the roads are washed away and…ten days…’ the line hissed and spat, starting to break up ‘…more…get out.’
Her head pounded with the enormity of Luke’s sister’s news and desperation made her say, ‘What about a plane? A helicopter?’ Anything.
‘Sorry…ranger…police…text…reception…Amber…love.’
The line went dead.
Chloe stared at the phone. It was the twenty-first century but the tyranny of distance in the outback was still as real today as it had been a hundred years ago. Luke’s sister, his only next of kin, wasn’t able to get home to care for him. Luke was alone.
Amber stirred against her shoulder—a defenceless little girl already without a mother, and right now her father was fighting for his life.
She dropped her head gently onto Amber’s soft curls, breathing in the sweet smell of baby soap, feeling the weight of the child in her arms and the soft thump of her heart against her chest. Chloe’s heart quivered. Amber was a child full of life—not a memory of a life not lived—and she needed care and protection. My protection.
‘Oh, sweetie, life’s so not fair,’ Chloe murmured into her hair, uncertain if she’d spoken the words for Amber’s benefit or her own.
‘Chloe. Wake up.’
She felt a hand on her shoulder and her eyes flew open to see black leather. Where am I?
It all came flooding back. She was curled up around Amber, both of them sleeping on a couch in the ICU staff room, tucked up under theatre towels. She sat up and immediately made sure Amber was still covered.
Sarah Watson, an ICU nurse, held out a mug of soup towards her. ‘Here.’
‘Thanks.’ She accepted the proffered drink. ‘What time is it?’
‘Three.’
Three a.m. Nine hours since Luke had fitted in front of her. It seemed like a lifetime.
‘Luke’s awake but groggy,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll stay here with Amber while you go see him and then you must take her home. Both of you need a decent sleep.’
‘Thanks.’ Chloe stood slowly and automatically smoothed down her hair, which had fallen free of its tie hours ago. She was glad there wasn’t a mirror about because she didn’t even want to think what she looked like after sleeping rough in her uniform.
She made her way to the cubicle where Luke lay, his black hair the only colour about him. The machines of ICU surrounded him, somehow managing to dwarf a tall and vital man.
Pain shot through her. He looked so vulnerable.
She caught his right hand in hers and whispered, ‘Luke.’
His eyes fluttered open and he smiled a goofy smile. ‘Hey, babe,’ he said softly. ‘You came back.’
Her heart cramped and she stifled a cry. Something about his tone and expression told her unequivocally that he thought she was someone else. He thinks you’re Anna.
A twinge twisted in her gut and she didn’t know why it bothered her so much. ‘I’m Chloe, Luke.’
The light from his eyes faded as his jaw jerked and then he closed his eyes. When he opened them, his focus was clear and penetrating. ‘How’s Amber?’
‘Fast asleep. How are you doing?’
One side of his mouth twitched upwards. ‘No so bad for a guy who’s just had his head opened like a sardine can.’
She stroked her thumb across the back of his hand. ‘You scared the hell out of us.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘Sorry.’
‘What do you remember?’
‘Not that much. Ken told me it was a meningioma.’
She nodded. ‘A benign brain tumour, thank God, but how something that causes so much havoc can be called benign is beyond me.’
‘Slow growing,’ he said succinctly. ‘Cancer’s faster.’
‘So slow growing that the symptoms are insidious and only make sense in hindsight.’ She took the moment to explain. ‘Like chips in the fridge.’
He rubbed his jaw slowly as a light dawned in his eyes. ‘And forgotten text messages.’
‘Yes, and blacking out for short moments. Ken said, depending on what the tumour was pushing on at any given time, you could have had symptoms on and off for two years.’ She took a leap of faith, needing to say the words and hoping he would truly hear them. ‘As a friend, I have to tell you something important.’
He studied her face, his gaze holding steady. ‘What’s that?’
Say it. ‘You didn’t fall asleep at the wheel in France, Luke. It would have been a blackout. I’m sorry Anna’s dead, but you don’t hold any culpability. You had no control over this tumour. No one knew it was there. The car crash was truly an accident.’
She’s right. Luke’s sluggish mind had a moment of clarity and he closed his eyes, feeling Chloe’s fingers tighten on his own. He let her genuine empathy seep into him. For months and months he’d whipped himself for falling asleep at the wheel, aghast at what he’d done and wondering how he’d allowed it to happen. The insoluble puzzle had its answer. He had his answer.
It won’t bring my darling Anna back.
He knew that. But at the same time it seemed like a weight had lifted from his soul. ‘I want to go home.’
Chloe’s laugh held a hint of hysteria. ‘Give it a week, Luke. There are things to organise, and your sister’s stuck—’
‘Two days.’ He squeezed her hand and then, feeling the cloying pull of the drugs stealing his concentration, he let himself drift back into a peaceful sleep.
‘We’re home!’ Chloe called out rather unnecessarily, given that Amber and Chester were already running through the house, squealing and barking and looking for Luke.
She dumped the shopping bags on the retro green Laminex table she was certain must have come with the cot
tage rather than Luke seeking it out at a market. Unzipping the blue cooler bag, she quickly threw all the cold things into the fridge. It was a normal domestic routine that took place in houses all around the country with men and women alike—one parent having taken the child out to give the other adult some breathing space. Only in this household nothing was normal. She wasn’t the parent, Luke wasn’t the partner and this wasn’t even her home.
It has times when it feels like it.
Don’t go there. Neither of us wants it and it’s never going to happen.
‘Hey.’ Luke appeared in the kitchen with Amber on his shoulders and Chester bouncing next to him. Amber’s hands ran back and forth over Luke’s head, fascinated with the touch and feel of his now healed suture line and his hair.
Chloe still got a jolt of surprise whenever she saw his haircut—a number three he’d insisted she give him the day he’d got home from the hospital. Under the onslaught of the fast-moving clippers, his curls had fallen to the floor and she’d worried he’d regret their loss.
She’d been wrong. Instead of the short style making him look like a thug, it made his eyes a more arresting green and the rest of him leaner and more gorgeous than ever.
‘Hey, yourself,’ she said, her eyes taking her fill of him.
Snap out of it. Be the nurse. ‘Did you sleep?’
He smiled as he lifted a squirming Amber off his shoulders and set her down at her little blue table. ‘Yes, Nurse Kefes. I’m a good patient and I’ve had my afternoon nap, but I didn’t sleep as long. I’m taking it as a good sign that I’m improving.’
He opened a tub of playdough for Amber and set her up with a muffin set and a sausage maker, before turning back to Chloe. ‘I hear the park was a big success.’
‘Ducks, Daddy,’ Amber said excitedly. ‘Bread. Feed ducks.’
‘You did, sweetie.’ Chloe laughed, remembering how amazing it had been to watch the little girl go from being tentative and clinging tightly to her legs to enthusiastically flinging bread at the quacking chestnut teals. Every day she felt a tiny bit of her heart leave her, stolen by the antics of Amber, especially when the little girl wrapped her pudgy arms around her neck and snuggled in close.