by Lori Wilde
“That’s all,” the paramedic said. “No more resort guests have been reported missing.”
“Thank God for that,” Tyler said.
“Doctor.” Nurse Martin tugged at his sleeve. “This is the first chance I’ve had time to read your wife’s hematocrit.”
Tyler met the woman’s eyes, and they were grave with concern. “Yes?”
“It’s twenty.”
His guess had been correct. Somehow, during the healings she had performed, she had depleted her own red blood supply. If her hematocrit dropped any lower, Hannah would be in serious danger.
Tyler dashed to her bedside and picked up her hand. Her breathing was shallow and she remained unconscious.
“Get another set of vital signs on her.”
The nurse did as he requested, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Hannah’s limp arm and pumping it up with the bulb.
“BP seventy-nine over fifty,” she whispered.
Her blood pressure was dropping. Tyler swallowed. Not good.
“Pulse fifty.”
Leaning over, he kissed Hannah’s forehead. “Come on, babe, wake up and smile at me. We need to get your blood pumping.”
“Her heart rate accelerated when you kissed her,” the nurse marveled, two fingers resting at Hannah’s wrist. “It jumped up to seventy-two.”
He raised Hannah’s hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle one by one. “Come back to me, sweetheart.”
There was no response.
Fear congealed in his stomach. Why wouldn’t she wake up?
“Spin another crit,” he told Trisha Martin grimly.
“Will do.”
He waited anxiously while the nurse pricked Hannah’s finger with a lancet and piped blood into the thin glass tube. She took the sample and disappeared into the anteroom where the supplies and equipment were stored.
Arms crossed over his chest, Tyler paced from one end of the room to the other, stopping to check on the other patients while he waited for the test results. They were all resting and doing fine despite the ordeal they had been through. If only he could say the same for Hannah.
He went back to her cot and pulled up a stool beside her. He held her hand, kneaded her knuckles with his fingertips.
“Doctor,” the nurse said, alarm written across her face. “Your wife’s hematocrit is only seven! She has to have blood right away.”
Tyler blanched and sprang to his feet. “Are you sure?”
“Come read it for yourself. I ran it twice to be certain. I don’t understand how it could drop so quickly when she’s not bleeding. Did she suffer an internal injury during the avalanche?”
He shook his head and followed the woman into the anteroom. He peered at the calibrated wheel that allowed him to read the level of red blood cells in the slender glass tube.
Seven. He read both samples and they were identical. There was no mistake.
“What are we going to do? The avalanche has blocked the road and the helicopters can’t get in because of the snowstorm.”
“I know.”
“Without a transfusion, she’ll surely die.”
“Dammit!” Tyler slammed the wall with his fist and didn’t even wince at the pain that shot through his hand. He could not let her die. He was a doctor. He was supposed to save people.
Think! Think!
He stalked back to the main room, the nurse at his heels. The paramedic looked up from where he was making notes on the boy’s record sheet. The boy’s mother was watching him, too.
Why was Hannah’s hematocrit so low? She hadn’t been injured. There could be no internal bleeding. She had simply collapsed after healing the others. Had her heroic actions somehow depleted her own blood count? Was it due to continued side effects from exposure to Virusall? Did that account for her ongoing weakness and occasional dizziness? Even though he could not explain the etiology, he realized that had to be the case.
The room went utterly silent. He looked around at the faces. Everyone had already written Hannah off as a corpse. He saw reality in their eyes.
He shifted his gaze to Hannah. Still unconscious. Still as vulnerable and enchanting as Sleeping Beauty. Oh, if only a kiss from him would awaken her.
“There’s nothing we can do, Doctor.” The paramedic came over and draped an arm over Tyler’s shoulder. “We have no way to get blood up here in time. I’m so sorry this had to happen to such a brave lady.”
“I refuse to accept that.” Tyler wrenched away from the young man. “You’re wrong. We’ll give her a transfusion. Right here. Right now.”
“We’re not equipped to administer transfusions,” the nurse protested.
“You have IV tubing and large bore needles, don’t you?”
The paramedic looked bewildered. “Yes, but do you even know her blood type?”
“She’s AB negative,” Tyler said, his jaw set in grim determination. He would not let Hannah go without putting up the fight of his life. “But I’m O negative. The universal donor. I can give blood to any other type.”
The entire process was incredibly risky. He knew that. But there was simply no other option. Hannah needed a transfusion and she needed it quickly or she wasn’t going to last another hour.
Fear grabbed him by the throat and refused to let go. What if he was making a huge mistake?
Tyler shook his head. Now was not the time to get indecisive.
“It’s tricky.” The paramedic shook his head. “Administering a patient to patient transfer without a type and crossmatch.”
“Have you got a better idea?” Tyler snapped, stalking toward the white metal cabinet with glass doors that held a small supply of emergency equipment. “Get busy. Start an IV on her. Normal saline with an eighteen gauge. Do it quickly.”
“She’s your wife, sir. You’re emotionally involved and I’m not sure you’re thinking straight.”
“If you won’t help, then fine, get out of my way.” He glared at her and the paramedic.
“Don’t misunderstand,” the nurse said. “We want to help. But what if she dies?”
“How is that going to be any different than the current situation?” Tyler started yanking needles, Betadine swabs and IV paraphernalia from the shelf and tossing them onto the cot beside Hannah. “She slipping away before our very eyes.”
“Well.” The nurse hesitated. “If she dies because of the transfusion, then you will have been the one to kill her.”
Chapter 13
Precious moments ticked away.
Nurse Martin started the IV on Hannah while the paramedic initiated an identical one in Tyler’s right forearm. Tyler lay on the cot staring up at the ceiling, listening to his pulse thundering in his ears.
Hurry. Hurry.
He clenched his hands, knotting them into hard fists. His head was turned toward Hannah and he never took his eyes from her sleeping face.
“Are you ready?” the nurse asked.
He nodded.
She released the three-way, stopcock valve on the blood line trailing from Tyler’s arm to Hannah’s and shut off the flow of normal saline. Slowly, his blood began to inch down the tubing toward Hannah.
If she was going to have a reaction to his blood it would most likely occur in the first few minutes of the transfusion.
The paramedic was stationed beside Hannah, constantly monitoring her vital signs, the crash cart within easy reach. To Tyler’s relief, one of the vacationing skiers turned out to be a third-year medical student who had slept through the entire avalanche and subsequent rescue, but upon hearing of the disaster had immediately shown up at the clinic and offered his services. He and the other paramedics were taking care of the rest of the victims. Everyone seemed to be recovering.
Everyone that is, except for Hannah.
As he watched, his blood pushed the remaining saline from the end of the tubing into Hannah’s veins.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
His blood flowed into her.
Taking a deep breath, he held
it. And waited.
“How’s her vitals?” he asked the paramedic and was surprised to hear his voice come out hoarse and thready. Anxiety constricted his throat. Fear froze his chest.
This was a drastic, last-ditch effort and he knew it.
Come on, Hannah. Don’t give up.
Memories of Yvette flashed in his mind, stark and unrelenting. He remembered how she had looked after the chemotherapy. Bald, weak, pale. She hadn’t wanted the chemo, but Tyler had insisted, even though in his heart he’d known it was too late. He had been wrong to make her suffer the indignities of chemotherapy when it would be ineffective, but he was a doctor and determined to use everything in his arsenal. He simply had been unable to let her go without a fight.
The same way he refused to relinquish Hannah.
Was he making a second mistake?
Briefly, Tyler closed his eyes. No. He could not believe that was the case. He felt certain Hannah would want any chance at life. She was not sweet, accepting Yvette. Hannah was a warrior. She stood up for what she believed in even if it meant placing herself in jeopardy.
“Vital signs are stable,” the paramedic said.
Tyler opened his eyes, allowing himself to breath normally.
The transfusion continued until a pint of blood had been drained from him and infused into Hannah. It took over an hour but there were no signs of an adverse reaction.
Her color pinkened. Her respiration increased. Tyler experienced some lightheadedness when he sat up, but he ignored it. All that mattered was Hannah’s welfare.
Nurse Martin removed the IV from his arm. Tyler got to his feet and gripped the bed railing to steady himself. He looked down into Hannah’s sleeping face.
She was so incredibly beautiful. The sight of her clutched at his heart, produced an intense ache.
He would never allow her to heal anyone again. No matter what happened. He took her hand. “Hannah?”
No response.
“Pull another crit,” he told the nurse, then gently massaged Hannah’s shoulder. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “Wake up, darling. It’s me, Tyler.”
Still nothing.
He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. What now? He had assumed administering the transfusion would bring her around.
It hadn’t.
His gut torqued.
“Her hematocrit is up to twelve,” the nurse said. “But you know it takes a few hours to get a comprehensive reading.”
He nodded. Hannah was out of danger. At least for the time being. “I’m going to take her back to our chalet.”
“Are you sure?” Nurse Martin asked.
“Yes.”
If Hannah was dying, then he wanted to be far away from the glare of the public eye. If she recovered, he wanted their reunion to be an intimate one. Either way, he could take care of her just as well at the chalet as he could here.
“I’ll get the gurney,” the paramedic offered. “And help you transport her.”
“Thanks.” Tyler turned his attention to the nurse. “If you need help with the other patients, come and get me.”
“I’m sure the medical student can handle it.” Nurse Martin waved in his direction. “You get some rest and take care of your wife.”
“I will.” He nodded, realizing just how much he had missed hearing that word, wife. Hannah might not be his wife in the legal sense but he couldn’t have felt more joined to her if they had had the world’s biggest wedding.
If only he could save her. If only there was an antidote. If only they could share the rest of their lives together.
A miracle. That was what he needed.
But Tyler had stopped believing in miracles a long time ago.
Blackness. Heavy and oppressive.
Headache. Temples pounding. Leaden arms. Cement legs. Fight. Kick. See.
No strength. No energy. Syrup. Sucking me down. Where am I? What’s going on? Why do I feel this way?
What happened?
Hannah searched her brain and came up empty. It was hard to think. Impossible to concentrate. She heard a distant voice. A far away buzz. But she could make out nothing for certain.
Danger.
Her pulse quickened at the realization although she could not say why. She simply knew she was in serious trouble.
She felt pressure on her hand. “Hannah?”
The voice was warped. Like a record played on slow speed. She frowned. Who was calling her name?
Come on, come on, wake up. You’ve got to get out of here. You’ve got to hurry.
Hurry? Why the rush? Anxiety weighted her chest.
There had been a catastrophe. She couldn’t remember what kind. Had she been in a car accident?
That sounded familiar, but wrong somehow.
“Hannah, honey, it’s me, Tyler. Can you hear me?”
The voice was sharper now. More in tune. Yes. Tyler. Talk to him. Her tongue lay like a lump of clay in her mouth.
Then there were lips on her forehead and tears on her cheeks. Tyler’s lips. Tyler’s tears. She inhaled deeply, breathed in his unique scent.
“Tyler,” she whispered.
“My God, Hannah, you’re alive.”
She blinked and his dear face come into view. “Yes. I’m alive. Where are we?” She glanced around at the room decorated like a Swiss chalet. Lots of thick rich material, broad-beamed furniture, a Jacuzzi over by the window, a crackling fire in the adobe fireplace.
“We’re at the ski chalet.”
“Are we alone?”
“Yes. The avalanche buried the road. We won’t be able to leave here until morning, if then. I’m worried about that. I want to get you to a hospital as soon as possible.”
“Why?”
“We almost lost you.”
“Lost me? How?”
He was sitting beside her bed, her right hand clutched in his. Tears dampened his eyes and he did not bother to wipe them away. He reminded her about the avalanche and how they had saved the lives of six people. He explained how she had collapsed after giving CPR to the small boy, how she had slipped into unconsciousness.
“You think it’s from using my healing power?”
“I’m afraid so. You’re hematocrit was extremely low. Apparently you’ve been effected on the most elemental cellular level.” His tone grew cautious when he described transfusing her with his own blood. The transfusion that had saved her life.
“I was so frightened,” he confessed. “Terrified that I was doing the wrong thing. That I was going to lose you no matter what.”
“I’m too stubborn to die.” She squeezed his hand.
“I’m beginning to believe it.” He smiled gently.
“Your blood is inside me?” she marveled and held her hands to her face, examining them with newfound respect.
“Yes.”
“You’re part of me.”
He nodded.
“We’re one.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Oh, Tyler. Thank you.”
His hand trembled. “May I kiss you?”
“You’d better. Before I find someone else to do it,” she teased.
“We can’t have that.” Leaning over he brushed his lips lightly against hers.
“You call that a kiss?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m not a china doll. I won’t break.”
“You sure looked like it four hours ago.”
“That was before I had your plump, juicy red blood cells pumping though me. Now give me a proper kiss this minute.”
“That transfusion made you bossy.”
“Guess I’m taking after you.” She hooked a finger under his collar and tugged him toward her.
“Are you calling me overbearing?”
“If the shoe fits.”
His mouth closed over hers and Hannah was washed away on a sea of happy emotions. And she was growing stronger. The more he kissed her, the more his blood mingled with hers and swished through
her veins, the better she felt.
A tingling warmth surged through her until she was electrified. She had a sudden urge to jump and run and shout with joy. His kiss, her recovery.
One. He and I. We’re the same.
For so long she had been all alone. Even when her parents were alive, she had basically been by herself. Few friends. No lovers. Work had been her only focus, her only goal.
She had been taught to live outside her emotions. To observe and analyze. To study and quantify. Emotionalism had been discouraged, feelings regarded as something to be suppressed. She had learned to keep herself above the fray of most human frailties. She had avoided vulnerability, but she had also avoided love.
It felt strange to let herself go. Strange but wonderful. Emotions surged through her, incredible and new.
Tyler tasted so good. A drink from heaven. His mouth warm and soft. Ah, such pleasure.
“Hannah,” he whispered, pulling back and gazing deeply into her eyes. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“No. Not yet. I’m here. I’m yours. I feel like Superwoman! I feel like making love to you.”
“Hannah.” He breathed.
“But I’m still afraid of passing my affliction on to you.”
“I never got to tell you,” Tyler said, kissing her fingertips and sending jolts of pure pleasure flying up her nerve endings. “I’ve already been exposed to your blood. If I was going to ‘catch’ something from you, I would have symptoms by now.”
“But when? How?”
“That night you came into the emergency room, when I drew that second vial of blood from you. I accidentally stuck myself in the thumb at the lab.”
“Oh no.” She frowned.
“Don’t worry. I’m fine. There’s no reason to hold back any longer sweetheart. If you want to make love to me as badly as I want to make love to you, then say the word.”
“Make love to me, Tyler.” She raised a finger, stroked his cheek, and then tapped the left side of her chest. “In here. I feel it. Making love is the right thing to do. In fact, it’s the only thing to do. Be with me, Tyler, in every since of the word.”
“Sweetheart,” he exclaimed and kissed her again. “Are you sure? Are you really sure?”