by Annie O'Neil
Her eyes were squarely focused on the helicopter’s trajectory but she seemed to have a second sense that he needed something—reassurance. Balance. Her small gesture meant more to him than she would ever know.
No, he didn’t have his brother any more, but at least he had Tara. For now.
In no time at all they had soared across to the western side of the peaks and one of the heli-rescue team was gesturing to Fraser that it was time to clip on his belaying equipment.
“We don’t think the ground is stable enough to land.” The pilot’s voice crackled through his headset. Fraser gave a thumbs-up to the two-strong heli-rescue team who had accompanied them. Until a safe landing was established they would have to go down to the site by rope, carrying the stretchers and medical kits with them.
“Do we know how many victims are down there?”
The sound of Tara’s voice through the headset was like a life-affirming elixir to him, despite the fact her words were strictly limited to the rescue mission.
“Negative. We think about five, but the crew on the ground should know more. Snowboarders,” finished the pilot, as if that answered everything.
Fraser felt his lips curve into a grimace. Snowboarders were seen as the wild cards on the slopes. Willing to take more risks, push beyond the prescribed limits. He could hardly cast aspersions. He’d nearly taken Tara out the first day he’d met her, taking such a risk. Even idiots deserved a second chance. Even idiots like him.
Below him, Fraser could see three snowmobiles and about half a dozen ski patrollers armed with probes, fanning out across the small bowl of mountainside that curved along the west side of the pass. Not having time to register the two-hundred-meter drop he was about to make, Fraser double-checked that his harnesses and sling were securely fastened. He could see Tara giving her harness straps the final snug tugs into place and had to restrain himself from reaching over and double-checking all her gear as well. If there was one person he wanted to keep safe... Well, she was right there beside him, preparing to jump out of a helicopter onto an unstable mountain pass.
“See you down there.” Tara pushed her feet away from the edge of the helicopter and disappeared from his sight. Yes, you will.
*
Tara’s adrenaline was running high. She’d only made a helicopter drop a couple of times and with so many factors to consider for the rescue she found herself having to take her own advice to Liesel. Even, slow breaths. Panic was the last thing she needed to be showing now.
“We’ve got one over here!”
Barely having time to register the scene as a whole, Tara set off in the direction of a patroller waving a red flag at her. Progress had to be slow, steady, to avoid collapsing into the snow. Her energy re-formed into a focused charge of motivation. Get to the victims. Taking the path the patrollers indicated, Tara made her way as quickly as possible through the soft snow, stretcher in tow, to the figure they were digging out. So far only a pair of booted feet were visible. Tara could hardly comprehend how the crashing wall of snow had flipped the snowboarder entirely upside down.
“Soft-slab avalanche.” The patroller spoke in the staccato of someone limiting themselves to facts only. “Looks to be about twenty yards wide and four, maybe five feet deep.”
“What do you want me to do?” Facts and actions. Tara knew those were the only two options available to her right now.
“Can you help me dig around him? Until we know if he has any neck injuries, we shouldn’t move him.” The ski patroller handed her a collapsible shovel. Right now, rescue efforts would be confined to getting air to the victims. As long as their heads were buried, the chances of suffocation increased by the second.
“Have they found Eric?”
Tara kept her voice low, hoping it would mask the emotion she felt.
“Not sure, Doc.” The blond patroller, who she was pretty sure was called Chris, answered. He abruptly dropped his shovel and began to dig with his hands as they reached what they could now see was a young man’s face, his eyes blinking in the bright sunshine.
“I’m Dr. Braxton. You’re safe now. Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”
Through chattering teeth he replied, “My shoulder. My shoulder is killing me.”
Tara gently released the man’s fingers from the snow pack. “Can you feel my hand?”
“A little.” She exhaled a sigh of relief. As long as he had sensation they were all right. “It’s Chris, right?” she looked at the patroller, who nodded a brisk affirmation.
“Chris, can we get—? What’s your name?” She looked into the young man’s hazel eyes.
“Brian.”
“Can we get Brian flat out on the snow pack? I can do a quick assessment and you can move on.”
“Got it, Doc.”
After gently moving the young man to a horizontal position, stretched out on one of Tara’s emergency body-heat blankets, she quickly assessed he’d dislocated his shoulder.
“Have they found everyone else?” Brian’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.
“The crews are doing the best they can.” Tara offered a smile to the young man, who was clearly scared out of his wits.
“We thought we’d try the new powder.”
“It’s a big temptation.” Tara tried to keep her voice level. Untouched snow, unexplored gullies on the far side of the mountain, they were all lures to adrenaline junkies. They could be as thrilling as they were dangerous. Today it was just plain dangerous.
“This is going to hurt, Brian. We’ll get you something for the pain later, but for now can you just bite onto this?” Tara put a thick roll of gauze between his teeth. Bracing herself as best she could against the soft-packed snow, Tara pulled his shoulder back into position. With a quick signal to the heli-crew, Tara received additional help moving Brian onto a stretcher and getting him loaded aboard the hovering helicopter.
A few yards away she saw Fraser attending to a young woman. Judging from the red snow around her, she had suffered some fairly serious cuts. Lacerations were difficult to avoid in an avalanche filled with pieces of rock and other debris. If the cuts were all she’d suffered, she was lucky. If they became infected, the likelihood of a hospital stay increased.
Calls came out across the rescue site at a rapid rate of knots. One, two, three, four of the snowboarders were found. One had a broken leg, one had a pretty severe eye injury. Still no Eric.
Tara’s adrenaline surged through her. She had to help the crews find him. Spying Chris probing the snow near a small cluster of trees, she shouldered her medical pack and worked her way carefully towards him. Avalanches easily destabilized the snow table. Disturbing it further always posed a risk of more trouble. All things considered, this had been a relatively small soft-slab avalanche set off by foot penetration. Snowboarders and skiers didn’t normally start these. She scanned the scene, looking for equipment, but everything was a wash of white, accented only by the rescue team in their bright red ski jackets.
Someone must’ve taken off their snowboard at the top of the peak and walked for a bit, or maybe adjusted a boot heavily—she didn’t know. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter now. A terrifying course of events had been set in motion and now it was up to the team here to fight against time and find everyone swept under the potentially lethal snow shelf.
“How wide was the slide?”
Tara’s sensory awareness kicked up another notch, hearing Fraser’s soft burr beside her.
“The team reckons it was about fifteen meters wide—and only about a meter or so deep, which is why they were able to get everyone out so quickly...”
She stopped, all too aware they hadn’t found everyone yet. Eric and a snowboarder named Katie were still unaccounted for. Time seemed to have stood still, but only fifteen or twenty minutes had passed. Crucial minutes.
“I’ve got a beacon!” Chris’s voice cut through the sharp mountain air. Tara felt her heart soar. All the ski medics wore them. She turned to Fraser and had
to restrain herself from throwing her arms around him. “Eric!”
Fraser’s broad grin matched her own. He gave her gloved hand a quick squeeze then began to make his way carefully to the site Chris had indicated. The positive surge of energy she received from the contact with Fraser gave her the added boost she needed. The work, combined with the altitude, was exhausting. Never mind the ten-hour shift she’d just finished in the ER down in the Valley. Her own fatigue could not factor on her radar now. Liesel would want news, and soon. She’d call straight away, unless—
Don’t even go there, Tara. Not yet, anyway.
Giving her hands a quick shake for warmth, Tara took her collapsible shovel and began to pull away the soft top layer of snow as quickly as she could to make a safe path.
“Watch yourselves,” Chris cautioned, his face the picture of concentration as he shoveled away at the icy snow. “This is a pretty deep tree well.”
“Where do you want us?” Fraser looked the picture of a military man, waiting for orders, ready for action. Tara felt a swell of pride pass through her chest. Whatever mental hurdles he had been trying to overcome as they’d left base, he had cleared them in spades. If it were possible for the professional esteem she had for him to increase, now was the moment.
“The beacon’s right here.” Chris pointed to a spot a couple of feet from the large pine tree.
The three worked silently, shoveling the snow away diligently from the light glowing dimly through the snow. First they revealed Eric’s booted feet, then his legs. The snow must have swept him head first into the tree well. Seconds felt like minutes as Tara prayed he’d had time to deploy his Avalung, an invaluable device all the ski patrollers wore as standard issue. They allowed anyone caught in an avalanche to breathe for up to an hour—but, crucially, only if they were able to get the mouthpiece in place before the snow swept over them.
Please, let Eric have been so lucky.
The sub-zero air bit at Tara’s face, the odd shard of icy snow stinging her cheeks, but she didn’t care. This was the first avalanche rescue she’d worked on and the power of the mountain overwhelmed her. One moment five snowboarders had been out having a great time, and the next?
She felt her fingers press against something firm. Abandoning her shovel, she began to tear at the snow, revealing the tell-tale red fabric of a ski patroller’s jacket. A quick exchange of glances and Chris and Fraser formed an even tighter circle round the beacon, clearing the snow away as quickly as they could, but with the highest level of care. If Eric had sustained a neck injury, any sort of quick movement or a further collapse of the soft snow shelf could paralyze him permanently. Or worse.
“Eric? Can you hear me, mate?” Fraser repeated the question again and again as he exposed the patroller’s face. There was no sign that he’d been using the Avalung and repeated attempts to elicit a response from him proved fruitless. Eric’s skin was icy cold, his head twisted, almost compressed into his right shoulder. Tara’s stomach constricted. As if in a trance, she watched Fraser pull off a glove and press two fingers against Eric’s neck, looking up at Tara as he did so. “Weak pulse.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. At least he was alive.
“Let’s get him out and onto a stretcher. It’ll be a couple of minutes before the helicopter is back.” Chris’s voice was grim. This was his friend and it was easy to see he was struggling to keep control of his emotions.
Chris had already waved the red flag and the members of the ski patrol who weren’t looking for the missing young woman hurried over with a stretcher. After putting a neck brace around Chris’s neck, the team carefully moved him onto the bright yellow stretcher and wrapped him in heat blankets.
“You’d better go with him.” Fraser’s voice was grave after returning his fingers to Eric’s pulse point.
Tara felt her eyes snap to his. Normally the heli-rescue team handled the people they were sending up.
“Just go.” Raw emotion ripped across his eyes in an appeal to her to consent to his request. What was going through his head? What had hurt him so deeply?
*
“Come with me.”
Tara knew it was a risk, but she had faith it was one worth taking. Something told her Fraser needed her now, and something deep within her was saying they should stay together.
“We’re losing him.” Jagged shards of emotion tore at Fraser’s throat as he spoke the words.
Tara pressed her fingers to Eric’s pulse point. Nothing.
“We need to apply CPR.” Training took over as she flew into action, beginning the familiar movements of cardiopulmonary resuscitation. As she pressed her hands together and began to perform the syncopated rhythms to revive Eric’s heart, she locked eyes with Fraser. He needed to be on-point if this was going to work.
“We need help over here!”
The call came from the ski patrollers working on the young woman they had finally managed to dig out.
“You go.” She tipped her head in the direction of the other crew.
Fraser knew Tara was offering him a lifeline. In an instant she had read the scenario for what it was. This was the first time he’d had to care for someone he knew and, more importantly, cared about since he’d lost his brother. Up until now, caring had been a very, very big no-go zone for him. Eric, like his brother, was a young man in love with an incredible future ahead of him. He’d confessed to Fraser, over a game of pool, that he was planning on asking Liesel to marry him.
At the time Fraser had envied Eric’s assured understanding of what he wanted—love, marriage and a life up in Deer Creek, doing what he loved best. Fraser knew in his soul he wanted those things, too, but Eric was ready to act on them. His confidence in life, in living, was infectious. Eric and Liesel would make a great couple. He looked at Tara, certain now of what he had to do.
How could he let Eric go now just because he was having a “moment”?
“I’ve got this one.”
Tara looked up from her hands, still offering regular compressions to Eric’s chest. Her dark eyes spoke volumes.
“You sure?”
“I’ve got it. Go to the other patient—it’s a bone break. That’s more your turf than mine.”
Tara hesitated.
“Go.” Fraser felt the turbulence of indecision clear away. Medical training took precedence over emotion. He was going to do everything in his power to get Eric back to Valley Hospital alive.
CHAPTER NINE
“SO, WHAT YOU’RE telling me is you’re going to try to turn her cartilage into bone?” Katie’s father looked at Tara incredulously before taking a protective glance into his daughter’s hospital room.
“It’s her best chance of seeing that collarbone really heal, Mr. Fremont. We can put pins in, but there are risks. The clavicle lies above some crucial nerves and blood vessels. If the bones shift at all during healing, Katie could face significant risks. Plates and screws are standard and will help her, but I believe the risks associated with the hardware left inside Katie after surgery could be eliminated by trying this new method.”
“But your techniques are experimental.”
It was impossible to miss the worry in the Fremonts’ eyes and Tara could hardly blame them. Yes, the technique was experimental. But it was also one she had the most confidence in. She knew the methodology of this operation better than anyone. After a brief exploratory surgery she’d known instinctively the young woman was a perfect candidate for the trial. It would be a risk, but one she fervently believed would be in the patient’s best interests.
Heart in mouth, she had asked to speak to the head of the hospital. Incredibly, the hospital chair had known about her research since her arrival in Deer Valley. As soon as the news of her ex’s failure to move her research forward had broken, he’d been working with the medical council to transfer the intellectual rights. Tara could hardly believe her ears as she heard him tell her they’d hoped for a long time that they could lure her into working on the technique at t
he hospital. Now, not ten minutes after taking what she thought was a massive risk, she was enjoying the full support of the hospital with a promise to discuss future research when they had more time. Euphoric or not—flying high on her own success was not what was important now. Katie and her parents deserved the freedom to choose.
“It is just one opinion, but I think this would be your best chance for good healing, Mr. and Mrs. Fremont.”
She watched the couple share a look—one heavy with mutual trust and love—and couldn’t help feeling a twinge of envy. She let herself wonder for an instant how Fraser was doing.
She had heard through the heli-team that he was in surgery with Eric. It was a good sign. It meant Eric was still alive.
“Cartilage is incredibly robust.” Tara felt a burst of passion charge through her as she refocused. This was her area of expertise and it never failed to fire her enthusiasm. Despite the politics of medical research, she had always enjoyed the actual work. Discovering the body’s physical and biochemical ability to communicate with the skeleton had been a real window into understanding how cells could be “told” to become cartilage or bone cells. Right now, Katie needed bone cells and Tara, with the permission of her parents, knew she could help set their daughter’s body on a corrective healing path. If only they would give their consent.
Again, she watched as the couple bent their heads together, silently trying to come to some sort of decision. That sort of quiet communication only came with years of shared history. Years she now ached to share with someone. No. That wasn’t right. Not just anyone. A very particular Scottish someone.