by Lilian Darcy
Maggie wondered if Will would paint the office, put up his own pictures and charts, and rearrange the furniture. Best if he did. Oh, she hoped he wouldn’t hang back on that! She didn’t want too many glaring reminders of the old routine.
Each afternoon, once their last patient had left for the day, she had always gone straight to Mark’s office, or he’d come to hers. They’d quickly debriefed each other on any problems or questions, so that their evenings together, later on, hadn’t been dominated by things like ‘Did you get the results of Mrs Sobiecki’s tests?’ or ‘What’s your load like this week? You have a couple of babies due, don’t you?’
They had agreed on this pattern, in the sensible, conflict-free way they’d agreed about most things, and it had worked. Maggie and Will were bound to generate more sparks. What if she were left, after a few months, with a hopeless yearning for the simple life she’d shared with Mark and a simmering anger against Will because he didn’t match up?
Would she ever come to feel that he’d tricked her into this partnership deal by distracting her with sex? Although she hadn’t formally told him of her decision until he’d been back in Arizona for several days, in hindsight she knew it had been a done deal from the moment they’d first kissed.
On the question of matching up, her mind was quickly set at rest during the morning. Marilyn passed on several comments from patients indicating that they were happy with the new partner in the practice, and Will came up, on his own, that very first day at lunchtime, with an alternative to the daily debriefing sessions with Mark that Maggie missed.
He phoned her.
With one ear, she could actually hear the faint, muffled sound of his voice along the corridor, while the same sound came to her other ear far more clearly through the telephone line.
‘Just wanted to let you know that I’m sending some blood-work to pathology for Tyler Bailey,’ he said, just before he left to collect Daniel from his first morning at child-care. ‘I noted his repeated chest infections in your notes, and this time it sounds like pneumonia. I’m sending him for an X-ray to confirm, and the blood test might show up something. If it doesn’t, I’d suggest a sweat test for cystic fibrosis and a lung-function test for undiagnosed asthma.’
‘Yes, this latest illness had me concerned, too, when his mother mentioned it,’ Maggie agreed into the phone. ‘It’s happening too often. Thanks for letting me know.’
‘Well, he’s usually your patient,’ Will reminded her. ‘Does this work for you? If I just pick up the phone on the spot? Otherwise, things can get missed.’
‘I know. Yes, it’s good. I like it.’
‘I’m off to get Daniel now.’
‘Oh, Will, I really hope he had a good morning!’
‘Thanks.’ The solitary word was merely an offhand courtesy, and when she put down the phone she felt unsettled and emotional.
It worked, talking to each other over the phone like this. It saved time and got things dealt with quickly, but it distanced them from each other. Maggie didn’t want that. With Will’s private, protective attitude towards Daniel, there was distance enough between them already.
Two weeks passed. Will’s patient load was increasing daily, and he reported, when asked, that Daniel had settled in well. Will and Maggie spent three evenings together in that time and, since he had been the one to suggest two of the three, Maggie had no cause for complaint.
Tyler Bailey’s blood test results came back from the pathology lab and, because he was normally Maggie’s patient, they were sent for her attention. Reading down the sheet of cryptic figures late on a Tuesday afternoon, she came across something that she wasn’t sure about, and reached for the phone at once.
‘Will, I’m looking at Tyler Bailey’s test results.’
‘Oh, yes?’ His voice sounded intimate, so close to her ear.
‘You had his IgA level tested,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have thought to do that.’
‘Has something shown up?’
‘Yes. Or rather, something hasn’t shown up. None was detected.’
‘I’ll come in and take a look. Is Marilyn still here?’
‘Yes, I spoke to her a minute ago.’
‘I have a couple of calls she needs to make for me, so I’ll tell her about those and then come in to you.’
Maggie was still examining the pathology report when Will opened the door a minute later. He wore a silvery grey business shirt and dark pants which she’d seen on him before. With a body like his, he didn’t have to make an effort to get his clothes to look good. In a pair of black linen trousers and a dark red knitted silk top, Maggie was immediately flooded with that very female awareness of her body which he always produced in her. Her breasts felt fuller, her skin more sensitive, her hair silkier around her face.
‘This test…’ She must have been frowning.
‘Don’t beat yourself up over it,’ Will said, in that confident way of his that drove her mad when she let it. How did he dare to sound so sure of himself? As if simply saying it— ‘Don’t beat yourself up’—was enough to make it happen.
‘It’s not something I would have thought to test for myself until a few months ago,’ he went on. ‘But I referred an eight-year-old girl to a senior paediatrician in Phoenix because of a similar history to Tyler’s, and she had the same problem. More severe symptoms in her case.’ He came around the desk to lean over her shoulder as she sat in her office chair. She felt his warmth and the brush of his arm. ‘Can I look at the report?’
‘Yes, I want you to.’ She pivoted to face him in her swivel chair, and held out the report. Will leaned his thighs back against the edge of her desk. ‘A genetic immune deficiency. That’s the last thing the Baileys need in their lives right now!’ she exclaimed. ‘What should I tell them about what it means?’
They were both distracted at that moment by a commotion out in the front office. A door banged. Heavy footsteps sounded, followed by an urgent, panicky male voice. Maggie dropped the pathology report on her desk and looked instinctively towards the door.
‘Dr Lawless. Is she here?’
Marilyn began to answer. Maggie stood and came around her desk ready to go and see what was happening, but Will beat her to it. ‘Wait!’ he said. His strong body filled the doorway, his hands pressed against the frame on both sides, and Maggie had the startled realisation that it was a protective gesture.
Her body flooded with heat and she had to blink back tears. She wasn’t used to having a protector in her life. Her parents, for different reasons, had never been very good at it. Mark had always protected her emotionally—too much so, perhaps—but in many other ways she had been the stronger one.
She hugged her arms across her body, moved and disturbed as much by Will’s attitude as by what might be going on in the waiting room. There had been violence in those sounds, but whether it had been threatening or simply desperate, they didn’t yet know.
‘She’s here,’ Will said, still in the doorway, his voice firm and authoritative. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Let me past, Will.’ She came up behind him and, as he didn’t move, touched her fingers to his waist to nudge him aside. He eased across just enough to let her stand beside him. His hand brushed deliberately against hers in a gesture of unity and support, then he rested it against the doorjamb once more, effectively cloaking her with his body.
The man standing in the waiting room, in a flannel shirt and stained trousers, was breathless and clammy with panic. ‘Logging accident,’ he panted.
‘Ray,’ Maggie said, recognising him now. He looked so white and his face was so tightly twisted that she hadn’t at first. ‘Ray Licari!’ He was one of her patients. She’d delivered his first child two years ago. ‘You and your brother—’
‘Yes, that piece of land up in the forest,’ he went on incoherently. ‘Cutting timber. Didn’t have my cellphone. He’s trapped.’
‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ Marilyn interrupted, picking up the phone.
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��Tell us the details as we drive,’ Will said. ‘Marilyn, call Sonia and tell her I’ll be late home to Daniel.’
‘No, Will,’ Maggie said. ‘I can handle this. I know how important it is to you to—’
‘It’s fine.’ His words quickly dismissed her concern, and he’d turned away so that he didn’t even see the care in her face.
‘Yes, I can call Sonia,’ Marilyn said. ‘Don’t worry. Dr Lawless?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘I’ve got nothing going on today.’ And there was no one waiting for her at home. Aware of Will’s gaze alighting briefly on her face, she grabbed her light jacket and her medical bag, while Marilyn spoke urgently into the phone.
Ray was still trying to gasp out his story. ‘Tree came down the wrong way. Twisted at the last minute. We saw it shifting. He slipped on the wet leaves, trying to get out of the way, and it fell on his legs. I couldn’t get it up, it’s huge. Anyhow, I did some paramedic training once. Never finished the course. But, you know, I remembered if you take the pressure off too fast—’
‘We’ll handle it, Ray,’ Maggie said, just to make him stop talking. He was shaking. ‘They’ll send a rescue crew as well as the ambulance. You need to tell us where he is.’
‘Garrett’s Road, off 9N about a half-mile north, there’s a mailbox on the left at the top of the first hill.’ Marilyn was scribbling as he talked, with the ambulance dispatcher waiting for the details on the other end of the line. ‘Number 3586. Take the dirt trail. It’s rough and muddy. I have the truck. I’ll drive.’
‘I’ll follow in my car,’ Will came in.
He had his jacket now, too, as well as another box of medical equipment. Lord knew if any of it would be any use by the time they got there. Maggie vaguely knew where the Licari brothers had their parcel of land. At a guess, she and Will would get there about fifteen minutes before an ambulance could. It might be a crucial interval.
Ray’s pick-up truck was parked crookedly out the front, driver’s door still open, keys in the ignition and engine idling. Will slid quickly into his own car, which would need the local garage’s car-wash, at a minimum, if the caked mud and fresh dents on Ray’s vehicle were any guide.
‘Calm down, Ray,’ she had to tell him as they drove. ‘Let’s make it in one piece.’
‘What if he bleeds out? Can you do anything before the ambulance gets there?’
‘Yes. Plenty,’ she answered. ‘But only if you get us there safely.’
‘It’s rough, and there’s mud,’ he said again.
‘That’s all right. Just do it.’
It was a hair-raising journey, over seams of rock and black, slithery stretches of bog. A matting of wet, newly fallen leaves was treacherous in parts as well. An ambulance was a heavy vehicle. Maggie hoped it would make it through.
Craning, she could see Will sticking close on their trail. Twice he didn’t take the centre of the track but veered a few feet sideways to avoid the mud, scratching his paint-work badly on the thick branches that whipped against his car. There wasn’t much room to manoeuvre. The track was only a narrow space between dense stretches of forest.
Finally, they reached the small, isolated clearing where Ray and his brother had been felling some big trees for winter firewood. The scene was chilling. A chain-saw had been flung on the ground, blade in the air, and a few feet away a patch of dark colour outlined against the fallen leaves and fresh sawdust had the approximate shape of a prone human torso.
Vince Licari was unconscious, face down, and the solid trunk of a big, mature tree cut straight across his legs from thigh to calf. The cold air smelled of pine resin and woody decay. Maggie stumbled across the drifted leaves and boggy ground, hearing Will’s engine die behind her. At least one of Vince’s legs looked to be fractured, and she could see the blood. She dropped to his side and carefully turned his head farther towards his shoulder to secure his airway.
Will was already standing beside her, while Ray watched helplessly, his broad shoulders heaving with dry sobs. ‘What will I tell Gina?’ he groaned.
‘His airway’s clear, and he’s breathing,’ Maggie said. ‘Will, good, you’ve got blankets. Ray, we need to keep him warm, OK?’
The smoky autumn afternoon was chilling fast and the light was already beginning to fade. They’d be lucky to have him out of there before dark. She heard Will asking Ray about what he had in the car. Plastic bags? Cardboard? Anything.
‘We need to get something between his body and the ground to help keep him dry and maintain heat,’ Will explained. ‘Maggie?’
‘Yes, it’s cold down here.’ She added, muttering to herself, ‘OK, and his pulse…’
Was about what she’d expected. Not good. And it would get worse if by some miracle they managed to roll or lever the log from his thighs. His circulation was only just maintaining its truncated flow through his torso. But when she looked at the tree-trunk again, she realised that getting it off him without more help wasn’t an option in any case. It was far too heavy.
She cannulated him successfully, as quickly as she could, while Will held up an IV bag filled with fluid. He managed to attach it to a perpendicular branch, since they had no stand. Ray had calmed down now, with something to do. He was easing some dry, leafy branches beneath his brother’s lower legs, as well as a plastic garbage bag. Will had already used several blankets to pillow the patient’s head and maintain body heat in his torso. It was important to keep the blankets dry, as they wouldn’t be much use if they got wet.
‘Just pour it in, Maggie,’ Will said, talking about the bag of sterile fluid.
‘I am. Maximum flow rate.’
‘Getting a result?’
‘Yes, now. Pulse is slowing a fraction, and blood pressure’s improving.’
Vince stirred and moaned briefly. Maggie considered morphine pain relief but didn’t dare. Not yet. Think about it. Consult with Will. Wait. The man just wasn’t in good enough shape. Maybe once the ambulance got here, with more equipment…
‘I want to check his legs,’ Will said. ‘This ground’s pretty boggy, which means there’s a chance…’ He stopped, spread himself flat on the cold, wet ground and slid his hands beneath the curve of the fallen log.
‘Rock,’ he said, and swore. ‘Left leg definitely fractured, and pinned but good between the rock and the log, unfortunately.’
He scrambled around Vince’s inert torso and got into a similar position on the other side. His good silver-grey business shirt was already plastered with wet, half-rotted leaves, and there was mud streaked on his face. He ignored it. Maggie took another blood pressure and pulse, and reported, ‘Still improving slowly.’
In a minute, when Will had finished assessing the damage, she would try and get Vince to respond.
‘OK, this is better,’ Will said. ‘Ray, this is much better. I don’t think this leg is fractured. It’s under pressure, but there’s mud here, which softened the impact.’
‘Dig it out. We’ll dig it out,’ Ray said. He was pacing again, having finished the task of getting his brother’s limbs dry and off the ground as far as possible.
‘Not yet,’ Will said. ‘Wait for the paramedics, OK? That’s probably not a good idea.’ Ray was already scrambling down to ground level, but Will’s firm hand held him back. ‘Don’t, buddy.’
It was crucial to reduce the pressure on the legs in a controlled way, with medical back-up. If not, Vince’s blood pressure would plummet and he could go into severe, irreversible shock.
‘Is there anything more we can do to get him warm?’ Maggie asked. ‘Ray, can you put your arms around him? I’m concerned that he’s already so wet from the mud and leaves.’
She took his temperature and found it had dropped to ninety-six degrees Fahrenheit, but another pulse and blood-pressure check showed that those measurements were still improving. A half-minute later, he started groaning.
‘Vince,’ she said calmly, ‘you’re going to be OK. The tree fell on your legs, but we’ve got an ambulance and rescu
e crew on their way. You’re going to be fine.’
He groaned again, in between rapid, jerky breaths, and she wondered how much pain he was in. She frowned.
‘What’s up?’ Will said. Their eyes met and her heart lurched at the steady intensity of their darkened depths. Oh, lord, it was good to have him here! ‘You’re wondering about morphine?’ he added quietly.
‘Yes.’
His shoulder nudged hers as they both knelt beside the patient, moisture seeping through the knees of their trousers. At this rate they would soon both be seriously chilled. Maggie’s jacket, in particular, was suited for a quick dash between heated buildings, not for what could be hours more out in the bone-chilling night.
‘Will, it’s such a tight call,’ she said in a low voice. ‘His vitals are still borderline. I’m—I don’t want to make the wrong decision.’
‘His bleeding has stopped because of the pressure of the log. That’s a plus.’
‘Where was it coming from?’
‘The broken bone tore the leg.’
She hissed a shocked breath.
‘I think we should forget the morphine, Maggie. It’s too much of a risk.’ He ran a hand down her upper arm. ‘You hate seeing him in pain, and so do I, but if it depresses his system too far…’
Will squeezed her hand and she returned his touch instinctively, gaining support from his nearness.
‘I wish the paramedics were here,’ she said. ‘They’re better trained for this.’
‘You like your nice office?’
‘Yeah, I do!’ She managed a weak smile.
‘That’s two of us. But it’s OK. You’ve done everything right. You’re a good doctor.’
‘You know that?’
‘I know that, Maggs.’ His voice was low and roughly tender.
He put his arm around her, drawing her against his side. She closed her eyes, then felt the hard, warm press of his mouth against her hair and the heated whisper of his breath on her cold cheek.