Healed by Her Army Doc

by Meredith Webber

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  Rescued by Her Mr. Right

  by Alison Roberts

  CHAPTER ONE

  SHE HAD BEEN aware of the sound for longer than she’d realised.

  It wasn’t until Harriet Collins had finally reached the flat part of this cliff walk that her focus relaxed enough to acknowledge the sound.

  A dog barking.

  It had just been part of the background for what felt like a long time. A background that included the warmth of a late Australian spring day and the sound of waves rolling onto the rocky shore far below where she was now. Her concentration had been on more important things. Like the occasional uneven steps and rough stony patches on this clifftop walkway.

  Like the pain in her leg that had reached an intolerable level a while back but hadn’t been allowed to do more than slow her down because Harriet needed to find out how far she could push it before it let her down completely and refused to keep her upright—as it had so many times over the long, long months of her rehabilitation so far.

  Someone else must be walking this track, she decided, as she paused long enough to fish her water bottle from the mesh side pouch of her small backpack. She could feel other lumpy shapes inside the pack as she slotted the bottle back into place.

  Exciting lumps. She had chosen this walk to try out her new camera for the first time. And that expensive zoom lens. When she found the right spot, she could wait until the sun was starting to set and hopefully capture some amazing shots of the waves crashing on those fearsome rocks at shore level. She had a headlamp tucked inside as well, which should make it safe enough for her to get back down the track to where she’d parked her car when daylight was fading.

  It did seem odd, though, that this dog was being so vocal. And the sound wasn’t getting any fainter, which you would expect if an overexcited pet was running ahead of its person on a long walk. If anything, it was getting louder, as Harriet started walking again.

  Her limp was more pronounced than it had been for some time but that was only to be expected after that long uphill stretch. The paracetamol she had swallowed along with that drink of water should kick in soon and, by the time she’d had a good rest while she took her photographs, she should be ready to tackle the return trip.

  The barking got louder and Harriet stopped in her tracks when she saw the dark shape rushing towards her.

  A beat of fear stopped her inward breath.

  A dog attack? Really? After so many months of fighting to get her life approaching anything like normal, was she about to get sent back to square one by being mauled by a big dog? To be even more disfigured than she was already?

  No way...

  The sound that Harriet let out was a half-scream merged with an angry growl that expressed quite a lot about the struggle she’d been through and her desperation to not allow any new setbacks.

  It seemed to work. The dog stopped in its tracks, too. And it stopped barking. It stared at Harriet.

  Harriet stared back.

  It was a black Labrador but not nearly as fat as most Labs she’d met. Maybe it got a lot of exercise running along these clifftop tracks with its owner.

  Where was its owner? When he or she appeared, Harriet might have something to say about letting their dog run loose and frighten people. What if she’d had children with her?

  The dog started barking again. It turned, ran a few steps and then stopped to look back at her. This time the barking felt like an attempt to communicate something.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Harriet muttered aloud. ‘You’ve seen too many Lassie movies.’

  But it felt right to follow the dog. Cautiously, because it was taking her off this well-marked and relatively flat pathway. Through long grass and big boulders towards the edge of the cliff. The dog didn’t stop until it seemed to be standing on the very edge. It peered down the cliff and then turned back to Harriet. Its barking sounded more urgent now.

  One step and then another brought Harriet nearer the dog.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  A tail wagged encouragement and the dog sat down as Harriet got within touching distance. It nudged her hand and licked her.

  ‘At least you’re friendly,’ she said. ‘What’s your name?’

  There was a collar with a disc on it. ‘Harry? Are you kidding me? That’s my name.’

  Harry the dog nudged her again and then stood up to peer over the edge again.

  ‘Okay...’ Harriet lay down, just to be safe, and inched forward.

  It wasn’t a straight drop but it was steep enough to be dangerous with areas of loose scree amongst boulders and weathered shrubs that were clinging to life. At the point where the intermittent vegetation gave up, there was a drop onto a ledge. She couldn’t see the whole ledge but what she could see made a shiver run down her spine.

  Legs.

  And one of them was twisted at a very unnatural angle.

  ‘Hey...’ she yelled. ‘Can you hear me? Are you conscious?’

  There was no answering call. No flicker of movement from the legs.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Harriet yelled again. ‘I’m going to call for help.’

  She hauled her mobile phone out of the pocket of her cargo pants and then punched in the emergency three-digit number, giving a curt response of ‘Ambulance’ when she was asked what service she required.

  ‘I’m at the top of the Kookaburra walkway,’ she told the call taker in the communications centre. ‘There’s someone who’s fallen from the cliff. He’s on a ledge about a hundred metres from the top and...and he’s not responding to calls. I can see from here that he’s probably got a badly fractured leg.’

  ‘No...’ she said a minute later. ‘There’s no access from the top unless it’s by abseiling. I think we’re going to need a helicopter.’ She listened for a few seconds and then interrupted the young woman she was speaking to.

  ‘Look...my name is Harriet Collins. I’m an intensive care nurse at Bondi Bayside Hospital but I’m also a member of the Specialist Disaster Response team based there.’

  It wasn’t exactly true. Not now... But they hadn’t yet officially removed her from the membership list, had they?

  ‘I know what I’m talking about, okay? We need a helicopter. This is a winch job. Anything else is going to take too long.’

  And that was that. Help was on its way and there was nothing more that Harriet could do other than sit and wait and maybe signal the helicopter crew when they got close.

  Harry the dog didn’t think so. He nudged her elbow and his whine was an easily interpreted plea.

  Harriet peered over the edge of the cliff again.

  The dog walker had trainers on his feet. And socks. And...yes...the foot on the leg that looked normal was moving.

  ‘Hey...’ Harriet could hear the alarm bell going off in her head. She yelled even louder this time. ‘Don’t move, okay? You’re safe where you are and help’s coming. But...just don’t move...’

  If he’d been unconscious, he might have a head injury and not be thinking clearly. What if he managed to drag himself right off that ledge? There’d be no chance of survival if he finished the drop to where the surf was roiling around those black, jagged rocks.

  Had she been wrong in saying that ledge was a hundred metres from the top of the cliff? It looked more like fifty at second guess. And maybe it wouldn’t have needed abseilers to get down. There were enough protruding rocks to provide good footholds and those scrappy little trees would give handholds for balance if you didn’t trust them with your whole body w
eight.

  It didn’t need another nudge from Harry the dog to trigger Harriet’s decision. It didn’t seem to need any conscious thought at all. If she had stopped to think, she would have known how crazy this was. That her bad leg couldn’t possibly cope with this challenge.

  But Harriet didn’t think. She just sat on her bottom, holding a branch of the nearest shrunken tree and let herself slide, very slowly, until her feet reached the first rock below her. The foot of her bad leg touched it first and a spear of pain lanced upwards to reach her thigh but her leg didn’t crumple and, as soon as she transferred to her weight to her good foot, the pain receded. When she did it again, she made sure it was her strong leg that found a solid object first. Now she was several metres below where Harry had started running back and forth on the flat area, barking encouragement, and the enormity of what she’d started was enough to make her head spin for a moment or two.

  At least this incarnation of Lassie was someone to talk to.

  ‘I’m not sure that this was such a good idea,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to have to crawl sideways to reach that next tree. Do you reckon it’s got strong roots?’

  Harry the dog seemed to think so.

  She had to cling to the next rock for a minute, to get over the fright of her foot slipping a little in the scree. She didn’t look down. Instead, she looked up at the black head that was getting smaller every time she looked.

  ‘What you don’t know,’ she said casually, ‘is that until very recently I was wearing a pretty hard-core brace on my leg. Because I had a rock that landed on it a while back and it was so squashed they almost had to chop it off. Yeah... I know dogs can manage quite well without one of their legs but it’s a bit more of a problem for a person.’

  The sound of the waves was getting louder and Harriet knew perfectly well that the dog couldn’t hear what she was saying and wouldn’t understand if he could but it seemed to be helping her.

  ‘But look at me right now... It almost feels like I’m back in the SDR team and I don’t mind telling you that that’s the thing I miss the most about my old life.’

  Except that if this was a team callout, she’d be appropriately dressed in heavy-duty overalls and with a hard hat and gloves for more protection. And she’d be on the end of a rope with people who knew what they were doing holding the other end to prevent a fall that would have meant two victims instead of only one.

  If she’d done anything this irresponsible as a team member, their leader, Blake Cooper, would have probably sacked her, and Kate and Sam would have been watching her with horror. But she wasn’t a team member any more and she never could be, with the disability that was highly likely to be permanent now. A weak leg. Pain levels that could be hard to manage. A mindset that was very different from the passionate and adventurous person she’d been all those months ago.

  Maybe she was going to get stuck herself and the rescue crew would have to winch two people off this cliff and she’d cop an awful lot of flak. But...

  But the fact that she was even trying to do this—that she wanted to do this so much—made her feel like the real Harriet Collins had finally stepped out from the black mist she’d been shrouded in for so long.

  And she was more than halfway down now. That ledge was starting to look bigger and hiding the terrifying drop below it. Another controlled slide on her bottom, a careful climb over a tumble of rocks without trusting her weight to her bad leg and then a downward, sideways crawl and she could almost stand up to push her way past rough bunches of tussock and through the stunted trees onto the ledge.

  Harry’s owner was probably in his sixties, his grey hair matted with a stain of blood and a badly bruised and grazed arm. And he was groaning.

  ‘Hey...’ Harriet crouched beside him, picking up his hand and then feeling for his pulse. ‘My name’s Harry. Same as your dog...’

  The man’s eyes opened. ‘Harry...’

  ‘He’s fine. He’s up on top of the cliff. He came to find me and get help for you. Just like Lassie.’

  The man’s eyes closed but his lips twisted into a smile. ‘Not so much. It was Harry who went over the edge. Got...stuck on a rock and I went down to help. I lost my footing and...argh...that really hurts...’

  ‘Your leg? Or is it something else?’

  ‘My leg...and...and my head doesn’t feel great.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Eddie. Eddie Denton.’

  ‘Okay, Eddie. Take a deep breath for me. Does that hurt?’

  ‘No. Feels okay...’

  ‘That’s great. We don’t need to worry about your breathing then. And you’ve got a good pulse so that means your blood pressure’s still okay.’

  ‘You a doctor, Harry?’

  ‘No, I’m a nurse. I worked in the Intensive Care Unit at Bondi Bayside, although I’m somewhere else at the moment. But I’m also a member of a specialist rescue team there.’

  She was checking Eddie out as she kept talking. ‘I’m just going to have a feel of your tummy, okay? Does that hurt?’

  ‘No. It’s just my leg.’

  The pain from an obvious femoral fracture could well be masking something happening internally but there was nothing Harriet could do other than keep Eddie company and make sure he didn’t move and fall further. There was no time to do anything else, anyway. She could see the dot of the approaching helicopter now and only seconds later the sound of the rotors drowned out the faint barking she could still hear from the top of the cliff.

  This was one of the bright red and yellow helicopters of the ambulance service here in Sydney and the crew member she could see leaning out from the skid and preparing to be winched down would be one of the elite, intensive care paramedics that dealt with calls like this. It was a relief to see the big pack of gear being attached to the winch line along with a stretcher but she expected nothing less from a team who were well used to dealing with emergencies on the shorelines of this huge coastal city.

  What she would never have expected was to be addressed as if this paramedic knew her.

  ‘Harry? How did you end up on this ledge?’ He pushed up the visor of his helmet as he unhooked the gear and then held the winch line clear, giving the winch operator the ‘thumbs up’ sign to retrieve the hook. ‘I thought the job had been called in from up at the track.’

  ‘Oh, my God...’ Harriet’s jaw dropped. ‘When did you start working on the choppers, Jack?’

  ‘Months ago.’ His tone was clipped. Cold, even? ‘Fill me in, Harry.’

  ‘This is Eddie Denton. He’s sixty-three. He slipped and fell after trying to get his dog out of trouble.’

  There was a nagging voice at the back of her head telling her that she deserved the brush-off. How many times had she done that to Jack after the accident, when he’d tried to visit her?

  But not being part of the team any more had made it too painful to be reminded of how devastating the loss of this part of her life had been. And he’d given up eventually, just the way everybody else had stopped talking about it. Harriet couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d heard Jack’s name mentioned.

  ‘Hiya, Eddie. I’m Jack Evans. I’ve come to get you out of here, mate. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Gotta sore leg.’

  ‘Fractured mid-shaft femur,’ Harriet put in. ‘Limb baselines are intact.’

  ‘Anything else I should know about?’

  ‘Head injury. I’m pretty sure he was unconscious when I arrived on scene and he’s been complaining about a headache.’

  ‘And that arm?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s fractured but it’s badly bruised and there’s a fair bit of skin missing. Blood loss was minimal as far as I can tell.’

  It could have been worse. If Eddie had been bleeding badly, she could have stopped that. Did that justify her putting herself in so much danger and g
iving the rescue crew another person to manage? She hadn’t really thought about the consequences when she’d started that climb down, had she?

  Instinct had overridden sense.

  Or maybe it was because she hadn’t been able to resist the pull of being that person again. The one that did the dangerous stuff because she could potentially save a life.

  ‘Can you find some dressings in that pack? I’d like to get an IV in and some pain relief on board before we get a traction splint on that leg.’

  It wasn’t just Eddie who had a sore leg. The jolt of pain as Harriet moved to open Jack’s pack was almost enough to make her stumble. Maybe it was a good thing that they were on a relatively narrow ledge above a dangerous drop so it was a perfectly normal thing to do to crawl carefully from one point to another.

  Jack wouldn’t have even noticed.

  ‘You okay, Harry?’

  The swift glance from those dark eyes and the furrow between them told Harriet that he’d noticed her wincing, all right. She broke the eye contact abruptly. She didn’t want anybody’s pity but to be pitied by Jack was worse, somehow. He was one of the younger members of the SDR team and one of the best. He was going places, young Jack Evans, but he wasn’t cocky about it. He was, in fact, one of the nicest people Harriet had ever known.

  In her old life...

  ‘Be careful,’ was all Jack added. ‘We’re a long way up. Hand me that IV roll, would you?’

  She handed over the roll that contained everything Jack needed to insert an IV. The wipes, cannulas, Luer plugs, flushes and adhesive covers. She didn’t need reminding of how far above sea level they were. Every few seconds, even given the sound of the helicopter hovering nearby, she could hear the rolling crash of a huge wave below.

  ‘Sharp scratch, Eddie. There you go... Are you allergic to anything that you know of?’

  ‘Nah...not that I know of.’

  Harriet had all the sterile dressings and a bandage in her hands so that she could cover the raw wounds on Eddie’s arm but she stayed by the pack for a moment longer. Jack was going to need a giving set and a bag of saline to set up fluids that would keep Eddie’s vein open in case he needed more intravenous drugs. The morphine would definitely be helping his pain level within the next few minutes.