Sunset Bay Sanctuary

by Roxanne Snopek

  His stomach iced and turned over. “Tell me.”

  Buddy, the nightmares, Haylee, Portland, all were forgotten as Aiden’s mind clicked over into work mode.

  “Dad and two kids on the way to the beach. Swerved to avoid something on the road, hit the ditch, rolled.” Julie followed Aiden into the scrub station. “Forty-four-year-old male, stable, with head injuries but conscious at the scene, a twelve-year-old female complaining about pain in her chest and left arm, eight-year-old male with minor bumps and scrapes. ETA five minutes.”

  “Seat belts?” he asked.

  “Yes, and used properly, thank God.”

  “Even the kids?” he persisted.

  Julie shrugged. “We’ll know momentarily.”

  Facts leaped up in his mind, like advertisements and trailers before a feature movie.

  Seat belts prevented people from being ejected from the vehicle during a crash. But people got careless. Kids grew so quickly, parents didn’t always keep up with the upgrades to child restraints. Small kids complained about being treated like babies. Big kids graduated to adult belts before they were ready.

  Images went along with the facts, naturally. He’d seen simulations of how bodies were propelled forward during a crash, how with a lap belt only, bodies were propelled forward, jackknifing over the belt.

  He’d seen how the head struck the back of the front seat, rolling backward as the body continued its downward arc. Watched the neck break, watched the spine stretch, watched the precious spinal cord twist and snap.

  He knew that a forty-pound child would sustain approximately 1,200 pounds of crushing force against his abdomen.

  A ten-year-old weighed nearly twice that much.

  “Bumps and scrapes?” he repeated.

  “That’s what they said.”

  Aiden heard it all, fed it into the proper mental channels, but in one small corner of his mind, he was aware of the oddest sense of watching himself, as if he was taking notes that would be used for later evaluation. As if his own brain had gone to the dark side, lurking about for information to feed Gayle Chen’s concern about his performance.

  Much too meta for his liking.

  And way too paranoid.

  He shook the sensation off, round-filing it with all the other niggling thoughts that stole the precious energy he needed to help the family being delivered into their care.

  Injured but not critical.

  He stood with his team outside the doors of the ambulance bay, the room prepped, warm blankets and bags of fluids at hand, equipment laid out in rows of shiny sterile packaging, machines primed and humming and everyone at their stations awaiting the signal for this orchestra to begin.

  Salty air drifted over his face and he closed his eyes, savoring a moment of peace before the chaos. This was the moment he’d lived through so many times, those fleeting seconds or minutes of anticipation, where he faced down the dread and embraced the challenge, knowing, like a gladiator before the gates lifted, that he was ready to battle death but unable to guarantee success.

  One foot shifted among the several standing behind him, rubber soles squeaking on chipped concrete. Someone else cleared her throat and he felt tension sizzle through them, like electricity in a heavy cloud. They were looking to him to set the tone.

  He’d nearly forgotten that.

  “Deep breath, everyone. Come on.” Aiden sucked in a long, slow breath, then let it out completely, feeling the tightness leave his shoulders. As one, the group behind him followed suit, and the tension eased.

  The whoop-whoop of the ambulance siren sounded around the corner.

  “We’re ready for this, people,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

  A dozen feet and hands worked in symphony with his as the patients were delivered into their care. He heard the fear in the father’s voice, saw the attendant press his shoulder down as he struggled against the gurney restraints, calling for his children.

  Aiden allowed himself to see the bloodstained spittle, the features twisted in panic, allowed himself to register the memory of how such terror put a vise around the chest, stole breath, dignity, logic, because nothing else mattered in that moment but the questions that weren’t being answered, the voices that weren’t being heard.

  He remembered it, knew it within his marrow, ached for the raw universal weakness that all humans who loved suffered under. He saw and felt it all, then watched from that seat high above himself first with curiosity and then surprise, as he set it aside.

  He was breathing. He was moving, speaking, responding. The Aiden-on-the-floor was the Aiden he remembered. The past had no place here.

  “Bella! Simon! I’m here,” called the man. “Daddy’s here! Are you okay?”

  Aiden heard the children answer tearfully, their cries muffled by the protective collars around their necks.

  He pulled professional objectivity around him like a cloak, like armor, and got to work.

  “We’re looking after your family, Mr.—” Aiden looked at the sheet. “Mr. Caldwell. I promise, we’ll keep you updated but you have to let us work now, okay? Is there anyone we can call for you? The children’s mother?”

  A spasm crossed the man’s face. “No. It’s just me. She’s . . . Are they going to be okay? Damn dog came out of nowhere. I hope I didn’t hit it. God. This can’t be happening.”

  The next hour and a half flew by as Aiden assessed, triaged, ordered tests and treatments, spoke with the firemen who’d been first on the scene, conferred with the emergency medical technicians, and watched himself perform from the corner in the ceiling.

  It had been mild, as car wrecks go. Everyone was belted in. They weren’t speeding. The roll bars on the SUV had proven to be more than decorative, and may well have prevented serious injury, even death.

  “How are you feeling, Simon?” The boy had the classic seat-belt sign: a longitudinal area of redness and bruising between shoulder and hip.

  “Good,” the boy chirped. “That was so cool. Is Bella getting a cast? Can I have one too?”

  Aiden palpated Simon’s belly carefully. Children involved in car accidents who were inappropriately belted were at higher risk for a complex of injuries to the spine and abdomen.

  “Any pain in your tummy?”

  Simon frowned. “Only ’cause you’re pushing it. Did you know that when our car went upside down, the Ninja Turtle I lost came flying out and hit the ceiling? It landed in my lap.”

  “That’s great,” said Aiden. Simon could have anything from a lacerated liver, spleen, or bowel, to a ruptured bladder, or internal bleeding that could trickle undetected, for hours.

  Or, he could be completely fine.

  “We’re going to send you for some tests,” he told the boy.

  “No shots?”

  Aiden smiled. “No shots. Pictures.”

  “Will you let me see them?”

  “You bet, champ.”

  “Yay!” Simon lifted an arm in the classic triumphant fist, then winced and set it down.

  “You’re going to find bumps and bruises all over for the next few days,” said Aiden. “You’ll feel exactly like you were in a car accident.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Cool!”

  “Let’s hold off on that for a moment, shall we?”

  Aiden turned to find the tall figure of the chief of staff standing in the doorway, surveying the bustling room with eyes like a hawk, despite his faint smile.

  “A word, Dr. McCall?”

  “Dr. Spencer,” said Aiden. “Welcome to chaos. Can we help you with something?”

  “On the contrary. I thought I’d stop by in case I could help you.”

  Aiden felt his eyebrows go up. Not likely.

  The imaging tech arrived then to ferry the boy away.

  “I apologize, Jason,” said Dr. Spencer to the technician. “Dr. McCall and I are discussing whether further tests are warranted. We’ll call up again if we need you.”

  “Aw.” Simon’s face fell. “I want t
o go with Jason.”

  “Hang tight, Simon.” Aiden patted the boy’s shoulder. He pulled a bill out of his wallet. “Jason, get yourself a soda while we sort this out.”

  The tech took the money with a grin and headed for the alcove where Haylee had caught Aiden on that first, horrible day. He hadn’t had a day like that since then. He wasn’t about to begin now. He turned to the other doctor, hoping his annoyance wasn’t visible. “I think there’s been misunderstanding.”

  Dr. Spencer put a hand under Aiden’s elbow. “Walk with me a moment, will you?”

  The chief of staff led him past the alcove to a quiet corner with three chairs and a small table. He gestured to a chair but Aiden remained standing.

  “He needs a CT scan. This is my case, Will.”

  Spencer sighed. “I simply want to be certain you’re using your best discretion in ordering diagnostics. I’ve seen the boy’s labs. I heard him with you just now. He is a very lucky boy. He’s walking away from what could have been a deadly crash, with scratches and bruises. Why don’t you do an ultrasound, first?”

  “He’s got the classic seat-belt sign. You know as well as I do that a CT scan is indicated, even without abdominal pain or tenderness.”

  “I’m not arguing with you. I’m simply here to let you know that we are a small, community hospital. We labor at the mercy of a board that sees quarterly budget reports, not patients.”

  Will Spencer looked away then and Aiden caught a glimpse of the no-win situation the chief was in.

  “Let’s be conservative for now.” Spencer punched the elevator call button without looking at Aiden. “Keep him under observation. If he develops symptoms, do the scan. I trust your judgment.”

  Aiden tried to give Spencer the benefit of the doubt. He was right. The Caldwells were lucky. They’d all be patched up and sent home before the end of his shift. He didn’t want to miss anything, that’s all.

  He went back to the area where the nurses had shifted beds so the family could be together. Despite the tears, the room was full of relief, even triumph, comfort given and received.

  “Will Bella still be able to play soccer when school starts?” asked Mr. Caldwell.

  Aiden glanced at the girl, who was already boasting to her unimpressed brother about the upcoming cast.

  “You’ll want to consult your family physician, but my guess is she’ll miss the first few weeks. Sorry. How’s the headache?”

  Mr. Caldwell winced and put a hand to his temple. “Like the morning after the night before, except I’m not twenty-one anymore.”

  “I hear you,” said Aiden with a laugh. He touched the man’s shoulder. “I’ll write up your meds with the discharge orders.”

  “Thank you, Dr. McCall.” His eyes brightened. “Thank you for looking after my kids.”

  “Thank my team,” said Aiden, glancing over to the nurses’ station. “They do the real work around here.”

  Time to order pizza, he thought. They’d earned it.

  As he walked into the locker room to clean up, he pushed away his niggling worries. Not everything was a catastrophe in the making. The numbers were different out here.

  An hour later, when Gayle Chen walked into the emergency room, Aiden couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride topped with a dash of I-told-you-so. He hadn’t lost track of time or zoned out. He hadn’t frozen. He’d done his job, he’d led the team, he’d gotten his patients patched up and on the way to wholeness once more.

  “Ms. Chen,” he said, holding out a box of pizza. “Won’t you join us? We’re celebrating.”

  Gayle looked at him with that infuriatingly still, calm manner, then the edges of her mouth turned up slightly.

  “I’ve eaten,” she said. “But thank you. I heard it went well.”

  “It did.”

  “I’m happy for you.” She paused. “How are you doing these days?”

  His guard went up. “Better. Haylee’s dogs are marvelous. Just spending time with them has made a huge difference.”

  The real difference came from spending time with Haylee. Even though she used those damn dogs as a shield.

  “I’m glad.”

  Gayle appeared to be waiting for him to say something, but he’d played this game with her before. He bit his tongue, determined not to fall into her trap.

  Then he was interrupted by something that took his mind off Gayle completely.

  “Dr. Mac,” Mr. Caldwell said. “Can you check on Simon? He doesn’t look right.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Never been so bored in my life. The staff refused to give us the wifi password. I had to drive 18 miles to make a phone call. Everyone smelled like horses or dogs and they expected us—paying guests—to do their work for them. What a load!”

  —WantMyMoneyBack

  Aiden’s car pulled up to Haylee’s cabin with a screech. She was just settling the dogs for the night. It was late. He hadn’t called. The second he jumped out, she knew something was very wrong. He slammed the door and strode over to the exercise yard, gripped the chain link, and bent forward.

  “What’s the matter?” She secured the kennel and quickly walked through the training ring to join him on the other side of the fence. “You’re scaring the dogs.”

  He was breathing hard, his face red. But unlike the earlier episodes she’d seen, he didn’t appear to be out of control. This, she realized, was anger.

  His hands clenched and unclenched the wire. She tugged them off, holding then tightly between her own fingers. He turned to her, his dark eyes blazing, tortured. Her heart shuddered in her chest.

  “Aiden? What happened?”

  He opened his mouth, then squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. He stepped forward until they were touching, separated only by their clasped hands. He bent his head and pressed it against hers. She could feel him vibrating.

  “I nearly lost a patient today.” His voice was a low growl that rumbled into the bones of her fingers.

  “Oh, Aiden.” She disentangled their hands and stroked his brow. “Are you okay?”

  “The kid almost died, Haylee.” He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “I ignored my gut and a ten-year-old kid almost died because of it.”

  For a moment, she just held him. What else could she do? But then, he opened his eyes and looked directly at her. His pupils were huge. His eyes slipped to her mouth and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. He was going to kiss her. Again.

  She should push him away. She should run or laugh or punch him. But he was drowning right now and if she was the life preserver keeping him afloat, how could she take that away?

  His mouth landed lightly at first and the second they connected, she heard a low sound of relief, deep in his throat, like a desperate thirst about to be slaked. He deepened the kiss, spreading one hand against the small of her back and pulling her hard against him. He tasted fresh and clean, but there was a faint metallic note underneath that she associated with adrenaline.

  She threaded her fingers into his hair, holding his face to hers, letting him taste his fill, and tasting him in return. She wasn’t doing this for herself. No, this was for him, to help him through whatever he was dealing with at the moment.

  But when he cupped her head and moved his lips first to her temple, then her cheek, and then cradled her gently against his throat, she could hear blood pounding and rushing hotly. His? Or hers?

  She didn’t care. She couldn’t pull herself away. She could have stayed that way forever.

  Then a rush of footsteps sounded behind them.

  Olivia cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Haylee leaped back, pushing Aiden away and wiping her face. “You’re not. Aiden had a bad day and needed to talk to someone and I was just finishing up for the night when he arrived.”

  She forced herself to slow down and look at her aunt. Olivia hovered in the waning light, her normally braided hair loose and wild on her shoulders, mimicking the tension sizzling off her.
/>   “Liv? What is it?”

  She felt Aiden’s hand on her arm.

  * * *

  The cat’s out of the bag now, thought Aiden. He wasn’t about to let Haylee pretend it away again, this time. He put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Hey, Olivia,” he said.

  “Dr. Mac.” Contrary to her appearance, Olivia’s voice was controlled, but serious. “Is Sage here?”

  “No,” said Haylee. “Liv, what’s wrong?”

  “She’s not in her room.” Olivia closed her eyes. The dim light threw shadows over her face, emphasizing the sharpness of her cheekbones, the shape of her skull. Had she always been this thin?

  “Maybe she went for a walk.”

  “She took her backpack.”

  “What about the baby?” said Aiden.

  Olivia met his gaze grimly. “She left the baby. The last time anyone saw her was hours ago. Daphne only realized she was gone when she went to find out why the baby wouldn’t stop crying.”

  In the emergency room, Aiden had witnessed all sorts of reactions to bad news. Some people became hysterical, falling apart, creating more chaos and distracting the caregivers from their work.

  Others were stoic, like Olivia. He couldn’t predict who would respond which way. Sometimes those who were always in charge—teachers, doctors, CEOs—were able to keep it together, like Olivia. Or sometimes it was the people who seemed flaky who dug deep into some reservoir and found a way to hang on, while the leaders of industry folded into themselves, awash with despair.

  “She can’t have gone far,” said Aiden. “Have you called the police?”

  Olivia took a deep breath. “No and we’re not going to. Not yet.”

  “For God’s sake, why not?”

  “Aiden,” said Haylee. “You don’t need to bother yourself with this.”

  He stared at her. “What? Why? I’m here. Let me help.”

  “We can’t call the police,” said Olivia. “Because as soon as there’s a report of abandonment, she runs the risk of losing her child. If we can find her in time, we can talk some sense into her before it comes to that.”