To raise her face and invite the touch of his lips and a kiss that Fliss knew she could lose herself in. Instantly and utterly.
The beam of light from the tiny torch was strong again.
As Fliss needed to be.
It was totally inappropriate to allow anything personal to interfere with what needed to be done. Not only unprofessional—it would be a huge backward step in the recovery process Fliss had embarked on by coming here in the first place.
'Lucky it's only a single mattress,' she said briskly. Then she kicked herself mentally. Why on earth had she said that? Would Angus take it as she'd meant the comment—that it would be much less of a hassle to move into the surgery? Or would he realise that her thoughts had been distracted by something far more personal and think that she was trying to drive away memories that could surface in sharing the task of moving a larger mattress?
Angus didn't appear to be aware of her lapse.
'We'll just take the mattress and pillows, shall we? We can always duck back if we need more blankets or something.'
'Ok.' Fliss pulled the duvet clear of the bed and Angus lifted the narrow, inner-sprung mattress from the base of the bed with ease. It appeared that Fliss would only be needed to carry the pillows but then the mattress got caught as Angus tried to turn it into the narrow hallway.
'Back up a bit,' he instructed Fliss. 'I'll stand it on its end.'
They got as far as the kitchen and then Fliss needed to push the small table and dining chairs out of the way.
'Maybe I can get back here in a bit and make us all a hot drink or something.'
'Sounds good.'
'I wish I'd been to the supermarket today.' Fliss eyed her fridge, wondering how much milk she had available. 'I wasn't expecting to be trying to run my own hospital under siege conditions.'
Angus snorted. 'You're enjoying this, aren't you, Fliss?'
'What?' The suggestion was shocking. Or was this simply retaliation for the same accusation she had levelled at Angus back in the cemetery? If so, Fliss was quite prepared to bite back. 'Are you kidding? I'm scared stiff. And I'm seriously worried about how I'm going to cope keeping these people stable until we can get them to a hospital.'
'You don't look scared stiff,' Angus informed her. 'You're coping with multiple patients and now you're planning ahead.'
'I...Ah...' Of course she was planning ahead. Thinking of what her patients and their carers might need in the next few hours. There was satisfaction to be found in coping with what was an unimaginable turn of events, but enjoying it? You'd have to be sick to get a buzz out of something like this.
Like Angus was? Was this what had driven him into and was keeping him in a career like this?
'I'm not enjoying this.' Fliss picked up one end of the mattress with her free hand, pointing the small torch with the other to illuminate the awkward path they had to take past the washing machine and drier. She tugged hard. They were wasting time and she needed to get back to her patients. 'I loathe violence. You know that.'
Angus seemed to be a dead weight in the darkness, anchoring the other end of the mattress. 'Hang on a tick. I need to talk to you, Fliss.'
'What about?'
'Do you remember the first time we met?'
This was hardly the time or place for a trip down memory lane but she did remember, didn't she? She'd been thinking of it only a matter of minutes ago, in fact.
'What's that got to do with anything?'
'You were cracking someone's chest.'
'So?'
The mattress hadn't moved. Fliss tugged again ineffectually. Angus seemed to think that their conversation was important enough to waste time but would Seth actually recognise a deterioration in any of the injured or sick people he was watching fast enough to summon them in time if Jack or Callum crashed?
They'd only been absent for a minute, though. Maybe two. And they were only a few steps away now. The temptation to continue talking to Angus was undeniable. There was something about his tone. The stillness of the huge, dark figure only a few feet away. Maybe it was important enough to sacrifice a little more time.
'It's a pretty violent thing to do, don't you think?' Angus said. 'Ripping open someone's chest? Under most circumstances it would be more than enough to kill them.'
Fliss could feel her jaw dropping. Was Angus suggesting she was attracted to violence?
'I was trying to save someone's life,' she snapped. 'And it worked, remember?'
'Oh, I remember,' Angus said quietly. 'And I remember how happy you were at the end of the case.'
'Of course I was happy. It was a great case. He survived.' Fliss let out a breath in an indignant huff. 'It doesn't mean I go around hoping people are going to get dangerously ill or suffer violent trauma so that I can get some job satisfaction.'
Like she'd once accused Angus of doing. Fliss pulled really hard on the mattress and this time it moved. She dragged it into the laundry.
'I do the opposite, actually,' she told Angus. 'I see what I do as making a statement against violence. Intervening in the hope of helping people to avoid some of the repercussions.'
'Funny,' Angus murmured. 'That's pretty much how I see my job.'
The end of the mattress caught on the edge of the washing machine and Fliss lost her one-handed grip. She turned and used her foot to try and shift the mattress. Angus had been back in her life for such a short time. How on earth had they managed to start arguing about their differing philosophies again so easily? Nothing had changed, had it? Fliss should just ignore the jibe but she couldn't. It was touching a fresh scar that the reappearance of this man had just scratched open. 'I don't risk my life to intervene,' she said crisply. 'Not under normal circumstances, anyway.'
'Don't you?' Angus dropped his end of the mattress and squeezed along the wall to lift the other end clear of the washing machine. 'What about the risk of hepatitis or HIV or some nasty virus like SARS or a new type of flu?'
Fliss was silent. Those risks came with the territory. You took precautions to reduce the risk but to some degree it was unavoidable and therefore had to be accepted.
Was it so unreasonable to accept that Angus felt the same way about his job?
'And what about violent patients?' Angus moved away again. 'There's been more than one staff member attacked by someone who's psychotic.'
'We have Security.'
The silence from the other end of the mattress was eloquent. Angus had better security than anyone in an emergency department could hope for. Highly trained and armed police officers at his side the whole time. They could only call Security in a hospital environment after the risk became evident.
They were moving again. Any second now and they would be back in the waiting area of the surgery. In company. Well away from any opportunity to revisit personal territory, which was just as well because Fliss felt confused.
Maybe what they did wasn't so different after all. Maybe it was just a matter of the degree to which they became involved.
Fliss wouldn't do what Angus did for anything. If she'd had any choice she would be a million miles away from the situation they were currently in.
Someone would always be there, though. Some innocent person caught up in it. Like Maria. And poor little Callum. What if people like Angus and his colleagues didn't respond to calls like this and rush out to help them?
How would Fliss feel if she was here alone and terrified?
Maybe she couldn't have faced living with a man who made a career out of this sort of thing but right now Fliss suddenly felt inordinately proud of Angus and what he did for a living, and that was as confusing as the thought that they aimed for the same kind of satisfaction from their chosen work.
The pride was fierce enough to bring the sting of tears to her eyes and Fliss was grateful it was far too dark for Angus to notice. She stood back, having dragged her end of the mattress through the doorway into the waiting area, allowing Angus to push it the rest of the way. As he came through the doorway
he paused and for just a moment Fliss could see his face clearly in the edge of the beam her torch emitted. He would be able to see hers as well, she realised, and quickly blinked to clear any excess moisture from her eyes.
Fliss even managed to smile.
'Hey,' she said softly.
Angus raised an eyebrow. 'What?'
What, indeed? Words rushed to the tip of her tongue. Fliss was so close to confessing how badly she had missed having Angus in her life in the last few months. How much she missed hearing his voice. Feeling the touch of his hands...and lips. Just being with him. The words tangled together as they reached the warning sign flashing from the back of her mind.
'I'm just...glad you're here,' Fliss whispered.
He didn't smile but there was a softening around his eyes as though any tension from their recent conversation had evaporated.
'So am I,' he whispered back. 'And try not to worry too much. We'll get through this.'
Fliss nodded and bit her lip to stop it wobbling. 'Yeah. We will. We're working on the same side, aren't we?'
A quick smile now. A wry one. 'We always were,' Angus murmured. 'You just couldn't see it.'
CHAPTER FIVE
The flash of pride came from nowhere and its strength was disconcerting.
Angus had no right to feel proud of Fliss any more, did he? Pride in someone else for who they were or what they did implied a bond. You could feel proud of a colleague, or a family member, or a friend, and especially of a partner, but Fliss fitted into none of those categories now.
Worse luck.
Dr Felicity Slade now seemed to have a closer bond with the inhabitants of this small west-coast township than she had with him, judging by the reaction she got from Jack after being away from the surgery for only a few minutes.
The old man's eyes fairly lit up. He still looked as sick as a dog, though, and Fliss spent some time recording all his vital signs, running off a new ECG, adjusting his medication and listening to his chest before they moved him to the mattress Angus had positioned in the waiting area, at right angles to the cushion bed that Callum was occupying.
Callum was roused from his drowsiness by the activity close at hand and began crying for his brother. Angus bent over the small boy.
'It's OK, buddy,' he said soothingly.
'No....no....' Callum sobbed. 'I want Dr Fliss.'
Fliss stroked the child's hair and spoke reassuringly, but Callum reached up and wound his arms around her neck and she ended up cuddling her small patient properly. She looked over his head at Angus.
'His fluids have almost run through. Could you grab another bag of saline from the storeroom, please?'
'Sure.'
The continuing sound of gunfire, although distant, made Angus stop by the examination couch in the surgery on his way to the storeroom.
'You OK, Maria?'
'I'm scared.'
'I know.' Angus glanced at Seth who was still stationed near the window. 'Who's firing out there? Our guys or them?'
Seth shrugged. 'Haven't heard anything so I assume it's them.'
Angus gave Maria what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 'Sounds like they're getting further away from us, at any rate. How's the leg feeling?'
'Not too bad, I guess.'
Angus could see that tears were imminent. He could also see that Maria was looking past him to where the low, comforting murmur of Fliss's voice was coming from.
'Would you like to talk to Fliss?'
Maria caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Her nod was embarrassed. 'Only when she's not so busy with the others,' she said apologetically. Her smile acknowledged that Angus was doing his best. 'It's just that she's.. .a friend, you know? She's great to talk to.'
Angus had no trouble nodding agreement. He'd always found Fliss great to talk to. At the beginning, anyway. And he knew perfectly well the kind of comfort she was capable of imparting. He'd talked to her for an entire night once—about a week after they had decided they wanted to live together. Only a month or so after their first date but they had both been so much in love and it had happened so naturally.
Losing a young patient that day had been the first dampener on the joy of being together for so much more of their time. It had been gutting. A tractor roll-over accident way up in the high country, and by the time the helicopter had made it to the scene, the crush injuries the toddler had sustained had been too severe to stabilise. Angus had done his utmost but the boy had died just as they were landing on the hospital helipad.
Talking it through with Fliss and examining everything he'd done and what else could have been possible and what simply hadn't been possible had, to some degree, absolved him from guilt. The only way to assuage the pain of having lost such a young patient had been far more personal, however. Through eye contact and touch and just being with someone who loved him. They hadn't made love that night—there was no way Angus would have wanted to—but lying beside Fliss and being held in her arms had been exactly what he'd needed.
He'd never felt so close to another human being in his life.
Had never loved anyone that much.
Could never love anyone else that much.
He could hear that gentle tone in her voice a few minutes later, when Fliss took the time to reassure Maria. He had seen the flash of fear in Fliss's eyes at the sound of much closer gunfire than the last round but she carried on with a resolution that amazed Angus. Instinctively, her caring nature let her say and do exactly the right thing—as she had done with him that night. Assuring Maria of her own and her family's current safety thanks to the presence of the team that included Angus, Fliss led Maria into feeling hopeful about the future.
'I saw Grace talking to Mrs McKay in the shop the other day.' Angus could hear the smile in Fliss's voice. 'She's growing up so fast!'
'She's only just turned seven,' Maria responded proudly, 'but I don't know how I'd manage without her to help me with all the young ones.'
'It sounded as though she was looking for things for Christmas. She was asking where to find silver foil and tinsel and all sorts of stuff like that.'
Maria actually chuckled. 'She's on a mission to make decorations. We've got a fir tree growing in the middle of our lawn and that's our Christmas tree. It must be twenty feet high now but Ben still climbs all the way to the top to put the star on.'
'Do you put the presents outside as well?'
'They get hidden all around the garden. It's like a big treasure hunt and it usually lasts until we have our dinner, but I'm not sure about this year. Grace and Ruby are getting too clever about finding things. It might be all over by breakfast-time.'
'Sounds fun. Christmas must be magic with so many children around. And this year you'll have a brand-new baby—it'll be even more special.'
The tone made Angus turn his head sharply and he could feel a frown crease his forehead. She sounded...wistful. But hadn't she told him she didn't want children?
A seed of hope blossomed somewhere deep. Maybe Fliss had changed her mind after getting to know a family like Maria's. Maybe it could even provide a starting point to finding their way back to each other. Angus wanted children.
He wanted Fliss to be the mother of those children.
So much for having moved on. He'd tried so hard to get over Fliss, too. To put his life back together after she'd shattered it by moving out. Even now his head was issuing warnings tinged with real alarm. Don't go there! You know what it was like when she left! You'll just get hurt all over again! It could never work!
You 're incompatible!
If they were so incompatible, why did they both look up at precisely the same moment, catch each other's gaze and then both look towards where Callum was lying?
The sound the child had made was worrying, that's why.
It had started as a whimper but turned into a quiet but odd sort of gasp.
Fliss was there in seconds. She didn't even duck her head at the crack of gunfire that was close enough to make Seth raise hi
s own weapon and flatten himself against the wall to peer outside again. He spoke tersely into his microphone, reporting the development and requesting an update of information. Fliss didn't seem aware of the escalating tension. She was completely focussed on her youngest patient.
'What is it, sweetheart? Are you having trouble breathing?'
Callum didn't respond. His breathing was obviously too laboured to allow for speech. What was even more worrying was that he didn't open his eyes properly. His head rolled to one side as Fliss laid her stethoscope on the small chest and as Angus shone the torch he was holding on the boy's face, he could see the bluish tinge to Callum's lips.
'Breath sounds absent on the right side,' Fliss reported, sounding grim. 'I think I was right about that rib injury.'
Angus had been moving the torch with one hand while he felt for Callum's pulse with the other. 'Neck veins are distended and I can't find a radial pulse.' They both knew what was happening here but clear communication was still paramount. The injury to Callum's ribs must have been enough to damage deeper tissues. Air was escaping into the chest cavity outside his lungs and enough was accumulating to compromise his breathing. It was a potentially fatal complication. 'Pneumothorax?'
'Tensioning,' Fliss agreed. 'And I don't have a chest drain kit.' Frustration made her sound angry.
'I've got a decompression needle in my kit.' Angus moved fast. 'Seth, could you grab the other oxygen cylinder from the storeroom? It's the black one with a white top. Try and find a small-sized mask, too.'
'What's happening?' Jack pulled the mask from his face as Angus dropped his kit and ripped open the zip fastenings. 'Give the lad this one, Fliss. I don't need it any more.'
'Yes, you do,' Fliss said, 'but I'll use it until we get the other cylinder.' She took the oversized, adult mask from Jack and slipped the elastic band over Callum's head.
'We'll fix this, sweetheart,' she murmured. 'You just hang in there.'
'He's not going to die, is he?' Jack sounded hoarse and he struggled to move. 'Can I help?'
'You can help by staying right where you are, Jack,' Fliss said firmly. 'And try not to worry. Callum's in a spot of trouble right now with his breathing but we can deal with this.'
One Night to Wed Page 6
