‘Ambulance is here!’ someone called out and Holly raced off, wondering how Cameron was coping with Belinda and the rising tide, and if the words of reassurance she’d asked to be relayed to the girl’s mother weren’t going to come back and haunt her…
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAMERON looked up in alarm at the rising surf. It was starting to crash over the rocks and spray over them both.
He’d rolled Holly’s T-shirt into a loop and fashioned a soft cervical collar and carefully placed it around Belinda’s neck to protect as best as possible from neck movements. If he had to move her because of the encroaching waves he knew it could compromise her neck stability. If she had a significant cervical injury he could turn it into a neurological one and cause paraplegia or quadriplegia. Belinda had not long ago moved her limbs so there didn’t appear to be a gross spinal cord trauma.
He maintained her in the lateral position, the posture into which she had fallen, supporting her jaw to maintain her airway. He gave the surf another worried look, but over the sound of the crashing waves he heard the sound of the ambulance roaring down the beach. He let out a sigh of relief. ‘Not long now, Belinda. Hold on there; we’ll get you out of here and safe in no time.’
Holly watched as Cameron supervised the ambulance team as they shifted Belinda on to the spine board, applying a hard collar and oxygen. The young girl was then transferred into the back of the ambulance where he inserted an IV and reassessed the primary survey.
The helicopter hadn’t yet arrived when the ambulance drove slowly and smoothly off the beach and up to the clinic.
‘You’d better go out and speak to Belinda’s mother while I keep an eye on things here till the airlift arrives,’ Cameron suggested to Holly. ‘Sandra could do with a bit of female support right now.’
Belinda’s mother was distraught at the thought of her daughter having to be airlifted out of town for neurological assessment in Sydney. Holly did her best to comfort her while they waited for patient transfer but wasn’t sure if anything she said was really helping.
‘Your daughter will get the best of care in a large city hospital, Mrs Proctor. Try not to imagine the worst…Belinda is young and healthy and will hopefully spring back in no time at all.’
Sandra Proctor’s face crumpled anew. ‘She’s all I have…I’m a single mother…there’s just Bindi and me…and Scraps…’ She choked on another sob. ‘She really loves that dog. She found him as a stray…he’s everything to her…’
Holly patted her on the arm reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry about Scraps. Nicola Jessup has organised one of Belinda’s friends to take care of him until you both get back from Sydney.’
Sandra looked at Holly, her eyes red-rimmed. ‘W-what if Belinda doesn’t come b-back? Or what if she doesn’t come back the same…you know…b-brain damaged or something?’
Holly swallowed the lump of dread in her throat. She’d spent a term at a rehabilitation centre and had seen first-hand the devastation of a life permanently changed after brain injury. Short-term memory loss, change in personality, loss of abilities that before the injury were taken for granted, such as being able to eat and drink without assistance or use the bathroom unaided. She’d seen young people forced to live like the very elderly, the loss of independence devastating for both the patient and their loved ones who were left to do what they could to care for them.
‘Is there anyone I can contact for you?’ she offered. ‘A family member or friend who could support you right now?’
Sandra shook her head. ‘There’s no one…Bindi’s father is…well, he hasn’t seen her since she was about two so I hardly think he’d care now. I don’t even know where he is or how to contact him.’
‘The airlift team is five minutes away,’ Cameron informed them when he came out of the emergency room. ‘Belinda is stable, Sandra. She’s still unconscious but we’ll know more when they do a CT scan in Sydney.’
A short time later Belinda and her mother were on their way to Sydney in the helicopter after Cameron had briefed the care-flight doctor on board. Holly felt her energy drain away like the sound of the helicopter fading into the distance. Her thigh and knee were throbbing, her head was aching and she was thirsty and tired.
‘Sorry about your T-shirt,’ Cameron said just as she turned to leave. He handed it to her, soggy and wet.
‘It doesn’t matter; it wasn’t an expensive one.’
He gave her a look she couldn’t quite make out but she assumed he was mocking her as usual.
‘What?’ She gave him a little glare. ‘You don’t think I wear anything but designer-wear or something?’
Cameron’s eyes flicked over her shapeless surgical gown where small damp triangular patches from her bikini top were clearly visible. He hated admitting it but she looked absolutely gorgeous with her sand-encrusted hair, her freckles on show and her smudgy eyes looking too big for her heart-shaped face. She looked sweet and vulnerable instead of uptight and aloof, especially with her bare feet and crimson-painted toes peeking out from the trouser legs of the too-long scrubs.
‘Where are your shoes?’ he asked.
Holly bit her lip for a second. ‘Down on the beach. I couldn’t run in them so I left them behind. They’re probably halfway to New Zealand by now.’
He gave a chuckle of laughter and her stomach did one of its funny little skips again at the deep rich sound. OK, so you definitely have to get home and into a hot shower and away from this man right now, she instructed herself sternly.
‘I’ll take a walk down there with you to look for them, if you like,’ he offered. ‘It’s still light enough to see if they’re still there.’
‘It’s OK, I didn’t really like them all that much anyway,’ she said, thinking of her throbbing thigh and knee.
‘I suppose you have plenty more where they came from?’
Holly pursed her lips at the tone of his voice. What was it with his attitude?
‘For your information, Dr McCarrick, I have a rather nasty scratch on my thigh and a bump on my knee so the thought of walking back down to the beach right now is not the least bit tempting, even—’ she gave him a condescending look down the length of her nose ‘—strange as it may seem and no doubt crushing to your ego—with you.’ With that brilliant exit line she began to flounce off but, to her annoyance, it turned into an ungainly limp. She didn’t get far before a strong warm hand came down on her arm and turned her around.
‘Are you hurt?’
For some strange reason Holly felt as if she was going to burst into floods of feminine tears. She positively loathed feminine tears but somehow her eyes were smarting and her chin wobbling and she felt the almost irresistible urge to put her head on his broad chest and howl.
‘I…I slipped on the rocks…’
‘Let me have a look,’ Cameron said.
‘I’ll be fine—it’s just a scratch.’ She tried to brush him off but he was still holding her by the arm. She felt the warm slide of his hand moving down to circle her wrist and her stomach did another unexpected tumble turn.
‘Come into the treatment room so I can have a proper look. It should be properly cleaned and covered even if it’s not deep. I’ve seen some nasty infections from cuts and scratches from shells and shoreline rocks.’
Holly found herself being led along the corridor to a vacant treatment room. Cameron closed the door and instructed her to take off her scrub trousers.
‘Um…’ She hesitated. ‘Could you turn your back?’
He gave her an ironic look. ‘I just saw you an hour ago in the skimpiest bikini this town has ever seen. But if you insist.’ He turned around, but not before she saw the movement of his eyes heavenward as if in search of patience.
Holly stepped out of the scrubs. ‘OK. I’m ready.’
Cameron turned back around and looked at the long length of her legs, his eyes widening as he saw the ragged scratch on her thigh and her swollen knee.
‘You should have told me you injured yours
elf.’
‘I did.’
‘I mean before,’ he said, reaching for some betadine to cleanse the wound on her thigh.
‘When before? Ouch!’ She winced at the sting of the antiseptic on her raw flesh. ‘I was organising an ambulance and airlift as well as trying to comfort Mrs Proctor at your direction, plus organise accommodation for Belinda’s dog. I didn’t have time to even think.’
‘It’s certainly been a busy day,’ Cameron agreed as he pressed a sterile dressing on her thigh, doing his best not to notice how smooth and shapely her leg was. Clinical distance, he reminded himself. Think of her as a patient. But it was practically impossible with her so close. Her skin felt like velvet and, in spite of her dip in the ocean, the fragrance of jasmine clung to her lovingly. He found himself taking his time as he dressed her wounds, wondering what it would be like to have those slim legs wrapped around him.
Holly looked down at his dark head practically between her thighs as he began to inspect her knee. When was the last time a man had been that close…? She jerked back from her thoughts with a convulsive little swallow. What was she thinking? That Cameron McCarrick was a potential lover?
She sneaked a glance at his face, his expression full of concentration as he moved from dressing her thigh to examining her knee.
‘Does this hurt?’ Cameron palpated the swollen joint.
‘No…aahh!’
He stressed the knee sideways, then, with the knee at ninety degrees, rocked the joint back and forth.
‘Ligaments are intact, but you’ve certainly stressed the joint. I’m putting on a firm crêpe bandage to reduce swelling and I want you to use crutches for a few days and not bend the knee.’
‘Crutches?’ She gaped at him. ‘That’s overdoing it, isn’t it? I’ll look ridiculous hobbling around like an invalid tomorrow on my third day in town.’
‘That’s what I recommend, Holly. I did enough time as a football team doctor in Melbourne to know a potentially significant knee injury when I see one, and how to minimise the risk of exacerbating it. Now, do you want me to bandage it properly or are you going to treat it yourself?’ He met her eyes challengingly.
‘Oh, all right, bandage it.’ She gave in grudgingly. ‘As long as I don’t have to rub in liniment and smell like a footballer.’
Cameron firmly bandaged the swollen knee with a couple of six-inch crêpe bandages, fixing them firmly with tape.
‘We’d better measure you for armpit height,’ he said, handing her a pair of crutches.
Holly looked down at her swinging legs as she tested them. She met his amused eyes as she handed them back and her heart did a little skip when his fingers touched hers as he took them off her.
‘What about these?’ He handed her another pair.
She gave them a try and managed a decent distance without too much trouble.
‘I think they’ll do,’ she said. ‘But are you sure this is really necessary?’
Once again his eyes met hers and her breath seemed to stop somewhere in the middle of her chest.
‘Keep your weight off it for a couple of days and it will be fine,’ he said and added with a little wink, ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor.’
She gave a groan and hobbled to the door.
‘If you give me five minutes I’ll jog home and bring my car back to take you home,’ he said.
Holly wanted to resist the offer but she was beyond the reach of her pride. ‘Oh, would you really?’ she said, instantly wishing she hadn’t sounded quite so pathetically grateful. A simple thank you would have done but the touch of his hands on her bare legs had unsettled her more than she’d realised.
He held the door open for her. ‘Hop into the waiting room and I’ll be back in two minutes.’
A short time later Holly eased herself into the car with Cameron’s help. He pulled out the seatbelt and she felt the slight brush of his arm across her chest as he handed it to her to fasten, her pulse rate sky-rocketing at the feel of the hard male muscles against her softness.
‘I’m just going to do a quick detour to the beach to see if your sandals are still there,’ he said as he got in the driver’s side.
She decided against protesting that they were probably long gone. ‘OK. Thanks, I’d appreciate it.’
She sat in the car while he went down the path to the beach, her eyes following him as he hunted along the fringe of sand. After a while he came back up the path empty-handed and gave her a rueful look as he got back behind the wheel. ‘My guess is Auckland.’
She fought against it but in spite of her efforts a reluctant smile stretched her mouth. ‘Do you ever take anything in life seriously?’
He backed the car out of the space before answering. ‘Sometimes, but life is short and if you don’t make the most of it, it will pass you by while you’re complaining about what’s wrong instead of what’s right.’
She angled her gaze his way. ‘So what brought about this optimistic philosophy of yours?’
He met her eyes briefly before turning back to the turn-off to their street, his expression giving little away. ‘I guess you could say I spent some time in the school of hard knocks. I have since learned to take each day as it comes and live it to the full.’
Holly thought about his answer as a silence slipped between them. Erma Shaw had told her about the break up of his relationship with his fiancée and how deeply it had affected him. Holly wouldn’t have picked him as a particularly heartbroken man but she wondered if his laugh-at-life attitude was a smokescreen for deeper pain that he didn’t want to have on show.
When it came down to it she knew her experience with men was a bit limited. She was an only child of two very affluent parents who’d spent the very few years they’d been married fighting volubly and the many years since their divorce silently feuding, using her as a sort of go-between. She wasn’t particularly close to her father, who at times was bombastic and a little too forceful in his opinions, most of which were in direct contrast to hers. He still considered her a fool for studying medicine instead of law, as he had done with spectacular results, which even now he couldn’t resist reminding her of repeatedly. As one of Sydney’s leading barristers, it was impossible to win an argument with him and she had more or less stopped trying years ago.
Her only cousin Aaron hadn’t lived close by, so the times she’d seen him during her youth had been too few and far between for her to get to know him very well.
She’d had one or two boyfriends, none of them really serious until Julian Drayberry, who had promised her so much but in the end given so little. It suddenly occurred to her that Cameron McCarrick was unlike any man she’d ever met before. She chanced another covert glance at him as he pulled into his driveway.
He was certainly handsome but it was almost as if he was totally unaware of it. Unlike Julian, she recalled somewhat wryly, who had spent more time in the bathroom doing his cleansing and moisturising routine than her, refusing to go out in public without his thirty-plus sun protection on.
Cameron, on the other hand, moved with a freedom in his body as if he was totally at home in it no matter how it was dressed or groomed. He was equally comfortable in worn and faded board shorts with his tanned chest bare, or dressed in neat casual clothes while he dealt with patients at the clinic. She hadn’t seen him in a suit and tie, but imagined he would look rather impressive with his tall, lean build and compelling eyes. He was confident without being over the top like her father, and competent and caring with patients. He could handle gruff old farmers like Jack Gordon with a relaxed joking manner and yet care for an injured teenage girl with obviously tender concern.
‘Is your knee hurting?’ Cameron asked, rocking her out of her reverie as he came around and opened her door for her.
‘No…yes…I mean a bit…’ She hobbled out of the car with his support, her cheeks suddenly feeling hot as his warm fingers cupped her elbow.
‘I’ve got some Panadeine Forte in my doctor’s bag. I’ll get you settled in
side and give you some.’
Holly felt a fool for needing so much help on her first full day in town and couldn’t quite rid herself of the impression that he thought she was proving to be even more incompetent by becoming injured during the rescue of a patient. Here it was, Day Two, and she was on crutches. How on earth was she going to get through a whole year?
CHAPTER EIGHT
CAMERON came back with the tablets a few moments later, to where Holly was leaning against the kitchen bench, her second glass of water in one hand, her crutches put to one side to give her already aching armpits a rest.
‘You might get a bit drowsy with the codeine, but it should wear off by morning,’ he said as he handed the pills to her.
‘Wow, your opinion of the new training scheme for GPs must really be at rock-bottom if you think you need to tell me the side effects of a simple drug like Panadeine Forte,’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘I do have my very own copy of MIMS, you know.’
He folded his arms and gave her a musing look for a long moment. ‘You really are very well named, aren’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’ She stiffened.
‘Holly is a rather pretty shrub with bright red berries and very sharp thorns.’ His mouth tilted sardonically. ‘Yes, I think your parents named you very well indeed.’
Her eyes flared in instant anger. ‘Oh? And no doubt your name means a smart jackass jerk with a perverse sense of humour!’
‘No, it’s Gaelic and actually means crooked nose.’
‘Well, I’m very surprised you haven’t been given one by now,’ she quipped back. ‘And let me warn you if you don’t leave right this minute I might very well be tempted to give you one myself.’
‘You want to hit me?’ His tone was almost taunting, his eyes glinting with something she hadn’t seen in them before.
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