Summer Fling

by Sarah Morgan

  But she spoke the last few words to the air because Fraser had already sprinted off to do what needed to be done.

  Logan strode out of the water, carrying the boy level in his arms. ‘I’m going to try tipping him upside down.’ His expression was grim. ‘He was stuck on the bottom. He must have caught his foot in seaweed. It took me several goes to free him.’

  ‘No!’ The mother was screaming with horror and another holidaymaker took her to one side and put her arms around her, giving the medical team space to work.

  ‘Evanna?’ Logan’s voice was sharp as he laid the boy flat on the rug. ‘Did you get my stuff from the car?’

  ‘Fraser did. It’s all here.’ She flipped open the case. ‘His name is Jason and he’s six years old. Do you want to start CPR?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Logan felt for a carotid pulse. ‘I’m hoping he’s just bradycardic. Come on, Jason. Wake up, for us. Damn. He’s in respiratory arrest.’

  ‘Logan—’

  ‘Respiratory arrest precedes cardiac arrest in drowning. He’s got a pulse.’ Logan started to examine the boy more thoroughly, his hands swift and skilled. ‘Did Fraser manage to bring the oxygen?’

  ‘It’s here.’

  There was a clacking sound overhead as the helicopter arrived but Logan was focused on Jason, leaving others to deal with the arrival of the helicopter. ‘He’s breathing but his core temperature is thirty-four degrees. We need to warm him up. What layers do we have?’

  Evanna reached forward and covered the boy, noticing that his face was chalky white. ‘Do you want to aspirate his stomach?’

  Just then the boy screwed up his face and started to cough violently, and Logan gave Evanna a swift nod. ‘We have lift-off. Jason? Speak to me. You’re worrying your mother. Wake up.’

  The boy’s eyes fluttered open and he started to cough again.

  Logan turned him into the recovery position. ‘Good boy. You’re all right. You’ve swallowed a bit of seawater but you’ll soon be feeling better. Evanna, this oxygen mask doesn’t fit properly. I need something smaller.’

  The paramedic from the helicopter sprinted across to them with a case of equipment. ‘How’s he doing?’

  Logan wiped a forearm across his forehead. ‘Better than we could have hoped. He’s breathing but he’s very cold still and he seems to have aspirated water so he’ll need to go to hospital for a check.’

  The mother sank onto the sand beside Jason, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘He needs to go to hospital? Can’t you just watch him here?’

  ‘This is a small island,’ Logan said gently, ‘and while we are capable of dealing with dire emergencies if the need arises, we do try and anticipate and avoid them whenever possible. I’m sure Jason is going to make an uneventful recovery but, to be on the safe side, I’d rather he made that recovery in the hospital. I’m sure they’ll only keep him in for a night.’

  ‘They have rooms for parents,’ Evanna said quickly as she found a smaller oxygen mask, ‘so you can be with him the whole time.’

  ‘I can go with him in the helicopter?’

  The paramedic helped switch masks. ‘Of course, but you can’t bring the baby.’

  ‘I can leave her with my husband. He’ll be fine with her for a day, although the crying will probably drive him mad. We’re in one of the beach houses just up there.’

  ‘Go and give the baby to your husband and then you can come with us.’ The paramedic squatted down beside Logan. ‘Do you want to get a line in just to be on the safe side?’

  ‘Yes, ideally, although he’s so cold it’s going to be pretty hard getting in a peripheral line.’ Logan picked up one of the boy’s arms and rubbed the skin. ‘We might be lucky.’

  With a last, frightened look towards Jason, the mother sprinted across the beach to Kyla who was still holding the baby. Kyla’s husband Ethan, the other island GP, arrived and immediately took in the situation. ‘You’ve had one trip to the mainland already today. I’ll take this one, Logan.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind, if that’s all right with you.’ Logan slid the needle into the vein and gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘Good. Tape it firmly, Evanna. I don’t want to have to try that again.’

  Ethan went to supervise the helicopter landing and Kyla turned her attention to the mother.

  ‘His colour is better.’ Logan checked the child’s pulse again.

  ‘We’re ready to transfer him.’ Ethan arrived with a stretcher and they carefully lifted the boy, covered him with blankets and secured him. ‘You’d better give me a handover.’

  Leaving the paramedics to transfer the child into the helicopter, Logan pulled his colleague to one side, told him what had happened and detailed the first aid they’d given.

  Watching the helicopter take off, Evanna suddenly realised that her legs were shaking. ‘What a day. I think I’ve aged twenty years and I’ve only been back on the island for ten minutes!’

  Logan sat down next to her. ‘I only came down to the quay because I was trying to accidentally on purpose bump into Doug McDonald. I wanted to see how he was doing without looking too obvious.’

  ‘If you hadn’t been in the café, the child would have drowned. You were amazing.’

  He brushed some sand from his legs and pulled his shirt back on. ‘I was doing my job, Evanna. Stop making me sound like some sort of hero.’

  ‘First aid for a drowning incident, that’s your job, but going into that water to save a child?’ Evanna’s voice was soft. ‘That’s not your job, Logan.’

  But he’d do it anyway because that was the sort of man he was.

  Logan stood up and pulled on his trousers. ‘Fraser was the one who saved the boy. If he hadn’t had his eyes open and acted swiftly we would never have found Jason in time.’ He lifted a hand and the boy came running over.

  ‘Dr MacNeil. I did everything you said.’

  Logan put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re a hero, Fraser.’ His voice was gruff. ‘You kept a clear head and you didn’t panic.’

  ‘You never panic.’

  ‘I’m thirty-one years old. You’re twelve.’

  Fraser shrugged. ‘Bet you didn’t panic when you were twelve either. Will that boy be all right? Is he going to die, Dr MacNeil?’

  ‘Thanks to you, I don’t think he’s going to die.’ Logan ran a hand through the boy’s hair. ‘How’s that scar of yours?’

  Fraser grinned. ‘Wicked. The girls all want to look at it.’

  Logan winked and grinned at him, man to man. ‘Then let them look. See you around, Fraser.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Fraser hooked his fingers in the waistband of his oversized surf shorts and scuffed a foot across the sand. ‘The boys and I are going up to the ruins this afternoon. Just to look.’

  ‘Well don’t go falling into the dungeons.’ Logan watched him go and gave a shake of his head. ‘He’s growing up.’

  ‘Aisla will be so proud of him.’ Evanna stood up, wiped her damp hands down her shorts and started gathering up their equipment.

  ‘I ought to be going. I’ve got a surgery this afternoon and I haven’t even been home yet. My luggage is still in my boot.’

  He turned to look at her, his blue eyes searching. ‘It’s good to have you back. You’re always good in a crisis.’

  Evanna blushed slightly. And that was how he saw her, of course. Sensible, practical Evanna. Good-in-a-crisis Evanna. What would he say, she wondered, if she told him that she didn’t want to be good in a crisis? She didn’t want to be sensible, practical Evanna. For once in her life she wanted to be someone’s hot fantasy.

  She wanted to be his hot fantasy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE road clung to the coast, winding high above tiny bays that were accessible only by foot, bays that had once been fiercely defended against Viking invasion. Evanna drove carefully, alert for tourists too busy admiring the view to watch the road. To her right she could see the ruins of the castle where young Fraser had found himself trapped earlier in the summer. To her le
ft was the sparkling ocean, waves crashing onto jagged rocks and, in the distance, the outline of the mainland.

  There was nowhere like Glenmore, but today the excitement of being home was missing and she felt frustrated and cross with herself. And disappointed. She’d spent a month lecturing herself about the futility of being in love with Dr Logan MacNeil and she’d genuinely thought that finally she had her feelings under control, so the intensity of her reaction in the café was disheartening.

  She’d wanted so badly to feel indifferent.

  Her spirits lifted slightly as she parked outside her little white cottage with its blue shutters and views of the sea. Buying it had stretched her budget to snapping point but there was never a single moment when she regretted the extravagance. As a child she’d walked past the same cottage with her parents and had stared in wonder. To her it had always looked like the gingerbread house from the fairy tale. Roses clustered around the door and snaked under the windows. It was a friendly house and the fact that it was small had never bothered her. It was hers. And she’d made it her home.

  She’d thrown cheerful rugs onto the polished wooden floors, hung filmy white curtains from the windows and filled tall vases with flowers from the garden and glass bowls with shells that she’d found on the beach. And if the second bedroom was so tiny there was barely room for a bed, did it really matter? All the people she knew lived on the island anyway, so she rarely had to find room for overnight guests. Her own bedroom was large enough, and that was what counted. Light streamed through the window and she’d placed the bed so that the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the sea. It was a perfect place to sleep, dream and wake up. A room built for lovers.

  It was just a shame that she didn’t have a lover.

  Letting herself into her cottage, Evanna picked up a pile of post and walked into the sunny yellow kitchen that she’d painted herself over a gloomy February weekend earlier in the year. Usually the view from the window across the cliffs cheered her up but today she found it hard to smile.

  Telling herself off for being pathetic, she sifted through her post, binning all the junk mail and putting the bills neatly to one side. Then she opened a white envelope and found a quote for redoing her bathroom.

  Suddenly resolute, she picked up the phone. ‘Craig? Evanna here. About your quote.’

  Five minutes later she’d confirmed it all and written out a cheque for the down payment. It would be wonderfully indulgent to have a new bathroom and it was long overdue. The bathroom was the only room that hadn’t been touched since she’d bought the cottage three years earlier. It would use the last of her savings but she decided that it was worth it.

  Resolving to throw open all the doors and windows at the weekend to freshen the place, Evanna showered, changed and then climbed back into her little car and made her way to the surgery in time for her afternoon surgery.

  ‘I gather you had a drama on the beach. You’ve a big list, Evanna.’ Janet, the receptionist, handed her a computer printout and a pile of letters. ‘Plenty of people have been holding on, waiting to see you. And Lucy wanted to know if you could call on your way home to check on the baby because the cord is looking a bit sticky and she’s worried. You can tell it’s her first. Every time the little one blinks, she rings Logan. He’s incredibly patient with her.’

  Logan was patient with everyone. ‘I’ll call, of course I will. I was going to anyway.’

  ‘Who do I have first?

  ‘Sandra King. She’s sitting in the waiting room with a dopey look on her face so I think we all know the reason for her appointment.’ Janet winked and Evanna thought back to Kyla’s comment.

  ‘Let’s hope so. Is she first?’

  ‘Yes.’ Janet leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘I made it a double appointment, just to be on the safe side. I had one of my feelings. If I’m wrong, you can use the time to catch up on some of the paperwork that your replacement didn’t touch.’

  ‘Good thinking.’ Evanna walked through to her room and sat down at her desk. It felt good to be back. She turned her head and glanced around the room. In the corner was a basket stuffed with toys that she’d selected herself and the walls were covered in posters that she’d chosen from the wide selection available to her. Everything was just as she’d left it. The heaviness that had settled inside her lifted and she switched on her computer and pressed the buzzer.

  Sandra tapped on the door a few seconds later, her husband by her side. ‘I’m pregnant, Nurse Duncan.’ She was bursting to tell the news, her smile dominating her pretty face. ‘I missed a period and I did the test yesterday and it was positive.’

  Full marks to Kyla for observation, then. ‘That’s great, Sandra. Congratulations.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep at all last night, just thinking about it. I want to have it here, on the Island, and I want you to deliver it,’ Sandra blurted out, and Evanna gave a careful smile.

  ‘Why would you want to have him, or her, at home?’

  ‘Because I was born on Glenmore and I want the same for my children.’

  ‘You were the third child,’ Evanna said evenly, opening her drawer and pulling out the appropriate forms. ‘First babies are better born in hospital, Sandra. I can quite understand your wish for the delivery to be as natural as possible, but we can achieve that in hospital.’

  ‘But I’m young and healthy. Is it because it makes more work for you?’

  ‘It isn’t the work for me that’s a problem. I love the home deliveries. But having a baby at home does come with risks,’ Evanna said, her voice level. ‘No obstetrician would ever advise a woman to have her first baby at home. And the other problem is that Glenmore is quite remote. No matter how carefully we monitor you, things can change very quickly in childbirth. Emergencies do happen and when they do, you want to be within easy reach of a specialist unit.’

  ‘But there’s the helicopter.’

  The memories came rushing back. The evil weather. Catherine critically ill. ‘If the weather is bad, it can’t fly,’ Evanna reminded her gruffly, and Sandra was silent for a moment.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think. You’re thinking about what happened to Dr MacNeil’s wife, aren’t you? When Catherine became ill they wanted to fly her to the mainland but the helicopter couldn’t get here. She died because of it.’

  And Logan, griefstricken and racked by guilt, had made a heroic effort to save the baby.

  His daughter. Little Kirsty, now a bouncy, healthy one-year-old.

  Evanna felt sadness swamp her but kept her expression neutral. This wasn’t the time to think about Logan. ‘Catherine MacNeil was an extremely unusual case. It’s unlikely that the outcome would have been different, even if she’d been in a consultant unit on the mainland.’

  ‘But we all know that’s why Dr MacNeil won’t consider home births.’ Sandra sighed and glanced at her husband. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it properly. Perhaps it would be more sensible to have it in hospital. What do you think?’

  Her husband nodded, visibly relieved by her change of heart. ‘Definitely. You know that was always my preference.’

  ‘The community unit is lovely. I just spent a week there as part of my refresher course,’ Evanna told them. ‘I did three weeks on the labour ward in the hospital and a week at the unit. They’ve done up their delivery rooms to look like bedrooms so it’s home away from home, really. I think you’ll like it.’

  ‘But I can have most of my care with you and Dr MacNeil?’

  Evanna nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Will I need to go to the hospital at all?’

  ‘You’ll need to go to there for an ultrasound scan between ten and thirteen weeks,’ Evanna told her, reaching for a leaflet, ‘and then again between eighteen and twenty weeks for another scan. Apart from that, providing there are no problems, we can do everything else here. Today I’ll take some blood from you so that we can check your blood group and screen you for some conditions.’

  She ran th
rough all the tests that could be done and Sandra looked at her husband.

  ‘We want all of it, don’t we? I’m not taking any chances. You know how long we’ve waited for this to happen.’

  ‘Can you step on the scales for me, Sandra?’ Evanna stood up and reached for some blood bottles. ‘I’ll just weigh you and check your blood pressure and then I’ll take the blood. You can make an appointment with Dr MacNeil to discuss the results and he can listen to your heart and lungs and that sort of thing.’

  ‘I don’t even dare look at how much I weigh. Mind you, I’ve been feeling so sick that I’ve stopped eating so that might help.’ Sandra closed her eyes tightly and pulled a face. ‘Is it awful?’

  ‘No.’ Evanna scribbled the number on a pad ready to input into the computer. ‘Have you actually been sick?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Sandra stepped off the scales and slipped her shoes back on. ‘The moment I wake up I just need to dash to the bathroom. It’s awful.’

  ‘Try eating a dry biscuit before you move in the morning.’ Evanna checked her blood pressure and recorded the result. ‘That’s fine. Now, I’ll just take that blood sample and you can do me a urine sample and then we’ll leave you in peace for a while! Let me give you a pack of information that you can flick through when you have a moment.’

  ‘Is it still all right for me to use the gym?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Evanna took a pack out of her desk and handed it to Sandra. ‘It’s important to stay fit and active. You’re not ill, you’re pregnant.’

  Sandra smiled. ‘I know. And it feels fantastic. I don’t even care about the sickness, I’m so excited.’

  ‘It’s normal to feel sick in the first few months of pregnancy but we’ll keep an eye on the sickness. Let me know if it gets worse. Make an appointment to see Dr MacNeil and another to see me next week. That way, if you have any questions from what you’ve read, we’ll have plenty of time to go over it. I’ll send the forms through to the hospital and they’ll contact you about the scan. They always try and give islanders a late morning or early afternoon appointment so you have time to get the first ferry out and the last ferry home.’