by Anne Fraser
She couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t get her mouth to work. She felt like she was floating outside her body, watching the events around her. Her thoughts jumbled through her head, everything that had happened in the last half-hour a hazy and disconnected blur. Her arm throbbed with pain, which she welcomed because at least that meant some nerves were still attached.
‘Lie down.’ He laid her on the examination table and went to the top cupboard.
She struggled up onto her good elbow, finally finding her voice. ‘The saline’s in the lower cupboard and the antibiotics are—’
Flynn spun around, his face grim. ‘Lie down, Mia. You’re the patient, so behave,’ he growled as he grabbed the equipment he needed.
‘Will I lose my arm?’ She blurted out the words, half wanting to know, the other half of her preferring not to know.
‘Not if I can help it.’ He picked up the satellite phone, dialled a number and tucked it under his ear. ‘You’re going to Darwin for the best care possible. I want a plastic surgeon to operate.’
She bit her lip against her shaking, grateful for his care.
She listened to him order the air ambulance while he wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around her uninjured arm.
The phone call ended and he put the phone down next to her and pumped up the cuff. As he released the value his brow creased in concentration and concern. ‘One hundred on sixty.’
The image of horned eyebrows and a long snout thundered through her and paralysing fear gripped her. Think about now. Think about your treatment. ‘Perhaps it just broke my arm.’
‘Perhaps.’ He touched her hand. ‘It’s cool but that could be due to my pressure bandage.’ He slid the tourniquet up her arm and swabbed her hand. ‘As soon as I’ve put this IV in, I’m going to do an ultrasound to check your brachial artery. If there’s bleeding I’m going to have to do a fasciotomy to release the pressure.’
She nodded her understanding. She knew all the theory and she tried to focus on that. IV, ultrasound, evacuation, Theatre. She silently said the words over and over as she watched him guide the cannula into the back of her hand.
But snapshot images started exploding in her head. Colour images. Moving images. Images so real she was in them.
The little girl frozen with terror.
The crocodile’s hunched back. The intent in his unblinking eyes.
The crunching sound as its jaw snapped down hard on her arm.
Her throat closed, she couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t thought about herself, she’d just jumped to save the little girl who would have died instantly.
Impulse. Twice in four months she’d done something stupid and thoughtless. It was starting. The dementia that haunted her family was starting and she couldn’t ignore it any more.
She grabbed Flynn’s arm, staring up at him, panic tearing at her. ‘I couldn’t let her die.’ Words tumbled out over each other. ‘She’s too little to die. I’m going to die anyway but when the croc got me I didn’t want to die, but I will and I can’t stop it.’
Flynn’s startled expression soon changed to one of unflappable calm. He stroked her hair, his voice soothing. ‘You’re safe now, Mia, you’re not going to die. We’re going to save your arm and after a few days in hospital everything will be fine.’
Hysteria gripped her and tears cascaded down her cheeks. She shook her head, her voice rising. ‘No, you don’t understand. I’m going to die. I know I’m going to die.’
He pressed his lips against her forehead. ‘Shh, this is post-traumatic stress talking and I’m going to give you something to calm you down and make you sleep.’ He wiped her tears away with the soft pads of his thumb. ‘I didn’t save you so I could lose you. Everything is going to be all right. I promise that you and I are going to have a long life and grow old together.’
I didn’t save you so I could lose you.
Intense pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced before dragged through her, hard, sharp and devastating. He loved her but she was lost to him already. She tried to speak but she couldn’t move air in or out of her chest.
She saw Flynn reach for the oxygen mask as blackness rolled in from the edges of her mind. Then his image faded as the darkness swamped her completely.
CHAPTER TEN
MIA squinted against the light that crept in though the slatted blinds, illuminating her eyelids and waking her up. She automatically tried to turn to check her bedside clock, wondering what time it was.
Red-hot pain seared her. She glanced to her left and saw her arm suspended in a sling, hanging from a pole next to the bed. The back of her right hand contained an intravenous drip, which was attached to a pump. Her mouth tasted of metal, her skin smelt of Betadine, her head felt fuzzy and her hair lay in clumps lank against the pillow.
Hospital.
She had no recollection of arriving. She didn’t remember much at all except being held in Flynn’s arms after the attack. She shuddered and immediately pushed the thoughts away. She didn’t want to relive yesterday at all.
‘You’re awake?’ Flynn’s warm lips caressed her cheek. ‘How are you feeling?’
The warmth in his voice and lips rolled through her and she reached up, touching his cheek, reassuring herself that he was real and she was fine. ‘Just peachy.’ Her voice croaked through her dry mouth. ‘Can I have drink, please?’
‘Sure.’ He poured water into a glass from a plastic jug and with a dextrous flick angled the straw. Then he gently eased her upward and pushed another pillow behind her back so she was half-reclined and handed her the glass, steadying the straw against her lips.
The water tasted cold and sweet and she gulped it down. ‘Thanks. You’d make a good nurse.’
He sat down on the bed facing her, his eye’s twinkling. ‘I learned from the best.’
Her lips curved upwards. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’
He grinned. ‘That’s the plan.’
She wriggled her fingers of her left hand just to test they worked. Relief filled her. ‘I don’t really remember too much after you put me in the truck.’
Flynn picked up her uninjured hand, gently stroking her fingers. ‘After I got you back to the clinic you started to hyperventilate, which is pretty understandable after what you’d just been through. I gave you some diazepam to calm you down and that helped slow down your bleeding.’
‘Sorry.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I don’t remember flipping out.’
‘That’s OK. It’s all part of the job.’ His eyes stared into hers, their hazel depths brimming with care and affection. ‘The air ambulance arrived and you were pretty drowsy on the flight. Simon Peters, the plastic surgeon, met us in A and E and you went straight to Theatre.’
She stared up at her arm, which was swathed in layers and layers of white gauze bandage. She couldn’t remember anything about going to Theatre. ‘How’s my circulation?’
Flynn reached over and touched the fingers on her injured arm. ‘Toasty warm and pink, so I’d say your circulation is perfect.’ He pulled her chart off the end of the bed and passed it to her. ‘See for yourself.
‘The staff checked it all night and there haven’t been any concerns. Simon said the repair went well and he doesn’t anticipate any problems. You have about three hundred tiny stitches but no skin grafts were required.’
He pointed to the drug order. ‘The biggest worry is the risk of a Pseudomonas infection from the water or the teeth so you’re on strong antibiotics, which might make you feel a bit nauseous.’
Her stomach rolled. ‘I think that’s already happening.’
He tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘You might be hungry. It’s been a long time since you ate.’
She grimaced. ‘Oh, great, a week of hospital food. I can’t wait.’
‘Well, I’ve got some news that might make you smile.’ Again his gaze rested on hers, his eyes shining with a light she’d not seen before. It puzzled her because she thought she knew his every look and expression.
‘Simon is happy to discharge you into my care tomorrow morning. I’ve got us a suite at The Gardens, overlooking the harbour where we can spend the week before you have your post-op appointment with Simon in his rooms. You can relax, read and enjoy some pampering.’
His unexpected words stunned her. ‘But what about work? Kirra needs their doctor.’
He smiled down at her indulgently, as if she was an innocent child who didn’t understand how the world worked. ‘I’ve organised to take some annual leave and Northern Territory Health has sent in two relievers to cover for both of us.’
She couldn’t stop herself from frowning, which was crazy because she should be happy. She should be thrilled that he wanted to do this for her but something inside her rebelled against his words. She didn’t understand the feeling but it forced her to speak. ‘But you don’t want to lose a week of your annual leave looking after me. You should be saving that for going south for a real break because this will be like a busman’s holiday. I’ll be fine here, truly.’
The crinkly smile lines around his eyes smoothed. ‘I’m not going to leave you here alone for a week.’ He raised her right hand to his mouth, and pressed his lips against her fingers. ‘In fact, I’m not planning on ever leaving you.’
I promise that you and I are going to have a long life and grow old together.
Her breath swooped out of her lungs as her memory flooded back. Yesterday at the clinic. His tenderness. The words he’d spoken that had told her that he loved her.
And now he’d just told her again.
Flynn loved her.
And she loved him with every part of her.
A silent cry ripped through her. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. It was supposed to have been an affair. He was supposed to get over Brooke with her and then meet someone, fall in love and head off to have a long and happy life with a household full of children.
He shouldn’t love her. She couldn’t give him those things.
He couldn’t love her, she wouldn’t let him.
Flynn wasn’t like Steven and when he found out about the frontotemporal dementia he would not abandon her. He would insist on staying and caring for her. But he deserved so much more than being tied down, watching her disappear behind the wall of dementia until she was mute and a wasted shadow of herself.
She’d always known one of them would leave the affair first. Today she knew it would be her.
Flynn had showered, shaved and rung the ward. Twice. The first time he’d been told Mia was in the shower, and the second time that Simon Peters was talking to her.
He ached to see her but he’d given up pacing and waiting. Instead he’d gone shopping to fill in the time until eleven a.m. He’d loaded the fridge with fresh fruit, vegetables, gourmet cheeses and bakery-fresh bread, the likes of which Kirra had never seen. He’d bought flowers, chocolates and six magazines because he had no idea which ones Mia would enjoy the most, and he’d also purchased a best-selling novel that the woman in the bookshop had recommended.
On the way back from the bookshop he’d passed a jewellery store. Usually the sight of sparkling diamonds and gold chains was enough to force him to cross the street, but today he’d found himself studying rings and wondering what type of engagement ring Mia would want. He could picture an emerald, diamond and sapphire combination, which depicted the colours of Kirra, the place they had met.
After everything he’d been through with Brooke he’d never expected to want to propose again or marry anyone, but Mia had altered that. Mia, with her zest for life, her teasing smile and understanding ways, had come into his life and changed it for ever. And yesterday, when he’d come so close to losing her, he’d known right there and then he was never letting her go.
When he picked up Mia from hospital at eleven o’clock, that signalled the start of their new life together. He couldn’t wait. He glanced at his watch and grabbed his keys. His heart kicked up a beat. It was time to go.
Ten minutes later he stepped out of the lift into the ward. Surgical wards were busy places on weekday mornings. White-coated residents strode purposefully, conducting ward rounds and pre-theatre examinations. Porters negotiated trolleys through narrow doorways and cheerfully greeted anxious patients with a joke and a smile, and nursing staff walked as quickly as they could, stopping just short of breaking into a run as they administered pre-medications, attended to wound care, and listened to patients’ fears and concerns.
Flynn made his way down the long corridor, dodging all the action of the morning, and smiled at he passed a couple making their way slowly down the ward. The man held an overnight bag and flowers in one hand and his other hand rested gently on the seated woman’s shoulder as a nurse pushed her wheelchair toward the lift. The relief and joy on their faces was clear for all to see. The hospital stay was behind them and they were going home.
That would be him and Mia in five minutes. He walked toward the door of the private room where he’d kissed Mia goodnight the previous evening. He pushed down the large, metal doorhandle and as he opened the door he joked, ‘I’ve come to take you away, yah, ha!’
‘You can take me anywhere you like, handsome.’ An elderly woman with a blue rinse and a crocheted bed-jacket sat up in bed and gave him a toothless grin.
Flynn stopped abruptly, completely stunned. ‘You’re not Mia.’
‘Sweet boy, if I was fifty years younger I bet I could be.’ The woman chuckled. ‘So who’s this Mia I’m in competition with?’
He found himself grinning a wide, crazy smile. ‘I hope by this afternoon she’ll be my fiancée.’
‘Ah, young love! She’s a lucky girl.’
‘Thank you.’ He smiled his ‘doctor smile’, the one he used for flirty, elderly women. ‘But if I were a free man, things would be different.’
‘Oh, get on with you. Off you go and find your girl.’ She lifted her arm and shooed him away.
Flynn hurried to the nurses’ station to ask which room Mia was in, but found it deserted, with the phone ringing. He peered at the patient board but couldn’t see Mia’s name.
Bridgette, the unit nurse manager, rushed past and smiled in recognition as she reached for the phone. ‘Morning, Doc, did Mia forget something?’
Forget something? He had no idea what she was talking about. He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited impatiently for the nurse to finish her call. He’d wanted to be walking out the door with Mia right about now.
The moment Bridgette hung up the phone he spoke. ‘Which room have you moved Mia to?’
‘Moved her to?’ Genuine bewilderment crossed the nurse’s freckled face. ‘But she left half an hour ago with you.’
He shook his head. ‘No, she didn’t. I just arrived to collect her.’
Two frown lines creased between her eyes. ‘But when I gave Mia her discharge medications she told me that you’d gone to hail a taxi to bring it around to the front entrance.’
Why would she have said that? Had she been so keen to leave the ward and the hospital that she’d thought she’d wait for him downstairs even though she’d known he was coming at eleven? He’d walked right through the uncrowded entrance and he would have seen her if she’d been waiting for him there.
A vision of Mia collapsed somewhere in the hospital thundered through him. ‘You didn’t let her leave the hospital unescorted, did you?’ The words shot out accusingly.
Bridgette visibly bristled. ‘No, Doctor, I most certainly did not. We followed protocol to a T. Simon Peters had just finished his discharge examination and as he was heading downstairs anyway, he offered to escort her to you and the car.’
‘Then where the hell is she?’ His voice started to rise as a sliver of dread crawled through him. ‘What did she write on the discharge form?’
Bridgette pulled the history from the pile. ‘“The Gardens.” Ooh, nice place.’
Thoughts jumbled in his head. None of this was making sense. ‘Get Simon Peters on the ward phone and ask him where he left Mia
.’ He flipped open his own phone and rang the reception of The Gardens. Mia hadn’t checked in. No one answered the phone in their room. Finally, he slapped his phone shut.
‘Simon’s on the line.’ Bridgette held out the ward phone’s handset to Flynn, apprehension stark on her face.
He almost snatched it from her hand. ‘Simon, Flynn Harrington.’
‘Flynn, mate, everything all right? Have you got the gorgeous Mia resting in a cocoon of luxury?’ The plastic surgeon’s bonhomie boomed down the line.
Flynn breathed in deeply, trying to keep his voice calm. ‘Actually, that’s what I’m ringing about. I’ve come to collect Mia and she isn’t here. Bridgette said you took her downstairs to meet me, but at that point I hadn’t even arrived. Into whose care did you leave her?’
‘I thought I was leaving her with you.’ There was a slight hesitation before Simon continued. ‘As we arrived at the front entrance I got a page to return to the ward. Mia told me she could see a taxi coming and it was probably you. She insisted I go back upstairs to see the patient. Are you sure she isn’t at The Gardens?’
Flynn ran his hand through his hair. ‘I’ve checked and she’s not there.’
‘I’m sorry, Flynn.’ Genuine regret sounded in his voice. ‘She didn’t give me any indication that she was going anywhere other than to The Gardens with you.’
Flynn rang off, the sliver of dread expanding into a chasm. ‘She’s got into a taxi and disappeared into thin air. Hell, she could be unconscious somewhere.’
Bridgette shook her head. ‘In the unlikely event that she collapsed in a taxi between here and The Gardens, the driver would have brought her straight back. Ring them again. You might have just crossed paths and by now she’s ensconced on the bed, resting.’
He wanted so much to believe Bridgette but most of him kept asking, Why didn’t she wait for me? He redialled the hotel and asked Reception to go and check if Mia was in the room. He paced back and forth, waiting on hold until he was told the room was vacant. He rang off. ‘She’s not there.’
