The Surgeon's Rescue Mission

by Dianne Drake

  “When I’m not delirious I am. Can’t say for sure the rest of the time.”

  “So can you tell me what happened to you, David? Other than the fact that I ran over you?”

  “You didn’t. I did.”

  “What?”

  “I ran into you. Saw your headlights. Needed help, or die right there.” He sucked in a tattered, shallow breath. “Glad it was you because I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Nice compliment, as delirious compliments went. But he was delirious again, and she needed to get him some help.

  Solaina took his pulse one more time, then sucked in her own tattered breath. “Don’t know how I’m going to do this, Doctor, but I’m going to get you out of here now.” After that? She didn’t have a clue.

  “That will do, I think,” Solaina said, as she fashioned one leg of his jeans around his chest to support his broken ribs. A few snips, a couple of tucks and, voilà, instant brace. Satisfactory for now. Even though she didn’t have any great medical equipment tucked into a handy medical bag, Solaina was grateful for the first-aid kit she kept in her car, because the adhesive tape worked brilliantly to tape that makeshift brace into place. Rather ingenious, she thought, rocking back on her heels to appraise her work. The denim was a nice sturdy fabric. It had give, but it also had strength. Give and take, which was exactly what David needed until she could get him some X-rays and a professional wrap job.

  Of course, he was an orthopedist. He would be the best one to do what he desperately needed done, and here she was, doing the doctoring. “Are you able to breathe?” Solaina asked, slipping her fingers under the wrap to make sure she hadn’t taped it too tightly in place.

  “I was until I saw you. And now all I want to do is find an orchid for your hair.”

  Solaina repositioned herself next to David to start the process of getting him up, wondering if, in his right mind, he was a romantic. He could be, with all his delusional references. “Well, Casanova, orchid or not, I’ve got to figure out how to get you up.” This was going to be a struggle, and he wasn’t going to be much help. Especially now that he was slipping back into delirium.

  “Your orchid. Is it over your right or your left ear?” he asked.

  “That’s Hawaiian, Doctor.” An orchid over the left ear meant married. Over the right meant single. Without thinking, Solaina reached up and brushed the hair back from her right ear, as David reached up and touched her left.

  “That’s good,” he said, his hand dropping right back to the ground. “No orchid.”

  Even in his delirium he was fascinating. Charming. Appealing, in a down-and-out sort of way. What would you be like when you’re healthy, and all your mental faculties not quite so muzzy? Somebody she would admire? Perhaps someone she’d like to get to know? “Let’s talk about orchids another time. OK? Right now, we’ve got to concentrate on getting you up off the ground and into my car.” Her very small car, unfortunately.

  Asian cars were so small, which she actually liked because they were also efficient. Except right she wouldn’t have minded one of those American behemoths, lots of metal, lots of gas and lots of room…room being the priority here because, as it turned out, David Gentry was quite a tall man. Much taller than she would have guessed from his sprawled-out form on the ground. “OK, David, I’m going to try lifting you. But you’re going to have to help me.” From a patient bed to standing she could do it, from the ground up she wasn’t sure. “Arms around my neck, and when I give you the go, pull yourself up.” He did, and the effort barely pulled him off the ground. It did manage to pull Solaina right over on top of him, which knocked him backwards into the dirt.

  He moaned, grabbing for his ribs as she rolled off him. “You’re heavy.”

  No one had ever accused her of that before. At five feet four inches, she had a small frame, and while she wasn’t skinny, she wasn’t heavy either. Of course, to David, a leaf fluttering down onto his broken ribs would feel heavy. She couldn’t imagine what having her on top of them felt like. “Did I hurt you?” she gasped, plucking herself out of the dirt then immediately scrambling to his side to see if she had injured him.

  “Not hurt,” he managed. “But I sure could use a rhododendron.”

  Maybe not hurt, she thought, but definitely loopy again, and now, because his skirmish with dementia was coming and going so often, she was starting to wonder if he might have suffered more head trauma in his ordeal than she’d initially thought. A concussion? Maybe something worse, like a skull fracture? Head trauma of any kind scared her because out here there was no way to diagnose it, let alone do a little makeshift first aid on it like she’d done to his ribs. A wrap around his head made from the other leg of his jeans would do his head absolutely no good. Nothing she had would.

  “I have a nice big rhododendron next to my cottage,” Solaina replied. It was a bush. Maybe it was a rhododendron. She didn’t know, didn’t really care either. All she wanted to do was get him in her car, and if promising him a rhododendron was what it took, so be it. “Maybe you can have a look at it once I get you into the car and get you back there.”

  Her cottage was only ten minutes from here after all, the quickest place to take him, since he wasn’t critical. Injured horribly, yes, but not critically. And the plan that was finally coming to mind was to get him back there, then clean him up and call Howard Brumley about what to do next. Maybe Howard knew a doctor around here who could take a look at David. Or, with some luck, there might a clinic somewhere nearby she didn’t know about that Howard did.

  Whatever the case, she didn’t want to get Howard off his elephant excursion for good, merely long enough for a consult and a moral push, because she was already in way over her head.

  Howard would have a solution for her. She was sure of that.

  A melancholy smile crossed her lips, thinking about Howard. She would miss him desperately when she left Chandella in a few weeks. In fact, she was missing him already, even before she’d left. Dr Howard Brumley. Her dear friend, and the absolute best doctor in the world. He would, without a doubt, have a solution for her about David Gentry. “So, any suggestions on how to get you from here to the car door?” It wasn’t far. Quite close, in fact. Solaina calculated just a few giant steps but, oh, how imposing, when he couldn’t walk and she certainly didn’t have the strength to carry him.

  “I can crawl,” he said. “It’s humiliating, but it works.”

  “Crawl as in on your hands and knees?” she asked. “What about your shoulder?” Crawling could open an already dangerous wound, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to risk that. Out here, it was so easy for untreated dirty infections like his to turn gangrenous, and if David’s infection was anywhere near that stage, there was a risk it would spread systemically.

  Without answering, David turned over and crawled the few feet to her car. Then he collapsed alongside it, lying flat in the dirt, gazing upward. “So, what’s next?” he panted.

  “You just hop in the car, and I’ll take you round to my cottage.” If only it were that easy.

  “And exactly what parts of me would you suggest hop?”

  It was nice to have him back in his right mind. When he was that way, even under these dreadful circumstances, she felt better. Felt more confident. Felt more capable. “I think that right now I’d be happy to see any part of you hop into my car.” She knelt down alongside David. “Now, arms around my neck.”

  “Didn’t we try that already? I seem to recall you on top of me. Or was that a dream come true?”

  Solaina chuckled. “You don’t give up, do you, Casanova?”

  “Where there’s breath, there’s hope.”

  “Well, take the breath and hold it, and let’s see if we can get you up enough to get you into my car seat.” Bracing herself to his drag, Solaina did manage to get herself upright under his almost dead weight. At least enough to where he was able to fall backwards into the seat of her diminutive auto. Then he leaned sideways a
gainst the headrest on the back of the seat, trying to catch his breath.

  It took her a moment to catch her own. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “Other than my pride…” He shook his head.

  “Pride doesn’t count on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Especially when you’re not wearing pants. So now we’ve got to get your legs in,” she said. They were so long, she wondered if that was possible.

  “Nap first,” he mumbled. “Then you can take care of my legs any way you like.” With that, David’s eyes shut and his head fell forward until his chin was resting on his chest. Immediately, he let out a little snore.

  “I know you’re exhausted, Casanova” Solaina said, “but you really can’t quit on this until I get you all the way in.” She shook him gently on his leg. “David, wake up. Do you hear me? Wake up. I need your help with this.” He may be tired, but she’d had a long day, too, and she was also tired. And all during that day, her visions for the better part of her night had involved sleep, some light reading, then more sleep. Never had she pictured this, or anything remotely close to it—trying to stuff some rangy, roadside Lothario into her undersized car.

  Solaina took a deep breath, regrouped, then came back at it. “Wake up, David. I can’t do this without you.” She took a quick feel of his pulse. A little fast, but steady enough. “David.” She tried one more time, without success.

  It appeared David was in for a long nap. “Probably for the best,” she said as she bent first his right leg and forced it inside, then his left. Before she shut the car door, she gave those legs one last going-over. Nice, muscular. He was some kind of an athlete, she guessed. One whose legs had been kicked, or beaten, over and over. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” she asked, as she belted him into his seat then finally shut the car door. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into that someone would hurt you so badly?”

  And leave him for dead.

  David wanted to open his eyes. He desperately wanted to take a look around him to see if he’d been dreaming all of this, or if it was real—if she was real. He remembered bits and pieces of his trek through the jungle. Falling, pulling himself back up. Falling again. Trying to find a strong enough bush to hold onto as he pulled himself up once more.

  Those images were there, ingrained but quite fragmented. And none of them coming together in a full picture, except one, and she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. “I wanted it to be you,” he murmured. “Dreamed you would come for me.” That’s all he’d dreamt. The beautiful Solaina.

  Right now, in his dream, she was taking him to her home. He wanted to count on that, wanted to open his eyes and find that it was about to come true. But he couldn’t. Not at the moment. His body hurt, his mind was playing tricks on him because even in his near-unconsciousness, her fragrance filled his head. It was everywhere—on him, around him, in his every breath. It was like flowers…He remembered the smell of flowers on her. Not an orchid, even though he somehow connected her to an orchid.

  So jasmine, perhaps? She would have the scent of jasmine, she was too beautiful not to. “Jasmine,” he murmured. He was convinced of it now. Jasmine. “Just like the first time.”

  “I thought it was orchid. Or rhododendron.”

  A real voice? Or simply another part of his dream? He forced his eyes open a just a crack, but everything surrounding him was a mere blur. Was he in a car? A very small car? All crammed in with his knees practically up under his chin? And without his pants?

  No, that couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his pants.

  David ran his hands over his legs, and felt nothing but flesh. Then he reached up and rubbed the makeshift bandage around his chest. It was all coming back to him now. “How long was I out?” he asked.

  “Just a couple of minutes this time. But long enough that you didn’t have to help get your legs into the car, which wasn’t easy, by the way. How tall are you, David?”

  “Six three,” he answered, twisting to find a comfortable position.

  “I wouldn’t move too much if I were you,” she cautioned. “I’ve got your ribs stabilized, and your shoulder’s quit bleeding, so I don’t want you causing any more problem to your injuries. We’ll be at my cottage in another five minutes, and I promise you can take a good look at my rhododendron if you’re so inclined.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

  Even though she didn’t want to, Solaina laughed. “Something about rhododendrons and delirium, and deciduous trees. You’ve been in and out of it for the past fifteen minutes, babbling almost nonstop about the flora.”

  “Before that?” he asked.

  “Before that, I didn’t know you.”

  “But I dreamed about you before that.”

  “In the past fifteen minutes, you’ve gone in and out on me at least a half-dozen times. The mind has a funny way of distorting things when we’re unconscious. I have seen people go unconscious for days and wake up believing it’s only the next minute. Or people who have gone unconscious for seconds who wake up and recount these long, involved tales of what happened in their dream world during those brief moments. So, like I said, the mind has a funny way of distorting things, things that even the scientists can’t explain like rhododendrons and orchids and deciduous trees.”

  “Do you wear jasmine?” he asked.

  “I don’t wear it, but my soap is jasmine.”

  David sighed and shut his eyes. It was time to return to his dream world, and he only hoped that she would be there in it with him. And with him when he woke up again. And now that he had found the lovely Solaina, he really did want to wake up again. Soon!

  CHAPTER THREE

  SOLAINA shut off the alarm clock and dragged herself out of the white rattan chair that was normally positioned across the room from her bed. Right now it was next to the bed, at an angle from which she could watch David breathe. Which was what she’d done for the past eight hours now. Inhalation. Exhalation. Inhale…exhale. In and out. One thing was sure. After fixing on it for so long, she definitely knew his pattern, knew when to expect a little snore from him or even a moan. She even knew the moments when he held onto his breath a little longer than he should have, because those first few times he’d done it she’d jumped up, expecting to have to revive him, only to discover that he didn’t need it. He had been fine. Just breathing in his normal and what she decided was an exasperating pattern.

  She’d called Howard the instant she’d stepped foot in the door. He had been off the elephant for the night and sipping cocktails in the hotel lounge, listening to a jazz quartet and smoking cigars. And now she was waiting, since Howard didn’t drive at night. It seemed like days already, all cooped up and cranky there in her tiny cottage, with nothing but the sounds of David’s breathing to listen to, and nothing but the rise and fall of his chest to watch. Then, of all things, trying to fix her breathing pattern to his.

  There was ample room in there for one person, which was all that she’d wanted when she’d rented this little cozy-up well over a year ago. But now, with two people in it, and one of them so large, it was utterly overcrowded, practically bulging at the seams, and she could feel it closing in around her. Her uncluttered little arrangement with one single room sufficing for everything—bedroom, sitting room, kitchenette and dining cranny—was suddenly cluttered, and the more she thought about David being there, the smaller and tighter it was becoming.

  And she wasn’t, in the least, claustrophobic.

  Solaina glanced over her lilliputian space, trying, for a moment, not to focus so much on David. It was a nice space, actually. There was no luxury, but she’d grown up with all the luxury money could buy, and she didn’t need it any more. Didn’t need it, didn’t want it. Didn’t particularly like it. Although with the nice salaries she’d earned in her positions over the years, along with an inheritance from her mother that was not yet touched, she could have af
forded all the luxury she fancied. She just didn’t fancy it.

  And this little cottage, void of any extravagance, was just perfect, especially with its winding trail leading to the isolated stretch of beach just out her back door. With no neighbors close by, and no tourists on the undiscovered Dharavaj beaches, as far as she could see from the tiny bamboo terrace on which she spent most evenings here, this was the perfect place. Paradise. Shangri-la. It was what she craved. Her solitude.

  Solaina took in a deep, relaxing breath and let the pristine peacefulness of it all wash its way through her. Yes, this little rental was the perfect place for her. Or for anyone who didn’t wish to be bothered. And right now, fretting over this stranger was a bother. Especially since it was starting into the ninth hour since she’d dragged him inside, and she was faced with rousing herself from her chair every hour in order to give him a good, medical going-over. Howard’s orders.

  Eight hours done with, eight checks complete, and another hour and another check on the horizon. David was no better, no worse.

  She couldn’t say as much for herself, though.

  Sometimes he stirred and asked bright questions of her. “What day is it, pretty lady? What time? Is it raining today?” Other times he was totally confused, mumbling on and on about flowers and bats and other gibberish. “I need that rhododendron! Get that bat out of here. Bring me an orchid.”

  Thank her smiling, red-lipped Buddha for Howard. After he’d told her there was no clinic nearby, or even a doctor, he’d given her medical instructions on David’s care then promised to drive straight there with the morning light. She looked over at her little Buddha, the one that traveled everywhere with her. He was a bit of whimsy, with his fair skin and his big, red lips. He reclined on his side, his head propped in his hand, smiling and gazing up at the sky. Or maybe he was simply contemplating Nirvana. It was the way she wanted to live her life. Always gazing at the sky, always smiling, always happy. Contemplating Nirvana. She’d grown attached to this little souvenir because it was a reminder of the things she wanted.