by Fiona Lowe
That’s why she hadn’t mentioned her last name when she’d introduced herself—typical Warragurra style. His brief experience with the three prominent families in town had been the same. They all assumed you knew them by the nature of their community standing. ‘We must have just missed each other. I started in September last year. So you must be Kate Kennedy?’
Her jaw stiffened slightly, the tremor running down her neck and along her arm. ‘My surname is Lawson.’ The words snapped out, matching the flash of fire in her eyes. Her body language brooked no argument. It clearly said, Get it right and don’t ask why.
He recognised her posture. He’d used it often enough himself to deflect questions. But it was a strong response over a name. Perhaps Lawson was her professional name? A lot of his female colleagues retained their maiden names for work.
He let it slide, wanting to establish some working esprit de corps. ‘You must have left just before I arrived in Warragurra. Welcome back, Kate.’
‘Thanks.’ Her eyes softened. A wistful tone entered her voice. ‘I hope it’s going to be good.’
‘Coming back from a long break is always a bit of an adjustment.’ He remembered how tough it had been when he’d returned to work after Annie’s death. All those sympathetic faces. He pushed the memory away. ‘Still, two weeks working with me will be a good way to ease back into the routine and then you’ll be set to take over your usual clinic runs.’
She blinked twice and her smooth brow creased in a fine line. ‘This is my usual run.’
His gut tightened, his unease strengthening. ‘But Emily—’
‘Was filling in for me while I was on leave.’
Her quiet words exploded like a bomb in his brain. No. No. He didn’t want this. ‘So you and I, we’re now Flight Team Four?’
‘We are.’ She smiled again.
Her enthusiastic vibes radiated around him, sparking off a trail of heat that coursed through him, completely disconcerting him. His mind creaked to the inevitable, unwanted conclusion. ‘And Emily has been reassigned?’
‘She has.’
‘Right.’ The tightness of his throat strangled the word. Think. This wasn’t really a problem. He’d just ask for another nurse.
The booming voice of the regional director sounded in his head. Teamwork is the key. Get your hormones under control and deal with it.
A shadow floated through Kate’s caramel-brown eyes before resignation pushed it aside. She laced her hands in her lap. ‘I’m sorry this change of roster caught you by surprise but I’m sure it won’t take too long for us to get used to each other.’ She gave a throaty laugh. ‘After all, I don’t bite.’
An image of her lush, red lips and her white teeth nibbling his neck slammed into him.
This wasn’t happening. He didn’t react like this to women. He couldn’t. For years he’d seen women as colleagues, employees, sisters, mothers, friends. He packaged women into neat, safe boxes.
And that was exactly what he had to do now. Find a box for Kate. She would go into the workbox. And it would be a very secure, firm box with a lid that would not open.
He could do that. Of course he could do that.
How hard could it be?
CHAPTER TWO
KATE twisted open the top of a bottle of ice-cold water and drank half of the contents in one go. After recapping the bottle, she ran it across the back of her neck, savouring the coolness against her hot skin. She glanced out toward the endless burnt brown paddocks and beyond to the horizon which blurred with shimmering heat. Cattle clustered under the few available scrubby trees, seeking shade in the midday heat.
Coming out of a European winter and straight back into a Warragurra summer was like crashing into a brick wall, except the wall was all-encompassing, energy-draining heat. She must be mad. She should have delayed her return and spent two more months in France and Italy. But Warragurra was home. At least it had been, and she planned to make it home again no matter what anyone else thought.
‘Hot one for you today, Kate.’ Barry Sanderson, the taciturn owner of Camoora Station, lifted his hat and ran his forearm across his sweaty brow.
Kate smiled. She’d missed the ironic understatement of the Australian outback. It was always hot in February in western New South Wales. ‘It’s a stinker. Thanks for giving me the shadiest spot on the veranda for my baby clinic.’
‘You know for as long as Mary and I are here, you’re always welcome at Camoora.’ Understanding crossed his weatherworn face before his voice became gruff, as if he’d exposed too much of his feelings. ‘Besides, we can’t have those babies overheated.’
‘Thanks, Barry.’ She continued swiftly, not wanting to embarrass him but grateful for his support. ‘I’d better get back to work. Can’t have the new doc beating me on my first day back.’
Barry put his hat back on his head. ‘You make sure you have some tea and scones with Mary sooner rather than later.’ He strode down the long veranda of the homestead, stopping to talk to Baden.
Kate watched the interchange—the stocky bushman and the tall, athletic doctor. Baden was as dark as Barry was fair. She’d been stunned this morning when he’d turned around and faced her on the plane. Yesterday’s pirate was a doctor.
A disconcerted doctor. He’d looked almost worried when he’d realised the two of them were now Team Four. That had thrown her. She was used to all sorts of expressions from half the town—disdain, hatred and loathing. But work was different. At work she was valued, admired, respected. Or at least she had been.
Teamwork was the basis of the Flying Doctors. The working day meant a lot of time was spent with your team colleague. She’d hoped to resume working with Doug Johnston, but he’d transferred to Muttawindi two months ago covering Bronte Morrison’s maternity leave. He wouldn’t be back in Warragurra for a year.
We must have just missed each other. I started in September last year. Her stomach dropped as she recalled Baden’s words. He and his family would have arrived in Warragurra just as the Kennedys had finally realised they had no legal standing to contest Shane’s will. Just as the vitriol in the local press had reached its zenith. In many circles in the town her name was mud. Perhaps Baden’s wife had heard the rumours and not heard the truth.
Tension tugged at her temples with a vice-like grip. Work was her sanctuary while she found her feet again in the town. She must make this assignment with Baden work. Only her actions could dissolve rumours and innuendo. She had to prove to him she was a professional who could be relied on, a team player. Someone he could depend on as much as he’d obviously depended on Emily.
She watched him walk along the veranda toward her, his moleskins moving against his thighs, outlining hard muscle. ‘Ah, the baby clinic.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘It’s one of my favourites.’ His smile raced across his face, lighting his eyes, making them sparkle with anticipation.
His smile sent her blood racing to her feet, making her feel light-headed. ‘I know what you mean. A roly-poly baby, healthy on breast milk reaffirms that life is good.’
They quickly established a pattern of weighing and measuring babies, reassuring anxious mothers and immunizing babies against childhood illnesses. Kate dealt with any breast-feeding issues and Baden examined the babies with reflux.
With companionable teamwork and a lot of laughter they tested the hearing of all the eight-month-old babies. Baden entertained each mother and baby with his Peter the Penguin puppet, while Kate shook the rattle behind the baby’s ears.
Baden’s experience as a father came through as he managed to relax the mums and the babies with the antics of the hand puppet. Kate imagined he would have read great stories to Sasha, complete with a cast of voices for the characters.
In the distance a child’s scream rent the air as Kate called her next mother and baby.
‘Looks like we might be patching yet another knee and dispensing a lollypop,’ Baden commented as he filled in an immunisation record.
Kate nodded. ‘I
think that will be number six for the day. Gravel paths and toddlers don’t really mix.’ She turned and called her next patient. ‘So, Ginny, how’s baby Samantha going?’
Ginny cuddled the baby in close. ‘Pretty well, although I think she’s been having a growth spurt as she’s been feeding a lot.’
Kate checked Samantha’s date of birth. ‘Well, at six weeks you’d expect—’
‘Help me! Will someone help me?’ A woman’s frantic voice carried across the yard, her distress palpable.
‘Sorry, Ginny.’ Kate spun around, reaching for the emergency kit, her hand colliding with Baden’s.
He grasped the handle. ‘I’ve got it. Follow me.’
He ran down the veranda as Mary Sanderson came into view, carrying her four-year-old daughter. Her eldest daughter, Kelly, ran close behind.
Blood covered the little girl’s face as she lay whimpering in her mother’s arms. ‘What happened?’ Baden gently guided the woman into a seat.
‘She was feeding the chooks with her big sister, like she does every afternoon. Kelly said she heard Susie scream and she turned around to find the rooster had knocked her flat. I can’t believe a rooster could knock a child over.’ Incredulity marked her face. ‘I’ve spent all my life on a farm and I’ve never seen that happen.’
Kelly bit her lip. ‘The rooster was on Susie’s chest and pecking her and I ran at it but it wouldn’t let go. I threw the bucket at it but while I was picking her up it flew at her again.’ She gave a quiet sob. ‘It was really scary.’
Kate squeezed Kelly’s shoulder. ‘You did a great job, Kelly. Dr Baden and I will soon have the blood cleaned up and it won’t look so scary.’ She opened up normal saline and began to clean Susie’s face with gauze so they could clearly see the extent of the damage.
Susie’s petrified screams pulled at her. The little girl’s face seemed to be swelling under Kate’s fingers as she wiped the blood away. Her puffy eyes were slits in her face and her cheeks were increasing in size.
Baden’s long fingers gently sought a pulse in the wriggling child’s neck, which he counted against the second hand of his watch. ‘Susie, I’m just going to listen to your chest with my stethoscope.’ He bent down so he was at the same level as the little girl and showed her the round end that would lie against her chest.
Susie’s crying halted for a moment but then she started to cough—probably induced by the hysterical screaming. The coughing eased and she lay exhausted in her mother’s arms.
Apprehension skated through Kate as her trauma radar tuned in. Something wasn’t quite right. Superficial lacerations didn’t usually cause swelling like this. As she grabbed more gauze she caught Baden’s worried expression.
He felt it, too—the aura of disquiet seemed to blanket them both.
She quickly and deftly used the gauze to clean away the large amount of blood on the child’s neck. Blood oozed out as fast as she could clear it. ‘Baden.’ She hoped he could decode the tone of her voice.
He immediately pulled the earpiece out of his ear, his concentration firmly on her. ‘Yes?’
‘There’s a really deep wound on her throat and her neck is swelling fast. I’m worried about her airway.’
‘So am I. Her air entry is diminished.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mary’s voice wobbled. ‘It’s just a few scratches, isn’t it?’
Baden carefully examined Susie’s throat, his fingers gently palpating around the base of her throat. ‘There’s air under her skin.’
‘Air? That can’t be good.’ Kate reached for the walkie-talkie.
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s subcutaneous emphysema. I think the rooster has perforated her trachea—the tube that takes the air to the lungs—and now air is escaping into the skin.’
Mary’s hand flew to her own throat. ‘Can she breathe?’
‘She’s breathing on her own at the moment but the risk is that the bleeding and swelling will block the tube. We’re going to have to get her stable and then evacuate her to hospital.’
Kate immediately called Glen on the walkie-talkie. ‘We need the stretcher, Glen. Susie Sanderson needs oxygen and evacuation, over.’
‘On my way, over.’ Glen’s voice crackled into the dry, hot air.
Mary, her eyes wide with fear, looked frantically at them both as Baden’s words finally sank in. ‘She’ll go to Warragurra Hospital, won’t she?’
‘No, I’m sorry but she needs to go to the Women’s and Children’s Hospital in Adelaide.’ He rested his hand on Mary’s for a brief moment. ‘I’m going to need to examine her fully.’
‘Glen’s on his way with the stretcher, which will double as a treatment bed.’ Kate pulled out the paediatric oxygen mask and unravelled the green tubing, making it all ready to connect the moment the stretcher and oxygen arrived.
‘Give us a hand, Kate.’
Glen’s voice hailed her from the bottom of the stairs. She quickly ran to meet him and helped to lift the stretcher up onto the veranda.
Baden’s strong arms gently transferred Susie onto the stretcher, sitting her up to aid her laboured breathing. ‘Kate’s going to put a mask on you to help you feel better and Mummy’s here to hold your hand.’
His tenderness with Susie touched Kate. Not all doctors were at ease with kids. But he was a father and had probably spent a few nights walking the floor.
‘I want a drink,’ Susie sobbed between fits of jagged crying.
Kate adjusted the clear mask to Susie’s face, making sure it was a snug fit by pulling on the green elastic. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie, you can’t have a drink but I’m going to give you a drink in your arm.’ Kate checked with Baden. ‘Normal saline IV?’
He nodded, a flash of approval in his eyes. ‘Yes, saline. You all right to insert it?’ He paused for a moment in his examination of Susie’s back.
For a brief moment she was tempted to say no. She’d been out of the field for six months and Shane’s parents’ campaign against her had dented her confidence. But she had to show Baden she was a team player and totally reliable. ‘Sure, no problem.’
You’ve done this hundreds of times. Don’t let the Kennedys invade work.
‘Susie, this will sting just a little bit, OK? You squeeze Mummy’s hand really tight.’ She adjusted the tourniquet and palpated for a vein. Her fingers detected a small rise and she swabbed the little girl’s arm, the alcohol stinging her nostrils.
‘OK, here we go.’ Carefully she slid the intravenous cannula into the vein, controlling the pressure so there was enough to pierce the skin but not too much that she put the needle through the vein.
‘Mummy, stop her,’ Susie squealed as the needle penetrated the skin.
Kate bit her lip. ‘Nearly there, Susie.’ Holding her breath, she withdrew the trocar. Blood.
Yes. She released her breath and taped the needle in place. ‘IV inserted, Baden.’
He gave her a wide smile of acknowledgment—a smile that raced to his vivid blue eyes and caused them to crinkle at the edges.
A smile that melted something inside her and sent spirals of molten warmth through her, reaching all the way down to her toes.
Stop it. Thank goodness he was married and off limits. Otherwise that smile could batter all her resolutions about staying single. She found her voice. ‘Do you want a bolus of three hundred millilitres?’
‘Yes, good idea. I’m worried about bleeding.’
‘What about pain relief?’ It was a tricky situation.
‘Morphine would be good for the pain so she would be more comfortable and start to breathe more easily, but it also depresses the respiratory system. It’s catch-22.’ He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, the same action he’d used when he’d told Mary about the perforated trachea. ‘We’ll titrate it in through the IV and that way we can control it and pull it if we need to.’
‘Mary?’ Kate got her attention. ‘How much does Susie weigh? I need as accurate a weight as possible.’
The d
istraught mother spoke slowly. ‘I…It’s been a while since I weighed her but she’d be about twenty kilograms, I think.’
‘Baden?’ He’d lifted her onto the stretcher.
He nodded. ‘That’s about right.’ He gave Susie’s knee a rub. ‘You weigh the same as the sacks of flour I buy to make bread.’
Susie gave a wan smile.
Kate calculated the dose. ‘So two milligrams of morphine.’
‘Correct.’ Baden checked the dose with her as mandated by the Dangerous Drug Act.
He called to Glen. ‘We need to go.’ He rested his hand on Mary’s shoulder. ‘Are you or Barry coming with us or will you follow on your own?’
‘Mary’s going with Susie.’ Barry’s gruff voice cracked on the words. ‘I’m going to go and kill that bloody rooster.’
‘After you’ve done that, pack them both a case, Barry, and we’ll radio you when we get back to Warragurra.’ Kate hugged the usually stoic man and ran down the steps.
Kate gave thanks that the airstrip at Camoora Station was very close to the homestead. Station hands, their dusty faces lined with anxiety, carried the stretcher as if it were porcelain, avoiding jolting the adored Susie, hoping their care would help.
Seven minutes after Baden had issued the order to depart, the PC-12 aircraft was racing down the dusty runway.
Kate did the first set of in-flight observations. Susie’s heart was racing and her breathing rapid and shallow. ‘She’s tachycardic and tachypnoeic,’ she informed Baden sotto voce the moment he signed off from the radio conversation with the paediatric registrar in Adelaide.
He placed his stethoscope on Susie’s back and listened intently. ‘Nothing is getting into the lower lobe of her left lung.’ Deep furrows scored his forehead as he leant across her to check the IV.
The fragrance of spicy aftershave mixing with his masculine scent filled Kate’s nostrils and she wanted to breathe in deeply. Instead, she deliberately leaned back and concentrated on filling in the fluid balance chart. ‘Are you thinking pneumothorax?’
