As she finished the last, she was struck by a thought. ‘You’re sure they’re not toadstools and we’ll all get sick.’
Ben laughed at her. ‘Or high as a kite? No. Not gold tops or toadstools. My grandmother has had me picking these as long as I can remember. I’m well versed on which ones to leave. The boys and I have had a long discussion about the characteristics of poisonous fungi.’
Holly admitted to herself she’d never heard of Ben’s grandmother hallucinating. Something that would have got the gossips rolling in glee. But still. ‘So many dangerous things I’m doing with you, Ben Brierly.’
‘And more to come, we hope. Don’t we, boys?’
The chorus of agreement made Holly pause for a moment. She just hoped she hadn’t read this wrong, because if Ben didn’t want to share the future with them then she’d have two very disappointed boys. And to think she’d worried he’d make her lose focus on her charges. That had never been the case.
Ben took the boys down to the creek to fish after breakfast and Holly sat in a chair beside the water and read the first fiction book she’d glanced at for several years.
The sun dappled the water through the tall river gums and iridescent dragonflies flitted back and forth. Some appeared to be doing what she and Ben had tried last night, and she blushed every time she saw a brilliant blue duo fly past united.
After the thrill of fresh water fishing, where Pat caught a fish, to whoops and yells of delight, and then trepidation as the hook needed to be released, Ben proved he could gut a fish. Though small, they cooked and divided it up so everyone tasted a bit. Holly smiled to herself as the boys pretended to enjoy it.
That long leisurely Sunday finished with Ben showing the boys how to direct Holly into a parking space as she reversed the van. Holly had thought Ben mad that two now-seven-year-olds could give directions but Ben had more faith.
‘Because there’s two of you, she’s lucky,’ Ben told the boys.
And between the three of them, and after only a few false starts, it was working.
The lightbulb probably struck at Ben’s final insistent reminder. ‘Keep both hands at the bottom of the steering wheel. Depending on which way you want to reverse the trailer, bring that hand up. The boys will say, left or right.’
And it worked. She felt like whooping and yelling herself. The boys did.
Perfect. Such a perfect first camping trip.
Until, as they’d almost finished packing, Tom let out an unexpected cry that made Holly’s blood run cold. Her head snapped up, but Ben was beside him in an instant, and Holly heard him whimper, ‘Something stung me.’ He held his small hands tightly over his throat.
‘What was it?’ Ben’s voice calm.
‘I think it was one of those jumping ants.’
Then hopefully it wasn’t a snake or a spider then, Holly thought as she hurried over.
‘Show me, Tom,’ Ben said before Holly could, and they eased his hold away to see the red lump of the bite under Tom’s fingers. Pat ran up with worry creasing his face.
‘Is Tom okay?’
Holly’s heart rate accelerated as she noted the bite sat directly over Tom’s windpipe and had begun to swell already. Tears were running down his face from the pain.
Jack jumper ant? She remembered something about them. 3per cent of the population were allergic to them, Holly’s brain whirred. In her mind she remembered just such an occluded airway she’d had to perform a tracheotomy on in the emergency department, and her heart rate sped even faster. Not Tom. Not Tom.
‘Is he okay?’ Pat insisted from beside her and tugged her arm.
Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t speak. She’d promised Susan. Then she heard Ben’s normal voice.
‘It’s okay, Holly. We’ve got this.’ Ben’s words snapped her out of the funk she’d been rapidly sinking into. What was wrong with her? She took a deep breath and looked at the man calmly soothing Tom. Ben inclined his head towards Pat who was watching her with the beginnings of horror on his face.
‘Sorry. It’s okay, Pat. Tom will be fine. I’m being silly.’ This was so unlike her, but she couldn’t help it. Her worst nightmare depicted something happening to either twin, and she’d promised her sister so vehemently. She needed to lose this hypersensitivity she’d acquired. And stop thinking worst-case scenarios. Ninety-seven per cent of people weren’t allergic to jack jumper ants.
Of course, they had drugs to manage this. Then remembering, she whispered in horror. ‘I don’t carry my doctor’s bag anymore.’
Another glance from Ben. His eyes met hers. ‘I do. He’ll be fine even if it does swell. I have creams, and antihistamines and more.’
He didn’t elaborate, but she knew he meant adrenalin. He was right. He did have this. And the hollow feeling in her gut told her she hadn’t come prepared. Hadn’t brought her emergency kit, because she’d packed it away when she’d had the breakdown. Hadn’t thought the dangers of camping in the outdoors through, and Ben had.
She couldn’t believe she’d been so thoughtless. Maybe because her head was filled with thoughts of Ben.
Half an hour later, after they were sure the antihistamine and cream were working, the final few minutes of packing were done by Ben and Pat while Holly sat with Tom on her lap and helped him hold the ice pack onto the area where Ben had smeared the anti-bite cream. Already the pain was fading, and Tom was sleepily leaning against her, while Holly watched Ben as he chivvied Pat into good humour about being tricked into all the work.
By the time their convoy of Ben in front in his vehicle and her pulling her little van with her own car had started off, everyone had settled. Ben sounded his horn in a merry beep as they went past the main homestead but he didn’t slow and Holly was glad. Another day she’d thank Ben’s formidable grandmother, but after Tom’s scare—not today.
On the last bend before the tarred road, Ben stopped his vehicle and Holly pulled up behind him.
Now what? She glanced in the rear mirror. Tom was asleep. Pat leant his head against the booster seat and looked ready to do the same.
Ben was out of the car quickly, unexpectedly, his doctor’s bag grasped in one hand and his mobile phone in the other. He came to her window and one look at his face told her this was not good. ‘Tell the boys to stay in the car. There’s a truck in the ravine and I can still see the dust in the air from where it went over. It doesn’t look pleasant.’
Holly handed her phone to a sleepy Pat. ‘We have to help some people. Stay here and mind Tom and ring me on this if if you get worried.’
Pat took the phone and nodded and she mentally thanked her sister again for raising such amazing little boys.
When she climbed out Ben handed her a pair of non-sterile surgical gloves and she pulled them on.
She was glad the boys couldn’t see anything past Ben’s car. Dreaded what she’d see as she followed Ben, his words indiscernible as he murmured into his phone. She knew he’d stay connected until he could assess the scene and pass on the information to emergency services.
Holly skidded down the embankment after him, the strong scent of crushed grass and foliage, diesel and dust all around her as Ben caught her hand to steady her at the bottom. The visual impact of the man’s head lolling out of the driver’s window of the truck and a still, blonde head on the other side, made her stomach clench. Back to the emergency department. Back to the trauma and tension of keeping vital organs going and vital signs stable. Back to keeping people alive. If she could. Yes, she could. Ben needed her. She could do this.
Ben squeezed her hand. Right. Together they’d meet what needed to be done and do it. Help would arrive.
They separated as Ben strode to the driver and Holly skirted the rear tray and opened the passenger door. She looked across to Ben and saw the broken end of a metal pole impaling the man’s stomach. Blood oozed sluggishly around the penetrating object as the man’s laboured breathing underlined his perilous condition. The man looked at Ben and in a rattling voice, he gr
ound out, ‘Don’t. Let. My. Wife. Die.’ Then in a barely audible fading whisper, ‘The children will need her.’
Holly flicked her gaze back to her own patient. A woman, mid-thirties, blonde hair, ashen pallor to her face, breathing in shallow gasps. A mother. The woman stared straight ahead as she held herself stiffly—as if it hurt to move or turn—and Holly had no doubt it did. By the uneven sides of her chest, Holly strongly suspected she’d punctured her lung and was slowly being robbed of her ability to draw breath as the pressure in the pleural space collapsed her lung.
‘Tension pneumothorax,’ Holly said quietly, flashing a look at Ben.
He indicated the man’s belly. ‘Organ trauma and haemorrhage. I’m here to stay.’
Surprisingly that was okay. ‘I know. I’ve got it.’
She knew this was life threatening, as the air trapped in the pleural cavity pushed the woman’s mediastinum sideways and would eventually obstruct the blood return to her heart. If Holly didn’t release the pressure squashing the lung the woman would go into cardiac arrest. In minutes.
Already the signs were ominous, her breathing shallow and very rapid, the blue of her skin, the faint and rapid pulse, and when Holly gently touched the woman’s skin above her collarbone the crackle of surgical emphysema felt like rice bubbles of air trapped under the layers of skin.
‘Hurts,’ the woman gasped and Holly nodded grimly. And squeezed the woman’s shoulder gently. ‘Emergency services are on the way. Ben and I are doctors. We’ll try to make you a little more comfortable until they arrive.’
‘My husband?’
‘Ben’s looking after him. I’m looking after you. I think a rib has punctured your lung. We need to deflate the pressure so you can breathe in.’
She’d done these countless times in the emergency department. Just not done it in the front of a truck without portable X-ray. Third intercostal space. ‘Ben, I need a sixteen-gauge cannula and a swab. Do you have that?’
Ben looked up at her and pushed across his bag with one hand as he held a thick wadded sponge over a bleeding wound and taped it down. She rummaged in the bag and pulled out what she needed. ‘Thanks.’ She pushed it back to the centre so he could delve into the bag when he needed.
Her brain ticked remarkably calmly. Nothing like the time at the wedding when she’d frozen. Or with Tom’s bite. Or during her last horrible day at work.
Now she swished alcohol lotion onto her gloved hands and over the woman’s chest, then wiped the area with a swab calmly as she palpated the space between the second and third rib under the woman’s collarbone.
Swab again, discard needle safety cap, swab, ensure the catheter is back inside the needle and stabilise the chest wall with her left hand.
Right hand, hold needle perpendicular to the chest and push slowly …
There! A sudden loss of resistance meant she’d pushed through into the pleural space and the pocket of air. She removed the positioning needle from the catheter leaving the air to hiss out of the cannula. Within a short space of time, even without a stethoscope Holly could tell the pressure building with excruciating pain in the woman’s chest was releasing as her breathing become less shallow.
No surprise Holly’s breathing felt better too.
She caught the look of warm appreciation Ben sent her as the woman slowly relaxed. She’d saved one person. And he was saving his. She sent her own gesture of respect to him as he worked on the husband while they both waited for the paramedics to arrive.
There’d been none of the fog that had killed her confidence, none of the indecision. Having Ben working beside her with his own medical drama was as it should be, and everything had slid into the exact place it needed to be. They’d both needed to get it right, and fast, and they had. Unknown children with parents who could have died if they hadn’t been there. And Ben wouldn’t have been able to save them both in time.
Another look between them, acknowledging the fragility of life that was passing them by. A sudden burn in her gut to stop wasting time. Stop the risk of losing Ben when he was right there in front of her. Stop not saving lives when she’d always known it was a part of her.
The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance and she slid the used needle into a small container in Ben’s bag for sharps. Then she set about taping the cannula in place.
‘I thought I would die,’ the woman whispered. She turned slowly towards her husband, where Ben had stemmed the blood loss and started a drip. ‘Thought our children had lost us both.’
Another family at risk. But this time the idea didn’t panic her. This couple would live. She looked across at Ben, wanting to share the moment, and saw she had. The warmth in his eyes conveyed more than his acknowledging nod said. She’d done well. And calmly. They both had. The world was changing for everyone.
*
The accident victims were transported in two separate ambulances and their family notified. By the time they arrived home, Tom and Pat were sound asleep. Ben reversed the camper into the shed to save time. Then he went home to shower. ‘I’ll be back.’
She fancied the sound of that very much. She liked it so much she shooed sleepy boys upstairs to jump in the shower so she could as well afterwards. They could worry about unpacking everything after school tomorrow, as Ben had promised to plug the electricity back into the van. The food could stay in the refrigerator.
The boys were still exhausted and she craved sleep almost as much as she craved Ben. No. She wanted Ben more. Shame they couldn’t make that happen.
Which meant she did what needed to be done, fed the pyjamaed boys, made the lunches for school the next day, herded two exhausted little seven-year-olds into bed and closed the blinds.
When she checked Tom’s ant bite, it was almost gone. ‘Healed,’ she said, and touched his pink throat lightly with her finger.
‘Ben’s stuff worked,’ he murmured.
‘Yes, it did.’ She kissed his forehead again.
He smiled sleepily. ‘Thank you for our camping.’
‘And our birthday,’ Pat mumbled from his own bed.
‘Is Ben staying the night?’ Tom said yawning.
Holly eyed him quizzically. ‘He could, why?’
Pat yawned too. ‘That’s good.’
Tom burrowed down deeper and his voice came out muffled. ‘We like the way he looks at you. You deserve a hug.’
Holly stifled a laugh and dropped a kiss on both boys’ cheeks. ‘Good night, boys.’
But they were already asleep.
When she returned to the kitchen, she stared at the empty room. She knew now she loved Ben, and her greatest fear was that he might think she only loved him because she needed a father for the boys. In that part she knew Ben would be amazing, but that wasn’t why she almost ran through to the little Juliet balcony and looked out for her own Romeo to come striding down the street.
She loved Ben because, somehow, she’d finally understood. Something Ben had seen from the distance of time and never given up on. That she was the one for him and he the one for her. Ben was her other half.
Both of them could stand alone, but together they could live life to the fullest. Until now she’d never even been close to living.
She must have missed his approach because Ben’s tread on the step made her turn towards the screen door with a leap to her heart that she was getting used to.
His familiar figure materialised with evening light behind him and she could feel the anticipation gallop along with her pulse. Why this gorgeous, wonderful man still wanted her after all this time she didn’t understand, but thank goodness he did. Because he’d helped her find love, she suspected he’d helped her future as a doctor, certainly helped her boys, and most of all he’d healed her heart.
He paused in the doorway, the light around him gold from the last rays of the sun, but his features were in the shadow. She wished she knew what he was thinking, if he wanted to go or stay, if he needed her as much as she needed him at this moment. Or if all t
he drama and the undramatic hard work of two seven-year-olds over the last two days was something he hadn’t expected.
‘Come in.’ Then more firmly, ‘Please.’
He opened the screen. ‘Are you okay?’
She nodded. For her own discoveries, well, she couldn’t fight it anymore. She wanted Ben. All of him. Every day and every night. She thought about the next word and nodded to herself. Yes. Forever.
‘The boys?’
‘Asleep.’ She had to smile. ‘Though they did suggest you should stay the night, before they dropped off.’
His brows went up. ‘Did they?’
‘Indeed. They believe I need a hug.’
His eyes crinkled and his beautiful mouth curved. ‘And what do you think?’
She waggled her brows. ‘I think I’d love you to stay the night.’
He straightened and pretended to pull back. ‘I’m a little concerned we may have a post-traumatic sex dependency.’
She raised her brows. ‘A new type of PTSD?’ She could understand why he might think so. ‘My nephews think we could have much more than that.’
He was still at the door. ‘And what do you think?’
‘I’m hoping they’re right.’ Her words hung in the air between them, and slowly he smiled.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ben
Ben’s breath jammed in his chest. Was he reading the promise he’d waited for all these years? Or was he jumping to conclusions? He hadn’t been joking when he’d mentioned PTSD sex. Though last night while camping there’d been no drama prior to them making love, just an amazing night that became more incredible.
With a slow inhalation Ben closed the big wooden door behind him and leaned against it. At this moment he needed to shut out Wirralong, shut out the past, shut out any chance of her getting away, if that promise in her eyes was what he thought it was.
He crossed the room and reached out to pull her gently against him until their bodies touched full length. Holly’s soft and warm against his was no dream and that scent of violets a homecoming that made his fingers glide down her arms with possession. ‘The boys really said that?’
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