by Amy Andrews
They didn’t venture out of the station during their breaks to eat somewhere picturesque and interesting anymore. Eating at the station usually guaranteed someone was around. They didn’t hang out with Matilda in the afternoons if the pager allowed. He hadn’t asked her to babysit.
In fact anything that put them alone together any more than necessary he’d avoided like the plague. When she’d ventured a complaint a few weeks back he’d given her a direct look and said it was the way it had to be. He’d sounded so detached she lost the nerve to push him further.
Her father had noticed the difference in Lawson and had asked her if everything was okay. Vic had assured him everything was fine and hoped her father hadn’t detected the flush to her cheeks at the blatant lie.
‘You’re going out with Carl?’
Vic stopped eating mid-chew. It was so rare for him to address her these days other than the minimum required during cases she almost fell off her chair. He hadn’t looked up from the paper but he’d still initiated a conversation. A non-work-related one to boot. ‘Sure.’
Lawson had been battling with himself to stay quiet. He’d read the same sentence in the paper about fifty times. Who Victoria chose to go out with was none of his business. But Carl? ‘You do know Carl is an incorrigible flirt? He prefers to play the field.’
Vic gaped at him. What the hell did he care? ‘So?’
Her dismissal grated. Was that what she wanted? Did she want to make a fool of herself with Casanova Carl in her last weeks on the island? The thought of Victoria letting the other man touch her made him want to break things. In London, she could do what she wanted—he wouldn’t have to see it or hear about it. Could he bear to watch it right beneath his nose?
Lawson shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance as he concentrated on the print in front of him. ‘I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.’
Vic felt an eruption of suppressed emotions from the last month explode inside her. She narrowed her eyes and snatched the paper out of his grasp. ‘What kind of girl?’
Forced to look up, Lawson was surprised to see the fire in her whiskey gaze. ‘To let a bit of flirting go to your head.’
‘I’m young and single, Lawson,’ she goaded. ‘It’s supposed to go to my head.’
‘Yes, but Carl is only likely to offer you a quick fling.’
‘Well, maybe I need a quick fling, Lawson. Personally I think I’m ripe for one.’ God knew, she was so frustrated she could scream.
Lawson felt her comment punch him low in the gut. If she was ripe it was because he’d primed her and he was damned if Carl was going to benefit. ‘I just think it’s a bad idea to get involved with a colleague’
Vic felt an irrational urge to launch herself at him. Whether it would end up with her shaking him senseless or kissing his lips off, she wasn’t entirely sure. All she knew was she trembled just below her skin with a suppressed emotion that she didn’t want to examine too closely.
‘So, let me get this straight,’ she said, breathing slow and deep to stop from screeching like an irrational female. ‘You don’t want me, but you don’t want Carl to want me either?’
God. Lawson cringed inside. It sounded totally screwy. But she was right. Carl. Some random guy on a job. The entire male population of the British Isles. He wasn’t particularly fussy. Jeez. What was wrong with him?
One thing he knew for sure: this conversation had fraught written all over it and he needed to back away. Should never have let the green-eyed monster goad him into starting it in the first place. ‘I think this is a totally inappropriate conversation to be having at work.’
The steam finally found an escape and she leapt to her feet, her chair scraping back and falling to clatter on the ground behind her. ‘Damn it, Lawson. Don’t do this. Don’t retreat on me now. Answer the bloody question.’
Lawson was surprised at her outburst. She’d seemed so calm over the last month, coping much better with their mutually agreed upon amnesia than he had. He knew he’d been a total pain in the butt and his forced reserve had both annoyed and hurt her. But it was the only way he could deal with what had happened between them and continue to work together.
Their pagers beeped and he’d never been more grateful to hear the noise in his life. Saved by the bell.
‘Damn it!’ Vic swore as she wrenched hers off her belt and contemplated throwing it across the room.
‘Fifty-six-year-old male. Central chest pain, diaphoretic, S.O.B. Query M.I.’
Vic followed the message with her own gaze as Lawson read it off. She got to the address and map coordinates, the small printing leaping out at her. She looked at him dazedly. ‘That’s my place.’
Lawson frowned and scrolled down to the address. Yes, it was. He looked at her. ‘Let’s go.’
Vic, unable to move, stared at the message. Her father? Could her father be having a heart attack?
‘Victoria!’
Lawson’s voice cracked across the room, yanking her out of her paralysis, and she scurried after him, a host of awful scenarios tumbling through her brain. She climbed in the truck and buckled up as Lawson screeched out of the garage. She pulled her mobile off her belt and her fingers shook as she punched in her home number.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for it to pick up. ‘It’s not answering.’
‘Who’s home?’
‘Just Josh. Ryan’s out with some mates.’
Lawson groaned. Ryan would have been more likely to keep it together than sensitive Josh. ‘He probably doesn’t want to leave your father to answer the phone,’ Lawson assured her.
Vic nodded. ‘I guess.’ She pushed the end button. A rush of emotion swelled in her chest. Could her father really be having a heart attack? Pictures of patients they’d lost on scene to myocardial infarction flicked through her head.
She turned to Lawson. ‘Oh, God, what if…?’ She stopped, her voice cracking.
‘No.’ Lawson shook his head and gave her a hard look before returning his gaze to the road. ‘Don’t go there, Victoria. I’m going to need you. When we get there, I’m going to need you. If he is having an M.I., I don’t need to tell you how critical that makes him or all the things that can go wrong. I’m going to call for backup but until then it’s going to be just you and me and, I’m sorry, you don’t get to be a daughter right now. You’re going to have to be strong for Josh and I’m going to need you to help me save his life.’
Vic blanched, shying from his demands. She couldn’t do what he was asking of her. She couldn’t. Just thinking about what might greet them was causing a massive lump in her throat. She didn’t want to see her father grey and in pain. ‘But…’
Lawson shook his head again. ‘No buts.’ He gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘You can do this. You’ve done it a hundred times. I need you. Your dad needs you.’
Vic swallowed past the painful lump of emotion that was battling to find an outlet. It hurt and her eyes burned. She sucked in a breath and nodded. ‘Okay.’
Lawson waited for her affirmation and immediately radioed Coms. ‘Coms this is nine six zero. Please note the patient to which we have been sent is Bob Dunleavy, OIC of Brindabella Station. Am responding with Victoria Dunleavy. Please send back-up ASAP.’
Lawson knew the coms centre would be able to read between the lines. One of their own was down and his daughter was having to attend. He knew they’d send every resource available.
Josh, who had obviously heard the siren, was waiting at the door when Lawson pulled into the drive. Victoria didn’t even wait for the van to fully stop before jumping from the vehicle and running to her brother.
Josh’s face crumpled. ‘Vic, he’s bad.’
She gave him a fierce hug, wishing she could make it all better for him as she could when he’d been little. ‘It’s okay, Joshy, we’re here now.’ She caught his hand and dragged him inside with her.
‘Dad?’
He was on the couch and Victoria gasped as she crouched beside him an
d reached for his hand. It was cool and clammy against the warmth and dryness of hers and her anxiety increased another notch. He looked exactly like every heart-attack patient she’d ever known: grey, perspiration running down his face, rubbing at his chest.
‘Lawson,’ she called, trying to keep the panic out of her voice as she smiled at her father.
‘He’s going to be all right? Isn’t he, Vic?’
‘Of course…going to be…fine,’ Bob puffed and sent his son a weak smile.
‘Don’t talk, Dad,’ Vic murmured as Lawson entered laden with equipment.
‘Bob,’ he said. ‘Always wanting to be the centre of attention.’
Bob gave a half-smile. ‘Got some GTN?’
Lawson nodded. ‘Absolutely.’ Giving the drug used to dilate coronary arteries was governed by strict protocols but he wasn’t about to question his old mentor’s clinical judgement. If anyone knew what having an M.I. looked like it was Bob. And the evidence of his own eyes confirmed the diagnosis. If Bob Dunleavy weren’t having a cardiac event, he’d give up his stripes.
‘Hook him up,’ he said to Victoria as he reached for the medication pack.
Vic felt all fingers and thumbs as she went through the motions she could usually do with her eyes shut. But sticking dots to her father’s chest was so much more personal. Watching as the ECG trace revealed massive ST elevation, indicating cardiac ischaemia, was utterly sickening.
Placing an oxygen mask, wrapping a cuff around his arm and taking his blood pressure, putting a sats peg on his finger, witnessing Lawson spray the GTN under his tongue—it was all too close.
She could hear Josh’s low whimpering in the background and it tore at her professional veneer. She was the big sister—she fixed things; she’d always fixed things. From homework to a disappointing test result, from a severed finger to a falling out with a friend. But she didn’t know if she could fix this.
Lawson viewed the monitor with a sinking feeling. Bob was in trouble. They needed to get him to hospital ASAP. He needed a special drug to help dissolve the blockage that was restricting his coronary blood flow and he’d probably need some kind of surgical intervention.
He gave Bob an aspirin to chew. ‘I’ll get the trolley, Bob. We need to get you to hospital.’
Bob, too short of breath to talk effusively, just nodded and said, ‘Hurry.’
Vic felt her father’s plea slam straight into her gut. She squeezed her father’s hand and said, ‘It’s okay, Dad. We got you now. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.’
Her father smiled at her, squeezed her hand and then grimaced as a loud moan tore from his throat.
‘Dad!’ Josh’s voice cracked with emotion as Bob clutched at his chest.
Vic’s own heart hammered in her chest as she watched the trace on the ECG deteriorate into VF. ‘Get Lawson,’ she instructed her brother as her father slumped forward. ‘Now.’
Josh ran as instinct came over Vic and she pushed her father back, delivering a pre-cordial thump directly to the centre of his chest. The monitor rhythm remained unchanged and for a second she let helplessness engulf her.
‘Victoria! Get him on the ground.’
She looked up to see Lawson striding towards her and it was just the slap in the face she needed. She leapt to her feet and grabbed his legs at the same time Lawson reached them and he grabbed Bob’s torso and they lowered him to the ground.
Lawson depressed the button on his radio. ‘Coms, this is nine six zero, CPR in progress.’ He took his finger off. ‘Josh, move the coffee table. Give us some room. Victoria, do compressions while I hook him up to the defibrillator.’
Victoria didn’t even hesitate, just responded to his commands as she always did on the job. She put her hands in the centre of her father’s chest and pushed down rhythmically as she’d done a hundred times before. She tuned out Josh, who was now sobbing, tuned out whose flesh it was beneath the flats of her palms, and counted.
But as she shifted her hands to allow for Lawson to place the defib pads she made the fatal mistake of looking down, seeing her father’s still, grey face looking back at her, his mouth slack beneath the mask and pulling into a grimace with every downward pump to his chest.
‘Come on, Dad,’ she whispered, feeling a pressure behind her eyes that was burning unbearably. ‘Come on!’ Louder this time, more insistent.
‘Stand clear,’ Lawson demanded, and again she reacted automatically, removing her hands and putting the required distance between her and the electrical current.
Lawson noted the trace on the monitor was still VF. ‘Coms, this is nine six zero, defibrillation in progress,’ he said into the radio as he pushed the button to deliver three hundred joules to Bob’s heart. He held his breath, but when the trace on the monitor returned it was still VF.
‘Go again, Victoria,’ he instructed as he recharged the machine.
He noticed the silent tears streaming down her face as she pumped at her father’s chest and it was like a knife to his gut. He could hear Josh, who had totally lost it behind him. He wanted to pull both of them into his arms and tell them it was going to be okay. But he didn’t know if it was and he couldn’t be the person they needed him to be if he succumbed to the emotion of the moment.
Seeing one of his oldest friends in such bad shape was shocking, but he couldn’t go there. He had to succeed. He had to keep it together for Victoria and Josh. He would not think about losing Bob, about not being able to revive him. He had to detach himself from the situation. This wasn’t Bob his friend and mentor. This was just another patient. Just another resus.
‘Damn it, Dad,’ Victoria puffed as she pounded on his chest. ‘Don’t do this to us. We need you.’ Her voice cracked and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it together.
Lawson blocked out the emotion fracturing her voice. ’Stand clear again.’
Vic ceased the compressions and sat back on her haunches. She looked up at Josh, who was a blubbering mess, and wanted nothing more than to go to him. But she couldn’t, not now. She didn’t know how much longer she’d need to do this for, but she knew it was her father’s only chance. And she’d already lost her mother way too early—damned if she was going to lose her dad before his three score years and ten.
Lawson heard a siren in the distance as he flicked the discharge switch again and prayed it was the cavalry. Victoria needed to be the daughter and be with Josh. This time the joules managed to shock the damaged heart back into a sinus tachycardia and Bob stirred immediately.
‘Dad!’ Vic sobbed his name as she threw herself against his chest. Thank God.’
Bob, weak and confused, raised his arm to pat his daughter on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispered.
Vic felt an absurd urge to burst into tears and stay right were she was, safe in her father’s arms, as she’d done a hundred times as a girl. But right now her father needed to lean on her and she had to rise to that occasion.
And then another crew entered the house and when she looked up she saw Carl smiling down at her, easing her away, directing her to Josh. She reached for her brother and they both cried together as Lawson and Carl lifted their deathly ill father onto the trolley and then transported him to the ambulance.
‘Don’t even think I’m not sitting in back with you,’ she said as Lawson clicked the gurney in place.
Any other person he would have said no to. But he didn’t have the strength to say it to her pale, distraught face. He just nodded and waited for her to strap herself in before he took his position next to Bob. Josh rode up front with Carl and with lights and sirens going they made it to the mainland hospital in twelve minutes.
The next two days passed in a total blur for the Dunleavys. Bob was admitted to the coronary care unit, where he had thrombolytic treatment to dissolve the clot that was causing his tissue ischaemia and underwent an angiogram to ascertain the damage. During this procedure he had placement of three stents in his three partially blocked coronary arte
ries.
Vic and the twins lived at the hospital, dozing in the relatives’ lounge at night curled up on hard chairs. Lawson stayed with them. He’d arranged for time off for them both and for their shifts to be covered from HQ as well as a replacement for Bob. He organised Dorothy to be with Matilda so he could stay by their sides. He was their gofer, bringing them food and drink regularly, and their chauffeur, shuffling them back and forth between the island and the hospital.
Vic was grateful for his presence. In fact, she was in such a daze, going through the motions, putting on a brave face for her brothers and assuring her father she was coping, that she didn’t even question it. He was just there, good old Lawson, as he’d always been, and she leant on him unashamedly.
All their recent baggage faded into insignificance. After a month of trying to avoid what had happened between them it finally became a non-issue. The tension between them oozed into nothingness and it was like it used to be. Lawson there, as always, in the background.
After four days in CCU, Bob was moved to a ward and Vic finally relaxed a little. They spent their first night at home in their own beds and Vic was able to send Lawson home to his daughter. She slept like a rock that night stretched out in her bed after four nights of minimal sleep scrunched in a chair.
After two more days on the ward her father was looking very well and had even lost a few kilos. He was back to his chipper self, joking with the nurses and winning their favour with a bottomless box of chocolates that never found their way past his lips. He was eager to get out, co-operating with the physio and impressing the dietician with his knowledge of good nutrition.
Still, Vic was nervous about him coming home. He was raring to get back to work whereas she’d been hoping he might retire. High blood pressure and being overweight had been the main factors in his heart attack, but stress had also contributed and being an OIC of a station was about as stressful as it got.
