Читать книгу His Shock Valentine's Proposal - Amy Ruttan, Amy Ruttan - Страница 11

ESME BIT HER lip in worry as they slowly traversed some windy hills up into the mountains. At least that was what she assumed by the bumps and the climbs that tried the engine of Harry’s truck. She couldn’t see anything.

She’d thought she knew what pitch-black was.

The sky was full of clouds and smoke from a forest fire, which Carson had assured her wasn’t any threat to them. California had wild fires, but not really in Los Angeles, at least not when she was there. Then again, she wasn’t a native Californian.

Fire, wilderness, bears, this existence was all new to her, but then this was what she wanted after all. This was a big wide place she could easily blend in. She was small here. A place she could hide, because who in their right mind would come looking for her here?

A large bump made her grip the dashboard tighter. She was wedged between Harry and Carson as they took the logging road deep into the camp.

Another bump made her hiss and curse under her breath.

Carson glanced at her. “You’re mighty tense.”

“Just hoping we don’t die.”

Harry chuckled. “We’re not on the edge of a cliff. Our only threat is maybe a rock slide or a logging truck careening down the road, but since there are no trucks running we’re pretty safe.”

“I’ll keep telling myself that we’re safe, Harry.”

He shook his head, probably at the folly of a city girl. Only it was a dark night like this when Avery had died. She’d only been ten years old, but the memory of her brother’s gaping chest wound was still fresh. The feel of his exposed heart under her small hands, the warmth of his blood felt fresh. It was why she’d wanted to be a cardio-thoracic surgeon.

Why she’d worked so hard to be the best, because Avery had been a constant in her parents’ strained marriage. Even though he’d been twelve years older than her.

He’d been her best friend and when he’d died, her world had been shattered. So she’d dedicated her life to surgery.

The nightmares of his death faded away but nights like this made it all rush back.

Carson slipped an arm around her shoulders and then leaned over. “Relax. You’re okay.”

She glanced at his arm around hers and she wanted to shrug it off, but it felt good there. Reassuring. It made her feel safe and she wished she could snuggle in. Esme let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in trepidation and leaned back against the seat, shrugging off Carson’s arm. She could handle this. Alone.

“So what happened again, Harry?” Carson asked.

“Jenkins was overtired and nervous. Our new client, Mr. Draven, was headed out our way tomorrow. One wrong move and …” Harry trailed off.

Esme froze at the mention of the name Draven.

Dammit.

Though it couldn’t be Dr. Draven, her former mentor. Eli was a cardio-thoracic surgeon. Still the name sent dread down her spine.

Draven was a common name. So there was no way it would be Eli or Shane. Dr. Draven had money, but he invested it in medicine and science. All of Shane’s money was tied up in his company. She doubted he would invest in lumber or a hotel in Montana.

Harry slowed the truck down and she could see light through the trees as the forest thinned out. There were floodlights everywhere and people milling around one of the buildings, which looked like an administrative building. Harry pulled up right in front of it.

Carson opened the door and jumped out, reaching into the back to grab their supplies. Esme followed suit, trying to ignore all the eyes on them as they made their way into the building. The moment the door opened they could hear a man screaming in pain.

Esme forgot all the trepidation about anyone recognizing her. That all melted away. Adrenaline fueled her now as she headed toward the man in pain. There was blood, but it wasn’t the damage done by the saw that caught her attention. It was his neck, and as she bent over the man she could see the patient’s neck veins were bulging as he struggled, or rather as his heart struggled to beat. Only it was drowning.

She’d seen it countless times when she was a resident surgeon, before she’d chosen her specialty. Before she’d become a surgeon to the stars. First she had to confirm the rest of Beck’s Triad, before she even thought about trying to right it.

She didn’t want to freeze up. Not here. Not in her new start.

“Dave, you’re going to be fine,” Carson said, trying to soothe the patient. Only Dave Jenkins couldn’t hear him. “It doesn’t look like he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“He’s lost blood,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake.

Just not externally.

Carson took off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves to inspect the gash on Dave’s right arm. “It’s deep, but hasn’t severed any arteries.”

The wound had been put in a tourniquet, standard first aid from those trained at the mill. It wasn’t bleeding profusely. It would need cleaning and a few stitches to set it right.

“That’s not the problem.” Esme pulled out her stethoscope.

Carson cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.” She peered down at Dave. His faceplate, his eyes rolling back into his head. He was in obstructive shock. “Who saw what happened? There’s more than a gash to the arm going on here.”

“A piece of timber snapped back and hit Dave here.” Esme glanced up as the man pointed to his sternum.

“The gash came after?” she asked.

“No, before, but Dave didn’t get out of the way and he didn’t shut off the machine after the first malfunction. He was overtired—”

“Got it.” Esme cut him off. She bent over and listened. The muffled heart sounds were evident. A wall of blood drowning out the rhythmic diastole and systole of the heart. Drowning it. Cursing under her breath, she quickly took his blood pressure, but she knew when the man pointed to his sternum what was wrong.

Cardiac tamponade.

Dave wouldn’t survive the helicopter coming. He probably wouldn’t have survived the trip to the hospital.

“What’s his blood pressure?” Carson asked.

“Ninety over seventy. He’s showing signs of Beck’s Triad.”

“Cardiac tamponade?”

Esme nodded and rifled through her rucksack, finding the syringe she needed and alcohol to sterilize. “I have to aspirate the fluid from around his heart.”

“Without an ultrasound?” Carson asked. “How can …? Only trained trauma surgeons can do that.”

Esme didn’t say anything. She wasn’t a trauma surgeon, though she worked in an ER during her residency. She’d done this procedure countless times. She was, after all, the cardio God. She knew the heart. It was her passion, her reason for living. She loved everything about the heart. She loved its complexities, its mysteries.

She knew the heart. She loved the heart.

Or at least she had.

“It’s okay. I’ve done this before. Once.”

She was lying. She’d done this countless times. She’d learned the procedure from Dr. Draven. It was a signature move of his that he taught only a select few, but they didn’t need to know that. How many general practitioners performed this procedure multiple times? Not many.

“Once?”

“I really don’t have time to explain. It’s preferable to have an ultrasound, but we don’t have one. I need to do this or he’ll die. Open his shirt.”

Carson cut the shirt open, exposing Dave’s chest where a bruise was forming on the sternum.

You can do this.

“I need two men to hold him in case he jerks, and he can’t. Not when I’m guiding a needle into the sac around his heart.”

There were a couple of gasps, but men stepped forward, holding the unconscious Dave down.

Esme took a deep breath, swabbed the skin and then guided the needle into his chest. She visualized the pericardial sac in her head, remembering from the countless times she’d done this every nuance of the heart and knowing when to stop so she didn’t penetrate the heart muscle. She pulled back on the syringe and it filled with blood, the blood that was crushing the man’s heart. The blood that the heart should’ve been pumping through with ease, but instead was working against him, to kill him.

Carson watched Esme in amazement. He’d never encountered Beck’s Triad before. Well, not since his fleeting days as an intern. It was just something he didn’t look for as a family practitioner. Cardiac tamponade was usually something a trauma surgeon saw because a cardiac tamponade was usually caused by an injury to the heart, by blunt force, gunshot or stab wound.

Those critical cases in Crater Lake, not that there were many, were flown out to the hospital. How did Esme know how to do that? It became clear to Carson that she hadn’t been a family practitioner for very long. She was a surgeon before, but why was she hiding it?

Why would she hide such a talent?

It baffled him.

Because as he watched her work, that was what he saw. Utter talent as she drained the pericardial sac with ease. She then smiled as she listened with her stethoscope.

“Well?” Carson asked, feeling absolutely useless.

“He’ll make it to the hospital, but he’ll need a CT and possibly surgery depending on the extent of his injuries.”

There was a whir of helicopter blades outside and Harry came running in. “The medics are here to fly him to the hospital.”

Esme nodded. “I’ll go talk to them. Pack the wound on his arm.”

Carson just nodded and watched her as she disappeared outside with Harry. She was so confident and sure of herself. She had been when he’d first met her, but this was something different. It reminded him of Danielle. Whenever she was on the surgical floor Danielle was a totally different person.

Actually, Carson found most surgeons to be arrogant and so sure of everything they did, but then they’d have to be. Lives were in their hands. Not that lives weren’t in his hands, but it was a different scale.

Carson rarely dealt with the traumatic.

He turned to Dave’s wound and cleansed it, packing it with gauze to protect it on his journey to the nearest hospital.

Esme rounded the corner and behind her were two paramedics. He could still hear the chopper blades rotating; they were going to pack him and get out fast, before smoke from the forest fires blew back in this direction and inhibited their takeoff.

Esme was still firing off instructions as they carefully loaded Dave onto their stretcher and began to hook up an IV and monitors to him. Carson helped slip on the oxygen mask. They moved quick, and he followed them outside as they ran with the gurney to the waiting chopper.

Esme stood back beside him, her arm protecting her face from the dust kicking up. There was no room on the chopper for them and they weren’t needed anymore. The paramedics could handle Dave and he’d soon be in the capable hands of the surgeons at the hospital.

As the door to the chopper slammed it began to lift above the mill, above the thinned forest and south toward the city. Once the helicopter was out of sight, Esme sighed.

“Well, that was more excitement than I was preparing for tonight.”

“You were amazing in there,” Carson stated. “Was your previous general practice in a large city? I rarely see cardiac tamponades in my clinic. Or did you work at a hospital under a cardio-thoracic surgeon? The way you handled that I’m surprised you didn’t become a cardio-thoracic surgeon. You had the steady hand of an experienced surgeon.”

Esme’s eyes widened and she bit her lip, before shrugging. “Sure, yeah, a cardio-thoracic surgeon mentor. So where’s Harry gone? I really want to get back home. It’s getting late. I better get my things.”

She turned and headed back into the building, her arms wrapped tight around her lithe body.

Carson sighed and followed her and helped her clean up. She didn’t engage him in any further discussion about the matter. They just disposed of soiled material and bagged up the rest of their stuff.

“Docs, I have the truck ready. I can take you back to town now,” Harry said as he wandered into the room.

“Thanks, Harry.” Carson glanced at Esme, who seemed to have relaxed and returned to herself. “You ready to go, Dr. Petersen?”

“Yes. I’m exhausted!” She smiled. “Thanks for taking us back to town, Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s no problem. I don’t stay up here at the camp. I’m local.”

“Oh, you’re local, all right, Harry,” Carson teased as he picked up his bag. Harry just chuckled and they followed him out of the admin building to his pickup truck.

Now that the excitement had died down, workers were headed back to their bunks or back to the mill to work. He could hear the saws starting up again.

Esme climbed into the middle and Carson slid in beside her.

Harry turned the ignition and then rolled down his window, to lean his elbow out the side. “Yeah, the guys are a bit stressed around here. Mr. Draven is coming here tomorrow morning to inspect the mill. It’s got the boss Bartholomew on edge. With the Draven contract for his resort that will mean a lot of work. A lot of money.”

“What’s Mr. Draven’s first name?” There was an edge to Esme’s voice.

“Silas. He’s a big hotel mogul from out east,” Harry said.

“East?” There was a bit of relief in her voice.

“Do you know Mr. Draven?” Carson asked.

“N-no. Just heard of him. The name sounded familiar, but I don’t know Silas Draven.”

Somehow Carson knew that was a lie, just by the nervous tone to Esme’s voice and the way she’d sounded so relieved.

“He’s never come to the mill before,” Harry remarked. “I mean, he’s a big rich investor. Doesn’t know much about lumber mills other than what his advisors tell him, but I suspect it has something to do with competing. There’s untapped tourist resources.”

“Another hotel?” Carson asked.

Great.

It was supposed to be a simple resort community. Small and unique. Every time he heard something new about it, it was spiraling out of control. Perhaps it was the competitors that Luke had been taking up into the mountains to do surveying. More change.

Change can be good.

Only he didn’t believe that. Change only brought heartache, disaster.

Temptation.

And he glanced over at Esme, sitting beside him in the dark. She was definitely a temptation.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“You’re scowling.”

“I’m not. Besides, how can you tell? It’s pitch-black out there.”

“There’s a moon and the dashboard light.”

Indeed, in the flicker of light he could see her smiling at him, her eyes twinkling in the dark, and he couldn’t help but smile, even though he didn’t feel like it at the moment. Even though he knew nothing about her, being around her tonight had been a bit magical. It had been exciting and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a rush.

Don’t think about her like that.

“Do you think Dave will make it?” Harry asked, breaking through his thoughts.

“He should. Once he’s in the hands of a capable cardio-thoracic surgeon.” Esme leaned against the seat. “Which I’m not.”

“You said that with such force,” Carson said. “You really want to be clear that you’re not a cardio-thoracic surgeon.”

Her smile disappeared. “Because I’m not. I’m just lucky enough to have had the chance to perform that a couple of times.”

“I thought it was only once?”

Esme stiffened. “Once was an understatement.”

“Clearly, because the way you executed that procedure was superb. In fact, it looked like you’d been doing that for quite some time. Especially since you executed it without the use of an ultrasound.”

Esme snorted. “I’m just a general practitioner and I did what I had to do to save a man’s life. Can we drop the interrogation?”

“I’m not interrogating you.”

She shrugged. “I’ve told you I’ve done it a couple of times. I guess I was lucky—really there was no other choice. Dave would’ve died had I not performed it then and there.”

“You’re right. Let’s drop it.”

“Good.”

Carson turned and looked out the window, not that there was anything to see in the dark, on a logging road, in the middle of the forest, but he didn’t feel like engaging in small talk with Esme. She was maddening.

It was clear to Carson by the way she wasn’t looking at him and the way her body became tense that she wasn’t too keen on discussing the matter further. What was she hiding?

Why do you care?

Perhaps because he’d been duped by a female before.

Working at your dad’s practice sounds great! I would love to.

Then of course Danielle’s tune had changed.

This is never what I wanted. You didn’t give me much of a choice.

Not that he should care if Esme was lying to him. Let her have her secrets. It didn’t matter. They weren’t involved, they weren’t colleagues and they certainly weren’t friends. They were just two doctors in the same, sleepy small town.

That was it.