Читать книгу Tempted By Her Single Dad Boss - Annie O’neil - Страница 10

“OW!” MAGGIE HADN’T meant to yelp. Keeping her cool for her young patients was paramount.

Had the ferry surfed a huge wave or hit something? Just make sure the children are unhurt.

“Everyone okay?”

She heard a pair of yesses as she peeled her hands off the ambulance floor. “Looks like the ocean’s a bit rough outside of Boston Harbor, kiddos. Maybe the ferry captain’s seen Moby Dick!”

Without looking, Maggie knew her knees would be bloodied and a bump would be growing on her head. How she’d managed to fly past the ambulance’s two vacuum mattresses and conk her head on the gurney wheels was beyond her. She quickly pushed herself back up to a sitting position and checked her patients. They were the priority here, not her.

The ten-year-old twins seemed fine, if a bit wide-eyed at the sudden movement. The ferry journey to the Maple Island Clinic hadn’t been billed as a funfair ride. Nor was it meant to be. The weather had checked out fine, which was precisely why they’d opted for crossing on New Year’s Day before the predicted snow moved in.

She looked down at her knees and saw a bit of blood seeping through the dark fabric as her right hand gingerly checked for...yup...a grade A head bump.

What a way to make a first impression at her new job.

She winced at the misplaced vanity as she tried to pull her wild tangle of red curls back into submission. This wasn’t a beauty contest. Not landing on the kids had been the goal, particularly since their spinal injuries had been from collapsing scaffolding. The last thing they needed was her falling on them right after they’d been released from critical care.

She shoved away the rush of fear that had come with the sudden movement and reminded herself of her priorities.

Arriving at Maple Island with the children safe and sound was the goal. She was good at goals that involved patients. It was only the personal stuff that needed work.

“Billy, you all right up there?” She received a grunt from the paramedic who’d driven them onto the ferry. Better than a moan, she supposed. Or nothing.

“Looks like I should’ve stayed put and kept my seatbelt on, shouldn’t I?” Talking endlessly wasn’t necessarily going to calm them down but—

The piercing screech of the ferry’s alarm came so short and sharp Maggie almost gave her roller-coaster scream. Not the best “responsible adult” response. She was meant to be soothing the patients, not freaking them out. As her last boss had constantly reminded her, not everyone was a finely wired adrenaline junkie.

Not everyone had to give themselves a reason to live at the age of thirteen, though.

Before she could get her seatbelt on, another lurch flattened her to the floor again. Oof.

“We’ve got a bit more than we bargained for in terms of adventure, haven’t we, kids?” They both responded with something indecipherable beneath the screech of the siren.

Clonk.

A small tub of supplies found a perch on her head.

Mercifully the siren stopped.

Maybe it had been a pod of whales.

“Sorry, Maggie. Was on the phone with Vick. Everyone all right back there?” Billy stuck his head into the back as he untangled himself from the coiled radio cables. “Vick just doused herself in hot coffee up on the passenger deck.”

“Ouch.” Maggie winced. Painful way to get through a New Year’s Day hangover. “Did she burn herself?”

“Nah. But she’s going to check if anyone up there needs help. The weather’s closed in. Total blinder. I’d better ring the clinic and let them know this isn’t going to be a straightforward journey.” He held up the tangle of wires as proof the radio was out of commission. “Do you have the clinic’s emergency number?”

Maggie glared at him then flicked her brown eyes toward the children. “Ixnay on the ary-scay alk-tay, my friend.”

He looked at her blankly, then huffed. “I don’t do pig Latin.” He made a gimme, gimme gesture with his hand. “Number for the clinic, please, Mags.”

Maggie recited it from memory, reminding herself that Billy had valiantly maneuvered the ambulance onto the ferry’s small car deck when Vicky, the original driver, had announced an urgent need for coffee. They could’ve parked diagonally if they’d wanted to. Not one other car had followed behind them onto the dinky car deck. Had every other person in Boston read a different weather report from the one she’d had or were they all just hungover, like Vicky?

She’d checked the weather about a hundred times. It was meant to be calm today, snow tomorrow.

The clinic would go ballistic if anything happened to these two. And she wouldn’t blame them. They’d been through enough. The terror of their house’s scaffolding collapsing on them. Spinal surgery. Critical Care. Parents having to wage war with the insurance company and carry on working so they didn’t lose what little money they did have. It had been a horrific holiday season for all of them. The one silver lining had been the clinic taking them gratis. She wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of them getting the rehab they deserved. Not the weather. Not a cranky paramedic. Not on her watch.

“Actually...” she pulled out her own phone “...I’d better do it.”

“Why?” Billy’s arm shot out and only just missed her face as they both sought to stabilize themselves from another lurch.

“Because Boston Harbor’s put me down as the contact and I’m the one signing the children over. My job. My responsibility.”

“You’re their physio. I’m in charge of the ambo, which makes me king of everyone who’s in it.”

She knew Billy wasn’t trying to get one up her, but the caveman approach made her bridle.

Don’t let fear guide you. You can’t control everything.

That’s what she’d told herself after that night. The night her blind trust in Eric had exploded into painful emotional shrapnel.

It was years ago. Move on. Not everyone was judging her. Billy didn’t even know about her...her situation...so...

It was time to stop tarring everyone with the same brush.

They both pitched toward the right side of the ambulance as another wave bashed the side of the boat.

What the heck was happening out there? Armageddon?

Doing her best to not freak the children out, she tried appealing to Billy’s macho side. “Go on, Billy. Be a hero and find out what’s going on.” She threw in a lame, “It’s my name on the paperwork,” then wiggled her phone between them as if that settled the matter.

The truth? They did need to find out what was happening and she wasn’t sure her sea legs were up to whatever was happening out there. Besides, if something truly bad was going on, she needed a plan to get the children off the ferry, stat. No way was she losing them or exacerbating their critical injuries. Not when they’d already dodged the entrance to death’s door a little less than a week ago.

Billy threw the radio cables onto the passenger seat of the front cab. “You know what I think?”

No. And judging by the narky tone of Billy’s voice she didn’t want to.

“I think someone wants first dibs on the boss man.”

“Ha! Hardly.”

She waited for him to get out of the ambo before she let her yeah, right face drop.

Okay. Totally. But it wasn’t a factor right now. In an emergency.

She only did crushes from a distance. The second she stepped on to Maple Island? It would be work only.

Besides, her “crush” was nothing more than professional admiration.

Dr. Alex Kirkland was the answer to her prayers, professionally.

She was good at her job and working for Alex would only make her better. Not that she’d even spoken to him yet. She’d been hired by the clinic’s co-founder, Cody Brennan, when he’d been over visiting a post-op patient she had been treating at Boston Harbor.

This was the chance of a lifetime and she wasn’t going to let her poor taste in boyfriends destroy her future. It had taken three long years to build herself back up again after what Eric had done to her and no way was she going to let his arrival back in Boston push her back to that soul-destroying emotional precipice again.

She thumbed through her phone, barely catching her balance as the ferry reacted to another impact. There were high screeching sounds this time. The unmistakable scream of metal on rock.

Her heart dropped to her knees. Her badly bruised knees.

Didn’t matter.

Maggie did another quick check of Peyton and Connor’s stats. All good, despite the fact that being bounced around like this wasn’t strictly on the rehab list. Just as well she and Billy had agreed to keep the children strapped into the ambulance instead of stretchering them onto the semi-exposed passenger desk as one officious cost-cutting administrator at Boston Harbor Hospital had suggested. Er...anyone ever heard of patient safety? She might be a goofball on any number of fronts, but patient welfare was definitely not one of them.

“You two all right?” She received a pair of dopey smiles. The painkillers were obviously doing their job. Excellent. The last thing she wanted was to add fear to the mix.

A crisp, efficient male voice answered the ringing phone with the name of the clinic.

“Hello? It’s Maggie Green here from Boston Harbor. May I speak with Dr. Kirkland please?”

“This is he.”

An unexpected trill of anticipation twirled around her heart and squeezed it tight. Alex Kirkland was legendary when it came to rehabilitation. His clinic. His terms. The place was a wonderland for a dedicated rehab physio. A job there was a true professional coup.

And a great place to hide away from ex-boyfriends.

The ferry came to a sudden halt then just as quickly felt like it was falling backwards. She yelped and braced herself to avoid falling on the children.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say everything was on track. Instead...she was going to have to set aside her deep-seated instinct not to ask for help.

“Not really. I’m on the ferry with the Walsh twins and—Whoa!”

Alex’s voice clicked into the type of quick, professional tone an emergency operator would use. He was calm, assuring. “Maggie, can you still hear me? Are you with the children now?”

“Yes.”

“Are they all right?”

“Yes. We’re on the ferry as scheduled. Dr. Valdez got us all sorted at the docks, but it—Oops!”

Her hands flew out to brace herself and in the process knocked a supplies basket off the wall. She arched her body so the small boxes of gauze would fall on her and not Connor. The last thing he needed was more things falling on him.

“Maggie, where is Dr. Valdez now?”

She inched her way back to her seat and buckled herself in again.

“He had to stay in Boston to do an emergency surgery. The children are fine, but a fierce storm’s blown in unexpectedly and the ferry seems to have run into some trouble.”

The back door to the ambo flew open, along with a huge gust of wintry air. It was Billy. His features had turned ashen. “We’ve hit a rock. A big huge—”

Maggie drew a line across her throat and pointed at the children. She mimed closing the door as she tried to keep her voice steady. “We appear to have had a bit of a collision.” As she watched Billy struggle to close the doors behind him, her mind reeled with ways to get the children off safely. The wind was obviously too strong for a helicopter. Not to mention that their clear day had turned into one with zero visibility. They must be halfway between Boston and Maple Island. Only half an hour on a good day. On a bad one? She didn’t have a clue.

The ferry was being bashed around by the waves so there wasn’t a chance in the universe the tiny lifeboats would be of any use. Unless they were sinking.

Oh, jeezy-peeps. They’d better not be sinking.

“Can you send anyone to fetch us? We might be in somewhat of a pickle here.” The biggest type of pickle, actually. The life-or-death kind if this was going the way she feared. Maggie bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood.

“Leave it with me.” Alex’s rich southern voice was exactly the solid reassurance she needed to hear. “Your priority is the children.” Then the phone went dead.

She stared at the phone. The man certainly wasn’t one for small talk.

Right now isn’t the time for pleasantries, you idiot!

Besides, he was ex-military, wasn’t he? All the doctors she’d worked with who had served were more about action than chitchat.

“You two twin berries all right?” Maggie started taking everything down from the sides of the ambulance that could fall, doing her best to sound calm when everything inside her was freaking right the heck out of Dodge. Chances were they were going to have to get out of the ambulance asap.

An obstetrics kit fell off its wall hook. She grabbed it just in time.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

She swept a lock of black hair away from Peyton’s face with one of her rainbow-color painted nails. “How you holding up there, hon? You okay?”

The ten-year-old was looking pretty pale, but then again blunt trauma to her spinal column was no laughing matter. Neither was the resulting Brown-Sequard syndrome. The rare spinal injury could have been deadly. A wooden shard from the scaffolding that had collapsed on her and her brother had pierced her spinal cord, triggering the neurological response. Dr. Valdez had stopped the spinal fluid from leaking and, whilst she still was experiencing some numbness and sensory loss, it looked as though she would not suffer permanent paralysis.

The minor fractures she’d received to her spinal column? Well. Time and a positive attitude were going to be both the twins’ best friends for the next few months. An amazing surgeon from Spain had helped, too. And not sinking in an ambulance on a ferryboat just off the coast of Boston? That would also be a factor.

She pinned on a smile. “It looks like New Year’s Day is a bit more wild than we thought.”

“I’m okay if Connor’s okay,” Peyton whispered.

Boom!

This time it was Maggie’s heart that took the blow. These two kids. They tugged at just about every single one of her heartstrings. She’d been in the hospital when the twins had been brought in on Christmas Eve.

A few days later, once she’d connected the dots—low-income backgrounds, parents embroiled in a legal tangle with a reluctant insurance company, the charitable offer from the Maple Island Clinic to cover the long-term rehab—she’d realized they were headed for the same place and had volunteered to oversee the transfer to the island when Dr. Valdez wasn’t able to make it, even though it meant she’d arrive a week earlier than she’d been contracted for.

Not that it was the best excuse in the universe to get out of Boston fast.

She gave Connor’s dark hair a gentle scrub. He’d also taken a severe blow from the scaffolding, but at least he’d missed out on getting a spinal puncture wound from the splintered beams that had shattered when the scaffolding clamps had given way. Peyton had really taken the brunt of this one.

Their recovery after surgery at Boston Harbor had been one of those “wait and see” issues. Never nice for the patient. More traumatizing for the parents.

Her own parents had just about had a meltdown when...well... They’d eventually got over it and she was getting on just fine now. All things considered.

She smiled down at Connor. “You all right, bud?”

“Wicked cool.” Connor gave her a double thumbs-up, even though his arms were strapped down along with the rest of his body. Any sort of movement could compromise the exacting surgery he’d just had. She gave herself a fist bump within his eyeline then returned his thumbs-up.

How was she going to get these kids safely off this boat?

The ferry shifted and groaned again. Her insides went liquid with fear. Was this their Titanic moment?

“All good, kiddos. Everything’s okay,” she lied. “Thank goodness you two are strapped in, right?”

They probably ought to get them out of the ambo and upstairs, where they stood a better chance of not being sucked into the icy Atlantic waters, but...with the ferry moving around so much, what if they dropped them?

It’d be like walking around with unpinned, kid-shaped grenades.

She shot Billy a look. One she hoped asked, Any bright ideas?

Billy mouthed something about finding the crew and climbed out of the ambo with another gush of wintry wind.

In a vain attempt to make this seem fun and not terrifying, Maggie took two big fistfuls of her flame-red hair and held them out whilst making a goofy face.

Total failure.

At ten years old, Peyton and Connor were old enough to roll their eyes at adults trying to be cool and still young enough to be scared.

“You two hold steady there.” Maggie winced. As if they had a choice. She knew more than most how hard it was to be told not to worry when the only option was to rely on other people.

“Maybe you should call Dad.” Peyton’s eyes were still red-rimmed from the emotional farewell with their parents at the hospital.

“That’s a great idea, Pey.” Maggie cherry-picked the information that would scare them least. “We’ll send him a text, but I’m pretty sure he’s at work.” She didn’t think. She knew. Both he and Mrs. Walsh had been told by their employers that if they didn’t show up to work, they would lose their jobs. This on top of their insurance company’s refusal to pay out. As if the Walshes had been the ones to will the arctic winter winds to blow both the house’s porch scaffolding and the porch onto their children on Christmas Eve.

They might be poor, but the last thing the Walshes were was negligent.

“Maybe a helicopter will come rescue us,” Connor suggested.

Maggie made an “Ooh” noise, followed by an I don’t think that’s gonna happen frown.

“The weather isn’t good enough for a helicopter to fly in, dummy,” Peyton snapped at her brother.

At least Peyton was feeling good enough to name-call. It was when fear became silence and then silence became acceptance that it swallowed you whole. Maggie had fought that battle thousands of times in her own life and had found that smiling at adversity really was the best way to deal with life’s challenges.

Right. Operation Positive Thinking!

“We’re going to be fine. Probably just stopping for a pod of harbor seals or something.”

“It’s a pod of whales. Seals are bob, harem, colony or rookery. Besides, the harbor seals don’t come round the cape in winter. It’s harp and hooded seals in January.”

“Well, that’s very interesting, Connor. What else do you know about seals?” Distractions. Perfect. Maggie put on her best interested face as Vicky jumped into the front cab of the ambulance, along with a howl of wind.

“Is the ferry sinking?” Peyton’s hands strained against the straps holding her onto her tray gurney.

“Ha! No.” Maggie threw a quick Will it? look at Vicky, whose return expression wasn’t very reassuring. “It won’t sink. Even if it does, you’re with a hydrotherapist. Perfect person to be with.”

The ferry lurched again. This time it was obvious the boat was tipping in the wrong direction.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

“I thought your therapy used horses, not water.” Connor’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “You said we could ride with you one day.”

“Absolutely. We will ride together and swim together. I do all sorts of different things.” Including screw up her life so much she ended up on a sinking ferry on New Year’s Day with two kids who seriously deserved a break but who weren’t getting one.

Adrenaline was normally her friend. She was going to have to make it her best friend today.

“Lay it on me, Vick,” she whispered out of the children’s earshot. “What’s going on?”

Vicky grabbed a couple of reflective vests out of the glove compartment and turned to her, looking utterly terrified. “Billy’s helping with the lifeboats. We need to get the kids out of here right now.”

No news was good news.

That’s what Alex was telling himself anyway. He stared at the phone again. Twenty attempted calls and each time it had cut out.

No news is good news.

When it involved a sinking ferry? No news could be the worst possible kind of news.

He’d already had enough of that in his life, thank you very much.

He pulled off his woolen hat and gave his sandy blond hair a scrub. Every nerve ending in his body was crackling with barely contained frustration. If jumping into the sea and swimming would have got them through the storm faster, he would’ve done it.

The urge surprised him. Particularly given the barely disguised nickname he knew his staff had for him.

Dr. Protocol.

His fingers tightened round the brass railing in the small enclosed helm area Salty kept in immaculate condition.

There were rules for a reason.

Rules Mother Nature didn’t feel inclined to pay much attention to.

It was insane to be out in this weather at all. He had a young son to look after. A clinic to run.

She needs your help.

They all needed his help.

He pushed the thoughts away. This wasn’t some magic chance for him to leap in and change history. His wife had been killed in action. There hadn’t been a single thing he could’ve done about it.

She could’ve followed orders and she’d still be alive.

His preference of fact over the futility of what-might-have-been laid the argument to rest. What’s done was done.

Right here, right now? He had patients who needed his help and Maggie Green had better be following emergency guidelines to a T.

He looked across at Old Salty, the island’s resident commercial fisherman who had volunteered to bring him out here. His last name was Harrington. Alex had never learned his first. All the islanders called him by his nickname, so he did, too.

The septuagenarian’s piercing blue eyes popped out beneath the navy captain’s hat he near enough always wore. A snow-white beard. Bit of a pot belly. He’d look like a nautical Santa if he wasn’t so damn grumpy all the time. Then again, there weren’t all that many folk willing to risk it all for a pair of young patients stranded on a sinking ferry off Boston Harbor. The man was made of the stern stuff of previous generations. The type who actually had walked to school through three feet of snow.

In fairness, Maple Island virtually overflowed with helping hands when needed. It was a proper community looking after its own. It was one of the reasons he and Cody had picked it for the clinic.

Three years he’d been on the island now. Given the fact the island was home to descendants of the Mayflower, he didn’t know if he’d ever feel anything other than brand new.

But he knew he’d stay. He felt welcome. And that made all the difference.

Didn’t mean the learning curve wasn’t steep. Cody was from California and Alex was from Alabama. A New England storm was still about as foreign to the pair of them as calling a place home for over two hundred years. And with temperatures below freezing, snow predicted and winds howling in from the Arctic Circle he was in completely new territory.

“It was good of Marlee to get in touch with you.”

“She didn’t,” Salty said.

Alex gave him a sidelong look. He obviously wasn’t going to offer up any more information.

Marlee was one of the clinic’s biggest assets and he wasn’t just talking about her bear hugs. If she wasn’t related to someone who could help, she’d gone to kindergarten with them, or had baked cookies with them or had raised her kids with them. The instant she sniffed trouble, she went into turbo drive and before he’d pulled on his first layer of thermals Alex had found himself being bundled into a four-by-four en route to the harbor, along with a set of thick waterproofs. When they’d arrived, Old Salty had already been untying his fishing boat’s thick bow lines off the dockside cleats.

“Should be any minute now.” Salty squinted into the mist, not an ounce of concern about him.

How did he do that? There was a broken-down ferry, possibly taking on water. Two patients on board who should already be in the clinic’s small but up-to-date intensive care unit. And a new employee he had absolutely no information about. Cody had handled the interviews with her so he had no information on what she’d be like. Scared. Capable. Bewildered. Dead?

His phone buzzed. Cody. His human wall to bounce ideas off. Half the time he never knew if Cody was even listening to him. The other half? He’d never met a smarter, more committed surgeon in his life. Two single dads doing their best to bring their children up in a world they never thought they’d be navigating alone.

Or, as Cody had pronounced when they’d finalized their building plans, “Life’s a bitch, and then you build a clinic.”

“Any news on your end, Cody?”

He heard a slapping sound. No doubt Cody’s hand against the counter. Frustration was definitely getting the better of both of them. “No. I was hoping you’d have some. Hey, listen, there’s something I need to warn you about Maggie—”

The line cut out.

Alex stared at the phone. What did he mean? Way to end on a cliff hanger.

“Look over there, boy,” Salty ordered.

Boy?

Alex bit back a mirthless laugh. It had gotten a bit too much use of late.

He hadn’t been a boy let alone felt like one since...far too long.

No point in pretending he couldn’t remember. The last time he’d felt properly young had been the moment he’d fallen in love with his wife. And that had been a long time ago. Best-looking woman in boot camp. Smartest, too. Had known her way round combat medicine as if she’d been born on a battlefield. A heart the size of the whole of New York City. Six years after her death, and he still struggled to believe someone so vital had been snuffed out in an instant. That was the only mercy. She’d never seen it coming.

“You can just make them out there.”

He tugged his wool hat back on and followed the line of Salty’s thick finger as he pointed toward a dark object in the distance largely obscured by the murky weather.

“Got it. Let’s get those children on board this boat and get them back to the clinic before anything else goes wrong.”