Читать книгу The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance - Carol Marinelli, Amalie Berlin - Страница 19
ОглавлениеHE SCRABBLED FRANTICALLY at the heavy lid, trying to pry it open. How could she breathe inside there?
She couldn’t.
Putting the tips of his fingers beneath the smooth, shiny surface, he put all his force into opening it, breath whistling out through his teeth, muscles shaking with exertion as he strained upwards. His grip failed, hands slipping and throwing him back onto the plush carpet behind him. Soft music played in the background and people milled around, holding plates piled with food.
Why wasn’t anyone helping him? Couldn’t they see she was trapped?
He glanced around for something. Anything. His eyes fell on a crowbar that had been tossed up against the wall beside a dainty blue velvet couch. Crawling toward it, he grabbed it with both hands, the weight of it surprising him. He stood to his feet, dragging the metal bar behind him until he was in front of the box once again. The music got louder, and what had been soothing elevator music became a little more sinister in tone. Nothing that he could put his finger on exactly as it seemed to be the same tune.
Time was running out.
It was as if everyone else had finally noticed as well. They gathered around him, plates in hand, as he swung the heavy crowbar up, like he would one of those carnival hammers, and somehow got it to hook under the lid. He swallowed, suddenly not so sure about what he was doing. But they were all watching now. Waiting. Including a familiar blonde near the back of the room.
Where had he seen her before?
He shrugged and turned back to his task. Taking a deep breath, he silently counted to three.
One...two...
Three!
He put his full weight onto the metal rod, pushing down, down, down, the splintering of wood telling him he was getting somewhere. With a groan the top released and popped up an inch or two before the crowbar fell out of the groove. But no matter, he’d broken whatever seal was holding it closed.
He dropped the tool beside him and once again placed his fingers beneath the lid and slowly lifted. The sheen of blue satin met his eyes, the color matching that of the sofa behind him. He pushed the top higher and saw the cool white skin of her cheek. Her nose. Her pale lips.
A shot of horror went through him as he finished opening the top of the box.
It wasn’t Paula. And she wasn’t sleeping.
Mira!
He let go of the lid, and it fell in a series of disjointed frames, like a stack of still shots ruffled with a thumb to form movement. Then it hit the lower half of the box with a craaack!
Jack jerked, his eyelids flying apart and meeting darkness. Panic swept through him. He reached next to him to see if Paula was still there. His fingers met warm flesh, and he let his head drop back to the pillow in relief.
Just a dream.
More thoughts sifted through. Memories of making love. Groaning as he’d touched each silky inch of her body. Trying to hold off the inevitable until it had become too much, and he hadn’t been able to resist pouring himself into her. Holding her until his breathing had slowed.
He swallowed hard, his head turning to the left. But it hadn’t been Paula.
It had been Mira last night.
It was still Mira this morning.
And he’d enjoyed himself far too much. Had laughed and played the wicked rogue to the very end.
Hell.
He threw his arm over his eyes and tried to figure exactly what had happened last night.
A fling.
Yes. She’d used that word. So had he, in his head.
The bed shifted as she moved. Sighed.
Jack couldn’t resist turning his head again. It was morning, it had to be, but it was still some time before dawn, judging from the darkness that hovered around the edges of the curtains. His adjusting eyes caught the first glimpse of a bare shoulder peeking from beneath the thick duvet cover. Her back was to him, her arm curled up to rest on the pillow beside her face.
The face he’d just seen lying in a satin-lined coffin.
Damn. And his bottle of sleeping pills sat on the bedside table untouched. The “mess” he’d been worried about her seeing.
He swung his legs out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress for several long seconds, trying to stamp out the images still flickering in his mind. To distract himself, he opened the drawer on the table and knocked the medicine inside it. No need to let Mira see them. She’d just ask questions.
Questions he couldn’t answer.
Like why he’d put her in Paula’s place. The dream was the same as always, but the face had changed.
It had to be the aftereffects of the avalanche. Of those people suffocating, and one of them dying. Mira had been there, so maybe that’s why she’d been in the nightmare this time. His wife’s coffin had been closed. In reality, there hadn’t been a body to go in it as Paula had been incinerated along with most of the other passengers.
Or maybe Mira had been in his dream because his subconscious was telling him to slam the lid down on this particular relationship and to seal it tight. But they didn’t have a relationship.
They had a fling.
Just the word had a calming effect on him.
He’d had fun. There was no crime in that.
So why did he feel like the lowest form of low?
Guilt, probably. A false sense of loyalty to a woman he’d loved and lost.
She’d want you to go on.
Yes, she would. But that’s not what he wanted. He remembered all too well facing that polished coffin and wondering how he was going to pick himself up and go on living.
Never again.
Standing, he made his way to the bathroom, suddenly wishing they’d gone to her room instead. Then he could just quietly get dressed and let himself out. No awkward goodbyes. No wondering if you should say thank you or I’m sorry.
He took his time, brushing his teeth and showering, then toweling off, all the time rehearsing exactly what he was going to say when he opened that door. But all he could see was the way Mira’s back had arched like a cat as she’d moaned.
Please, don’t stop.
Yes, he’d made her say it again. And where male pride should be, there was a slight sense of something else. Shame?
No.
He wasn’t sure what the emotion was, but he didn’t like it. It felt like something was poised to break loose, like that snow on the mountain that had gotten heavier and heavier until it had finally thundered down that slope, wiping away anyone in its path.
And from what Jack could see, he was standing right in front of it. Only it wasn’t snow. But something just as devastating.
Staring at himself in the mirror, he wrapped a towel around his waist, wishing he’d thought to bring in a fresh set of clothes. Getting dressed would send an obvious hint that the night was over and that it was time to make their way back to reality and their own separate beds.
Except that tiny images of the pleasure he’d given and received last night circled in his head, bringing with them a whole new set of ideas. Ones that whispered that this was only a fling, no need to fear. Just get back in there and do a little more flinging.
The more he thought about it the more he relaxed. Why not? He wanted her. Wanted to slide his hands over that lithe body and roll her beneath him again. She’d seemed to like it as much as he had. In fact, there was a sore spot on his shoulder he was pretty sure had been made by Mira’s nails as they’d reached yet another pinnacle.
Yes. He wanted that. Wanted more of those scratches. More of those kisses.
It was okay. The dream had been nothing more than the stupid workings of his mind and that avalanche.
He undid the towel and let it drop to the floor, his body already anticipating what he wanted to do to her next.
Sweetheart, I hope you’re ready.
He turned out the bathroom light so it wouldn’t disturb her, then carefully opened the door. He was halfway across the room when he realized the bed seemed a little flatter than it had been. He frowned, moving closer. It looked different because it was different.
Mira was no longer there under the covers. His eyes skated around the room, going through the door to the living area and seeing just a silent hotel room.
No sound. No flash of movement.
He glanced at the floor next to the bed. No clothes. Although his were now folded and placed neatly on the seat of a chair on the other side of the room.
She was gone.
She’d done exactly what he would have done had he woken up in her room that morning. She’d crept out of bed and thrown on her clothes while he’d been in the bathroom. And then she’d turned tail and raced as fast as she could out of the door and out of his life.
* * *
Sleep with him, she’d said. It’ll do you both good, she’d said.
Mira slammed her hairbrush down on the small vanity in her room and berated herself for running away like a coward. It would have been better to just lie there and pretend to be asleep, and then when Jack came back into the room give a big stretch as if she’d just woken up. She could have nonchalantly said she had to get dressed for work and say, “Thanks for everything.”
Yeah, like propping her up on the bar and making her see stars.
In reality, she hadn’t slept a wink once they’d made love a second time—in his bed this time. She’d lain awake for hours, totally blown away by what had happened between them. Rather than kick the attraction in the teeth and send it skidding down the road, it was now crouched in the left-hand corner of her mirror, grinning at her with that all-knowing smile. No matter how many times she blinked, it was still there.
Maybe because the smile belonged to the stuffed Cheshire cat Ellory had sent her for her birthday last year.
“Yeah. Keep grinning and it’s under the bed for you.”
When the smile remained where it was, she found the corners of her own mouth lifting. “Oh, Ellory. What have I done?”
But, of course, her friend wasn’t there to tell her what she should do the morning after.
She wanted to see him again. Something she hadn’t expected.
Gulping, she scrubbed her hand over her stomach. She was going to go and get all attached to him, she just knew it.
“Idiot.”
She laid her head down on the dressing table and thought through all the options.
Option one: she could remain in her room for the next two weeks...or however long he was scheduled to be here.
Option two: she could wear a Gaga-ish mask and pretend she was musical royalty.
Option three: she could forget about this whole bet-slash-resolution thing.
But she knew Ellory would worry about her if she really did go and jump into a new relationship. Hell, she would be worried about herself, if it came to that. She had three failed relationships under her belt. Serious relationships. To jump into a new one almost on the heels of breaking her engagement to Robert...
Stupid.
Which brought her back to thinking up more options.
She yawned. Option four: she could fall asleep and hope she didn’t wake up for a couple of weeks.
Or she could just be a grown-up and go up to him and say, “Hey. Thanks for last night. I had a lot of fun. See ya around.”
Quick. To the Point. Truthful.
She liked it.
She dragged herself up off the chair and headed to the bed, crinkling her nose at Chessie, who was still grinning madly at her. She knocked him sideways.
There. Just grin into the pillow for a while.
She decided to jump in the shower and try to pull herself together. As soon as she stepped under the spray she knew it was the right thing to do. The warm water helped soothe her nerves. Maybe she really would take a nap. Everything looked worse when you were tired. Scrubbing herself down with a soapy loofah, she tried to put what had happened last night out of her mind.
If she could just get his scent off her body and out of her head...
From a distance she heard her cell ring.
Please, don’t be Jack. Not right now.
Despite her thoughts, by the second ring she’d sluiced off the rest of the soap and stepped out of the shower, feet slipping for a second on the bare tile floor in her hurry to get to the phone.
Damn, damn, damn.
She picked up the thing and glanced at the readout, adding a fourth “damn” for good measure. Robert. Not Jack.
“Hello?”
“Mira, are you free?”
Oh, Lord. Now what? If he thought they were getting back together he was mistaken. “Why?”
“Number Five is up here with me, and he might need some help.”
“Jack? What happened?” Her heart started crashing around in her chest, making her vision swim for a second or two. Here she was agonizing over what they’d done last night, and he was already up on the slopes first thing this morning.
“He’s fine. But someone fell off the ski lift and...uh...Dr. Perry says she has multiple broken bones. Can you get up here? EMS has already been called, but it’ll be a little while, there’s evidently a lot of ice after the freeze we had yesterday, and they’re having to deal with some accidents on the roads. Your guy wants to stabilize the guest and then get her someplace warmer.”
“On my way. Which slope?” She probably already knew. Jack wouldn’t risk his life on one of the bigger ones.
“Grade two.” There was a pause. “Mira, we think she was a jumper. There were a couple of witnesses who saw her go over.”
Her heart stuttered.
A jumper. Oh, God. Every couple of years someone decided life was too painful to bear and threw themselves off the lifts and onto the slopes in a suicide attempt. Normally it was onto one of the more advanced slopes, though, as the lifts servicing those areas went higher.
Her throat was so tight she wasn’t sure she’d be able to respond. But when she opened her mouth, somehow the words were there. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll keep my cell with me, so call if there’s any change.”
Throwing the phone onto the bed, she rushed around yanking her clothes on and then her snow pants and parka. Her coat still had a ripped spot on the sleeve—just like the shredded portion of her heart.
Please, let her be okay.
She searched around for her gloves for a minute or two, and then frowned at the unfamiliar pair she found in her pocket.
Jack’s gloves. He’d given them to her after the avalanche yesterday.
Her throat tightened further.
Had that just been yesterday? It seemed like it had happened weeks ago.
In reality, there were plenty of accidents to go around at a ski resort, but not usually on a day when she’d gotten so little sleep. Although, with the adrenaline now coursing through her veins, she felt wide awake. Her hair was still wet, but it would have to stay that way for now. She hauled it back into a quick bun and secured a rubber band around it. She’d just pull a hat on and then her parka hood over the top of that. She could blow-dry it when she got back to her room later.
She knocked Chessie back upright. “Watch the room for me, okay?”
Five minutes later, she hurried out the door, telling the front desk where to reach her. She snapped on her skis. It would be faster to go up the lift and then ski down to their position. Slope number two. A little harder than the bunny slope but still an easy ride for beginners like Jack.
Sliding past those in line with an occasional murmured “Excuse me”, along with the fact that there was a medical emergency on one of the slopes, she cut to the front and allowed the next chair to scoop her up and carry her on her way. Her eyes scanned the area. There. About halfway up there was a small crowd of about five people. The one at the center of the group, nearest the patient, was Jack, the sun glinting off the lighter strands of his hair.
Her heart squeezed again.
At least the injured woman had someone capable helping her. As a sports medicine doctor he’d have specialized in orthopedics and be well versed on serious breaks. There could be no better person attending that patient, and that included her.
Impatient to get down there, she had to wait another three or four minutes for the lift to reach the top of the slope. Then she was off and with a couple of pushes from her poles was heading down the mountain at a good clip, mentally playing through her mind how far she had to go before she reached the scene. Thankfully the trip down was a lot faster than the trip up. She turned her body and skis sideways and skidded to a halt next to the little group.
Robert nodded at her from the edge of the ring, where his job was to keep gawkers at bay. She’d really have to say something to him about using Number Five when referring to Jack. Yeah, yeah, she’d referred to him that way in her head as well, but that was so she could keep some emotional distance.
A lot of good that had done.
Right now, though, that was the least of her worries.
She knelt beside him, noting that he had several splints laid out and was currently binding one to the patient’s arm. The girl— Oh, Lord, and that’s all she was. A teenager. On her back, with her eyes open wide, she whimpered in pain as Jack worked on her. The sleeves on both her jacket and her sweater had been slashed up past her right elbow, revealing a bloody spot on her forearm that looked ominous.
Compound fracture. A hint of pearly bone protruded from the site.
Dragging in a shuddered breath, she murmured, “What have you got?”
He glanced up, and his lips tightened for a second then he said, “Stacy Painter, sixteen. Broken right radius, compound at the ulna, and two fractured femurs—both at the neck, from what I can guess, based on her leg position. And she has tenderness on her right side as well...possible fractured ribs.”
She closed her eyes at the mention of the femur fractures. “At the neck” meant the bones had broken off at the ball where they went into the socket. And if those sections went too long without oxygen, it could mean a double hip replacement. In a teenage girl.
Now wasn’t the time to think of that, though. They needed to have her ready to transport once the EMS crew arrived. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m stabilizing the compound fracture and need to protect it. But I’ve got her radius and hips to deal with.” He glanced up at her again. “We have to do this without any meds. Can you talk to her while I work?”
No pain meds. She knew that was protocol when they didn’t know what a patient’s other injuries might be, but it had to agonizing for Stacy to have Jack manipulate her bones. It was one of the worst parts of being a doctor. Once again, she found herself glad he was there.
She didn’t argue about what he’d asked her to do. Didn’t say she was a doctor too so she should be doing some of the work. She simply scooched over until she was by the girl’s head and then leaned down. “Hi, Stacy. My name is Mira. Dr. Perry is going to get you all fixed up.”
The girl blinked, a few tears breaking free and sliding down her cheeks. Then her eyes focused on Mira. “He—he said to call him Jack.”
Mira glanced up to find that the man’s eyes were on her. She pulled her attention back to the patient. “Is that so?” She forced a smile. “You’re lucky. He doesn’t let just anyone call him that.”
In fact, some of us call him Number Five.
She pushed that little voice away and continued. “What happened?”
The girl’s chin wobbled and another tear escaped. She wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I—I fell. Off the ski lift.”
Had she hesitated before using the word “fell” or was that her imagination?
There were witnesses.
Mira glanced up at the chairs going overhead—people in them were now staring at the scene below. It seemed like a long way down from here. The teen had to have tumbled a few feet once she hit, to have broken so many bones.
“Was the safety bar down on your seat?”
The girl winced as Jack touched her leg. “No. I—I forgot.”
Another coincidence.
Oh, honey, what would drive you to do something like this?
She forced out her next words. “Do you know where your parents are?” Had anyone contacted them yet?
Stacy started to shake her head and then screamed, the sound ending on a group of sobs.
Jack had slid a long splint beneath her right leg and hip and was strapping it in place.
Sliding onto her side, so that her head was as close to Stacy’s as possible and blocking the view of what Jack was doing, she said, “I know it’s painful, honey. Dr...er, Jack is putting something called splints on your legs so they won’t hurt as bad once the ambulance comes.” Mira wanted to squeeze her hand, do something to comfort her, but she couldn’t. The girl had bones broken in both arms. She settled for murmuring to her instead.
The girl closed her eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again, looking at Mira. “It was so stupid, you know?”
Jumping? Oh, God...
She was afraid to ask. Afraid the girl would clam up. So she settled for asking her earlier question again, while Jack secured her leg. “I know. Can you tell me where your parents are?”
“At home. I’m here with my cheerleading squad.”
A cheerleader. It just kept getting worse. An injury like this could be life-changing for anyone, even more so for a high-school girl who needed strength and agility in order to do something she loved.
Down below, the sound of a siren came through.
Thank God. The EMS team was here sooner than she’d expected, despite the icy road conditions. She touched Jack’s shoulder. He didn’t look up from what he was doing but said, “I hear them. I want to get this other leg in place so they can take her right away.”
He glanced up, his eyes meeting hers. Mira saw her own fear and horror reflected back in his gaze. “Last one. Can you keep her calm?” he asked.
“We’ll be fine.”
He nodded then pulled a second long splint toward the girl. Thank heavens her father kept a full array of those on the premises for times like this.
“Get ready.” He took hold of the teen’s leg to stabilize it.
“Ahhhh!” The agonized shriek tore right through Mira’s insides, leaving her trembling. “It hurts,” the girl sobbed. “It hurts so bad.”
Mira touched her cheek. “I know, he’s almost done.” At least the pain brought with it a little good news. Stacy had feeling in her legs, so her spinal cord was intact. If she had landed differently she could be paralyzed or worse.
She glanced up to see if Robert was still there. He was. Watching over the proceedings with a brooding expression. No time to worry about that now. “Robert, can you go find one of the girls’ chaperones—?”
“Th-there aren’t any.” Stacy bit her lip. “A friend got us some driver’s licenses. We came on our own.”
Another layer of shock pressed down on her chest. “None of your parents know you’re here? How many of you are there?”
“Five.” She turned her head away. “Th-they think we’re at a training camp.”
This was bad. Very bad. That meant there were no “permission to treat” forms on file. No adults to give verbal permission. “Are you all the same age?”
Stacy nodded. “We skipped school yesterday. We’re planning to go back tomorrow. But m-my boyfriend called to break up with me a few hours ago.” She closed her eyes again. “So stupid. I thought it would change things.”
Change things? As in her boyfriend might decide he didn’t want to break up with her if he heard she’d tried to jump from a ski-lift?
Although on the one hand that made no sense, at least the girl seemed to acknowledge she shouldn’t have done whatever it was.
She motioned to Jack to wait. He frowned, but stopped with the second splint still a few inches from the teen’s leg.
“What’s your phone number, honey?” They needed to get in touch with her parents...or someone. Soon.
Stacy gave it to her, and Mira wrote it in the snow with her gloved finger. “You aren’t going to tell them about any of this, are you?”
Any of this. The girls’ secret little trip to the mountains? Or Stacy’s fall?
“They’re going to be happy you’re safe.” It was the only answer she could give at the moment that wouldn’t upset her. Because, yes, the parents needed to know, as did the authorities. Especially if she really had attempted suicide. Although Mira hoped she was reading the girl right and that it had been a bid for attention from her boyfriend. Either way, she needed counseling.
“Do you think so?”
“Yes.” That was what was important right now.
She underlined the digits she’d written in the snow then fixed her attention on Robert. “Can you read that?”
He nodded.
“See if you can find the rest of her group. And get a hold of her parents.”
“Okay.” He hesitated. “After this, we need to talk.”
“Just find her parents. Nothing else matters right now.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack’s hands tighten on the splint and wondered what he was thinking. What she’d said was true. Nothing else mattered right now, except for treating their patient. She took a deep breath and murmured to the girl, laying a hand on her forehead, “Jack has to finish securing your leg. Are you ready?”
The EMS guys were already trudging up the slope, one pulling a stretcher, while the other one carried a medical kit.
“Yes.”
She nodded at Jack then looked at Stacy. “Keep your eyes on mine. It’ll be over with in just a minute.”
Behind her came the sound of something sliding on the snow. The splint as it went under her leg.
Stacy’s head went back and she cried out, the hoarse scream rising along with the level of pain. Mira’s eyes watered, despite the number of times she’d worked on injuries like this. But never on a minor who was up here all alone. Or one who’d decided being without her boyfriend had called for drastic—and very possibly permanent—measures. Mira smoothed the girl’s hair as she settled into wrenching sobs once again.
She herself had made a drastic change, in the form of a resolution, because of what had happened with Robert. But never in her darkest moments had she thought of ending her life.
“Done.” Jack’s low word made her draw a relieved breath.
“The worst is over, Stacy.” At least physically. Any other treatment would happen with pain medication at the hospital. But once her parents found out what the teen had done, the emotional pain would begin—along with healing, hopefully. The resort was required to report any suspected suicide attempts, which meant Stacy would receive a psychological evaluation at some point. She hoped the girl got the help she desperately needed.
The paramedics arrived, and Jack explained the situation while Mira stayed with the girl, talking to her. Jack had hoped to get her down to the hotel where it was warm, but at least this way she’d only have to be moved once.
The rescue workers secured Stacy’s neck in case there were other injuries and gently slid her from the snow onto the rescue stretcher. Up on skids, the lightweight plastic frame would stabilize her back and keep Stacy off the snow, while allowing it to be pulled rather than carried, like a traditional stretcher.
Mira snapped her skis back on and spoke in a low voice to Jack. “I need to go down and see about the other girls. I think we’ll need to call in child services.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll go with her to the hospital.” He moved over to Mira and slid his fingers beneath her chin. He had gloves on—he must have rented them, because she was wearing his. “And then I’m going to come knocking on your door. And you’re going to tell me exactly why I have the number five attached to me wherever I go. And what it means.”
With that he was gone. Back at Stacy’s side, helping fill the workers in on what he’d done and what he suspected.
Leaving Mira to ski the rest of the way down the hill and wonder exactly how she was going to tell him that he was man number five in a long line of men. And hope he’d understand why she now had to move on to number six.
