Emergency At Bayside. Carol Marinelli
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was listen: listen to his heavy breathing and the occasional curse as a branch or piece of mangled metal halted his progress.
‘It’s Meg, isn’t it?’
She tried to nod, but the hard collar didn’t allow for movement. Opening her mouth a fraction, Meg tried to talk. But her mouth simply wouldn’t obey her. He seemed to recognise her distress in an instant. ‘It’s okay. Don’t try to talk. My name is Flynn Kelsey. I’m a doctor, and I’m just going to put a needle into your hand so we can give you some more fluids before we move you out.’
He was talking in layman’s terms and Meg realised he didn’t know that she was a nurse. He probably assumed the paramedics had got her name from her driver’s licence or a numberplate check. It was funny how her mind seemed to be focussing on the tiniest, most irrelevant details. Funny how her mind simply wouldn’t allow her to take in the horror of her own situation, trapped and helpless in her precariously positioned car.
Through terrified eyes she watched Flynn Kelsey as he set to work. He was a big man, and the small area that had been cut away was fairly restrictive, but he didn’t seem bothered by the confined space. The only concession he made was to take off the hard orange hat he was wearing before he set to work quietly. She searched his face, taking in his grey eyes, the high, chiselled cheekbones, the straight black hair neatly cut. Though he was clean shaven, she could see the dusting of new growth on his strong jaw.
Occasionally he would shift out of focus, her immobilised head making it impossible for her to follow him, but through it all Meg felt him beside her. Felt the steadying presence of his touch, the gentle reassurance of his regular breathing. Shifting into view again, for a second his cool grey eyes caught her petrified ones and he gave her a reassuring smile. Only the appearance of another flask of fluid indicated to Meg that the IV bung was already in; a scratch in the back of her hand was small fry compared to the agony everywhere else.
‘We’re going to be here for a little while yet.’
‘Why can’t they get me out now?’ It was the first time she had spoken and her voice was husky and strained, no more than a whisper, really, and Flynn had to move his head closer to catch her words.
‘Once the car’s a bit more secure we can get you out.’
Which didn’t answer the question. His careful evasion only scared Meg more.
Watching her closely, Flynn registered her deep intake of breath, saw her eyes screw tightly shut.
He recognised her terror.
‘You’re a lady that likes the truth, huh?’ He paused for a moment before continuing, ‘Your car came off the road at Elbow’s Bend—do you know it?’ Meg did know it; she knew it only too well. The sharp bend of road, cut into the rocks, was a favourite lookout point, and, if her memory served her correctly, the only view was that of the bay a hundred metres below. ‘Luckily a couple of trees broke your fall, and we’re on a nice sturdy ledge which has given us all a bit of room to work.’
She could hear her teeth involuntarily chattering as Flynn continued talking in quiet calm tones. ‘The trees are holding the car and the firefighters have secured us; we’re fine for now, but until the rest of the equipment arrives it’s probably safer not to try moving you.’
He didn’t add just how tenuous her position had been before the emergency services had arrived— didn’t casually throw in how both he and Ken had literally put their lives on the line by climbing into the car to be with her.
He didn’t have to; Meg had been out to enough accidents to know the score.
‘You’re going to be okay.’
‘Stay,’ she croaked, her eyes still screwed tightly shut.
‘Oh, I’m not going anywhere; you’re stuck with me for a good while yet. Do you know where you are?’
It seemed a silly question, especially given what he had just told her, but Meg knew he was testing her neurological status. ‘In my car.’ Her voice sounded gravelly, shaky. ‘Or what’s left of it.’
‘That’s right.’ He squeezed her hand as she started to cry. ‘But it’s only a car; you’re what’s important here. Do you remember what happened? Can you remember what caused the accident?’ He watched the tears squeezing out of her closed eyes and, realising he was distressing her further, decided instead to try a different tack. ‘We’ll go through it all later, at the hospital. Let’s talk about nicer things. Tell me about yourself, Meg.’
She tried to shake her head, but the collar and Ken held it still. ‘I’m tired.’
‘Come on, Meg. If I’m going to stay with you, the least you can do is talk to me.’ His voice was sharp, forcing her out of her slumber. ‘Have you got a husband? A boyfriend? Tell me about him?’
‘We broke up.’
‘Ouch.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘Trust me to say the wrong thing.’
Her eyes opened a fraction, wincing at the bright morning sun glimpsed through the broken tree. Golden-brown eyes, he noticed, almost amber in the bright sunlight, thick black eyelashes framing them, glistening with a new batch of tears. She turned her amber headlights to him. ‘He was cheating.’
That was a simple way of putting it, but she was too tired and it was all just too damn complicated to explain.
‘Then he’s a fool.’ Flynn said decisively. ‘Forget him.’
‘That’s what I’m working on.’
Flynn laughed. He was shining a pupil torch in her eyes now. ‘I meant while you’re stuck here. Think of something you really like. I’m not suggesting anything this time; I’d probably just put my foot in it again. What cheers you up?’
She didn’t answer; frankly she couldn’t be bothered. Closing her eyes, Meg wished he would just go away, leave her alone to rest a while.
‘Meg!’
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. ‘I’m tired.’
‘And I’m bored. Come on, Meg—talk to me. If I’ve got to sit here with you, the very least you can do is entertain me.’
‘The beach.’ Running her tongue over her dry bloodstained lips, Meg cleared her throat as best she could. ‘I like going to the beach.’
‘Do you live near it?’
‘Not really.’ She was really tired now, her eyelids growing heavy again, the need to sleep overwhelming.
‘A bit too expensive, isn’t it? Come on, Meg, stay awake. Stay with me here and tell me about the beach.’
‘Mum and Dad…’
‘Do they live near the beach?’
‘On the beach,’ she corrected
‘And I bet you’re round there more often than not?’
She actually managed a small laugh. ‘Mum says I use the hotel…’ No, that wasn’t right. Everything was coming out muddled. Meg forced herself to concentrate. ‘I use the house like…’ She never finished her sentence, her eyes gently closing as she gave up trying to explain.
‘Like a hotel?’ The torch was blasting back in her eyes now. ‘I bet you do. So, come on, what do when you go to the beach? Body surf? Water ski?’ There was a tinge of urgency creeping into his voice. ‘Open your eyes and tell me what you do at the beach, Meg!’
The sun was shining brightly when she did, warm and delicious. The same sun that warmed her when she sunbathed, the same birds chirping, the same lazy, hazy feeling as she stretched out on a towel and drifted off. Closing her eyes, feeling its warmth, she could almost hear the ocean, almost imagine she was lying on the soft sand, listening to the children patting sandcastles into shape. The hum of the firefighters’ drill was almost a perfect Jet Ski in the distance…
‘Meg!’