Prognosis Bad Timing Read online

‘I need to keep going here. Will you be OK? Just keep breathing, OK? In and out. All right?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m g-good now. I’ll breathe.’

  Charlie searched her face. She still looked scared but the panic was gone. ‘That’s great.’ He nodded and turned his attention back to his patient.

  What first? He needed a collar to stabilise the patient’s neck before he manipulated it to improve the airway. He didn’t have one. He made a mental note to put a collar in the kit for future use and moved to plan B. He knelt so that the patient’s head was between his legs, his knees and thighs providing support for the head and neck.

  Experimenting with some gentle jaw support and chin extension, he was relieved to hear the breathing become much less noisy. He reached for his portable suction unit, pushed the mask aside and placed the sucker inside the man’s mouth. Blood slurped into the tubing.

  Carrie startled at the loud mechanical noise. The red fluid tracked down the tubing and she looked away quickly. Nausea roiled through her intestines again and for an awful moment she thought she was going to disgrace herself – more than she had already - and lose her dinner. Her heartbeat spiked and she coughed on a rising surge of bile.

  Charlie glanced up quickly. ‘How you doing?’ He could hear fear in the rattle of her breath as she struggled to keep herself in control. ‘In and out, Carrie. This is nearly over.’

  Carrie nodded, forcing herself to breathe, opening her mouth to ask the question burning through her mind. ‘Do...do you think he’s going to d-die?’

  Charlie was surprised to hear her talk. But that was good. Maybe she needed conversation to distract her from the grim reality of the situation?

  He had two choices. Truth or gloss.

  ‘Probably.’ He’d never much been one for gloss. ‘He’s got a significant head injury and multiple fractures, including probable facial, which is compromising his airway. His pupils are fixed and dilated. He has a major arterial haemorrhage.’

  Carrie nodded. Through the fog of her jumbled thought processes she knew just one of these alone was a significant, life-threatening injury. Combined...?

  ‘But it’s OK, I’m a doctor. I’m not giving up yet.’

  He grinned despite the circumstances, and relief flowed cool and easy through her system. Maybe his confidence was wrong in the face of the severity of the situation but it helped calm her a little.

  The wail of a distant siren interrupted their conversation and they both cocked their heads. Carrie had never heard a more beautiful sound.

  ‘See?” Charlie smiled again. “Not much longer.’

  A fire engine arrived a minute later. It wasn’t quite what Charlie was after but it meant more hands. ‘What happened?’ asked a thin young man in a navy uniform, jumping out of the truck.

  Charlie filled them in. Within a minute the car was being dealt with, a road block was being set up to manage any traffic and Charlie’s request for light had been efficiently dealt with. He even commandeered someone to assist.

  Second rule of triage — the most experienced person on scene managed the airway. But Charlie needed to get a line in and he couldn’t do that from the head of the patient. He let one of the crew take his place, stressing the importance of neck stability while he quickly placed an IV in the crook of the patient’s elbow.

  Hooking up some fluid from his supply, he ran the cannula wide open as another fireman held the bag aloft.

  ‘She OK, Doc?’ The human IV pole nudged Charlie.

  Charlie glanced down at Carrie, who had her eyes closed and was rocking her body slightly.

  Nope. Not really. Clearly. ‘She’s fine,’ he assured the fireman.

  The ambulance would be here soon and she could be relieved, but in the meantime she was doing a great job with the arterial bleed.

  ‘OK?’ he asked his voice low as he crouched down beside Carrie, squeezing her shoulder. She looked very pale. ‘You’re doing really well. I couldn’t have done this without your help. You’ve been a Godsend.’

  Carrie glanced at him, stunned by his genuine praise. She was a mess and she shouldn’t have been. She should have been a professional. She could have been really useful. Formed a dynamic partnership to save the man’s life.

  Been an asset instead of a liability.

  But he was complimenting her nonetheless and in this nightmare it really meant something.

  Two ambulances arrived five minutes later, one carrying an intensive-care paramedic, and a chopper thundered overhead minutes after that, landing on the road nearby.

  Carrie was relieved of her duty, her fingers numb from applying constant pressure. Someone took over and she felt several arms lifting her up to her feet and out of the way. A paramedic shepherded her towards his rig but she refused to be looked at until she’d checked on Dana.

  Surely she wasn’t still asleep? But she was. Soundly. Her cherubic pout slack, her blonde locks in disarray.

  Carrie allowed the paramedic to give her a once-over by her car. Someone thrust a warm drink at her and someone else draped a blanket around her shoulders. She was grateful to be away from it all, her heart rate settling but the feeling of unreality persisted.

  Her neck ached and she rubbed each side absently. Her knees ached also. She looked down at her ruined trousers, torn and frayed at the knees.

  She watched Charlie work in tandem with the paramedics to help stabilise the patient, admiring his confidence, his self-assuredness. She’d practically fallen apart, almost vomited all over the patient.

  But not him.

  He had saved the man’s life. His insistence that she help, while difficult beyond words for her, had been the right call. Not that she’d been capable of much.

  Thirty minutes later the patient was gone. Dana finally woke up as the chopper lifted noisily from the road. Carrie got her out of her car seat and snuggled her against her chest, wrapping the blanket around both of them.

  ‘What happened, Mummy?’

  ‘There was a car accident, sweetie.’

  Dana yawned. ‘It looks like a disco. Can I dance?’

  Carrie smiled. Dana was right. The scene did look like a roadside discotheque. Flashing lights from the multiple emergency vehicles strobed across the scene, reflecting the pieces of broken glass scattered like diamonds across the road surface. ‘No, sweetie, no dancing tonight.’

  Dana gave her a cute sleepy smile and snuggled her face into Carrie’s neck. Carrie hugged her closer, inhaling the sweet smell of her daughter.

  Charlie approached, surprised to see a mop of blonde hair peeking out of the top of the blanket. Carrie had a kid? No wonder she’d been reluctant to get out the car.

  ‘Is this your daughter?’ When she nodded he continued. ‘I’m sorry, I had no idea...’ Maybe that’s why she’d been so shaky? She’d probably still been reacting to the potential consequences had the red car hit hers head on.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She shook her head. ‘Dana slept through it all.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Dana’s high voice broke into their conversation.

  Charlie was captivated by a pair of big blue eyes fluttering behind heavy lids. ‘I’m Charlie.’

  ‘Were you in the accident?’ Dana asked sleepily.

  ‘No, Sleeping Beauty, I just helped out.’

  Dana giggled. ‘Mummy, Charlie thinks I’m Sleeping Beauty.’

  Carrie smiled down at her daughter. ‘Go to sleep, then, Sleeping Beauty.’ She dropped a kiss on Dana’s forehead. They both watched as Dana shut her eyes.

  ‘How are you doing?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, despite the persisting tremble of her hands.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was probably a bit forceful back there.’

  ‘You were just trying to help him,’ she said dismissively.

  ‘You did well.’ Charlie leant his hip against her vehicle.

  Carrie laughed. ‘Sure.’

  ‘It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.’ He shrugged.


  Carrie decided it was best he didn’t know about her qualifications. The chances that they’d ever meet in a professional capacity were fairly negligible. He was obviously an emergency medicine specialist and she was firmly ensconced in management.

  ‘Are you going to be right to travel home?’ he asked. ‘Your car still goes?’

  Carrie looked at the dented rear side panel. It did, but she doubted whether she could drive again tonight, she was too shaken up. ‘I’ll get one of the tow-truck drivers to take it away and arrange to have it fixed first thing tomorrow. It’s a bit of a pain but, considering I thought we were going to die tonight, it’s an inconvenience I can live with.’

  Charlie chuckled. ‘You heading back to Brisbane? Can I give you a lift home?’

  Carrie watched the traffic accident investigation squad put yellow markings on the road. They’d promised her a lift back into the city but they didn’t look like they’d be finished any time soon.

  She regarded him steadily, taking notice of his looks for the first time. He was tall, a good head taller than her. He had nice eyes, grey eyes. A nice face, actually.

  Calm. Serene. Confident. Even when he’d been snapping orders he’d been completely self-assured.

  There was something innately tranquil about his features. His hair was a shaggy brown shot with blond, as if naturally streaked by the sun. It hung down, brushing his collar, and seemed to part naturally in the middle, falling in haphazard layers over his ears and stopping just short of impeding his vision.

  Combined with his three-day growth, he looked a little surfer dude and as far from Rupert’s cleanly shaven short back and sides as was physically possible. She’d always preferred that look but this guy was making her rethink.

  His arms were tanned a deep brown, as if he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. His clothes were casual — threadbare jeans and one of those trendy T-shirts that looked like it had been painted by a pre-schooler. His chest was broad, his biceps firm in her peripheral vision.

  ‘I can get an Uber.’

  ‘Out here? You might be waiting a while. Where do you live?’

  ‘Windsor.’

  ‘Perfect. I live in the Valley. You’re on my way.’

  He pushed away from the car the matter apparently settled and Carrie watched as he cleared their departure with the scene controller. Five minutes later, after she’d spoken with the tow company, Charlie was opening the passenger door to his sedan.

  Carrie eyed it disparagingly, her mood considerably lightened compared to earlier. ‘You sure this thing goes?’ she asked, her old self returning.

  Feigning insult, he said, ‘I’ll have you know this is a classic car.’

  ‘It’s ancient.’

  Charlie chuckled. It was. It had been second hand when he’d inherited it as his uni run-around. ‘It’s...retro.’

  And he was fond of the old banger, preferring it to the ostentatious BMW his parents had bought him for his thirtieth birthday. It had lot of happy memories.

  He’d kissed his first girl in this car. Had driven to Uluru in it. Slept in it the night of his bucks’ party when he’d been too drunk to drive home.

  The Beamer just didn’t have the same amount of soul.

  “Does it even have anchor points?”

  ‘It’s not that old,’ he said, grabbing Dana’s car seat off the ground near her foot and opening up the back door, installing it like he’d done it a time or two before.

  Dana stirred as Carrie transferred her into the seat. ‘Where are we, Mummy?’

  ‘In Charlie’s car,’ Carrie said quietly as she snapped the buckle in place. ‘He’s taking us home.’

  Dana looked around with heavy eyelids. ‘I like it,’ she murmured as her eyes drifted shut.

  Carrie met his amused gaze. It was warm and sexy and she blinked, surprised at the thought.

  ‘Your daughter obviously has an eye for a classic.’

  ‘She’s four.’

  His laughter followed her into the passenger seat and a warm sensation down low and deep spread sensual tentacles to every cell of her body. It was strange and unnerving and she put the brakes on immediately.

  So, he had a nice face and a great smile and had talked her down from the ledge tonight. She was a single mother with her eye on a prestigious job.

  She didn’t have time for distractions.

  It was a good minute before Charlie lost sight of the multi-coloured glow of the accident scene in his rear-view mirror. The adrenaline he’d felt during the incident had dissipated, leaving him feeling edgy, and he drummed his fingers against the steering-wheel. At least his passenger had perked up. Her trembling seemed to have settled and there was colour in her cheeks now.

  She had auburn hair, he noticed for the first time. It was wavy rather than curly, tumbling to her shoulders and framing her oval face, emphasizing the cream of her complexion, the smattering of freckles across her nose and her big, light-brown eyes the exact shade of whiskey.

  Her clothes were unusual. Purple tie-dyed shirt with a heavily beaded modest neckline and matching trousers. It was loose and flowing, hinting at her figure beneath rather than revealing anything. She had large silver hoop earrings and a thin silver choker with dangling lines of purple beads hanging like icicles.

  The total effect was quite...hippy.

  ‘So, what do you do?’ Charlie asked, making small talk as the silence stretched between them.

  ‘I’m...in management.’

  He laughed. She looked like she read palms for a living. ‘That’s suitably vague.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s nothing very exciting. It pays the mortgage and the hours are good.’

  He flicked a glance at Dana in the rear-view mirror. She was staring sleepily out the window, her blonde hair and blue eyes nothing like her mother’s. ‘How old did you say Dana was?’

  ‘She’s four.’

  ‘Cute age.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ She smiled. ‘You got kids?’

  Charlie snorted. ‘No.’

  She seemed a little taken aback at his response and hesitated before asking, ‘Not your thing?’

  If only. Quite the opposite, in fact. Charlie had wanted a family of his own for a long time. A chance to do it better than his parents had - if that was possible. If he wasn’t somehow genetically wired to screw things up, too.

  He shrugged. ‘Veronica, my ex-wife, didn’t want them. It was probably just as well, given the divorce and everything.’

  ‘Was it bad?’

  Carrie could have bitten off her tongue as Charlie’s knuckles grew white on the steering-wheel. She had no idea what had come over her. Maybe it was the moments they had shared at the accident scene that made her feel like normal social mores concerning privacy didn’t apply to them. That she could ask him such a personal question on such short acquaintance.

  Maybe it was the familiar edge of bitterness scarring his voice.

  ‘Oh, God, sorry, that’s none of my business. Forget I asked.’

  ‘ It’s OK.” His fingers eased around the wheel. “It was...kind of messy.’

  “Sorry,” she apologised again before lapsing into silence, mentally castigating herself, ordering her mouth to zip up.

  ‘So...is there a dad around?’ He tipped his chin at her left hand. “I notice you’re not wearing a ring.”

  Carrie startled at the quiet question, as intrusive as hers had been on such short acquaintance but answered it anyway keeping her voice neutral. Unemotional. ‘Not one that’s interested in Dana, no.’

  She looked out the window. Even after five years Rupert’s desertion still stung.

  ‘Sorry.’

  She shrugged. ‘His loss.’ Rupert had no idea what he was missing.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Carried glanced at him, hit by the sincerity of his tone but he was watching the road and she quickly looked away, also staring straight ahead. But his thigh was bulky and solid in her peripheral vision and his biceps flexed distractingly with e
very slight movement of the steering-wheel.

  He reached for the radio, leaning in, his hair falling forward, momentarily obscuring the sexy stubble covering his jaw.

  ‘Do you mind?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the button. “Will it wake Dana?’

  Carrie dragged her gaze away from his jaw. ‘She slept through a car smashing into us, four sirens and a helicopter.’

  He chuckled. ‘Good point.’

  Charlie was grateful for the music to distract them from conversation. At the accident scene Carrie had been easy to dismiss as a blood-phobic, hyperventilating, tie-dyed flake. But seeing her now, free of the stress of the accident, she was a different woman altogether.

  One that appealed to him immensely.

  She had teased him about his car, sympathised over his divorce and told him about her little girl. Suddenly she was three-dimensional. Complex.

  Desirable even.

  The thought slid insidiously into his head. Oh no. Hell no. She was a single mother. You didn’t mess with them. Honourable men knew that. Especially not when his life was such a mess.

  A separation, a divorce and six months in limbo over his health. In two weeks he’d have some closure, but until then his life was on hold.

  And after that?

  There were things to do. Big things. A major project that had been shelved for too long was a priority. He wouldn’t have time for a single mother and her cute child.

  Relationships were going to be light from now on. Nothing heavy. His life had weighed a tonne for years. And women with children deserved more than that.

  They passed the rest of the trip listening to the music and indulging in occasional light conversation. Charlie was grateful when he pulled up outside her apartment block. Her laughter and her scent had filled the car and he couldn’t hear the squeak of the back tyre any more or smell the slight aroma of rust.

  And he liked them. OK, it was probably a guy thing — heaven knew, Veronica had hated every inch of it — but he liked them a lot. It was disturbing to think this woman could completely obliterate them.

  ‘Thanks for the lift, Charlie. And for...you know... snapping me out of it back there.’

  Now she was home, Carrie didn’t want to get out. Strangely she felt like staying in the car, chatting with him. They’d shared an experience tonight that few strangers shared. They’d saved a man’s life and she felt a weird kind of connection.