Outback Surgeon Page 9

  'Abbey?' For a moment they looked at each other and Nick's mouth twisted with faint mockery. 'Sorry for my lapse just then.' His hand tightened on her shoulder, his gaze winging back to their patient. He took an obviously deep controlling breath. 'We'll manoeuvre Grant upright now. I'll help as much as I can, but I'll have to concentrate on getting him adjacent to my own body so I can secure the clip-gates to both our harnesses. OK, let's do it. But keep it slow and steady...'

  It was useless. Abbey shook her head in despair. It was like trying to steady a ton-weight balloon with a piece of string. Grant was a well-built young man, his unconscious state only adding to their difficulties. And in their precarious position, it was well nigh impossible to co-ordinate the lift so the two harness belts were close enough to link.

  'This isn't going to work.' Nick's lean, handsome face was stretched tautly. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

  Abbey sensed his anguish. But they couldn't give up now. Grant's life could well depend on their teamwork. She pushed down her fears. 'Give me the clip- gates, Nick.'

  His head went back as though she'd struck him. 'Are you mad? Grant's way too heavy and you're not wearing the right harness—'

  'Stop trying to be a hero,' she snapped. 'And anyway, I didn't mean I'd try to take him. But we have to get a resolution here, Nick. It's not working—when you're steady, he's either too high or too low.'

  'Well, I'd gathered that, Abbey,' he spat sarcastically.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and counted to ten. 'Could you link your hands under his behind and try to lift him to your waist? Then I could make a grab for his harness and snap you together.'

  Nick's jaw tightened. 'Hell!' he spat the word between clenched teeth. 'I hate not being in control of this situation. I hate it!' But nevertheless he did what Abbey had suggested, gripping Grant, lifting him as high as he could, his muscles straining with the effort.

  Abbey was pale and tight-lipped, knowing she had only the barest window of opportunity to hitch the two harnesses before Nick's hold on the boy would of necessity have to slacken. She steadied her breathing, conscious of almost choreographing her movements.

  'I...can't hold him much longer.' Nick gasped, pulling his torso back so Abbey could use what little access there was between him and the injured youth. 'Now!' he yelled. 'Quick—or I've lost him!'

  In a flash and remembering everything she'd been taught, Abbey used her feet in a technique called 'smearing', where most of the climber's weight was positioned over one foot to reduce the overall load on the arms. Twisting slightly, she turned her upper body so that her arm closest to the rockface could counterbalance her movement and give her other arm maximum extension...

  'Now! Abbey...' What the hell was taking her so long? The muscles of Nick's throat and around his mouth were locked in a grimace and sweat pooled wetly in his lower back. His mind was so concentrated he hardly felt the nudge of Abbey's fingers as she secured one then quickly two more clip-gates to link the two men.

  'Done...' Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Abbey hardly remembered how they'd got down. She only remembered the relief she'd felt when Nick had cut Grant's rope and they could begin their descent.

  And there were plenty of hands to help them once they were safely on the ground. A subdued cheer had even gone up. Grant was released from his harness and placed on the stretcher provided by the State Emergency Service personnel.

  Abbey divested herself of her own harness, dimly aware her legs felt as unsteady as a puppet's.

  'I'll take that, Abbey.' Terry French, the leader of the SES team, hurried to her side to unclip the trauma kit and heft it across his shoulder. 'You did a great job.'

  'Thanks, Terry, but I couldn't have made it without Dr Tonnelli.'

  'He did well.'

  Abbey gave in to a tight little smile. That, from the usually laconic SES leader, was high praise. She must remember to tell Nick—that's if they were still speaking...

  'But it's the last time young Parrish pulls something like today's effort,' Terry said forcefully.

  'Oh?' Abbey's eyes widened in query.

  'He should've checked the ambulance was available, and when it wasn't he should've cancelled the abseiling. And he had no business taking that many kids without another trained adult. I'll have something to say at the next P and C meeting, I can tell you.'

  Well, the Parents and Citizens committee could sort all that out later, Abbey thought wearily. All that mattered now was Grant's welfare.

  Quickly, she pulled her thoughts together. She removed her safety hat, shook out her hair and began making her way across to where Nick was already leaning over the stretcher to attend to their patient.

  Abbey could see Grant had begun to come round but he seemed confused and emotional. 'It's OK, Grant.' She bent to reassure him. 'You'll be fine,' she murmured over and over, rubbing warmth into his hands.

  'Could we have the portable oxygen unit over here, please?' Nick began issuing orders, a deep cleft between his dark brows. 'And a space blanket.'

  'Anything presenting yet?' Abbey watched as he palpated the boy's stomach.

  'Feels soft enough so no spleen damage. Check his breath sounds, please, Abbey.'

  'Bit raspy.' Abbey folded the stethoscope away. 'Could be a lower rib fracture. What about his knee?'

  Nick was gently manipulating the swollen joint, his look intense. 'Fractured kneecap,' he said shortly. 'No doubt about it. But I can fix that.'

  Abbey's gaze widened in alarm. 'You'll operate here at Wingara?'

  'I thought that's what you wanted, Abbey.' His voice was suddenly hard. 'A specialist to come to the patient.'

  Abbey bit her lips together. Nick's arbitrary decision had literally taken control right out of her hands.

  Again.

  Her mind flew ahead. Was their little operating theatre up to it at short notice? Given that it could be, this was still her practice and her patient. So, didn't that make her the MO in charge? But surely it would be petty in the extreme to start pulling rank when Nick's suggestion made perfect sense?

  She had only a few seconds to decide on a course of action. Terry was already liaising with the CareFlight base. The sharp prongs of indecision tore at her and wouldn't let go.

  'We'll run normal saline.' Nick was inserting the cannula in Grant's arm as he spoke. 'We don't want him shocking on us. And would you draw up twenty- five milligrams of pethidine, please? That'll hold him until we can get him to the OR.'

  Abbey hesitated.

  'What?' Nick's brow darkened ominously. 'Don't we have emergency drugs with us?'

  Abbey took a thin breath. Grant's eyes had fluttered open again, dulled with pain, expressing all the heartbreaking youthful uncertainty of his situation.

  'Abbey!'

  She seemed to come back from somewhere.

  'Do you need my instructions written on a whiteboard?' Nick shot the words at her with the lethal softness of bullets from a silenced gun.

  Stung by his air of arrogance, Abbey jerked, 'Just who made you the boss here, Dr Tonnelli?' As soon as the words were out, she regretted them, for his expression darkened and his mouth tightened into a grim line.

  She shook her head, biting the soft inside edge of her bottom lip. This was totally unprofessional behaviour. Why on earth did Nicholas Tonnelli bring out the worst in her?

  And the best, another saner, kinder voice insisted.

  Smothering her resentment, she drew up the required dose and shot the painkiller home.

  'That's more like it.'

  His growled patronising response infuriated Abbey all over again. She drew a deep breath, almost grateful for the diversion of Terry calling her name.

  'Hey, Abbey!' Terry's tone was urgent. He jogged across, his face set in concern. 'The CareFlight chopper can't get here for a couple of hours. Three-car pile-up just south of Jareel. What do you want to do?'

  Click! In an instant, Abbey knew the decision regarding Gr
ant's surgery had been made for her. She took a steadying breath before she spoke, keeping her voiced instructions low. 'Cancel our request for a chopper, please, Terry. Dr Tonnelli's a surgeon. He's offered to operate on Grant's knee here.'

  The SES leader beamed. 'Well, that's a turn-up. I'll get onto CareFlight and let them know we don't need 'em this time.'

  Meanwhile, she'd better get on to Wingara hospital. Her mouth drying with apprehension, Abbey pulled out her mobile phone. Co-ordinating everything was going to be the ultimate test of their staffs abilities to deal with an emergency. And she could only pray that Rhys would be co-operative and back the decision to open the theatre for Grant's procedure.

  'It'll be fantastic to have the theatre in use again!' Rhys's enthusiastic response shot Abbey's doubts to pieces. 'What will Nick want to do?'

  'He's going to be wiring Grant's patella. He can't be sure of the degree of complexity until he goes in, of course.'

  'OK. I'd like to be involved and I'll do a ring- around for a couple of extra hands. Carmen and Renee should be available. They'll be glad of the chance to hone their theatre skills, I'm sure,' Rhys said confidently.

  Abbey brushed a fingertip between her brows, thinking quickly. 'We'll need to cross-match blood on arrival and X-ray as necessary. Especially, we'll need some pictures of his chest. There's evidence of a fractured lower rib. And could Diane come in and hold the fort while we're in Theatre?'

  'Absolutely,' Rhys confirmed. 'No worries. What's your ETA, Abbey?'

  Abbey ran through the logistics in her head, casting a quick look to where Nick was supervising the stretcher lift into the emergency vehicle. The improvised ambulance would have several kilometres of slow travel over rough terrain out to the road but then they should be able to pick up speed... 'Forty-five minutes maximum, Rhys.'

  'Fine. That'll give me enough time to get prepped. See you in a bit, then.'

  'Oh, Rhys.' Abbey spoke urgently. 'Andrew Parrish will have contacted Grant's parents. They'll probably turn up at the hospital to wait for the chopper.'

  'I'll have someone look out for them,' Rhys said calmly, 'and explain the change of plan. Tea and sympathy until either you or Nick can speak to them?'

  'Thanks, Rhys.' Abbey felt a sliver of responsibility slide from her. 'That would be brilliant. See you soon.' Switching off her mobile, she moved swiftly to Nick's side.

  'Ah, Abbey.' He inclined his head, his eyes gleaming with determination. 'We're about to go. I'll travel with Grant, if that's OK with you?'

  'You mean you're actually asking me?' she acknowledged thinly.

  His hand flew out, clamping her wrist, his dark brows snapping together. 'Don't turn territorial on me again, Abbey. This isn't the time.'

  Abbey's heart thumped. Had she gone too far? 'I'll grab a lift back up to the top and collect my car,' she said throatily, feeling relief when his hand returned to his side.

  'See you back at the hospital, then.' Nick's expression gentled. 'Uh...' He snapped his fingers. 'About anaesthetising Grant for the op—I forgot to ask. Can you help out? I can guide you if—'

  'That won't be necessary,' she cut in. 'I did my elective in anaesthesiology at John Bosco's in Melbourne.'

  'You wanted to specialise?'

  Abbey stiffened. 'Is that so strange?' She turned away before he could answer.

  Abbey could scarcely believe how smoothly the hospital was coping. She was still basking in a sense of real pride as she finished scrubbing.

  The sound of the door swinging open sent her spinning away from the basin, and by the time Nick had begun scrubbing beside her, she was drying her hands and asking sharply, 'What size gloves do you need?'

  He sent her an abrupt look from under his brows. 'Eight and a half, if the stocks can manage it. But I can get by with nine.'

  'Rhys will have everything under control.' Abbey forced lightness into her tone. 'Even glove sizes, I imagine. Since the alert went out that you were going to operate, he's apparently been beavering away like you wouldn't believe.'

  'I'm extremely grateful for his flexibility over this.' The tightening of Nick's mouth suggested her own compliance had been hardily won.

  Abbey opened her mouth and closed it. This wasn't the time to start sniping at one another. They had a job to do on a vulnerable young patient and for that they needed calm and total professionalism.

  Abruptly, she turned and left the little annexe and crossed to the theatre. Rhys had prepared the anaesthetic trolley perfectly and Abbey felt a rush of adrenalin she hadn't experienced for the longest time.

  She'd do a brilliant job for Grant. And perhaps at the end of it, she might have actually appeased Nick as well. At the thought, warm colour swept up from her chest to her face, but there was no time now to consider why it mattered so much to have the wretched man's approval. But somehow it did.

  An hour and a half later, the procedure was all done.

  'Thanks, team. Fantastic effort.' Nick inserted the last suture in Grant's knee and signalled for Abbey to reverse the anaesthetic.

  'Are this lad's climbing days over, do you think?' Rhys handed the surgeon the non-stick dressing to seal the site, and then waited with the bulky padding that would be placed over Grant's repaired kneecap.

  'Not at all.' Deftly, Nick secured the wide crepe bandage that would hold the padding in place. 'Does Wingara boast the services of a physiotherapist?'

  Rhys nodded. 'Fran Rogers, the sergeant's wife, runs a practice from the sports centre.'

  'She's good,' Carmen, one of the nurses assisting, chimed in. 'Sorted out the crick in my neck in a couple of sessions.'

  'Sounds like we'll be in business, then.' Above his mask, Nick's eyes lit with good humour. 'OK, guys, that's it.' He stepped back from the operating table, working his shoulders briefly. 'I'd like Grant's leg elevated on pillows for the next twenty-four hours, please. And I'll write him up for some antibiotics and pain relief to be going on with.' His green gaze shifted from the nurses to Abbey. 'Would you mind finishing up in here? I don't want to keep Grant's parents waiting any longer than necessary for news.'

  'I don't mind at all.' Abbey paused and then added huskily, 'That was a fine piece of work, Nick.'

  Nick's eyes met hers and held. 'You made it easy, Dr Jones. We make a good team.' With that, he turned on his heel and left the theatre.

  There seemed nothing more she could do at the hospital, so Abbey made her way home. Letting herself in, she acknowledged a feeling of vagueness, as if her body and mind were operating on autopilot.

  It had been the oddest kind of day.

  Walking into the kitchen, she looked around, registering her and Nick's breakfast dishes neatly stacked in the drainer.

  A soft breath gusted from her mouth and she shook her head. Had it been only this morning they'd stood here fooling about like teenagers, exchanging light- hearted banter?

  Absently, she turned on the tap and got herself a glass of water. Peering through the kitchen window as she drank it, she noticed that already the afternoon was rapidly drawing to a close, the sunset throwing huge splashes of dark pink and gold into the sky.

  She lingered, watching several wood doves flutter in. and out of the shrubbery before settling for the night. What was it about this time of the day that made her feel so introspective, so lonely, so strangely vulnerable?

  'Mind sharing the view?'

  Nick's soft footfall and equally softly spoken question had Abbey spinning round, a hand to her heart. She swallowed jerkily. 'I didn't realise you were home.'

  'Have been for some time.'

  His smile left a lingering warmth in his eyes and Abbey felt her heart lurch.

  'I reassured Grant's parents and left a few post-op instructions with Diane. There didn't seem much else you needed me for. There wasn't, was there?'

  She faltered, 'No—not really.' She desperately needed a hug but she couldn't tell him that. Her eyes flew over him. He'd obviously showered and changed into comfortable cargo pants and a navy
long-sleeved sweatshirt.

  Nick tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. 'You look shattered.'

  'Thanks!' She lifted her chin, spinning back to the window, putting her glass down with a little thump in the sink. Was he saying she wasn't up to it? That she couldn't cope with one medical emergency? 'That's real music to my ears, I don't think!'

  Nick clicked his tongue. 'Don't go all huffy on me, Abbey. I'm trying to help, dammit. Why don't you let me? For starters, are you hungry? I know I am.'

  Abbey half turned to him. She supposed she was. They'd had nothing since his apple cake at morning tea. Perhaps it was hunger that was making her feel so hollowed out, so on edge around him. She nibbled the edge of her lower lip. 'We—we didn't get round to doing our grocery shopping, did we? And the supermarket will be closed by now.'

  'I'm sure the pantry will yield up something edible.' His eyes captured hers. 'If not, I'll improvise.'

  'You'll cook?'

  'I don't just wield a knife in the OR, you know.' He flashed her a heart-thudding grin. 'I'll knock up some kind of pasta to delight your palate, OK?'

  'Very OK.' Abbey felt her gastric juices react in expectation. 'There's bound to be a can of tomatoes in the pantry,' she said, warming to the idea. 'And I'm almost certain there's pasta of some description in a glass jar—'

  'I'll find everything.' Nick's hands dropped to her shoulders to give her an insistent little nudge towards the door. 'Go and have a relaxing bath or whatever.'

  Abbey made it to the doorway and turned back. 'There are a few herbs in pots at the bottom of the back steps—'

  'Out, Dr Jones!' Nick waved an arm to get rid of her. 'I'm doing this. Go and have your bath.'

  She sent him a wide-eyed innocent look. 'I prefer showers.'

  He sighed audibly. 'Then have a nice relaxing shower, for Pete's sake. Now, scoot, before I lose all control and join you there.'

  That did it. 'Consider me gone.'

  Nick waited until he heard the soft click of her bedroom door, then lowered his head, bracing his arms against the bench. Hell, it was taking all his willpower not to follow her. But that was not the way. Every instinct was telling him that.