was no way he’d be able to convince Nonna to leave Bandarra. She’d lived here since arriving as a bride from Italy back in the fifties. Perhaps there’d been times in the past when she might have toyed with the idea of leaving but, since the accident, she’d refused even visits to Melbourne. She wouldn’t leave Dominico. Leo alone had been the one to run.
He rubbed his chin and hauled his thoughts back to the here and now. ‘You can hand over her care to David Martin.’
A deep V formed at the bridge of her nose. ‘So you’re transferring her to Adelaide?’
What? ‘No, she’s staying here.’ He tilted his head slightly and met her gaze. ‘Abbie.’ He paused for the briefest moment, the beat lending credence to his upcoming words. ‘Thank you for your care. This isn’t personal; it’s just that David’s experience is what Nonna needs.’
For the first time since he’d met her, a smile pulled her generous mouth upwards. It danced along her cheeks and into her eyes, making them sparkle like the rainforest after rain. And then she laughed. A laugh tinged with incredulity and yet grounded with a known truth, as if she’d heard a similar story before. As if she saw straight through him.
A flicker of unease stirred his normally unshakeable confidence.
‘It’s been a while since you last visited Bandarra, hasn’t it?’
And, just like that, he felt the power shift. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘David Martin moved to Adelaide ten months ago and the practice at Naroopna is vacant. As is the one at Budjerree. Right now, Bandarra is the only township within two hundred kilometres with medical staff. Come Wednesday, when Justin leaves, it’s just me and the nursing staff.’
His breakfast turned to stone in his gut. All he’d wanted was the best for Nonna. Instead, he’d let fatigue and fear of the past interfere with his usual clear-thinking and now he’d backed himself into a corner.
The urgent bleep of her pager suddenly blared between them and she checked the liquid display. Without a word, she sprinted past him and out of the room, leaving behind only a lingering and delectable scent of strawberries and liquorice.
He hated that he instinctively took in a deeper breath.
Abbie raced into a chaotic ED, shedding all of her disconcerting and unsuitable thoughts about the infuriating and ridiculously gorgeous Leo Costa. There should be a law against men being that handsome, and a statute that stopped her even noticing. The piercing siren of an ambulance screamed in the distance, instantly focusing her with its howling volume that increased with every moment. An intense sound that never brought good news.
People were everywhere. Two teenagers sat pale and silent holding each other’s hands, an elderly man supported a woman to a chair and a young woman clutching a baby called out, ‘Help me,’ and still people poured through the doors, many bloodied and hurt.
Lisa and Jason were murmuring platitudes mixed in with firm instructions as they tried to examine a hysterical woman with blood streaming down her face. Her shrieks of anguish bounced off the walls, telling a story of terror and pain.
The area looked like a war zone. ‘What’s happened and why haven’t emergency services notified us?’
Justin grimaced. ‘Apparently a bus hit a truck. Those who could, walked here.’
Triage. Years of training swung into action. ‘Lisa, you’re on walking wounded. Get a nurse from the floor to help you stat, and get someone to ring all the nursing staff and tell them to come in. I want a list of all names and all injuries. Prioritise, treat and be aware of anyone who blacked out. Any concerns, consult me or Jason.’
‘Will do.’ The experienced nurse headed to the chairs as Abbie grabbed the emergency radio.
‘Bandarra Base Hospital to Bandarra Police, over.’
Daniel Ruston’s voice crackled down the line. ‘Abbie, a bus and a truck collided. The paramedics are on their way with the first of the seriously injured passengers. It’s not pretty.’
‘How many are there?’
‘Two at least, probably more.’
‘Thanks, over and out.’ She headed straight into the resuss room, which was technically always set up ready for any emergency but she always liked to double-check. She glanced at the brand-new Virtual Trauma and Critical Care Service – a video conferencing screen on wheels. With its camera that used superfast broadband technology to transfer images from the country to the city, GPs in small towns could teleconference with specialists if need be. It was an extra medical lifeline in the tyranny of distance. Everything was ready. She didn’t have to wait long.
The paramedics barrelled through the doors, their stretchers bringing in two patients, both wearing oxygen masks. Paul, the senior paramedic, his face grim, started talking. ‘First patient is Jenny, a thirty-year-old woman, conscious with pneumothorax and suspected abdominal internal injuries. Chest tube and IV inserted in the field but BP continuing to drop. Second patient is Emma, a seventeen-year-old female with suspected spinal injuries, currently on spinal board and immobilised with a collar. Complaining of not feeling legs. IV inserted in the field and observations stable.’
Abbie bit her lip. ‘What else is coming?’
Paul looked sombre. ‘There’s a forty-five-year-old male with a fractured pelvis and multiple lacerations, and a sixty-year-old woman whose leg has gone into the wall of the bus. Jaws of life are on hand.’
Adrenaline poured through her, making her shake. She had at least four seriously ill patients, a minimum of thirty walking wounded and only four staff until the other nurses arrived. The ratio of staff to patients totally sucked.
‘It hurts.’ Jenny’s muffled sob came from behind the oxygen mask.
Abbie put her hand reassuringly on the woman’s shoulder as the trolley was wheeled into the resuss room. ‘I’m Abbie McFarlane and I’ll give you something for pain as soon as I’ve examined you.’
Justin appeared. ‘Lisa’s got it under control out there and I’ve given the hysterical woman a sedative and will stitch her forehead later. If you’re right here, I’ll examine the other stretcher patient.’
‘Great. Thanks.’ Abbie wrapped the automatic blood pressure cuff around Jenny’s arm and attached the electrodes to the ECG dots that the paramedics had applied. The reassuring beat of a regular heart rate traced across the screen.
The blood pressure machine beeped. Eighty on fifty.
Not good. ‘I just have to feel your tummy, Jenny.’
‘Will it hurt?’ Fear lit the woman’s eyes.
‘It might.’ Abbie gently palpated the woman’s abdomen and her fingers met a rigid and guarded upper left quadrant.
Jenny flinched. ‘Do you have to do that?’
‘I’m sorry.’ She’s bleeding somewhere.
‘What do you need? Catheter, plasma expander, abdominal ultrasound?’ Erin walked into the room, lack-of-sleep-induced black smudges under her eyes
