to hurry up.’
His pager beeped and he read the message. ‘Jeremy’s arrived in Theatre so as soon as the central line’s in place, we’ll transfer Ben upstairs.’
Emily ripped open a syringe and quickly attached the needle. The sharp, clean odour of the alcohol swab dominated the room as she prepared to insert the needle into Ben’s groin and his femoral artery. ‘Ben, mate, I just have to—’
Suddenly Ben’s eyes rolled back in his head and the monitor started blaring.
‘He’s arrested.’ Emily grabbed the bag and mask and thrust them at Patti. ‘Hold his chin up and start bagging. I’ll do compressions.’ She scrambled up onto the trolley, her small hands compressing the broad chest of a man in his athletic prime. A man whose heart quivered, desperate for blood to pump.
‘I’m in.’ Linton checked the position in the jugular vein with the portable ultrasound then skilfully connected the central line to another bag of plasma expander. ‘Now he’s getting some circulating volume, let’s hope his heart is happier. Stand clear.’
Emily jumped down off the trolley.
The moment her feet hit the floor and her hands went up in the air showing a space between her and the trolley, he pressed the button on the emergency defibrillator. A power surge discharged into Ben’s body, along with a surge of hope. It was tragic enough, Ben losing an arm. He didn’t need to lose his life as well.
Four sets of eyes fixed on the monitor, intently watching the green flat line slowly start to morph into a wobbly rhythm.
‘Adrenaline?’ Emily pulled open the drug drawer of the crash cart.
‘Draw it up in case we need it but he’s in sinus rhythm for the moment. Patti, put the oxygen mask back on. We’re moving him up to Theatre now. That tourniquet is doing its job but there’s a bleeder in there that needs to be tied off.’ Linton flicked up the locks on the trolley wheels.
‘I’ve got the ice and the blood.’ Jason rushed back into the room.
‘Take it with you and summon the lift to Theatre. We’re right behind you.’ He turned to Emily to give her instructions, but they died on his lips.
She’d already placed the portable defibrillator on the trolley and positioned herself behind Ben’s head, the emergency mask and bag in her hand. Small furrows of concentration formed a line of mini-Vs on the bridge on her nose as she caught his gaze. ‘Ready?’
It was uncanny how she could pre-empt him. She was on his wavelength every step of the way. ‘Ready.’
As they rounded the corner he heard the lift ping. Jason held the doors open as they pushed the trolley inside. The silver-coloured doors slid closed, sealing them into a type of no-man’s-land.
Heavy silence pervaded the lift. The medical students watched everything in wide-eyed awe. Emily’s gaze stayed welded to the monitor as her fine fingers caressed Ben’s hair in an almost unconscious manner.
A stab of something indefinable caught Linton in the solar plexus. He shifted his weight and breathed in deeply. Emily Tippett, with hair that changed colour weekly, her button nose with its smattering of freckles that some might describe as cute, her baggy clothing, which he assumed hid a nondescript figure, and her diminutive height, was so far removed from his image of an ideal woman that it would be almost laughable to find her attractive. He exhaled the unwelcome feeling.
But she’s a damn good nurse. The doctor in him could only applaud that attribute.
The lift doors slid open. ‘Let’s roll.’ Linton manoeuvred the stretcher out into the corridor. He spoke to the drowsy Ben, not totally sure the young man could hear him. ‘Ben, you’re going into Theatre now, mate, and Jeremy Fallon’s going to do his best for you. You’re in good hands.’
The young man nodded. His expression was hidden behind the oxygen mask but his eyes glowed with fear.
Emily squeezed Ben’s left hand and then stepped back from the trolley as the theatre staff took over. A minute later the theatre doors slid shut, locking them on the outside.
‘What do you think will happen?’ Jason spoke the words no one had been prepared to voice in front of Ben.
‘High upper arm amputation.’
They spoke at the same time, Emily’s words rolling over his, her voice husky and soft.
An image of a late-night, smoky bar with a curvaceous singer draped in a long, silk dress, its folds clinging to every delicious curve, suddenly branded itself to his brain. He’d never noticed what an incredibly sexy voice she had. It was at odds with the rest of her.
He shook his head, removing the image, and focused squarely on his medical student. Warragurra was a teaching hospital and he had teaching responsibilities. ‘The X-ray will determine if the arm can be reattached but due to the violence of the impact it’s very unlikely. The humerus, radius and ulna will be pulp rather than bone.’
‘So what’s next?’ For the very first time Jason showed some enthusiasm.
‘Cleaning up.’ Emily turned and pressed the lift call button.
‘Cleaning up?’ Jason sounded horrified. ‘Don’t the nurses do that?’
Linton suppressed a smile and silently counted down from five, anticipating the explosion. Every medical student made the same gaffe, the sensible ones only once.
Emily whirled around so fast she was a blur of pink. ‘Actually, it’s the nurses who supervise the medical students doing the cleaning. How else do you learn what is required in a resus room? How else do you learn where everything is kept so you can find it in an emergency?’ She folded her arms. ‘And if you’re really lucky, if you manage to clean and tidy in a timely manner, you might just be allowed near a patient and graduate from running boy.’
Jason’s pale face flushed bright red to the tips of his ears as his mulish expression battled with embarrassment.
Linton started to laugh. A great rolling laugh he couldn’t hold in. His eyes watered and his body ached. Emily was fantastic. Just the sort of nurse he’d welcome with open arms on his staff. Just the sort of nurse you need.
He ushered everyone into the lift and this time the silence was contemplative rather than anxiety charged. If Emily came to work in A and E, so many of his problems would be solved. He could go back to worrying about medicine rather than staff politics because she’d organise everyone and everything. She’d always done that during his rotations with the Flying Doctors. With the resident he’d arranged arriving soon, and with Emily on board, he might even get some time away from work. His fifty-two-year-old father, who had just jetted out after one of his unexpected visits, had accused him of being boring!
Yes, this plan would free him up so he could retrieve his badly missed social life.
Emily in charge would make life very easy.
He started to hum. For the first time in two tension-filled weeks he felt almost carefree. She might say no.
He instantly dismissed the traitorous thought. When it came to getting what he wanted he usually achieved it with a smile and some
