willing his own life into her lungs.
Time was a vacuum that sucked at his resources as he worked to help her cling to life. One, two, three, against her rib cage, and two gulps of precious air into her lungs, again and again and again, until he felt the sweat begin to drench his face and his muscles ache. In the distance he heard a siren, and as the ambulance’s blue light flashed in his eyes, at last he felt the faintest heartbeat.
“She’s still alive,” he yelled at the green-clad figure with the calm, confident face.
“Well done, mate. We’ll take it from here.”
Firm hands assisted him to his feet. He stood drained and powerless as the ambulance crew moved with quiet efficiency. Cautiously lifting her broken body onto a stretcher. Inserting tubes and needles. Checking monitors. And all the time she stayed the same, pale-faced and silent as if already dead.
For Ben, it seemed like a dream. He had known the vibrant laughing girl for less than a half hour, but now she felt a part of his life, a part he didn’t want to lose. When they carried the stretcher, he walked close beside it, unwilling to leave her. They laid the stretcher carefully into the waiting ambulance and he noticed a blue-uniformed police constable heading toward him, notepad at the ready and eyebrows drawn into a frown of concentration as he paused to talk to the lady with the ample build and the anxious eyes who nodded in Ben’s direction. He turned away for one more glance at the motionless figure in the ambulance. They were closing the doors and he didn’t even know the young woman’s name.
“You coming, mate?”
There was an urgency in the paramedic’s kind brown eyes as he motioned toward the half-closed door, and Ben acted on impulse, jumping up the step into the bright, antiseptic atmosphere. He saw the policeman start to hurry toward him as the door thudded shut, then the engine roared into life and the vehicle edged out into the street.
He sat motionless beside her, staring at her lifeless form, holding her limp fingers as the paramedics fought to sustain the fragile life that he had given her.
The older of the two men, the kind-eyed one, placed a hand sympathetically on his shoulder.
“You did good, mate,” he murmured. “She has chance now, thanks to you.” His partner, a dark-haired man in his early thirties, spoke without looking around.
“Your wife, is she?”
Ben shook his head.
“No, just a friend.”
Was that all she was—just a friend? Was she even that?
The eerie wail of the siren filled the morning air, and as the flashing blue light sped by, people stopped to watch and wonder, relieved that the crisis had nothing to do with them or theirs. Ben settled back to keep vigil over the girl in the crimson suit, willing her to hold on.
At the hospital, the distinctive smell hit him in the solar plexus. After all the hours and endless weeks he had spent in such places, he should be used to it, or maybe that was why the very atmosphere made him shake. But that was all in the distant past, and this wasn’t about him. This was about saving the life of the first girl to attract his interest since…since forever.
He clung to her hand as they raced the trolley along a gleaming corridor. Figures in white gathered around, speaking insistently, yelling out instructions.
“Name! What’s her name?”
At first it didn’t register that the blond nurse was talking to him and he looked at her vacantly.
“Your girlfriend…”
She took his sleeve, twisting him to face her.
“What is her name? I need it for the records, you see.”
He shook his head helplessly. “I—I don’t know her name. I just…”
The nurse smiled, her blue eyes shining warmly. “I heard what you did for her, and it wasn’t just anything. Dennis told me.”
He eyed her vaguely, and she pointed toward the paramedic with the kind eyes.
“Dennis, over there, the one who was first on the scene. He said that you saved her life.”
Ben shrugged.
“Anyone would have,” he started to say.
The nurse grimaced.
“Don’t you be too sure. Anyway, I must find out her name. Do you know where she lived—or worked, maybe?”
He suddenly remembered, “There’s this.” He removed a tiny purse from his pocket. “I picked it up off the road after…when the paramedics were putting her onto the stretcher.”
The nurse smiled and took it from him, already prying it open.
“Thanks,” she said. “Now, why don’t you go and get a coffee. There’s a machine just down the corridor.”
Ben hesitated and she ushered him off.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you informed.”
Strong black coffee hit the bottom of his stomach with a jolt, scalding his throat on the way down. He raced back along the corridor, needlessly spilling coffee in his wake, burning his fingers. Ward B, the nurse had said. His eyes scoured the signs above his head. That was it over there.
The door was closed, but he saw movement behind the glass panel. He peered through a gap. A white-coated doctor blocked his view, and impatiently he moved along. And then all of a sudden, there she was. His heart flipped over. She lay as still as death itself, her face as white as alabaster and her softly closed eyelids a pale translucent blue, but the heart monitor danced and bleeped to prove that she really was alive. He sank onto a chair to wait, sipping the scalding coffee without noticing it burning his lips.
For half an hour he sat motionless, listening to the bleeping machine, hope rising with every minute that passed. When a staccato sound filtered into his head, he glanced up, alarm bells already ringing
A man was approaching, a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early thirties, with a sharply chiseled, handsome face and swarthy suntanned skin. He wore an obviously expensive well-cut navy suit, pale blue shirt, dark blue, unobtrusive silk tie. His shiny black leather shoes clipped along the corridor with purposeful strides.
“I am looking for Lucy McTavish,” he announced in a voice used to commanding attention. “I believe she was admitted this morning after an accident.”
Ben felt his whole world abruptly tilt out of focus. Lucy—the name that haunted his dreams. A familiar surge of guilt stabbed before common sense kicked in, bringing everything back on track again. There must be hundreds of girls named Lucy living in the city. He spoke her name soundlessly, rolling it comfortably around his mouth as he had done so many times before. He liked the fact that this girl was called Lucy, too.
The man stopped beside him, waiting impatiently. His jaw was set, his expression blank and he kept glancing at his cell phone as if expecting it to ring at any moment. Ben stared, mesmerized. If this man really was with the girl in the crimson suit, then how could he remain so impassive? Why wasn’t he running down
