She smoothed John’s glistening forehead then pressed her fingers to the base of his throat. Behind them, seats shifted and creaked as the group strained to see what was happening.
“Is he going to be okay?” someone whispered.
“John, stay with me. The ambulance will be here any minute,” she said, but John’s eyes closed once more.
“No!” Eli burst out. This was not happening.
She took her fingers off John’s neck. “No pulse. Starting chest compressions,” she announced to no one in particular. “The AED needs two minutes to recharge.”
He scrambled over to John’s other side and grabbed his friend’s limp hand. Hang on, buddy, he pleaded silently. You can do this.
Christie began rhythmically pressing John’s chest. “Is he breathing?”
Eli gawked at her. If John wasn’t breathing, that meant he was—
“Put your ear next to his mouth.”
He bent toward John and felt a faint rush of air against his cheek. “Yes. Still breathing.”
Thank you, God.
She checked his pulse again. “Still no pulse.”
The whimpering behind them gave way to all-out crying as she resumed her chest compressions with cool precision. A minute later, the AED announced its readiness. She hit the button and they moved away before it zapped John again.
Eli and Christie exchanged a worried look. She probably felt as scared as he did, but she hadn’t panicked under pressure. She was a competent professional and he’d made all the wrong assumptions about this strong woman.
After the unit completed its round of electricity, Christie felt for John’s pulse. His breath caught when her eyes squeezed shut, a tear slipping through her lashes. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. No. No way. Not now, John.
“Pulse is faint, but it’s steady,” she whispered and opened moist eyes. Suddenly, she rocked back on her heels. Without thinking twice, he ducked over to her side and slid an arm around her waist for support.
She’d saved John’s life.
Christie blinked up at him but made no move away from his touch. “Thank you,” she said, a blue vein standing out on her pale forehead. “I’m not usually so...” Her voice trailed off as she looked over at John again.
She really was something—unflappable when it counted most, when he could hardly see straight. Eli’s fingers tightened around her slender waist.
“Coming through,” hollered one of the two men pushing a stretcher. She gave herself a small shake then took off the AED unit before he helped them lift John onto the lowered gurney. While they checked vitals, Christie summarized what had taken place.
“Good work.” An EMT nodded to her before tucking a chart under his arm. “Who’s coming with John?”
“Me,” Eli and Christie said.
“Only one rider, up front with the driver. Decide fast and meet us outside in thirty seconds.”
Eli’s shoulders drooped. Without a babysitter he’d have to renege on the vow he’d made John to stay with him, see him through whatever happened. But asking Mary to stay was out of the question. She deserved this special night with her husband.
“I guess it’s you.” He folded John’s wheelchair and picked up his coat. “I promised John I’d be there if the end came, but I don’t have child care.”
She studied him for a moment then surprised him. “Obviously you and John are close. If you feel comfortable with it, you could give me your address and I’ll watch Tommy and Becca.”
“You would do that?”
She nodded. “But I’d want an update every half hour. Deal?”
The children had met her twice. And he’d seen her in action. They couldn’t be in safer hands. Besides, Mary would give Christie the third degree before she’d even let her into the apartment. Mary would make it work. “Thank you. It means more than you know.”
When he rattled off the address, she pressed something furry into his hand and closed his fingers around it. “Trust me. I know how important it is to be there for your friend. And that’s for good luck.”
He called Mary from the ambulance then unfurled his other hand to reveal a rabbit’s foot. Seriously? He tucked it into his pocket, wondering how someone who dealt with loss all the time could believe in something like that.
“Lucky for this guy a nurse was there. She saved his life,” the EMT said.
Eli peered out of the ambulance’s passenger window at the disappearing YMCA. He imagined Christie in full-on pep mode, offering hope and comfort. The platitudes hadn’t been an act. And the EMT was right—she did save lives.
But as his fingers dug into the lucky rabbit’s foot, he knew firsthand that no amount of comfort, luck or medical skill could rescue some people.
CHAPTER TWO
AFTER CONCLUDING THE support-group meeting with reassurances and hugs, Christie huddled beside Eli’s brick prewar apartment building on a narrow SoHo street. Streetlamps glowed to life as the purple dusk deepened, illuminating pavement shining from the evening’s drizzle. A few buildings away, a Korean deli’s green awning stretched over flower-filled buckets. She inhaled the sweet scent, desperately needing some grounding after tonight’s ordeal with John.
Her insides still shook, but at least her hands had quit trembling. The need to save John had gone beyond professional, firing through her with a desperation stirred up by ghosts from her past. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d been unable to simply go home afterward. If she couldn’t be at the hospital, she was glad, at least, to be here, where she was guaranteed updates.
John should have arrived at Bellevue by now, and the critical-care team would be working hard to stabilize him. Given his already-compromised health, the group faced a serious challenge. But didn’t they always? And John’s strong, larger-than-life persona would help him conquer this setback. It had to.
She shifted her weight to her right foot and pulled her damp shirt from her shivering body. How much longer would Mary keep her outside? She had promised to watch Eli’s children so he could stay with John. And if she didn’t get inside soon, she might miss hearing the latest on John’s condition.
“Ms. Bates?” Mary’s voice crackled through a brass speaker.
She pressed the talk button. “Yes. I’m still here.” Emphasis on the still. She shifted to her left foot.
“My husband ran your license number and it seems you’re all clear.”
“Your husband?” Mary had some serious connections. Getting inside Eli’s building was tougher than gaining clearance at the Pentagon.
“He’s a sergeant at the Sixth Precinct on West
