off Celine’s sternum and he held them up as if a gun were being levelled at him. She pressed the shock button. Celine’s body shuddered. Charlie recommenced CPR, counting to thirty before giving the patient two breaths.
‘Stop CPR. Analysing,’ the electronic voice of the AED instructed.
Charlie lifted his hands ‘Look at her trachea. Grab a cannula.’
‘Tension pneumothorax?’ Lauren handed him a fourteen-gauge needle and swabbed Celine’s upper chest. The pressure would be preventing her heart filling with venous blood. With nothing to pump, the heart was a fibrillating mess.
‘I’m hoping.’ Charlie plunged the needle into the skin between the second rib space in the mid-clavicular line and a faint whoosh of air followed. ‘Now we might be able to get her back.’
‘Clear!’ Lauren said loudly again, before depressing the shock button. Her eyes were glued to the liquid display. Thank, God. ‘Sinus rhythm,’ she said, catching the relief on Charlie’s face. ‘Good call.’
He shrugged. ‘We’re not out of the woods yet. You got this? I’ll check on the others.’
‘Sure.’ She inserted an IV and did another set of observations. Although Celine was breathing and her heart was beating, she was still unconscious. Given the trauma she’d experienced, being out of it could be a good thing but the doctor in Lauren knew her sluggish pupil response was a serious concern.
‘Do you need the helicopter, Lauren?’
She looked up at the familiar voice and smiled at her father, who was standing above her in his blue paramedic’s uniform. ‘Yes. Probable head injury and post cardiac arrest. She needs to go direct to The Edward.’
Ian pulled out his phone and made the call while Lauren helped his partner load Celine into the ambulance for the short trip to the helipad. As the ambulance drove away Lauren returned inside. Charlie was splinting a young girl’s leg and Lexie was handing out blankets. Her mother was sticking bright pink sticky notes on people, describing symptoms and seating them in chairs. The young barista was making coffee.
‘Who’s first?’ Lauren asked, ignoring the dull ache all over her body that was probably soft tissue bruising from colliding with concrete.
‘Jake Lawrence. He’s got a nasty cut to his arm. Do you want to stitch it here or at the surgery?’ Sue asked.
‘Here might be better.’ Lauren saw two police officers talking to an elderly man wrapped in a blanket who she assumed was the driver of the car. ‘There’s coffee and people need to stay together and talk so they can start to process it all.’
The next ninety minutes passed in a blur. Her father and his partner returned and transported the two patients with fractures to the hospital in Surfside. The police interviewed people who felt up to telling their version of events and while Lauren stitched wounds, she listened to people’s outpourings of shock and grief.
‘It came out of nowhere. One minute I was paying for coffee and the next... Crash. I thought a bomb had gone off.’
But amidst their trauma the locals’ concerns were for the tourist who’d taken the brunt of the accident. ‘No one expects to be injured when they’re drinking coffee on holiday. Will she be okay?’
‘I don’t know the full extent of her injuries,’ Lauren answered truthfully. ‘She’s got a struggle ahead.’
When there was no one else needing medical attention, Lauren finally came up for air and for the first time fully took in her surroundings. The line of chairs was now empty as people had either been taken to hospital or collected by family and friends. Police tape surrounded the car and blocked the entrance of the café—the blue and white checks declaring it an investigation scene. Steve was sitting with Sue and Lexie, drinking a well-earned coffee.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced up into Charlie’s face. Today he was clean shaven and he looked both familiar and alien. She gave an internal sigh. The square jaw and bladed cheekbones she’d loved to run her fingers over all those years ago remained the same, but his skin was older, lined with whatever the last decade plus had thrown at him. The laughter lines that bracketed his mouth were still there but more defined, and on the few occasions he’d grinned, the dimples in his cheeks still showed. That had both reassured and hurt her.
What was new were the deep lines around his eyes. She got the impression that laughter was not responsible for all of them. His golden hair was darker than it had been at the age of twenty-three and, unlike the neat, short cut he’d sported back then, his current style was dishevelled but not in the fashionable ‘messy look’ way. Strands fell across his high, intelligent forehead, almost poking into his eyes in a jagged and motley manner. Despite that, the hair wasn’t long enough to hide the dark shadows under his eyes and the general air of dispiritedness that dogged him.
Her heart did an unwelcome flip of longing tinged with distress, although she was uncertain whether it was for him or herself. She stopped herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, despite wanting his warmth to fill her palm and to tell her that his essence was still in there somewhere. But she didn’t have the right to touch him and, more importantly, she didn’t want to touch him.
Reminiscing was like the turn of the tide. On the surface the water looked wonderful and all the good memories enticed her to wade in and throw herself into the experience. But she knew the same jagged rocks that had caused her to flounder once before still lay in wait, ready to plunge deep into her heart. She had no intention of putting her hand up for that all over again.
Trying to shake off unwanted feelings that begged her to only remember the good times, she dropped her gaze and immediately noticed his shirt was ripped and bloodstained. Cuts and grazes criss-crossed his upper arms. ‘Did Mum or Lexie look at these? You’ve probably got glass embedded in your arm.’
‘Just like you’ve probably got glass in your thigh?’
Surprised, she glanced down and realised blood had congealed around the rip in her running pants. She was suddenly aware of a burning sensation. ‘How crazy. I didn’t feel a thing until now.’
He grimaced. ‘Fight and flight response. Adrenaline hides a multitude of ills until it doesn’t. Does this hurt?’ His fingers ran gently across her lower left arm, lingering on a bump.
She flinched. ‘Ouch.’
‘Exactly.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Sorry. But I think I inadvertently fractured your ulna when we hit the ground.’
‘Don’t apologise.’ The reality of what had happened was slowly starting to penetrate the protective adrenaline. ‘You saw the car heading for us, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ He brushed his hair away from his eyes. ‘I grabbed you out of instinct. I probably gave you a hell of a fright.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You saved my life. Our lives. Thank you.’ She moved to squeeze his hand and gasped as sharp pain circled her. Her entire body stiffened and she didn’t want to take another breath, knowing it was going to hurt like hell.
‘Lauren?’ His gaze filled with concern. ‘What is it?’
‘I think as well as needing an X-ray for my arm I need one for my ribs.’
‘Right, you two,’
