Mary Baxter – Lightning Strikes (страница 8)

“Well, you’re not here alone, thank goodness.”

“Considering this weather, that’s a miracle.” Noah never slowed down. “So who’s on staff this weekend?”

Bethany didn’t have to tell him. He looked up just as Amanda rounded the corner.

He stopped in his tracks, and so did she. For a split second, their eyes met. A pregnant silence that spoke volumes followed.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then he cleared his throat and whispered, “Hello, Amanda.”

Chapter Five

Noah wanted to kick someone, mostly himself.

Dammit, he hated being blindsided. That was exactly what had happened. Amanda. In the flesh. And looking lovelier than he’d ever seen her. He hadn’t expected this encounter, at least not tonight. But hell, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It had been more than a good possibility that she’d be on duty, even without the present crisis. After all, ER was her bailiwick.

Still, he had assumed that when this meeting occurred, it would be on his terms. So much for control, he thought, again mentally kicking his backside.

Although he didn’t take time to register the changes in her appearance, he knew his mind would later recall every detail. For now, he had to rally past the venom radiating from her crystal blue eyes, eyes that never failed to make him want to know what lurked behind them.

That hadn’t changed.

He cursed silently, just as she said in a terse tone, “Let’s get busy. We have work to do.”

Okay. Two could play that game. If she wanted to pretend they were strangers, that was fine. Besides, her strategy was best: two doctors working to save a patient’s life. In this case, there were two lives at stake.

“I’m right behind you,” Noah said in his own no-nonsense voice, having already assessed the situation in the trauma room.

Nurses Bethany Kent and Liz Roberts were busy working on the wreck victims, a boy and a girl, dressed in their Friday night finery. But there was no celebrating at this moment. The youth was moaning and the girl was crying. Both appeared critical and in pain.

“Were there only two in the car?” Amanda asked.

“Yes, Doctor,” Liz responded. “At least, in this car.”

“What does that—”

“Her pulse is dropping rapidly!” Liz said to Noah, chopping off his sentence.

But it was Amanda who answered her. “Give her five cc’s of Demerol. Then call surgery and tell them she’s on her way up. She’s bleeding internally.”

“What about the boy?” Noah asked, moving to him, then looking at Amanda, who stood on the other side of the gurney.

“His pulse is stable, and it appears his wounds are superficial, but we’ll know more when we get him cleaned up.”

“Let’s just hope you’re right.” Noah’s lips stretched into a thin line. “You’d think these kids would know better than to drink and drive on a night like this.”

Amanda shook her head. “It seems they never learn.”

“Anything I can do?”

Both Noah and Amanda looked up as Karen Sloane hurried through the door, her face pinched with concern. Noah knew why; she had an eight-year-old daughter who could one day be lying on a stretcher in the same shape as these teenagers.

“My God, what happened?” Karen asked, her gaze springing from one teenager to the other.

“Looks like they tried to take on a tree and lost. But then, I’m just guessing.”

Amanda looked up and focused on Karen. “Since things are covered in here, could you speak to the police officers? I presume they’re standing by.”

Blood, combined with the smell of alcohol, permeated the room. Noah’s stomach roiled at the stupidity of such actions, especially on a night like this. But it wasn’t his job to be judgmental—it was his job to repair the damage.

“Anything else?” Karen asked.

“Yes,” Amanda said. “Have someone notify their parents. Now.”

Karen turned on her heels and sped out of the room, just as the lights flickered.

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze.

“Dammit, if that generator fails—” Noah’s eyes focused on the light fixtures, as if daring them to blink again.

“Don’t even think about that,” Amanda said in a rushed tone. “If it happens, we’ll deal with it then.”

Always the practical, unflappable Amanda, Noah reminded himself, except in bed. Damn! That thought had hit him out of the blue, which not only shocked him but made him madder than hell. Now was not the time to think about anything other than the young lives hanging in the balance.

“So what’s your call on him, Amanda?” Noah’s tone was hard and low.

“Get some CT scans.”

“Go for it.”

“Dr. Howell! The girl’s crashing.”

“Dammit,” Noah whispered, then barked more orders before adding, “Come on, let’s get her up to surgery.”

“Good luck,” he heard Amanda say as he and Liz left the room.

An hour later, Noah peeled off his bloody gloves and greens, then walked into the waiting room. A middle-aged couple stood and made their way toward him, as if in slow motion.

The petite, dark-haired woman, whose eyes were filled with unshed tears, was the spitting image of her daughter, or she had been until the accident.

“We’re the Colliers, Doctor,” the man said, holding out his hand to Noah.

“Our daughter, Laura, is she—” Mrs. Collier’s voice faded into sobs.

Her husband circled her shoulders and drew her close to his side, but his gaze never left Noah.

“I won’t try and soft-pedal the seriousness of the situation, Mrs. Collier. At the moment, she’s critical but stable. For now, that’s the best we can hope for.”

“Oh, God,” she cried, slumping against her husband.

Noah gestured toward the couch. “Let’s sit down, then we’ll talk.”

“Is Laura going to die?” Mr. Collier asked once they were seated.

Noah sat on the edge of the chair. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make that call. She has a lot of internal bleeding and numerous broken bones.”

“May we see her?”

Noah stood. “Of course. I’ll arrange it.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Mr. Collier sighed. “I suppose the police will want to see us.”

“I would think so,” Noah said. Hoping to temper the stark, ugly reality, he added, “Remember, I’ll be around if you need me.”

He turned and made his way to his office, slamming the door behind him. He’d be lucky if he had five minutes to get a grip on himself. Already, he could hear another siren wail. Any second now, he’d be called again.

Meanwhile, he had to quell the urge to put his fist through one of the flimsy walls, venting his frustration. Some tragedies were unavoidable. But the accident involving those young people wasn’t one of them.

If Laura Collier made it through the night, she’d be one fortunate girl. More than likely she would not. Noah ground his teeth together while he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about the devastation mirrored on the Colliers’ faces. God, he could identify with that kind of pain, and it wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy.

With his thoughts veering into forbidden territory, he squeezed the back of his neck as though physical pain would obliterate the mental pain pounding his head.

The cot looked inviting as he forced his gaze onto something tangible. He was beat, but he’d have to forget about sleep and depend on coffee to keep him going. Anyway, who was he trying to kid? He could lie down, all right, but sleep would elude him; his demons would have a field day.

“Damn,” he muttered, hating it when he felt his control slipping. Peering at his watch, he hoped his mother was still at the lodge. In fact, he hoped she spent the night there, if they had the room. He hated the thought of her being on the road in this weather.

Unfortunately, he never knew which way Melissa was going to jump. One moment, she was a clinging vine who couldn’t do anything for herself. The next, she was as obstinate and unmovable as a block of cement. His father, who had died last year, had petted Melissa, encouraged her dependency.

Albert Howell, on his deathbed, had said, “Son, promise me my girls will never want for anything as long as you’re alive.”