Marion Lennox - Finding His Wife, Finding A Son

Blind and bereft, with no other options, she’d agreed to come home with him. He’d cared for her, protected her...and loved her? He still wasn’t sure where care ended and love started but her need filled something inside he hadn’t been aware was missing.

Her sight gradually returned, not fully but enough to manage. If she was careful. If she was protected.

And as the months went by their relationship had deepened. She’d lain in his arms and he’d known she felt safe and loved. That felt good enough for him. He’d lost sight of the carefree, bubbly girl he’d dated but in her place he had someone who’d need him for ever.

They’d married. And here she was, half-buried in this mess—with a child who wasn’t his.

Was there a husband? Was someone else doing the protecting?

This wasn’t the time for questions.

He was pushing memory away, years of training putting him on autopilot. Beth was leaning back, her eyes closed as he inserted an IV line.

‘This’ll make you sleepy,’ he told her. ‘Relax into it, sweetheart.’

‘Toby...’

‘You want us to take Toby? Beth, I swear I’ll take care of him.’

‘How do I know you mean that?’ She even managed a smile. ‘Of course you will.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Twenty months.’

‘Is there someone we can call who he’ll trust?’ Someone to sign papers if he had to be treated? Someone like the baby’s father?

She wore no wedding ring. That didn’t mean anything. Did it?

And once again his heart did this stupid lurch. This was Beth. His Beth. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold her, keep her safe...

Which was exactly why she’d walked away from him eight years ago. Into...this.

‘Margie,’ she managed. ‘At the childcare centre. Toby trusts...’

The childcare centre at the plaza? He was pretty sure it had been safely evacuated, but he couldn’t be sure of every individual. Right now he could only focus on one trapped woman—a woman who was also his wife.

Ex-wife.

But no matter who she was, she was in trouble and she had no need to be worried by anything else.

Her voice was starting to drag and Luc thought the time for Beth to make decisions was over.

‘Right,’ he said, firmly and surely. ‘Let’s get Toby out of here, Beth, so we can concentrate on freeing your leg.’

‘You’ll look after him? If Margie can’t?’ Through the haze of pain and drugs, her voice was still fierce. ‘Luc, swear?’

‘I swear,’ he said, and something inside him hurt. Badly. That she could still ask this of him... That she could still trust him...

He’d wanted this, so much, but to happen here, in this way...

And despite the pain and the fear, Beth must have sensed it. Her hand caught his and held.

‘Luc, I swore I’d never need you again but I need you now. Thank you...’

His throat was so thick he couldn’t speak, and it wasn’t from the dust. He squeezed her hand back and then carefully lifted the sleeping child away from her breast. The little boy snuffled against Luc, recoiling a little as his face hit the repellent fabric of Luc’s high vis jacket, and then relaxing again as Luc hauled a cloth someone handed him around the little boy’s face. Luc tucked it in, giving him a soft place to lay his head as well as protection from the dust.

There were hands willing, wanting to take him, to carry him to safety, and Luc’s priority had to be with Beth. But still he took a moment to hold, to feel the child’s weight in his arms, to feel the steadiness of his breathing, his sleeping, trusting warmth.

He would take care of him. He’d take care of them both.

He must.

* * *

The next hour passed in a blur of medical need. The rest of the team was here now, with Blake in charge. They were panning out through the ruins, removing the need for Luc’s attention to be on anything but Beth. Still trapped, she needed constant monitoring.

She was semiconscious, drugged to the point where pain and her surroundings were a haze.

Finally, moving with infinite caution, aware that a break in the concrete over her leg could mean parts of it would topple and cause more damage, the slab was lifted. Finally Beth was extricated.

She’d been wearing pants and leather boots. That had been a blessing—it had stopped lacerations that might well have been serious enough for her to bleed out. There was no doubt there were fractures, but blood still seemed to be getting through. Luc knew the greatest danger was the fact that the leg had been compressed for so long.

He accompanied the stretcher across the debris to the makeshift receiving tent the team had set up.

‘Status?’ Blake Cooper, ER consultant, had been working on an elderly man as Luc brought Beth in. The sheet drawn up over the man’s face told its own story, as did the slump of Blake’s shoulders.

‘Lacerations, bruises, but priority’s a broken ankle and crushed lower leg,’ Luc told him.

Blake cast him a fast, concerned look. His voice was thick, Luc realised, and it wasn’t from dust. ‘Do you need me to assess?’ He and Blake had worked together for so long they trusted each other implicitly. Luc knew Blake wasn’t asking about Luc’s ability, it was all about what he could see in Luc’s face.

He shook his head. The stretcher was set down on the examination bench and almost unconsciously Luc’s hand slid into Beth’s and held it.

Blake saw, and the concern on his face grew, but there was no room for explanation.

Neither was there room for evasion, from Blake or from Beth herself. It would be great to say, Beth’s ankle’s broken. We’ll fix it in no time , but the one thing he and Beth always had was total honesty. Sometimes it had broken them in two but it was something he couldn’t change. He knew she was listening through her haze of medication. Her medical degree meant she’d recognise sugar coating and he had to say it like it was.

‘I’ve given a peripheral nerve block,’ he told Blake. ‘There’s definitely fracture and dislocation of the ankle, and we need to check for compartment syndrome.’ Compartment syndrome had to be considered here. It was caused by extended crushing of the lower limb, forcing build-up of pressure in one section and loss of pressure in another. The long-term damage of sustained crushing was...unthinkable.

‘Do what you have to do,’ Beth said weakly, and Blake looked down into her face.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Dr Blake Cooper. You are...’

‘This is Beth,’ Luc said hoarsely, and then he added, because it seemed absurdly important for Blake to know. ‘Blake, Beth’s a doctor. She’s also...my ex-wife.’

There was a moment’s stillness while Blake took that on board. He searched Luc’s face and Luc could see him reassemble priorities. And then it was business as usual.

‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Blake said, smiling down at Beth. ‘Though I could wish the circumstances were different.’ He took her wrist and felt her pulse, his face set in the lines of someone accustomed to triage, priorities. And Luc knew Beth was a priority. The risk of delayed treatment with compartment syndrome meant the possibility of a lifetime of pain, numbness or even amputation.

‘We need to get the pressure in your foot checked now,’ he said to Beth. ‘You know what’s going on?’

He’d accepted Beth’s medical background without question. ‘I... Yes,’ Beth managed.

‘Okay, I’m taking over,’ Blake told her, with another fast glance at Luc. And Luc knew the glance. It was an order.

Step away, Luc. You’re now a relative, too close to be objective and you need to let me take things from here.

‘Beth, we need Luc on triage,’ he told Beth. ‘You know there’s a small hospital here? I’m taking you through into Theatre. If I think there’s pressure differential—and by the look of it I suspect that’s inevitable—then I’ll make an incision to decompress. Your ankle will need to be stabilised. That can be done in Sydney but the pressure needs to be taken off now. Is that okay with you?’