Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“Your shoulder is swollen,” Tory said, “but I don’t see any evidence of fracture. However, to be sure, I should x-ray you.”

“No,” Mica said quickly. “It’s not broken. I know.”

“You’ve had a fracture before?”

Mica averted her gaze. “A couple.”

Flynn gritted her teeth. Mica was too familiar with trauma. The thought of someone hurting her made her insides burn. She stepped closer to the stretcher and gently clasped Mica’s hand. “Maybe you should let the doctor check.”

“Maybe you should lose your superhero cape too.”

“And give up looking so cool?” Flynn smiled. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s okay,” Mica said, her face softening. “Really. I can tell.”

Flynn rubbed her thumb over the top of Mica’s hand. “Okay. You know best.”

“I want to check your vital signs a few more times,” Tory said. “If everything stays the same, you should be—”

“Tory!” Nita Burgoyne pushed open the door and called, “I need you. He’s crashing.”

“Damn,” Tory murmured, and spun away.

Through the open door, Tory’s and Nita’s raised voices carried clearly. Blood pressure’s falling. Open the IV. Push the lidocaine…Is his wife here?…No. Charge the defibrillator…God, Tory, he asked me to call his minister. No time. Clear! No pulse.

Flynn would’ve known what was happening in the other room even if she hadn’t been a paramedic. But she was. That, and more. She crossed the hall and pushed open the door.

Tory glanced over at her, a question in her eyes.

“I’m a priest,” Flynn said.

“Then come in,” Tory said, starting chest compression. “We need you.”

Chapter Four

“Still no pulse.” Nita Burgoyne, her eyes fixed on the EKG monitor, had her fingers over the femoral artery in the patient’s groin. Her smooth mocha skin tightened at the corners of her mouth, drawing her lips into a narrow line, the only sign of strain in her elegant, composed features.

Flynn leaned over the head of the treatment table and looked down onto the face of the dying man. He might have been forty or eighty. Slight stubble darkened his slack jaw. Weather lines cratered his sunken cheeks. His skin was cool and gray, his eyelids closed and unmoving.

“Almighty God, look on this your servant, lying in great weakness…”

Tory pressed the heel of her hand to his sternum, delivering rapid compressions. “One, two, three, four…”

“…and comfort him with the promise of life everlasting…”

“Time?” Tory called.

“Four minutes,” Nita replied. “You’ve got good perfusion here.”

Though Flynn had no holy oil, the sacrament of Extreme Unction needed only her touch. She made the sign of the cross on the patient’s forehead with her thumb.

“Nita?” Tory asked, her arms starting to tremble.

“From all evil, from all sin, from all tribulation…”

“Nothing,” Nita said.

“…by the Coming of the Holy Spirit…”

Tory checked the clock. “Eight minutes. Come on, Ned.”

“That it may please you to deliver the soul of your servant…” Flynn rested her fingertips on his hand and repeated the sign of the cross.

Reese said from the doorway, “Tory, you need me to take over?”

“…mercifully to pardon all his sins.”

“Give us a second,” Tory said, never breaking her motion. “Nita, anything?”

“Our Father who art…”

“Hold up,” Nita said, “I think I’ve got something.”

“…forgive us our trespasses…”

Tory leaned back and brushed her sleeve over her forehead. Sweat pooled in the hollow at the base of her throat.

“…lead us not into temptation…”

“Pulse is sixty. BP a hundred palp,” Nita reported. “Nice going, Tor.”

“…deliver us from Evil…”

“How’s his rhythm?”

“…for Thine is the Kingdom…”

“Normal sinus. Occasional ectopy. His T-waves are flipped. Definitely an MI.” Nita adjusted the IV drip. “He needs to be in a cardiac care unit.”

“…and the glory, forever and ever…”

“Probably needs to be cathed and bypassed,” Tory said. “Flynn?”

Flynn closed her eyes. Amen. She took a breath and keyed her radio. “Dave, we need a stretcher in here STAT.”

Tory slowly climbed down from the stool she had been using to get proper leverage for chest compression. Her right leg seemed to fold and she lost her balance. Flynn reached to steady her, but Reese was there, unobtrusively cupping Tory’s elbow.

“Got you,” Reese said.

“Thanks,” Tory murmured.

“All right?”

“Fine.” Tory glanced at Reese. “Really.”

The worry in Reese’s eyes and the tender assurance from Tory stirred a bittersweet surge of longing in Flynn’s chest. She averted her gaze, not wanting to intrude, needing to distance herself from desires that too often left her lonely and uncertain.

“Flynn,” Reese said, “how about I get a cruiser over here to escort you up-Cape. Help clear traffic out.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

The rattle of wheels and clank of metal signaled Dave’s approach. Flynn detached the plastic IV bag from the metal pole at the end of the table, adjusted the drip to its lowest rate, and settled the bag on the sheet covering the patient’s legs. Next she started transferring the EKG leads from the bedside monitor to the portable unit. “It will only take us a few minutes to get him ready.”

Tory said, “Thanks, Flynn. For everything.”

Heat suffused Flynn’s face. She’d decided when she began her paramedic training program that the only skills she would use in the field were medical. Her job now wasn’t to save souls, but to help save lives. Today had been an unexpected, unavoidable situation. She could no more not do what she had done than walk away from an accident victim in danger of dying for want of medical care. She appreciated that Tory didn’t question her about anything. “You’re welcome.”

The patient opened his eyes, his pupils flickering unevenly, his gaze roving from face to face. With each second his expression became more confused and frightened. “What…”

“It’s all right, Ned,” Nita said quickly. “We’re going to transfer you to the hospital in Hyannis. You may have had a heart attack, but you’re doing okay now.”

“Maggie?” he asked, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

“I tried to call your wife earlier and got her voice mail. I’ll call her again,” Nita said firmly. “Right now you just relax.”

“What happened? I don’t remember…”

“You had an irregular heartbeat, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Am I going to die?”

“You had a rough patch, but you’re very stable now.” Nita smiled and squeezed his arm. “Dave and Flynn will take you to the hospital. They’ll be in touch with us if there are any problems along the way.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s serious,” Nita said gently. “But I’m telling you the truth. You need to be in the hospital, but your chances of doing well are very good.”

“I need to see my minister.” Ned turned his head from side to side, looking anxiously from one face to another. “I need my phone. I need to call Father Williams.”

Tory said, “I’ll try to reach him and let him know where you are. But we can’t really wait, Ned. I’m sorry. I want you in the hospital as quickly as possible.”

“Please,” Ned said, his voice rising. “I need—”

“Mr. Framingham,” Flynn said, clasping his hand. His skin had warmed, and some of the color had returned to his face. The terrible stillness of almost-death had passed. “I’m a priest. I’ve given you last rites. Your minister will be able to see you later.”