Turbulence (15 page)

Just when she thought her senses would short-circuit from the overload, his breath turned ragged and he yanked his mouth off hers.

“We’d better stop,” he said.

It took several seconds for his words to soak through her fevered brain. Immediately she rolled over and moved to the corner of their pallet. Cursing herself for acting like one of his pilot groupies, she said, “You’re right. We should both cool off.”

He leaned over her side. “Only for now.”

She froze. “What?”

“Only for now,” he repeated. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

“But—”

“If not tomorrow, then the day after. Regardless of when, it
will
happen.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Oh, yes.” He brushed a wisp of hair out of her face. “Now go to sleep. You’ll want to check your patients soon, I expect.”

She pressed the button on her watch to light up the digital display. “In about an hour.”

“They won’t appreciate being disturbed.”

“Maybe not, but I want to keep an eye on them.”

“‘Watched pots don’t boil,’” he quoted.

“That’s what I’m counting on. I don’t want anything to happen.”

“All right then. If you need me, I’m here.”

When he moved back to his side, Dana felt oddly alone. She wriggled to find a comfortable spot and fluffed up her side of the rolled blanket.

“Can’t get comfortable?” he asked.

“No.” She punched her makeshift pillow once again.

“Here.” He slipped his arm underneath her neck. “Use my shoulder.”

She hesitated, certain that resting her head on Micky wasn’t a wise choice under the circumstances.

“Go on,” he said. “I won’t bite. I promise to be on good behavior.”

After rolling over and scooting against him, she wasn’t surprised that they fit perfectly. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

She sensed rather than saw his grin. “Pay me later.”

D
ANA WOKE WITH A START
. She didn’t know if a noise had brought her out of her light sleep, or if her internal clock had simply jolted her awake. The wind still roared overhead and she pressed the button on her watch to illuminate the dial.

Four-thirty in the morning. She’d missed her patient rounds by three hours.

Micky lay nearby, dead to the world, but he was entitled. He’d put in a hard day yesterday and was clearly exhausted.

As she slowly forced herself to wake completely, she heard a whimper and realized that it must have been the sound responsible for dragging her out of her deep sleep.

She rolled to one side and groped on the floor for the flashlight. As soon as she located it, she cupped the flashlight’s beam to keep from waking everyone in the room.

Josh was sleeping soundly, one arm outstretched, while Clay snored lightly on his cot. A quick check of Pete and Eddie showed they were also fine. Will, however, moved restlessly on the recliner seconds before he stifled a groan.

Dana inched her way toward him. “Will? How are you doing?”

“Not so good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My arm hurts. I feel funny all over.”

She tipped the light to examine him more closely. His color had turned pasty, his breathing seemed more shallow and his heart rate had become faster than when she’d previously checked his vital signs.

“Are you cold?” She placed her palm on his forehead.

“A little.”

Considering the room temperature was about ten degrees above what was comfortable, she suspected that Will was in the early stages of shock. If that was the case, she couldn’t elevate his feet properly while he lay on the recliner.

“If I help you, can you lie on the floor and stretch out?”

“Okay.”

“Hold on.” She left his side to nudge Micky. “Wake up.”

He instantly became alert. “What’s wrong?”

“You have to trade places with Will.”

To Micky’s credit, he didn’t ask questions. It took several slow and agonizing minutes, but Will was soon lying in Micky’s former spot. Dana moved Will’s thick pillow from his neck to his feet before she tucked his blanket and the one she and Micky had been using around him.

“How’s that?” she asked the youth.

“Better.”

“Just to be safe, I’m going to start an IV,” she said in a voice hardly above a whisper. “You can use the extra fluids.”

Will closed his eyes and nodded. Dana motioned to Micky. “Pass the medical kit, please. And hold the flashlight.”

Wordlessly he obeyed. Several minutes later, the IV fluid was dripping into Will’s good arm.

Micky crouched beside her. “Did you put something in that for pain?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have authorization.”

“You gave him something earlier.”

As if she needed to be reminded. “I need new authorization to administer another dose. That’s the rule.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He may be going into shock.”

“Isn’t it a little late? I mean, don’t people do that right after they’re hurt?”

“It depends on the situation and what’s involved. Since we haven’t been able to align the break, I’ve been watching for signs of complications, just in case.”

“So now what?”

“We wait,” she said simply. “Keep him comfortable and warm.”

“Why the IV?”

“A precaution. It’s best to establish an open line before it becomes critical to have one.”

He rubbed his face as if to wipe away the final remnants of sleep. She heard the rasp of whiskers before she saw their shadowy trace on his chin. “Take the chair,” she advised. “You may as well grab a few more winks.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sit here with Will.” At his hesitation, she urged, “Go ahead. If anything changes, I’ll wake you.”

While he settled into the chair Will had vacated, Dana crawled into the corner beside her patient and sat with her back against the wall.

An hour went by, then two. To stay awake, Dana rehashed everything Micky had told her and tried to fill in the bits he
hadn’t.

To use his own words, he “lived life large” and not entirely, she suspected, because it was born and bred in him. His father’s medical condition had hit him hard, and it was obvious to her that he intended to squeeze an entire lifetime of living in the days he had, in case he might be trapped in the same situation. Flying and taking risks had provided a way to cope with the pain he felt.

As for his romantic relationships, Dana understood that his business took up a great deal of his time, and most women worried more than usual when their loved ones were in dangerous occupations. Micky was in the same situation as she was. For a man to accept her, he had to accept her line of work, too.

The difference between Micky and her was that she was still looking and he was not. He’d already chalked himself up as a lost cause and didn’t intend to expect more from his relationships than he could offer.

It was a shame, really. After knowing him for a day, watch
ing him interact with the boys, seeing him worry over Sam, Dana knew that he had so much to give to a woman.

What a waste, plain and simple.

Micky had settled for second best—people lasted longer than planes—and she hoped that he realized it before it was too late.

Dana checked her watch again, then silently gave her attention to Will. He wasn’t worse, at least, although his color hadn’t improved. She hoped it was because of the poor lighting, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she could see him in daylight.

At six-thirty, Micky stirred. “How is he?” he asked.

“The same.”

“You look tired.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Not much. You?”

“Some, but definitely not enough.” He cocked his head. “Sounds like we’re over the hump.”

She listened and heard the rain pounding on the roof. “We are?”

“The wind has died down.”

Now that he mentioned it, Dana realized the piercing howl she’d grown accustomed to was barely noticeable. “Isn’t that the eye of the storm?”

“That passed hours ago,” he said. “You slept right through it, including when the winds changed direction. I’d definitely say we’re over the worst.”

“So that means we can leave?” Considering Will’s condition, arriving at a hospital wouldn’t happen soon enough to suit her.

“Not yet. We may be stuck here until evening. Or longer.”

Evening?
She didn’t like the sound of that.

“I could use a cup of coffee,” she blurted.

“Me, too.” He rose from the chair. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

“Is it safe to leave the room?”

“I’m going to check it out.”

By the time fifteen minutes ticked by, Dana was ready to go hunt for Micky, when he finally returned.

“We don’t have power,” he told her, “but according to the radio, the winds are down to around thirty miles per hour. It’s still a gullywasher out there, though.”

“No coffee, then.”

“Afraid not. Will a Coke do?” He held out a cool can. “I found it buried in the back of the refrigerator.”

“I’ll take my caffeine any way I can.” She popped the top and took a long swallow. “Thanks. I needed that.”

He glanced at Will. “How is he?”

She shook her head. “Holding his own, which is good. Do we have to stay in here all day?”

“Probably not. Just avoid the windows because the wind is still strong enough to hurl something through them.”

By 8:00 a.m., the boys started to stir. Josh eyed Will’s IV bag apprehensively. “Is he okay?”

“He wasn’t feeling too well during the night,” Dana answered. “I’m giving him a little pick-me-up.”

“Oh.”

Eddie sat up and yawned. “What’s for breakfast?”

Dana glanced at Micky and smiled. “That sounds like a question for you.”

“Canned peaches and stale toaster pastries,” he said. “Last one there gets the crumbs.” While he took the boys into the kitchen to eat, Clay awoke and Dana hurried to calm his fears about his son.

“He’s fine right now,” she said. “I’m keeping a close eye on him.”

“You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “How’s your head?”

“Much better. I think I can eat something today.”

“Then you’d better get out there before the food disappears,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks, I will.”

In spite of setting the rate for Will’s IV at a “to keep open” rate, the bag was two-thirds gone. There was only one more in the kit, so Dana was determined to drain every last drop.

When Micky returned carrying a bowl of canned peaches for her breakfast, she asked him if there were any more meds stored on the plane.

“Sorry,” he said. “Everything’s in the drug box. Is there a problem?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Is the phone working?”

“It wasn’t as of an hour ago. I’ll check again.”

As soon as he went in the other room to try, she knelt over Will and took his pulse. “How are you doing?”

“Okay,” he answered. “Not good, but not bad.”

His heart rate had increased again. Worried about circulation in the arm closest to his broken collarbone, she pressed a fingernail bed on his hand and watched to see how long it took the area to turn pink again. His capillary refill took a full two seconds—within normal limits—but she knew he would bear close watching.

“Just relax,” she said cheerfully. “You’re not missing a thing.”

She increased the drip speed of the IV, checked the elevation of his feet, then covered him with another blanket. Micky was kind enough to bring her and Will each a toaster pastry for breakfast, and Dana was glad to see Will felt strong enough to eat.

Although her vigil continued for the next few hours, Dana took time to wash her face and brush her teeth with a spare
toothbrush that Micky had found. Her uniform and socks had dried, so she exchanged Micky’s clothes for them.

Dana noticed the boys were more quiet than they’d been yesterday. It was just as well. She wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone.

By 11:00 a.m., the rain continued to fall as if heaven had decided to dump every drop on them at once. Will’s pulse rate now seemed weaker and his capillary refill rate had increased to three seconds, which worried her more than she let on.

As she hung her last IV bag, Dana knew something had to be done, and soon. She cornered Micky for a private chat.

“Any luck with the cell phone reception?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No.”

“What about the radio on the plane?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you find out?”

“Yeah.” His eyes darkened. “It’s Will, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “We have to get him to a hospital.”

M
ICKY IMMEDIATELY TUGGED ON
his boots and grabbed his slicker. “He isn’t any better?”

“No,” she said. “I’m not happy with the circulation in his injured arm and he’s definitely shocky.”

“How long do we have?”

“At the most, a couple of hours. Probably a lot less.”

“What if we can’t leave?”

“Worst case scenario?” At his nod, she explained. “He could lose the use of his arm.”

He pulled his hood over his head. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I know something.”

The door had no sooner closed on him than Eddie came out of the bedroom. “Where’s Micky going?”

“To the plane,” she said.

“What for?”

“To raise someone on the radio.” Then, because she didn’t want to start a panic, she diverted his attention. “How many collectible coins did you find in the jug?”

Eddie’s face lit up. “At last count, forty-six wheat pennies, and we haven’t even gone through half yet. The biggest find was a 1905 Indian head cent. I’d have to check my book, but I think it’s worth about twenty dollars.”

“That much?”

“Oh, yes,” he assured her. “I was hoping to find one minted
in 1877. Those are worth over five hundred dollars, but I haven’t so far. They’re awful rare, though.”

“Keep looking,” she advised, smiling at his enthusiasm. “You might be lucky.”

“Micky would be lucky,” he corrected. “They’re his pennies.”

She followed him into the safe room and checked Will’s IV while Eddie, Pete and Josh spread coins across the table and resumed their treasure hunt.

Clay motioned her into the kitchen, his eyes worried. “What’s happening with my son?”

“As you can see, he’s resting easier,” she began.

“But something’s wrong.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I suspect that his broken clavicle—his collarbone—is putting pressure on the artery that runs underneath it. His arm is losing circulation.”

“Oh, my God. Is there anything you can do?”

“He needs medical intervention,” she admitted. “That’s why I don’t want to wait to transport him to a doctor.”

“But we can’t leave, can we?”

“Micky’s checking on flight conditions,” she said simply. “If he gives us the green light, we’ll go.”

“If not?”

She refused to consider such a dismal prospect. “Then we’ll do the best we can.”

“Which is?”

“Continue to give him supportive care.”

“Will he lose the use of his arm?”

“Let’s not worry about worst case scenarios,” she said gently. “The good news is that the brunt of the storm has passed, so things are looking up as far as getting everyone to a hospital.”

“Okay.” His slowly released breath and half-hearted smile were clearly the best he could do. Dana knew the man was worried, and rightly so, but calming fears was a part of her job. Will didn’t need a panic-stricken parent hovering over him.

The front door burst open and Micky rushed in on a gust of warm, rain-scented air. He stood on the rug, his slicker dripping as he pushed back his hood.

Dana hurried to meet him. “Well?” she demanded.

“We’ve been advised to wait an hour.”

It wasn’t the green light she’d hoped for, but Dana had to leave decisions about flying to the experts. The best news was that they had made contact with someone, so she wasn’t completely on her own if she ran into medical problems.

Clay, however, was the one who was horrified. “An hour?” he echoed.

“At least.” An unspoken acknowledgment of the time frame she’d given him earlier passed between them. He didn’t have to say that he knew they might be cutting things close for Will. It was evident in his eyes.

As much as she wished their circumstances were otherwise, unless she could wave a magic wand, they were grounded for a minimum of sixty minutes.

Clay turned to Dana. “Can he hold on that long?”

That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Telling him that they couldn’t would only make him fret more.

“Yes,” she said, hoping fate wouldn’t prove her a liar. “Will is going to be fine. Would you like to break the news to the boys while Micky and I work out the details?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said.

As soon as Clay was out of earshot, Micky asked, “You’re expecting Will to become critical, aren’t you?”

“Technically, he’s already there,” she said honestly, “but
Clay has to stay calm. Worrying about his son losing his arm function won’t help. As for waiting, we don’t have a choice, do we?”

“No.”

“So we’ll think positive.” She said it as much for her own benefit as his. “Did you get through to a hospital?”

“Yes and no,” Micky told her. “The guy I spoke with is going to alert the hospital about our situation and give them our ETA. He’s also requesting a couple of ambulances to be standing by at the Beeville airport. If you need to talk to a doctor before then, he’ll patch us through.”

As preparations went, she couldn’t find fault, but she still chafed at the delay. “What if we drove instead of flew? We wouldn’t waste that hour and we could go straight to the hospital.”

“Even with a delay, flying is faster than driving,” he pointed out. “The only transportation I have here is an old truck that would accommodate three of us at the most.”

“Oh.”

“The roads are the next problem. About two miles north is a creek that floods if it rains a couple of inches. I don’t need a gauge to know we’ve gotten more than that.”

“Damn.”

“An hour might seem like forever, but there isn’t any reason why we can’t be in the plane and ready to take off as soon as we receive clearance,” he pointed out. “Chances are, we’ll spend most of that time transferring everyone on board. Unless I take Will and leave you behind?”

She frowned at him. “Fat chance of that. I’m going with you. If Will has a problem, you can’t look after him and fly the plane, too. I can also tell you that Clay wouldn’t consider waiting here while his son goes off without him. Then there’s Josh with his knee and Pete—”

“Yeah, I know. It didn’t hurt to ask.”

“How sure are you that we’ll be able to leave? What if we’re all set and—?”

“Well, now, darlin’,” he interrupted in his lazy drawl, “in case you’ve forgotten, I’m in charge of flight arrangements. You handle what’s on your plate and I’ll handle what’s on mine.”

“Okay, I will,” she promised.

He shrugged off his slicker and hung it on the coat tree before he checked his watch. “If you’re planning on leaving in fifty minutes, we’d better get organized.”

Dana and Micky rejoined Clay and the boys to discover Clay had already passed along the major details.

“Is it true?” Pete asked, his dark eyes wide with a combination of relief and dread. “We’re leaving?”

“Within the hour,” she confirmed. “We were going to wait until closer to evening, but we have to speed things up a bit for Will’s sake.”

“And then what?” Eddie’s eyes were wide behind his glasses.

“Someone will call your parents, and eventually you’ll go home.” She grinned. “Your adventure will end.”

“We didn’t finish sorting your pennies,” Eddie told Micky. “I’d really hoped to find something special. It would have been so exciting,” he finished on a wistful note.

Micky ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’ll sort through them whenever I get a chance,” he said. “If I come across anything interesting or of value, I’ll let you know.”

Somewhat appeased, Eddie began scooping the coins back into the jug.

The rest of the hour passed by quickly. The boys gathered their gear and restored the house to rights as much as possible.

“The dishes will have to wait,” Micky said. “I’ll fly back
in a few days to check the place over for damage and deal with them then.”

Dana was curious if he’d come back alone or if he’d bring someone with him, then decided it was none of her business.

Instead, she concentrated on preparing her patients for the trek across the yard and another bumpy flight. Will received most of her attention. It was becoming increasingly difficult to feel the telltale thump in his wrist.

Knowing that she couldn’t do anything to reverse the damage, she hugged that information to herself. Micky’s attention had to be on his plane and the weather conditions. For all she knew, flying them out was a huge risk, and she didn’t want to dump any additional stress on him.

At the last possible moment, she tied Will’s arm to his stomach and chest with a swath of gauze.

“To make absolutely sure that nothing gets jostled,” she told him.

When she was finished, Eddie took one look at his buddy. “He’s a mummy,” he pantomimed, walking stiff-legged around the room.

Spirits lifted by Eddie’s antics, the raggedy group slowly made their way to the plane. As Micky had predicted, transferring everyone took nearly the entire hour.

Dana stood in the hangar, waiting for Micky to taxi outside so she could close the door, but his thumbs-up never appeared. When he shook his head, her heart sank.

She slipped around to meet him at the rear door. “No go?”

“No go,” he confirmed. “They know we’re ready and waiting, so they’ll radio us as soon as they feel it’s safe.”

“Did they say how long?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

Dana drew a deep breath, aware of the boys’ gazes resting on her. “Do we wait here, or go back inside?”

“Let’s give it another fifteen minutes,” Micky advised.

Resigned, she climbed on board and sank into the copilot’s seat to wait. No one spoke.

Micky settled his headset over his baseball cap, and fifteen minutes later, he radioed the tower again.

“We don’t advise you to leave, Piper two-six-four,” the disembodied voice said. “Standby.”

“Roger that,” Micky replied.

The next quarter hour had never seemed so long. “All right,” Dana said, chafing at the delay and unable to stay cooped up another minute. “Let’s go back to the house. We can’t sit here for hours.” She started to rise, but just as she did, the air traffic controller gave them permission for take-off.

“Roger,” Micky said brightly. As soon as he signed off, he gave a whoop and a holler. “Let’s get this baby rolling.”

He taxied into the heavy rain and Dana closed the hangar doors. Once she returned to her seat in the cockpit, his mood had changed from elated to serious.

“It’s going to be a rough ride,” Micky warned her. “I’ll try to minimize the bumps as much as I can, but…” He lifted one shoulder in an apologetic shrug.

“We’ll manage,” she said firmly. “As long as we arrive in one piece.”

He grinned his devilish grin…the one that caused her heart to skip a beat. “We will. I have faith in Maggie May.”

“To be honest, I have more faith in the pilot.”

“Why, thank you, ma’am,” he drawled. “A vote of confidence is always welcome.”

As she peered through the rain-lashed windshield, she remembered something he’d once said.

“I thought you couldn’t fly in a heavy downpour.”

“Yup,” he said, clearly unconcerned that she’d brought up the point. “I said that.”

“Then what’s this?” She motioned outside.

“That, darlin’,” he told her, “is just a regular Texas downpour.”

It looked heavy to her. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Come on, Red. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“On vacation,” she promptly replied.

“You probably can’t tell, but the rain isn’t as heavy as it was an hour ago.”

He was right; she couldn’t tell.

“If you’re worried about flying into the wild blue yonder,” he continued, “we can sit tight for another hour.”

“No—no,” she repeated, although she suspected that he’d hidden his concerns about the weather conditions just as she’d done with her concerns about Will. “We can’t. If you say it’s safe, I trust you.”

Micky was an experienced pilot, and instinctively she knew that if anyone could fly them through this, he could.

His smile spread across his face. “Good girl,” was all he said. “Now, if everyone’s strapped in back there to your satisfaction, we’ll head for the sky.”

Dana rubbed a circle on the foggy glass window beside her, trying vainly to see outside as she braced herself for takeoff.

“Can’t see a thing, can you?” he said, sounding quite cheerful, as if he knew she was worried about their lack of visibility.

“No. Can you?”

“Enough. But I have the advantage of knowing my runway like the back of my hand. And—” he tapped his instrument panel “—these tell me all I need to know. So sit back and enjoy the trip.”

Dana sat back, but as for enjoying the experience, she’d reserve judgment until they touched down.

It was, as Micky had warned, a wild ride, but maybe because she knew the end was in sight, or because she simply gritted her teeth and hung on, it didn’t seem as horrible as the flight here.

She also found a certain comfort in watching Micky.

His large hands handled the controls with all the gentleness of a man holding a baby. Every movement was unhurried and well-rehearsed. His expression was intent, yet the strong lines of his jaw remained relaxed even when he guided them through pockets of turbulence.

Idly she wondered what would happen when this mission had ended. Would she see him again, or would she be so busy with cleanup efforts that their paths wouldn’t cross?

“What are you going to do when this is over?” she asked impulsively.

“Somewhere in Beeville is a thick, juicy steak with my name on it,” he said. “And after that,” he winked at her, “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Will you fly us back to Turning Point tonight?”

“I could,” he said. “Or we can stay in town until morning. It’ll depend on whether we can get through to Mitch for a status report.”

She nodded. Half of her hoped to postpone their inevitable parting for another day, while the other half reminded her that she’d come to Texas to do a job, not foster a romance.

One night wouldn’t make a difference, would it?

“But if I were you,” he added, “I wouldn’t count on getting through to the chief for a while.”

“Why not?”

“Heavy rain sometimes disrupts telephone service. And depending on what happened to the cell phone towers, we may be stranded another night.”