Washed Away (4 page)

“Did that help?”

“Not at the time,” Beth admitted, “but it does a bit now, especially since we’ve got Paul. At least now I know that there was nothing we could have done to prevent Cody’s death. Everything possible was done to try to save him. But when it happened, I was beyond consoling. I fell to pieces for a while.”

“Which is understandable. How about Hal?”

“He was devastated, of course, but in a different way. He’d take himself off to the farm or out to the tool-shed out back for hours on end, fixing things up, building things we didn’t need. He just wouldn’t talk about it to me.”

“Men generally deal with grief in a different way, Beth. They tend to keep it in, whereas women like to talk.”

“Don’t we.” A watery smile trembled on her lips. “He didn’t want me to have another baby. He wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope, and it seems he was right. I can’t sleep, I can’t let Paul out of my sight, and now poor Flynn’s gone and broken his arm because I wasn’t watching him properly because I was too scared to leave Paul.”

Beth’s tears were starting again, and hating herself for her insensitivity, Cheryl sneaked a quick look at her watch.

“He’s a seven-year-old boy,” she said firmly. “And seven-year-old boys are notorious for breaking bones. Believe me, I see it every day. You need support, Beth.” Cheryl squeezed the other woman’s hand again. “Everything you’ve told me—how you’re feeling, Hal’s reaction, your fears for the new baby—are completely normal reactions, given what you’ve been through. Is there anyone here you can talk to?”

“I’ve got lots of friends.” Beth shrugged. “My mom’s nearby.” But her expression belied her positive words and she started to cry again. “They just don’t understand, though. Dr. Holland was great. He warned me I’d feel like this. He said he’d call in, and that I could phone him anytime day or night if I was feeling anxious.”

“He sounds nice,” Cheryl ventured. “He’s the one who just had the heart attack, isn’t he?”

Beth nodded. “He’s Turning Point’s one and only doctor, but he was more than a doctor to me, he was a friend. Noah’s good—the vet,” she added, and Cheryl nodded. “He comes round for a drink every now and then and lets me ramble on about Cody and that horrible day, but I know, even if he tries not to show it, that he’s not really into babies. Not the two-legged type anyway. He’s only interested in his career.”

“I know the type,” Cheryl said, deliberately keeping the edge from her voice. But she did know the type—she’d been married to one, after all.

“There’s no one I can really talk to about it, Cheryl. No one at all.”

Only then did Beth’s plight really hit Cheryl. God, how she wished she were at work. Piles of leaflets and phone numbers were available at the nurses’ station. A psychiatrist was just a telephone call away.

But there weren’t such resources here, and even her time was in short supply.

“Beth, if there was any way I could put things off I’d stay awhile longer, but I really do have to get back.” Cheryl squeezed her hand again. “I have to set Flynn’s arm and return to town, but please don’t think I’m just walking out on you. You really do need some help, and I’m going to do my best to see you get it. Do you want me to ask Mitch to send Hal home?”

Immediately Beth shook her head.

“Please, Cheryl, don’t. It will only make things worse. Look, I’m not about to do anything stupid. I just need some help.”

“Well, you’ve taken the most difficult step—admitting it,” Cheryl said softly.

“If I could just get a decent night’s sleep—”

“You need a bit more than that,” Cheryl broke in. “But it would be a good start. Look…” Standing up, Cheryl turned on a smile and hit Beth with a good dose of practical assertion. “I’m going to speak to Amy Sherwood about you. She’s a doctor who’s come to Turning Point to help with the evacuation. Now, I’m not going to lie and say she’s going to race over. We’re supposed to be here to deal with an emergency….” Cheryl’s voice trailed off as she realized her insensitivity. Okay, this wasn’t exactly the cutting edge of trauma nursing, but
it
was
an emergency to this family at least, and as a nurse, as a woman, Cheryl knew that she couldn’t just dismiss this family’s problems, and neither would Amy. “She’s a great doctor, and once I’ve explained your situation to her, I know that she’ll want to help. Of course, we’ll first have to see how the storm pans out, but once it’s over, either you can come into town or Amy will come out to you before we head back to Courage Bay. We can get the ball rolling. Look, if you ask her nicely, she might even throw in a prescription for something to help you sleep.” That comment lightened the loaded atmosphere just enough for Cheryl to do the hard bit.

“I really do have to get back, Beth. I’m sorry I haven’t got more time….”

“I understand.” Beth nodded bravely, and Cheryl’s heart went out to her, every shred of nursing instinct telling her that this woman really needed help.

For the next little while Flynn was a model patient, asking endless questions as Cheryl applied the back slab. An incredulous smile broke out on his face as Cheryl bandaged over the plaster slab.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said.

“Great, isn’t it?” Cheryl grinned. “But keep it dry, or it will go all soggy.”

“Thanks so much again,” Beth said as she followed Cheryl to the hallway. “For everything, Cheryl.”

“Can Flynn have this?” Pulling a chocolate bar out of her pocket, Cheryl gave it to Beth who seemed to remember something and dashed off.

“Wait there!” she called, but was back seconds later
with a large tin. “The cookies I baked.” She smiled, handing them over. “Share them around the crews, but make sure Hal gets a couple from me.”

“Will do, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You get back inside and put your feet up. Forget the housework, forget the baking, concentrate on you and your boys for now.”

C
HERYL WOULD HAVE RUN
to the Jeep, but the wind was so strong, it was more a case of two steps forward, one step back. And as for breathing…Cheryl had no trouble getting air in. It whipped into her throat and pushed its way into her lungs uninvited—but breathing out was almost impossible. The driver door swung back in her hands as she opened it, and she had to battle the wind to close it once she was inside.

Starting the engine, Cheryl prepared to drive off. The rain was so loud on the roof, she at first didn’t register the pounding on the driver’s window, then frowned in concern as she saw a drenched Beth banging furiously on it.

Cheryl didn’t dare try opening the door again. Pushing the power window switch, she felt a moment’s un-ease, wondering what on earth could have forced Beth to leave her son and baby and run out in this weather.

“What’s happened?”

“The storm’s shifting course,” Beth shouted against the wind. “It just came over the radio….”

Cheryl felt her heart lurch. Mitch had been right!

“Is it going to hit Turning Point?”

“They’re not sure, but it’s swerved from its predicted course and it’s coming closer than they expected. A couple of nearby rivers have already burst their banks. You need to get back, and quickly, before the route back to town floods and you’re stuck here!”

Cheryl nodded. “Get inside, Beth.” The wind almost whipped the words out of her mouth. “Secure the house.”

“I will.” Beth nodded. “There’s a shortcut you could take.” She was pointing behind the house. “There’s a private road. Follow it down, then take a left at Hansen’s Barn.”

“Where?”

“Hansen’s Barn. You won’t be able to miss it. It’s an old, derelict barn. There’s a bridge…”

The conversation was becoming more difficult with every word, and Cheryl shouted over the wind. “The road behind your house?”

Beth gave a rapid nod. “Then swing a left.”

“Call Mitch,” Cheryl instructed her. “Tell him I’m coming. And Beth…get inside!”

Cheryl could feel the adrenaline kick in as she drove off, only this time it wasn’t welcome. It wasn’t the usual surge of excitement that hit her when an alert came in. This was the first fluttering of real panic as she contemplated what they could be facing if Hurricane Damon hit this region full force. She thought of her colleagues, Dana, Nate and Amy, all out on calls.

Would they know?

Stay calm, Cheryl.
The mantra pounded in her head, She had to get back to town. Once there, she’d have the answers. She’d be in a position to do something. She’d be back in control—

“Hell!” The curse slipped out of her lips as a dark bundle dashed across the road, too quickly for Cheryl to swerve. She slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt just in time to avoid hitting the object.

Craning her neck, she peered out at the roadside, her heart rate slowly returning to its already accelerated state. A fox perhaps, running for shelter. Immediately she wished she hadn’t checked the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of solemn eyes and a shivering mass of fur. If only she were one of those people who could just drive right on.

But she wasn’t.

Cheryl pulled up her collar and forced the door open. She had no desire to venture outside again into the driving wind and rain, but she had no choice now that she knew it was a dog.

“Come on, little guy.” She crouched by her vehicle. “You’re not looking at some sentimental animal lover here. This lady’s in a rush, so if you want a ride, this is your only chance.”

What was she doing? A category four hurricane was about to hit, and here she was, trying to coax a stupid dumb mutt into the van. What was Mitch’s reaction going to be when she arrived back at the station with an extra passenger?

“Last chance,” she warned, shaking her head in ex
asperation when the little dog refused to move. She had to walk away and head back to town. But as she climbed inside the Jeep, the smell of Beth’s fresh-baked cookies was the first thing to hit her.

“Very last chance,” Cheryl corrected wryly, stepping back down from the Jeep and holding out a cookie, which was fast dissolving in the rain, to the shivering mutt. “Come on, little guy.”

It wasn’t going to work, and even though Cheryl wasn’t the world’s greatest animal lover, it tore at her heart to turn her back. But a lost black dog must surely be way down on her list of priorities.

He might not be lost, Cheryl consoled herself as she resumed what was becoming a familiar struggle to close the car door. He was probably hotfooting his way back to his home right now. But suddenly, with an indignant yelp, a wedge of wet fur clambered furiously onto Cheryl’s lap, then whining in protest as she pushed him over to the passenger seat. He agreed to stay put only when Cheryl placed a pile of Beth’s cookies on the seat beside her.

“Somehow, I don’t think you were heading for home, little guy,” she said sadly, feeling the skinny ribs under the matted black fur. But there was no time for sympathy now. Slipping the emergency brake off, Cheryl glanced over at her companion, who was munching away, looking up every now and then with grateful eyes.

“What shall we call you, huh? You need a name.” He was chomping away with gusto, somehow whimpering with delight at the same time. “Buster,” Cheryl said out
loud. “We’ll call you Buster.” The dog looked up for a second and met her eyes. “Hey, Buster, save a couple of cookies for Hal.” Cheryl grinned as she drove on. “Or Beth will never forgive me.”

There was the barn, just as Beth had said.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Cheryl peered over the flat landscape at the massive, deserted barn Beth had assured her she couldn’t miss.

“Where to now, huh?” Despite the demister, the windows were steaming up at an alarming rate. She wiped the windshield with the back of her hand and drove slowly, visibility decreasing with every slow lurch forward.

She’d have to call Mitch and tell him she was lost. As if that wasn’t just what the guy needed right now! But Mitch must have been thinking along the same lines, because before she’d even pulled out the cell phone he had given her, it rang shrilly in her hand.

There’s a bridge.
Beth’s instructions played over in her mind as Cheryl pressed the answer button. There was a bridge, but not for much longer, Cheryl thought darkly, watching the swollen river rising, torrents of water sweeping along the banks, huge branches circling like tiny twigs as the current swept them along.

Pressing the phone to her ear, she braced herself for a few sharp words from the fire chief.

“Where the hell…” He got no further before his voice broke up.

Cheryl shouted back, not sure whether he could hear. “I’m five minutes away, Mitch. Beth told me that the
storm’s heading this way!” She was at the edge of the river now, and pulled open the glove compartment. Finding a rag inside, she took a moment to wipe the windshield clear. “She told me a shortcut. I’m at Hansen’s Barn. I’m just coming over the bridge, so I should be with you soon.” Although she strained to hear, there was only a crackling noise, broken by occasional fragments of Mitch’s words.

“I won’t be much longer, Mitch!” Cheryl shouted. “I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up. I’ll be back soon.” Putting the phone down, intending to resume the conversation once she was safely across the river, Cheryl edged the vehicle forward, her nose practically against the windshield now as she strained to see. She chewed her lip nervously as she eyed the rickety bridge. From what Cheryl could make out, the wooden structure looked about as stable as old Hansen’s Barn.

But surely Beth would know, Cheryl reasoned. She was a local, for goodness’ sake, and already her directions had cut Cheryl’s journey in half.

The windshield wipers might just as well have been off now. The river was rising with each passing moment and Cheryl’s mind flicked back to the triage area she’d set up at the station. Victims of the storm might already be there, injured and needing help.

Urging the vehicle slowly forward, she glanced over at her little friend. Trusting, wide eyes looked back at her. “Almost there,” she said bravely, more for her own benefit than for Buster’s. “Almost there,” she said again. There was no thought of looking down. She was too
damn busy concentrating on keeping the vehicle straight on the narrow bumpy bridge. As the Jeep lurched violently sideways, her first thought was a blown tire.