A Forever Family For The Army Doc. Meredith Webber

      ‘Marty’s a pilot on the rescue helicopter,’ Lila explained, as the whole family turned anxious eyes towards the small room.

      He returned briskly, grabbing a jacket from the back of his chair.

      ‘Got to go! Cindy, you coming or staying? If you’re coming there’s no time to get your stuff.’

      Cindy, too, pushed back her chair.

      ‘Coming,’ she said.

      The pair had barely left the room when another mobile sounded, and, having been free of its tyranny for three weeks, it took Mac a moment to realise it was his.

      He glanced at the message on the screen before he, too, stood up.

      ‘Looks like I’m starting work early. I’m sorry, Mrs Halliday. The meal, what I managed to eat of it, was wonderful.’

      ‘Wait, I’ll come with you,’ the sprite announced.

      ‘I know the way.’

      He didn’t really snap, it just came out a bit sharp, images of the tops of her soft breasts still lingering in his head.

      ‘Sure, but you only arrived in town this morning so I doubt you know your way around the hospital. Hallie might have given you the basic tour, but if it’s an emergency—and it will be if Marty’s flying someone in—then you need the best help you can get, and that’s me.’

      She paused, then added with a teasing smile, ‘So, lucky you!’

      She couldn’t possibly have known what he was thinking—not possibly, but it was obvious she intended coming with him as she rushed around the table kissing Hallie, Pop, Nikki and Lila, before linking her arm through his and practically dragging him out the door.

      Escaping?

      It certainly seemed that way as she led him headlong down the hill to the small hospital.

      ‘But aren’t you just off night duty?’

      Good, he’d not only remembered something she’d said this morning, but had also managed a question, so his brain must be back in gear.

      ‘Yes, but in case you didn’t notice there was a certain amount of conspiracy stuff going on around that table tonight.’

      ‘Conspiracy?’

      He didn’t want to admit he’d been more than slightly distracted by his neighbour at the table.

      ‘Never mind,’ Izzy said. ‘Silly family stuff! I was just glad to get away.’

      She moved a little further from him now she had him out of the house.

      Sitting next to him, conscious of every movement of his body, had been torture, especially since she’d noticed the silky hairs on his forearms.

      Dark, silky hairs...

      Mesmerising dark silky hairs...

      She shook her head, glad of the darkness so he didn’t see her shaking loose her thoughts.

      They were going to work and this was actually a good opportunity to see if she could detach herself from the idiotic attraction and concentrate solely on whatever they had to get done.

      Never in her twenty-six years with the Hallidays had she been diverted from the sheer gluttonous enjoyment of one of Hallie’s roast dinners, yet there she’d been, her fork toying with a piece of pumpkin as she’d wondered if his arms would feel as silky as they looked.

      ‘But you have just come off night duty?’ Mac asked, successfully getting her mind off silky hairs—though only just...

      ‘Yes, but I’ve had a good sleep today. It’s why I jog. The steady pace seems to get rid of any leftover work tension and I can sleep like a baby.’

      ‘Some babies don’t sleep all that well,’ Mac muttered.

      What babies did he know?

      Not that it mattered...

      ‘We can go in this way,’ she told him, leading him to the kitchen door at the rear of the building. ‘We’ve only eleven patients at the moment with another seven in the nursing home at the back, so there’ll be two registered nurses and two aides on duty in the main hospital, with another RN on call. Actually, there should be one of the local GPs on call, but there’s a wedding...’

      She led him down a short corridor, waving to a woman sitting at a curved desk in a room to the left.

      ‘That’s Abby,’ she told him. ‘Abby, Mac, Mac, Abby.’

      ‘Good thing you had your phone on,’ Abby told him. ‘I wouldn’t have known where to find you otherwise. I know you haven’t officially started work but there’s been an RTA on the highway, helicopter will bring in one patient for stabilisation and onward transport, and there are two ambulances also on the way.’

      A patient requiring stabilisation was a tough introduction, but Mac was intrigued.

      ‘And how do you get this information? Know to be prepared?’

      He’d asked the question into the air between her and Abby, so Izzy answered him.

      ‘First on scene is almost always police. They radio for ambulance support, a paramedic with the ambulance team assesses the injured and organises everything until the patients are safely removed.’

      ‘He can order a helicopter?’ Mac asked.

      ‘Providing one can land,’ Izzy responded. ‘And Marty can land just about anywhere. Roads are great if they’re flat and straight, but around here it’s been dairy country since for ever, and there are fields close to the roads even in the hills.’

      Izzy was leading him towards the large room that was their ‘emergency department’, as she explained. The room had a desk, curtains that could be drawn to allow privacy for patients and on the far side, three small rooms.

      ‘The first one is the resus room,’ Izzy told him. ‘Next to it is a quiet room for mental health patients who sometimes find other people disconcerting, then a kind of all-purpose room, used for everything from resus to upset kids, to talking quietly to relatives when necessary.’

      Mac heard a hitch in her voice and knew that talking to relatives—usually with grim news—wasn’t one of her favourite things. In a small town, a death would probably be someone she knew...

      He wanted to touch her shoulder, say he was sorry, but why?

      An excuse to touch her?

      To feel that golden skin?

      Fortunately, while totally irrational and unmedical thoughts flashed through his mind he heard the whup, whup, whup of the helicopter.

      Not a big army helicopter carrying injured troops—a smaller chopper, light, one patient. He was fine, but as sweat broke out on his forehead he wondered why he hadn’t considered rescue helicopters when he’d chosen Wetherby.

      Because he’d thought it was too small?

      Or because he’d doubted the noise of the little dragonfly helicopters he’d encounter in civilian life would affect him?

      ‘You okay?’

      He shook his head, then realised she’d probably take it as a negative reply, so he said, ‘Of course,’ far too loudly and followed her out the door, presumably to meet their patient.

      The rotors were still moving when a crewman ducked out to open the door wider so they could access the stretcher. Marty appeared from the front cabin to help and Mac was left to follow behind as his patient was rushed with admirable efficiency into the hospital.

      Following behind, in the lights that surrounded the landing circle, he could see the patient was in a neck brace and secured onto a long spine board, with padded red supports preventing any head movement. One arm was in a temporary splint, and a tourniquet controlled