‘There’s a comprehensive medical diagnosis if ever I heard one.’ She gave him an appreciative smile. The man had courage. ‘It’s a complete break of both tibia and fibula. You were lucky it didn’t break the skin.’
‘More than lucky.’ He held out an imperative hand and took the films from her, staring at them intently one after the other. ‘I could have blocked the blood supply.’
‘You did. I straightened the leg on the road and was really lucky to get circulation again.’ She pointed to the film. ‘But look at these shards of bone. They’re not fixed. I’ve been lucky—you’ve been lucky—but I want that leg operated on as soon as possible.’
He whistled. He stared at the film some more and then whistled again. And then he looked up at her, obviously confused.
‘When did you straighten my leg? I can’t remember…’
‘When you were unconscious.’
‘So… I have a headache,’ he murmured, thinking it through with obvious care. ‘But I’m starting to realise that maybe I owe that bump on my head a lot.’
‘It meant I could manipulate your leg while you were unconscious, yes.’
‘I guess I should be grateful to you.’
She smiled at that. ‘Well, maybe not too grateful. I did run you down.’
‘I ran straight into you,’ he told her ruefully. ‘I thought that road would be deserted. I didn’t think anyone would be staying in those holiday units at this time of year. They’re awful and the only time they’re used is in midsummer.’
‘They were the only ones that would let me take my dog.’
He nodded. His eyes were still on the X-rays. He was having trouble focusing, Lizzie thought. The morphine would be doing that. It was a wonder he was awake at all.
‘Your leg’s hurting?’
‘Not much.’
‘You make a bad liar,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll give you a top-up before the plane leaves.’
‘But…’ Emily had been staring at the two of them as if they’d gone mad. ‘This is crazy. You’ve forgotten. Harry can’t go on any plane.’
‘He must,’ Lizzie said gently. ‘This leg needs to be fixed. It needs pins to be inserted. Harry needs a skilled orthopaedic surgeon and highly specific equipment. Until Harry has the operation, he can’t weight-bear, and the splinters of bone are a real danger to his blood supply. He knows that. Don’t you, Harry?’
Harry laid the films down on the coverlet. ‘Yes,’ he said. And sighed. ‘I do.’ He sighed again.
Something wasn’t right.
Lizzie stared down at him. He stared straight back and her initial impression intensified. Was it possible? She must be imagining it, she told herself, but for just a moment she thought she’d detected a note of real relief in his voice. And…the faintest trace of laughter?
She must have been imagining it. There was no such relief in Emily’s tone—or in her expression. The woman faced Lizzie with desperation, and her face was more shocked than Harry’s.
‘If he can’t weight-bear… That just means traction. You can do it here and he’ll just have to use a wheelchair. We can do that.’
But Lizzie was shaking her head. ‘Traction can’t guarantee Harry the same results as pinning,’ she told her. ‘You don’t want Harry to end up with one leg longer than the other.’ Then, as Emily’s face said she wasn’t so sure, Lizzie pressed on.
‘Emily, look again at that film,’ she said gently. ‘When Harry was first injured the blood supply was completely blocked. I was lucky enough to get the leg into a position where the blood vessels are operating but I don’t know how permanent that is. The X-rays are telling me there are loose splinters of bone that could block the blood supply again. He has to be operated on and that need is urgent. I don’t have an anaesthetist and I don’t have the equipment, even if I was trained to do this sort of operation. Which I’m not. I’m sorry, Emily, but there is no choice.’
‘There must be.’
‘There isn’t.’
‘Harry, make her see…’ There were tears rolling down the woman’s face. Good grief, Lizzie thought. She was verging on the hysterical.
It was only a wedding.
She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry was there before her. His hand came out and caught his fiancée’s, gripping it tight. ‘No, Em. It’s you who has to see. Dr Darling’s right. I need to go to Melbourne. We need to postpone the wedding.’
‘If you give us a list of guests, May and I will sit down tonight and contact them,’ Lizzie told them. ‘May’s already offered. She tells me the hospital is quiet. Only five patients.’
‘I’ll need to go through patient lists before I go,’ Harry said sharply, and Lizzie thought, Gee, he sounds more worried about his patients than he does about his wedding.
Maybe he was. Weddings weren’t her cup of tea either.
‘May’s shown me the ward sheets. There’s nothing I can’t deal with.’
‘Unless Phoebe goes into labour,’ Harry told her, and Lizzie found herself smiling at the man. He was grinning up at her—a faint half-grin, but magnetic for all that.
He did have the most wonderful smile…
‘I already checked to see if there was a vet in town before I took this job,’ she told him, fascinated, and even more fascinated as his eyes crinkled into laughter.
‘You mean you checked the vet situation but you didn’t check the medical scene?’
‘I checked what was important. Though if I’d known the town had only one suicidal doctor…’ She gasped and caught herself. What was she doing, giving him cheek? Laughing with him? She should be checking his sedation and wishing him a safe journey.
She should be moving right on.
‘Is there anything you need before I go?’ she asked stiffly, and his smile died. Beside him, Emily was standing ashen with shock, and he gave her a worried look.
‘Something for Em?’
‘A sedative?’
‘She’s been looking forward to this wedding for a long time.’
She’s been looking forward to this wedding? Nothing about him, she noticed.
But that could wait. It wasn’t her business.
‘Will you go with Harry?’ she asked, and the other woman turned to her with blind eyes.
‘Of course I’ll go with Harry. And I don’t need anything. I don’t need a sedative.’ But her voice was wobbling dangerously.
‘Can I ring your parents? Someone to help you?’
‘Every single one of Em’s relatives has been in town for over a week,’ Harry said ruefully. ‘But they’ll be no support at all.’ His grip on Emily’s hand tightened and his voice became urgent. ‘Em, you need to stay here. Lizzie’s going to need help.’
‘I’m coming with you. Dr Darling can cope by herself. She got us into this mess. My mother can cope with wedding things. She can set another date…’
‘Leave setting the date for a while,’ Lizzie told her. She put a hand on Emily’s shoulder and looked sideways at Harry. She didn’t understand what was going on here. There were very interesting undertones… ‘Let me call your mother now,’ she offered. ‘I’ll give you something to help settle you for the trip.