Raphaela's Gift Page 6

  "So leave! Make good on your threat and take your daughter home," She yelled back. Her eyes flashed with anger. "What makes you think it's a sham, anyway? You don't have any real reason for believing that, do you? I mean, her miraculous progress speaks for itself, if you'd let it!"

  "Look, Faith, I don't expect you to understand this. But, I'm a doctor. I know about places like this. Places that promise miracles but deliver empty deception. Charlatans have been doing it for years; 'drink this snake oil and blind men will see, cripples will walk, and all your ills will miraculously disappear!' Well, Miss LeFeuvre, no miracle is going to help my daughter."

  "How do you know that? Why can't you give us a chance?"

  "Because if there were anything," he confessed softly, "anything at all that would help me communicate with my little girl, I would have found it already."

  "So everything you said earlier, your apology, your promise to cooperate. It was all an act? A lie?"

  His eyes met hers. "No. It wasn't. I meant what I said when I apologized. I'm not crazy about this place, but I'm staying. No matter how I feel, I won't do anything that might halt Ella's progress because if I did, I'd never be able to live with myself." He dropped his regard back to the gorge. As he watched, the raft flipped over, sending its riders into the angry river. "That raft turned over. Hope no one gets hurt." He stood to get a better view.

  Faith stood and then slid to the ground. "Oh, my gosh! That's a rough rapid right there. At this time of year, it's full of hydraulics, holes in the water that can trap a body underwater." She took several steps before he caught her arm.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  She tugged her arm free. "Down to make sure everyone's okay. Are you coming with me?"

  He checked his cell phone clipped to his belt. The light was green. He started to dial.

  Faith laid her hand on his, and he looked up. Their gazes met. "Is that all you're willing to do? Make a phone call?"

  His ego bruised, he shot back, "They can have a rescue helicopter here in a few minutes..."

  "Maybe we should make sure that someone is hurt before we call for help. Those rafts capsize all the time. Usually, everyone is okay, but sometimes they get hurt."

  He nodded.

  She motioned toward a slight opening in the brush. "Here's a path, but it looks steep."

  Glancing down at his loafers, he wished he'd thought to wear hiking boots, or at least tennis shoes. Descending a treacherous gorge in leather soles was going to be more excitement than he'd prepared for. But when he glimpsed down and spied a rafter clinging to a rock in the river's center, screaming at the top of her lungs, he knew he had to take the chance. "Now we call," he said, first hitting the power button on his phone. After the operator told him a search and rescue helicopter had been sent, he said, "Let's go."

  They plunged into the thick forest and ran down the narrow path that was no more than beaten down ivy at the cliff's edge. Faith wasn't any more prepared for rock climbing than he was. She wore a dress and flat, but slick-soled shoes, and he had to catch her when she slipped, holding her by the arm until she found secure footing. As they scrambled down the steep trail, he silently prayed his assistance would not be needed at the river. It had been years since he'd been a med student, working in emergency medicine. A mistake could be fatal if the injury was bad enough. Experience had taught him that painful lesson years ago.

  The path curved, snaking down a shallower side of the gorge, but was still slick and muddy. Several times, Garret slid, his soles losing grip in the muck, and once he skidded down fifteen feet before he found a foothold. After he reached the bottom, he released a sigh of relief. Faith gave him a knowing grin, having several times used his body as a brace to keep from careening down the path.

  By the time, they neared the riverbank; the swift current had carried several of the rafters downstream, including the woman who had been clinging to the rock. But two of them, a man and woman had swum to shore.

  Garret looked at Faith as he offered her a hand down the last slope next to the riverbank, then after sucking in a few deep breaths, he ran to the visibly shaking man and woman. Over the roar of the river behind them, he asked if they were injured.

  The man stared blankly, but the woman gripped Garret's arm and cried, "Our son! He's ten. With a yellow vest."

  With Faith at his heels, Garret dashed down the riverbank looking for boy. "We'll never find him," he called over his shoulder, his breaths bursting through the words as he ran. "The current's too fast. He's probably half a mile downriver by now." Trees and bushes with limbs reaching toward the riverbank blocked his way. He pushed them aside as he ran.

  "Ahead, on the other side of the bend, the current slows. If he can swim, he can make it to shore over there." Faith leaned against a tree, looking breathless as she pointed in the direction she meant.

  Around the curve, the water still ran swift, but its surface was smooth rather than thrashing. A gathering of rafters stood on the shore about fifty yards ahead. He sprinted toward them, leaving Faith behind.

  When he approached the sodden group, curious stares greeted him.

  One man looked at Garret and asked, "What's up?"

  Garret froze, his gaze shooting from one face to the next. "I'm a doctor. Looking for a small boy. Ten, with a yellow vest." Faith's footsteps shuffled on rock behind him.

  The man who'd spoken nodded. "He's here. The guy with him is an RN. He said the boy has a broken leg. Looks pretty bad." He pointed at a small boy, dwarfed by the bright yellow life jacket and helmet, who lay propped up against a large bolder. A man was kneeled next to him, his back to Garret.

  Garret shook his head as he jogged toward the boy, shocked that his parents would take a boy that size on a river raft, regardless of the jacket and helmet. Rapids were deadly, and adults died wearing the latest in protection. What parent in their right mind would do something so stupid?

  The kid was tiny for his age, sopping wet, and his face chalky white. But he was still awake and alert. The nurse held blood-soaked rags on his leg.

  "I'm a doctor. Can I help?" Garret offered.

  "I'm trying to stop the bleeding. It's bad." The man lifted the rags to allow Garret to check the wound. The boy had a compound fracture, a sharp splinter of bone piercing his skin.

  Garret glanced back at Faith, who was standing behind him, her hands cupped over her mouth, breathing loudly. "He needs to get to a hospital."

  Faith nodded. "What do we do?"

  The boy's eyelids slid closed, and Garret looked down at the leg again. "Damn!"

  "What is it?" Faith asked, stooping down beside Garret.

  "He's going into shock. Could be the blood loss." He looked up, searched out the nurse, then glanced back down at the child. As he gazed down at the boy's ashen features, his panic swelled until his heart was racing and his hands shook.

  "Oh, my God! My baby!" a woman cried from behind him. "Oh, my God! Help him. Please!"

  In the span of a breath, Garret was whisked back in time, standing in the emergency room as a resident treating a small boy who'd been hit by a car. Recalling with gut clenching regret how much a foolish oversight on his part had cost the child his life.

  That had been his last trauma case. The next day, he applied for an opening at another hospital in psychiatric medicine.

  Now, it was happening again. Another child's life lay in his hands.

  Faith gripped his shoulder and shook him. "Garret. Are you all right?"

  Firmly in the present again, Garrett called out, "Hey, you! Nurse. Do you have a first aid kit? A thermal blanket?"

  The man, who now stood with the boy's parents, his hands on the mother's trembling shoulders, shook his head. "Everything's with the raft."

  "Damn! We need to lay him down," Garret said as he eased the boy flat on his back. "I may need a tourniquet. A stick and some rope. And find something to warm him," he told Faith.

  Faith nodded. "I'll see what I can find." She ran from him
, and Garret returned his attention to the boy, determined not to give into his fears. Cursing himself for coming down there in the first place, he checked the boy's foot. It was cold and blue. He guessed the fractured bone had severed an artery, the blood loss causing the child's shock.

  Faith returned with a collection of sticks. "I can't find anything to warm him. Everyone's clothes are wet and cold. And I couldn't find any rope."

  Garret nodded and stripped his shirt off. Then he looked at Faith, eyed her dress, and asked, "Would you mind donating a bit of your dress?"

  She smiled and stood. "Absolutely not."

  He ripped a strip from the bottom, wrapped it around the child's thigh, and, gritting his teeth in fear, tightened it by knotting it around the stick and twisting the stick. The bleeding from the wound stopped. And the tiniest trickle of relief eased down his spine. He sat back to catch his breath.

  Faith kneeled next to him and eased the boy out of his life jacket and sodden shirt and laid Garret's dry shirt over him.

  "Now what do we do?" she asked, her eyes searching his.

  He dropped his gaze to the ground, certain she would see his fear, sense the fact that he didn't know what the hell he was doing

  The nurse huddled next to him. "What do you think, doc? Do we splint the leg? Or would that damage it more?"

  Hell if I know! They were all looking at him now. Faith, the nurse, the rafters, the kid's terrified parents. Like he was their savior. Like he knew how to treat every damn trauma. He was a psychiatrist, damn it. He treated depression, bipolar disorder, and eating disorders. He didn't set broken legs…or cure autism.

  "Garret?" Faith repeated, laying her hand on his shoulder again. He glanced at her, saw the worry in her face. Her mouth was drawn taut, her eyelids heavy. "Can I help you splint the leg?" she asked, nodding.

  He returned her nod. "Yes." He showed her where to hold the boy's leg so it wouldn't move and carefully wrapped scraps of her dress around it and some sticks running down both sides to hold it steady. He didn't breathe until it was done.

  Then, he stood, turning back toward the nurse. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Yeah."

  "You take kids on the rafts?"

  "Yeah, we do it all the time. This river's pretty safe this time of year, but I wouldn't take them in the spring, or on any of the other rivers we raft, though."

  "Don't do it again."

  The young man stepped back.

  Garret took a deep breath. "Don't take a kid on the river again!"

  "Look man, that's not my call. I just work for the rafting company. They book the trips, and they make the rules. My job is to make sure the tourists have a good time and make it down the river alive."

  "You almost failed," Garret growled. "This kid's hurt, could lose his leg. How the hell would you feel about that?"

  Faith squeezed Garret's arm, leaned close, and whispered, "You're not going to change anything this way. I agree with you one hundred percent, but this is not the way to handle it. Besides, his parents are the ones who made the decision, not this man. And I'm sure you don't want them feeling any worse than they already do."

  Garret's gaze met Faith's again. "What kind of parent would send their kid down a raging river on a flimsy raft?"

  "I know, I know." Her expression was sincere.

  After the rescue helicopter arrived and dropped a basket as it hovered overhead, Garret and Faith picked up the boy and gently fastened him in with the paramedic's help, then stepped back as the paramedic helped each parent board. A hand gently rested upon Garret's shoulder as he watched the helicopter rise above the treetops. Once the chopper was out of sight, Garret eagerly turned his back to the remaining rafters. Catching Faith by the arm, he gently swung her around, and they walked away. "Damn adrenaline junkies," he cursed.

  She shrugged her shoulders as she fell into step beside him.

  As Garret walked, his fear and anger eased, replaced with the strange peace that always came after a tense moment. He remembered that feeling, a strange mix of relief and elation, which followed the many successful traumas he'd experienced in the emergency room.

  He looked at Faith. "Thanks for helping me back there."

  "I didn't do much," she whispered.

  He glanced at her. "Yes. You did."

  "I kind of forced you to go down there. It was the least I could do--"

  He stopped walking. "No one forced me to do anything."

  Her cheeks flushed pink as she nodded.

  A brusque wind lifted her hair, sweeping one strand across her cheek and another curling around her jaw. She shook her head to send them from her face, and a bolt of heat shot up his spine.

  Since when did a woman's hair blowing in the wind turn him on?

  He looked away; his unwelcome reaction was undoubtedly the result of over three years of abstinence and the day's excitement.

  "How long do you think it'll take us to get back to the lodge?" he asked, beginning to walk again. He glanced down at his watch. Somehow, two hours had passed. Marian would be furious. But then again, he wasn't about to let her moods afflict him.

  "Well, we're going uphill now, and I don't know about you, but I've done more than my fair share of running for one day."

  He glanced at her and realized she still limped from her turned ankle. He gently caught her arm to stop her. "Are you okay? Sorry, this whole, 'I'll be a hero and rescue someone' thing was a bad idea. I shouldn't have let you come down here with me, not with that twisted ankle. You could have hurt it worse."

  She smiled. "What are you talking about? It was my idea, remember? And I wouldn't have listened to you, anyway. Besides, you were truly heroic."

  Ignoring the adulation he saw in her wide-eyed expression, he said, "I'm not a hero."

  "Yes, you are." She dropped her gaze from his, and long dark eyelashes brushed her flushed skin. She looked so young at that moment. Idealistic and damned sexy. "You've done something I haven't been able to do."

  He rested an index finger under her chin and coaxed it up. This woman's chin did not belong dropped against her chest. Ever.

  She hesitantly met his gaze. "It's really hard to admit this." She shrunk from his touch, and he didn't try to reach for her again. "Since we met, I thought you were so smart, so sharp and together. You had an attitude, were cocky and defensive, but I just attributed that to our program. I know what many psychiatrists say about Mountain Rise."

  She stopped next to a hollowed out tree stump and sat down, then reached down to slip first one shoe and then the other off her feet.

  He waited, his breathing shallower than he would have expected, considering they weren't running.

  "I faced the same thing one day--in a different way, though--as you did today," she continued. "Everyone watching you, waiting for you to perform some sort of miracle, while deep inside you don't have any idea what you should do."

  The truth in her summary stung, yet he bit back a defense. She hadn't said it in a judgmental way. Still he flamed at the thought of that moment, of everyone looking at him. Despite the fact that doctors were always being observed, he'd never been comfortable being watched and criticized, his every action questioned Had his insecurities been that obvious?

  "You see, the difference between us is simple. You stayed. I ran." She stood up and walked past him on the narrow path. As her shoulder brushed his, the wind stirred her hair again. A lock settled upon her lips.

  He wanted to reach out and pluck the strand from her mouth. In its place, he wanted to plant his own mouth. His hand lifted, a fingertip briefly touching her lip. A jolt leapt up his arm, sending a wave of heat through his body.

  Her gaze lifted to his. "Please don't," she whispered.

  He jerked his hand away and stepped aside. "Sorry."

  She turned from him, faced the river, and wrapped her arms around herself. The muscles of her toned arms tensed, hinting at their latent strength.

  Temptation to ask what she was thinking and feeling drummed
him. He wanted to know when people had watched and judged her. What miracle had they expected from her? Yet he knew she would clam up if pushed. "If running bothers you so much, why don't you go back and face whatever it was?" he asked, deciding that was a general enough question to be non-threatening.

  "I can't. It's not that simple. Besides, I'd have to leave my job."

  He stepped from behind her to stand at her side. Her eyes shone as he studied her profile. Straight nose, upturned a bit. High cheekbones now pink from exertion or possibly embarrassment. She chewed on her full bottom lip. He could practically taste its sweetness just watching her.

  "My job means so much to me. It's all I have," she continued.

  Her job is all she has? He'd always had someone or something besides work to fill his life. His marriage, his daughter. A tingle of pity crept over him, quickly replaced by guilt. "And I'm an ass for treating you the way I have."

  "No, you're not an ass."

  "That's a matter of opinion. As I recall, you've called me a 'stubborn ass' at least once."

  She turned to him, a gentle smile on her face. God, was she gorgeous! It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from grabbing her arms and holding her close.

  He turned away as she bent to slip her shoes back on. "We'd better get back. Do you have any appointments this afternoon?" He started walking again, slower so she wouldn't strain her ankle any more than she already had.

  "Three o'clock with Mr. Roberts," she said as he helped her climb over a rock and then motioned for her to walk ahead of him.

  "I don't think you're going to make it."

  "No? Why? What time is it?" she asked over her shoulder.

  He offered his hand to her again when she stepped over a fallen tree. "Three-thirty."

  Her shoulders slumped. "Damn!"

  "Can I help somehow? Is there someone I can talk to? I can let them know it was my fault."

  She shook her head and continued forward in silence. After a moment, she said, "Nope. That's okay. I'll handle it."

  The walk back to the lodge took a lot less time than he'd expected, and he was grateful. Faith had grown silent and brooding, making him feel even worse.