Page 129 of Look on the Bright Side

“Back the fuck off,” Lorenzo barked. Lark didn’t bother to check whether the idiot obeyed.

The man was choking to death. “Sweeping his mouth,” she said. It didn’t help. “Alcohol wipe,” she said, sticking out her hand. Lorenzo handed the little packet to her, and she tore it open with her teeth, then swabbed the man’s neck. She felt his Adam’s apple, then massaged just below it with her forefinger. “Right here,” she said, pulling the skin back.

Lorenzo double-checked the location, took the box cutter and made a half-inch slice in the man’s throat. “Holy crap!” someone yelped. Lark pulled the skin apart, revealing the cricothyroid cartilage, a yellowish, rubbery membrane. Lorenzo sliced that as well—the box cutter was doing a great job—then took the section of straw from his shirt pocket and worked it into the man’s trachea.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Switch with me,” she said.

He obeyed without protest, and she leaned over the man, hand on his chest, and blew into the straw. His chest rose. She did it again, then pulled back and waited.

His chest rose again. “He’s breathing,” she said. Yes. Another breath. His eyes fluttered, and Lark glanced at Lorenzo. “Great job.”

He let out a breath. “You too, Dr.Smith. You too.”

Then the paramedics were there with their backboards and radios, and Lark was talking in the code of emergency services, briefing them, sending them to the other cars, checking the woman with the possible spleen injury, the older lady lying on the side of the road who was not just hot but possibly having a heart attack, the man with the broken leg. She heard the reassuring sound of a helicopter and helped pack up the broken-faced man. He grabbed her hand as they loaded him in.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she said, and she believed it.

Nine people were taken to the ER. Lark caught a ride with the second ambulance, and the instant it stopped, she ran straight to Howard. “Can I help?” she asked.

“The newly born legend arrives,” he said. “Absolutely. Get some scrubs on and join us.”

The other injured people were brought in and triaged. Broken bones, back pain, bruises, panic attack, sore shoulder, mild concussion. The woman with the bruised spleen and the man with the broken leg were admitted, as was the lady who’d been lying on the side of the road.

Lark didn’t know what time it was when Howard finally came over to her.

“Helluva job, Lark. I heard you were quite a boss out there.”

She blew out a breath. “I was terrified.”

“Of course you were. Did you have your moment?”

She knew exactly what he meant, and abruptly, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Tears of pride this time. “I did. I was a real doctor out there.”

“Hell, yes, you were.” He smiled. “We’ll be sorry to lose you. Dr.Hanks emailed me. You’re back in Oncology.”

“Really?” she said. “Oh. Wow. Um…”

“Go on,” he said fondly. “Make my day.”

“Can I stay here instead?”

“Ha!” Howard fist pumped. “I knew it! I knew I’d lure you over to the dark side. Attagirl. Sure, call him Monday. Now get out of here. Go have fun. Don’t you have a wedding this weekend? I think your guy is out there in the waiting room.”

She looked at her phone. Holy guacamole, it was only five o’clock. She had nineteen messages. She didn’t read them all, but…

Addie: You! Are! Amazing!

Harlow: Honey! I’m so proud of you!

Winnie: Great job, Lark. Grace under pressure.

Robbie: Fucking badass.

Grandpop: WE HEARD EVERYYTHING AND AREE VERY PROUD OF YU DEAR LARK!

Mom: Are you okay? We’re so proud of you, but you must be drained! Call when you get a chance. Love you so much!!!

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