Page 24 of Beneath Her Hands
11
Rosalind
It tugged at Rosalind that she was pushing Jane away when every instinct screamed at her to bring her closer, but she knew it would be a mistake to become attached to someone here. She would never be happy in this small city, and it wouldn’t take long for the resentment to build. She steeled her nerves. It sucked, but this was going to be much simpler than waiting, than letting the resentment build until they hated each other. At least this way, they would always have the memory of the night before. Rosalind felt her cheeks flush as she thought about it. It was by far the most spectacular sex she had ever experienced. Remembering how wave after wave of orgasm had crashed over her caused her blood to heat up and she fought to shut down the line of thought. It’s better this way, she told herself again and again. Still, it hurt her deeply that Jane would think of her in this light. She wished she could explain to her how amazing she was, how deeply she longed for Jane to stay by her side. This way, Jane would think less of Rosalind. Jane would forever see her asa flake, someone who was shallow enough to push her aside. It would hurt, but not nearly as much as the alternative.
Rosalind made it back to her office, a small room with a smaller desk, but it was still downright luxurious compared to the places she’d worked before. The mountains of paperwork and documentation were a bit overbearing, however, and that was something she would have to get used to if she was going to continue working stateside. She immediately winced at the thought, there was no way she’d be able to stay here once all this was over. Her phone pinged and she glanced down at it. Another accident on the interstate. She grabbed her coat and headed for the ER.
She pushed through the doors, and her heart skipped when she saw Jane standing near the ambulance bay already decked out in trauma gear. She took a quick couple of breaths and lifted her chin; she had to focus on the job at the moment.
“What have we got?” Rosalind asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.
Jane responded without looking at her. “Twenty-six-year-old female in pretty bad shape, she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”
“Any others?” Rosalind asked as she tied her gown.
“There are a couple others coming in, but mostly bumps and scrapes, we likely won’t even see them,” Jane answered. Rosalind clocked the breeze wisping Jane’s hair that she’d tied into a tight bun as Jane’s gaze focused out over the ambulance bay. The sirens grew louder as the vehicle approached, and the tension of the moment grew taut. Rosalind forced her eyes from Jane’s beautiful face and turned toward the flashing lights.
The ambulance rushed into the bay and the paramedic jumped out the front as Jane opened the back doors. She started shouting vitals as they rushed the woman through the doors. Her blood pressure was dropping and her heart rate was all over the place; the poor woman was barely clinging to life. They’dhad to cut her free from the vehicle and she had several crushed bones. Rosalind couldn’t bring herself to hope for this woman’s survival.
“Get her to CT,” Rosalind shouted. “I’d bet on a brain bleed.”
Without an audible response, the woman’s gurney shifted paths, and Rosalind and Jane stopped as they pushed her into radiology. Without acknowledging each other, they both turned and headed for the operating room to scrub.
Rosalind couldn’t help but notice that even though they refused to look at one another, anyone from the outside looking in would believe that they’d worked together for decades. They stopped in the scrub area and washed their hands, while the nurses and techs readied the room. They moved around each other almost like a dance, and the grace and efficiency of their movements was almost beautiful. The same thing played out once they were in the operating room. They set up their stations with practiced precision, each one balancing on the other. The chemistry between them was undeniable, at least to anyone else. They complimented each other perfectly in this space—this place where they were more themselves than anywhere else in the world.
Like a perfectly timed ritual, as soon as they were gowned and gloved the patient was wheeled in, prepped and ready for surgery. The tech hung pictures from a CT and MRI on the boards to assist them with their surgery and for the first time, their eyes met. Electricity danced through the air as they both fell into the roles they had perfected over their lifetimes.
“Massive hemorrhage in the skull, severe abdominal bleed, a crushed pelvis and left femur,” Rosalind called out as she glanced through the images.
Without saying a word, Jane headed for the patient’s head while Rosalind worked on the abdomen. They moved through the surgeries like a machine, relieving pressure on the brain andtying up veins and arteries in the abdomen. They went through over twelve units of blood as they spent hours on their feet, fighting tirelessly to save the life of this stranger.
More than a few times, the patient’s vitals crashed, but they managed to revive her again and again. Rosalind could see that even without knowing the patient’s name that this woman was tough, a fighter, and despite the hours she’d already spent working on her and putting her back together, Rosalind was given a renewed fervor. She couldn’t let this patient die. Eventually, finally, the woman’s vital signs were stable.
Jane and Rosalind immediately set to work on resetting the bones that had been crushed in the accident. Tough, almost barbaric, work but necessary for any quality of life. Still, they worked together like it was second nature, straightening, pinning, resetting bones and reattaching ligaments. Several more hours and a mountain of titanium later, Jane and Rosalind were able to finally call an end to the surgery, and despite all odds, the patient was alive and stable. They scrubbed in silence before leaving the operating room, exhausted and exhilarated.
They went into the waiting room, eager to tell the family of this patient how the surgery went. They learned that her name was Gretchen McLean, and she came from a very wealthy family in Aspen. Her parents had been waiting for her arrival after spending time in New Mexico. They were at the hospital now, waiting for word.
“Mr. and Mrs. McLean?” Jane said as they entered the waiting room, though it was obvious who they were by sight. They were both wearing expensive clothing and jewelry. Mrs. McLean’s hair was neatly and perfectly coiffed, but her make-up was ragged and smeared from crying. Mr. McLean was in a sharp designer suit, and even Rosalind could recognize the insanely expensive watch on his wrist. Life and death didn’t regard status, though, and Rosalind had to remember that.
“How is she?” Mr. McLean asked as they approached.
“She’s stable, but there’s a long road ahead of her,” Jane answered.
“She came in with a brain bleed, and a lot of internal bleeding, but we were able to get that under control,” Rosalind added, watching as Mrs. McLean turned pale.
Jane and Rosalind both spoke, giving the details of their parts of the recovery surgery and explaining what would come next, assuming she woke up at all. At this point, all they could do was wait and hope for the best.
“Can you explain to my why my daughter was the only one in this bad of shape?” Mrs. McLean finally asked as they finished their report. “Everyone else seems to be evading the question, did she do something wrong?”
“I… um,” Jane stammered. “I don’t really know the details of the accident.”
“From what we were told, she was the only one not wearing a restraint,” Rosalind said softly and braced for the inevitable questions.
“She wasn’t… She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt?” Mrs. McLean said, more to herself than anyone else. “Why?”
“That question I can’t answer,” Rosalind said. “There could be any number of reasons.”
“We’ve always stressed the importance of that,” Mr. McLean said, furrowing his brows.
