Page 41 of From Bachelor to Daddy

With the help of the crew, they slid the two sides of the stretcher under him and clicked the parts together, then wrapped him in the protective wings and fastened the straps that held him securely in place.

Worried that a vertical lift might injure him further, she radioed up to let Dave know she was sending him up, attaching four straps to the winch wire, and signalling to lift.

As ever, it seemed to take an age for the winch wire to descend again for her, but when it did, a crewman handed it to her and she slid the little seat between her legs and clipped on, signalling again to lift.

By the time she unclipped back in the helicopter, Mark had the stretcher secure and a cannula inserted in the man’s hand, ready for fluid resuscitation, and an oxygen mask on his face.

‘Braxton or straight to Retford?’ Marty asked.

‘Retford,’ Emma told him, aware that the Braxton Hospital didn’t have the surgical teams the man would need.

Working carefully, she and Mark removed the man’s boots, cutting the laces to ease them off his feet before cutting away his socks and the tattered clothing on his legs. They irrigated the wounds, squirting most of the loose debris away, but had to resort to tweezers for the deeper pieces.

‘It’s a mercy he’s unconscious,’ Mark said as they wrapped clean dressings around the injured limbs. The tibia was broken on both legs and from the position of the break, Emma suspected the fibula would also have suffered. But the breaks were above the ankles, which would make surgery and recovery simpler.

His thighs were less damaged.

‘Probably because his right hip bone and pelvis bore the brunt of the pressure,’ Mark said, but for all the IV fluids they were pumping into him, his blood pressure remained worryingly low.

Had a major blood vessel been impacted when his chest had been caught by the great weight? But wouldn’t he have already bled out if that was the case? The question tormented Emma.

Should they put down in Braxton first so a surgeon could open him up to look for a rupture?

‘ETA Retford thirty minutes.’

Marty’s message decided her. Retford was definitely the best option.

She radioed her findings to Retford Hospital, adding her suspicion about internal bleeding, so was pleased to see a crash team waiting as they touched down.

The man was rushed straight into Theatre, and she sat in the doorway of the helicopter to complete her paperwork. One copy had accompanied the man, but this second sheet was required for the Search and rescue service records.

‘You want to come and see George?’ Marty asked, dropping down to sit beside her.

Did she?

Her boys had been premmie, but only by six weeks, but she’d still spent enough time in a PICU to know she didn’t really like the places. There was always a positive vibe, and few premmie babies were ever lost, but the sight of the wee mites in their cribs brought back memories of the baby she had lost—the baby who had been too small to save.

‘No, thanks,’ she said, but probably so long after he’d asked the question that he’d guess what she’d been thinking.

‘No worries, but I’m popping in to see the family, so why don’t you go over to the canteen? Dave and Mark will be there. We’ll leave in thirty minutes unless there’s another callout, in which case I’ll contact you.’

He jumped to the ground and walked away, leaving Emma feeling very alone, and more than slightly put out.

Normally, Marty would touch her shoulder as he passed her, or at least turn around and wave if he was walking away.

Had she let him down, not going to see George?

Oh, for heaven’s sake, get your head on straight, she berated herself. There was no reason on earth why Marty should wave or touch her shoulder. In fact, it was far better that he didn’t because if either thing had happened it would have affected her body in ways she didn’t want—her shoulder would have felt warm where his hand had been, while a wave, or the smile that always accompanied it, would have sent shivers down her spine.

But physical reactions stemmed from attraction—that’s all it was. After all, he was an attractive man—hadn’t half the women in town been attracted to him at some time?

And if it was attraction, then all she had to do was resist it…

* * *

Marty headed straight for the PICU, knowing at least one of the family would be there.

Mac and Nikki were.

‘Hallie’s taken Izzy to get some clothes—little essentials like underwear and nightdresses and stuff to wear during the day,’ Mac explained.

‘And I’m in charge of George,’ Nikki announced. ‘Of talking to him, I mean. You have to talk to the babies, did you know that? I’ve been telling him about Wetherby and how we’ll play in the sand when he gets a bit bigger and how I’ll help him make sandcastles with moats around them and even volcanoes.’

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