Washed Away

That was what normal people did. Cheryl sighed. That was exactly what her response would have been two years ago: she would have shrugged and given an easy smile, bitten her tongue over a minor annoyance, instead of charging like a bull at a red flag, provoking confrontation…erecting barriers.

It was almost second nature to her now, putting up protective screens around her heart the second she felt her guard was down. One look at the local vet and her guard had fallen around her ankles like a pair of panties without elastic. Good-looking, friendly and able to deflect her barbs—a heady combination, and the very last thing she needed right now. The very last thing she needed full stop, Cheryl thought, forcibly pushing all thoughts of the handsome stranger out of her mind. Pulling over to the side of the road, she checked her map. The directions and landmarks that had seemed so straightforward when Mitch had given them to her were almost useless now with the wipers going at full tilt and visibility down to near zero.

If the weather had been bad an hour ago, it was dire now.

She had to be near her destination, Cheryl reasoned, running a finger along the map, following her journey from Turning Point. There was the garage where she’d filled up the Jeep, there was the crossroad where she’d swung left, and over there…Wiping the side window with the sleeve of her coat, Cheryl glanced over at the swollen river gushing rapidly alongside the road, its dirty gray surf rolling more like waves on an ocean, before she turned back to the map. She’d followed the instructions to the letter, so where the hell was the farmhouse? She thought about calling Mitch, but decided to leave that as a last resort. Mitch didn’t have time to hold her hand today. Maybe she could wave down a passing car. But knowing her luck, it would be that smug vet that stopped to help. His already overinflated ego would be pumped up a touch further when he saw the scrape she was in….

“Stop it,” Cheryl scolded herself. Why was she allowing herself to dwell on something so irrelevant? Wiping down the windows again, she was about to reach for the phone and admit she was hopelessly lost, when a driveway she could have sworn hadn’t been there a couple of moments ago appeared in her sideview mirror. Cheryl allowed herself a triumphant smile.

She’d made it on her own!

“THANK YOU SO MUCH for coming out to us.”

As Beth ushered her into the hallway, the first thing to hit Cheryl was the delicious smell of home baking.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” Beth said. “I know how busy everyone is today.”

“It is Beth, isn’t it?” Cheryl asked, shaking the woman’s hand briefly. “I’m Cheryl Tierney. Mitch told me you’ve got a little guy in a lot of pain who needs to be seen.”

“I do. His name’s Flynn.”

“Flynn.” Cheryl smiled at the small boy lying on the sofa as Beth showed her through to the living area. The smell of baking gave way to that delicious new-baby smell, the powdery, milky scent of innocence. Cheryl glanced over to the crib in the corner. A tiny precious bundle lay sleeping quietly there. She turned back to the boy. His arm was elevated on a cushion, his green eyes staring up at her, and for a tiny guilt-tinged moment, Cheryl felt something so alien it took a second to register. The feeling that seemed to reach out and knot her stomach in one single-handed motion was jealousy. If Cheryl had made a blueprint of her life ten years ago, this was where she would have liked to be at the ripe old age of thirty-one.

At home with her babies.

Not a visiting nurse, frozen to the core, hair plastered to her scalp. Not a newly divorced, slightly brittle career woman, with a fitness regime that would rival that of any sports professional. Okay, Turning Point wasn’t exactly New York, and her ex-husband Joe was a lawyer rather than a firefighter, but the home Beth had created had Cheryl’s throat tightening. Long suppressed dreams momentarily surfaced as she glimpsed the life she had thought she’d be leading, and she felt a pang of homesickness for a city she still missed and a family that had fallen apart.

Oh, she’d fallen in love with Courage Bay. She’d embraced the healthy outdoor lifestyle with open arms, joined a gym within a few weeks of arriving and shopped till she’d dropped on rather too many occasions. Fashion was a newly discovered passion of Cheryl’s, now that her salary wasn’t tied up in Joe’s education. And she loved the challenges of her work as a trauma nurse at Courage Bay Hospital.

But as happy as she was, as fulfilled as her life might be, every now and then her loss hit her as if it had all happened only yesterday. Anything could set her off. An elderly couple walking hand in hand along the beach reminded her of her parents, a hotshot lawyer on a TV show resembled her ex-husband Joe, a baby sleeping in its pram recalled lost dreams. And now a seven-year-old boy named Flynn, with green eyes and blond hair….

“Hi, Flynn.” Cheryl smiled at him, pushing her own feelings aside, remembering in an instant why she was here. “My name’s Cheryl.”

“Are you a doctor?” he asked in a lisping voice.

His two front teeth were missing, and his eyes were so suspicious Cheryl found herself smiling.

“No,” she answered. “There wasn’t a doctor free to come out, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me. I’m a trauma nurse.”

“What’s that?”

Cheryl didn’t mind the questions a bit; at least they took Flynn’s mind off his injury as she gently examined it. “Well, I work in the emergency department of a hospital in Courage Bay, California.”

“So you see lots of injured people, then?” Flynn asked his eyes widening. “Do you see guts hanging out and legs falling off?”

“Flynn!” Beth broke in. “Where did you learn to speak like that?”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Cheryl winked at her small patient. “It’s a perfectly good question. I see lots of things,” Cheryl replied assuredly as she examined his arm, wincing inside as Flynn bit back a yelp. She decided to prolong the rather gory conversation just to keep Flynn’s mind off his pain as she gently palpated the swollen wrist. “Lots of blood and guts, though I haven’t seen too many legs falling off.”

“Oh.” Flynn gave a disappointed shrug. “Hanging off, then?”

“Hanging off?” Cheryl frowned, as if she was thinking hard. “Yep, now you mention it, I’ve seen a few of them.”

“Sick!” Flynn exclaimed, and from his enthusiastic smile, Cheryl assumed that meant he was suitably impressed.

“Apparently sick’s the new word for cool.” Beth sighed as Cheryl finished her examination and gently placed the boy’s arm back onto the pillow. “Normally, I’d never worry Hal when he’s out on call.” She was ringing her hands in concern as she watched her son. “But Flynn’s been in agony since he fell, though you wouldn’t think it to look at him now. I gave him some painkillers, but if you’d seen him before…”

“The painkillers would have kicked in by now—and now he’s not moving his arm and he’s sitting quietly, which is why he’s not upset. He had good reason to make a fuss and you had every reason to call your husband.” Cheryl looked up at Beth. “He’s broken his wrist.”

“Sick!” Flynn shouted, as Beth promptly dissolved into tears.

“Now, how about you lie there quietly for a moment, Flynn, while I speak to your mom, and soon I’ll be back and we can see about making your arm a bit more comfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” Beth gulped as they reached the kitchen. “I know it’s only a broken wrist and you probably think I’m overreacting. It’s just that…”

“It’s the last thing you need right now,” Cheryl said as Beth nodded slowly. “You’ve got a new baby, Beth. It’s no wonder you’re upset that Flynn’s broken his arm. Any mother would be.”

“I suppose.” Beth didn’t sound particularly convinced or comforted. “Do you have kids, Cheryl?”

“No.” Cheryl gave a small smile. “But I’ve seen enough moms in my line of work to know that your reaction to Flynn’s injury is perfectly normal. There’s nothing wrong with shedding a few tears.”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Beth forced a smile. “I’m fine. The kettle’s just boiled, Cheryl. Can I make you a drink before you get started?”

“Not for me, thanks. I’d best get started on setting that wrist.”

“Well, after then,” Beth suggested. “I’ve made some cookies….”

But Cheryl shook her head, keen to get the job done and return to town.

“I think Mitch will want me to head straight back. If you can find me a bucket that would be great. I’ll also need some warm water for the plaster and a few towels.” Taking her cue, Beth scurried out of the kitchen, and Cheryl unloaded her backpack on the freshly scrubbed table. Come to think of it, everything was freshly scrubbed—the place was spotless.

Immaculate even.

So why didn’t it sit right? Cheryl wondered.

“Are you going to put on a cast?” Beth asked, returning loaded with towels and a bucket.

Cheryl shook her head. “Just a temporary back slab, but that should be enough to provide some relief for Flynn. His wrist doesn’t look displaced.” As Beth frowned, Cheryl checked herself and spoke in layman’s terms. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a small break with no deformity, but it will need to be confirmed by X ray. Given the weather, I think your chances of a trip to the hospital are slim. So for now, we’ll stick with the back slab. First, I bandage the arm with cotton wool, then put on a slab of plaster of Paris, which I’ll mold to his arm and attach with a bandage. It’ll come off easily when he gets to the hospital, but that will give him a lot of support and take care of his pain till then. Just keep his wrist in a sling, and once the storm is over, you can take him for an X ray and no doubt they’ll put on a more substantial cast.”

“And he’ll be fine,” Beth said firmly, flashing a smile, but the sparkle of tears in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Cheryl.

She narrowed her eyes in concern. Something told her that no matter how much she was needed back in Turning Point, for a moment or two she was needed here, as well.

“Is there anything else on your mind, Beth—apart from Flynn, I mean? Anything else worrying you?”

“Oh, you haven’t got time to listen to my moans,” Beth said airily. “Mitch will be wondering where you’ve got to.”

“Mitch can wait awhile,” Cheryl said gently. “Sometimes it helps to talk….”

“Oh, what would you know?” Beth’s voice was brittle. “I suppose you think it’s easy. I suppose you think that keeping house is child’s play compared to what you do.” Aghast, Beth clapped her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’ve been nothing but nice and I…”

“It’s all right, Beth.” Cheryl kept her voice calm. Beth’s words might have stung but they weren’t aimed at her personally. Cheryl had been nursing long enough to know when someone was near the edge. Beth’s defensiveness and passive-aggressive responses were signs that needed to be heeded before Cheryl left this vulnerable woman alone with two small children. Tears were flowing freely now, and in the absence of tissues, Beth wept into the towel she was holding, her shoulders heaving as she let out whatever it was she had been keeping in. Instinctively Cheryl headed around the table, dragging a chair over and sitting by Beth.

“I’m so sorry,” Beth sobbed.

“Forget it,” Cheryl said gently. “What’s going on, Beth?”

“You haven’t got time for this.”

“That’s for me to decide,” Cheryl said firmly, taking the pressure off Beth while assuring her patient that she was in control. At the same time Cheryl was painfully aware that she didn’t have the luxury of sitting for hours. It was up to Beth. If she needed help, then she had to reach out now.

“I’m so worried, I can’t sleep, can’t sit down.”

Still Cheryl said nothing, just held the other woman’s gaze.

“Hal says that I’m being stupid, that there’s nothing wrong with Paul.”

“The new baby?” When Beth nodded, Cheryl pushed further, feeling her way slowly, unsure of the real issue here but knowing that whatever it was, it was big to Beth. “So you’ve got two boys now,” Cheryl probed. She was careful not to offer congratulations, not to assume, as most people might, that this should make Beth happy. When the woman literally crumpled before her, Cheryl knew she had been right.

“It should have been three.” Beth’s voice was a pale whisper, and Cheryl held her breath, knowing that the instinctive murmur of sympathy on her lips was not what Beth needed right now. “I should have had three little boys, but my second son, Cody, died.”

“How old was Cody?” Cheryl asked softly when it was clear Beth wasn’t going to volunteer anything more. “When he died?”

“Eight weeks old.” Beth pressed her fingers into her eyes, taking a few gulping breaths before continuing. “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I put him down for his afternoon sleep in his room….” She shook her head fiercely, clearly not ready to relive the experience, yet desperately needing to talk. “Hal was out on the farm with Noah….”

“Noah?” Cheryl asked, the name familiar, answering her own question in her mind before Beth did.

“He’s Turning Point’s veterinarian.”

And local hero, to boot, Cheryl thought with a dash of bitterness as she recalled their encounter at the gas station. But Noah wasn’t the issue here, Beth was, and Cheryl listened intently.

“They heard me screaming and came straight in. Poor Flynn. He saw everything. He still remembers it. He has nightmares about it every now and then.” She gave a loaded sigh. “We all do.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her expression of sympathy was appropriate now, and Cheryl squeezed Beth’s hand to show it was heartfelt.

“The coroner said everything that could have been done, had been. Hal and Noah were amazing. He even said that if there had been a hospital next door, they couldn’t have done anything more for Cody.”

“Did that help?”

“Not at the time,” Beth admitted, “but it does a bit now, especially since we’ve got Paul. At least now I know that there was nothing we could have done to prevent Cody’s death. Everything possible was done to try to save him. But when it happened, I was beyond consoling. I fell to pieces for a while.”

“Which is understandable. How about Hal?”

“He was devastated, of course, but in a different way. He’d take himself off to the farm or out to the tool-shed out back for hours on end, fixing things up, building things we didn’t need. He just wouldn’t talk about it to me.”

“Men generally deal with grief in a different way, Beth. They tend to keep it in, whereas women like to talk.”

“Don’t we.” A watery smile trembled on her lips. “He didn’t want me to have another baby. He wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope, and it seems he was right. I can’t sleep, I can’t let Paul out of my sight, and now poor Flynn’s gone and broken his arm because I wasn’t watching him properly because I was too scared to leave Paul.”

Beth’s tears were starting again, and hating herself for her insensitivity, Cheryl sneaked a quick look at her watch.

“He’s a seven-year-old boy,” she said firmly. “And seven-year-old boys are notorious for breaking bones. Believe me, I see it every day. You need support, Beth.” Cheryl squeezed the other woman’s hand again. “Everything you’ve told me—how you’re feeling, Hal’s reaction, your fears for the new baby—are completely normal reactions, given what you’ve been through. Is there anyone here you can talk to?”

“I’ve got lots of friends.” Beth shrugged. “My mom’s nearby.” But her expression belied her positive words and she started to cry again. “They just don’t understand, though. Dr. Holland was great. He warned me I’d feel like this. He said he’d call in, and that I could phone him anytime day or night if I was feeling anxious.”

“He sounds nice,” Cheryl ventured. “He’s the one who just had the heart attack, isn’t he?”

Beth nodded. “He’s Turning Point’s one and only doctor, but he was more than a doctor to me, he was a friend. Noah’s good—the vet,” she added, and Cheryl nodded. “He comes round for a drink every now and then and lets me ramble on about Cody and that horrible day, but I know, even if he tries not to show it, that he’s not really into babies. Not the two-legged type anyway. He’s only interested in his career.”

“I know the type,” Cheryl said, deliberately keeping the edge from her voice. But she did know the type—she’d been married to one, after all.

“There’s no one I can really talk to about it, Cheryl. No one at all.”

Only then did Beth’s plight really hit Cheryl. God, how she wished she were at work. Piles of leaflets and phone numbers were available at the nurses’ station. A psychiatrist was just a telephone call away.

But there weren’t such resources here, and even her time was in short supply.

“Beth, if there was any way I could put things off I’d stay awhile longer, but I really do have to get back.” Cheryl squeezed her hand again. “I have to set Flynn’s arm and return to town, but please don’t think I’m just walking out on you. You really do need some help, and I’m going to do my best to see you get it. Do you want me to ask Mitch to send Hal home?”

Immediately Beth shook her head.

“Please, Cheryl, don’t. It will only make things worse. Look, I’m not about to do anything stupid. I just need some help.”

“Well, you’ve taken the most difficult step—admitting it,” Cheryl said softly.

“If I could just get a decent night’s sleep—”

“You need a bit more than that,” Cheryl broke in. “But it would be a good start. Look…” Standing up, Cheryl turned on a smile and hit Beth with a good dose of practical assertion. “I’m going to speak to Amy Sherwood about you. She’s a doctor who’s come to Turning Point to help with the evacuation. Now, I’m not going to lie and say she’s going to race over. We’re supposed to be here to deal with an emergency….” Cheryl’s voice trailed off as she realized her insensitivity. Okay, this wasn’t exactly the cutting edge of trauma nursing, but it was an emergency to this family at least, and as a nurse, as a woman, Cheryl knew that she couldn’t just dismiss this family’s problems, and neither would Amy. “She’s a great doctor, and once I’ve explained your situation to her, I know that she’ll want to help. Of course, we’ll first have to see how the storm pans out, but once it’s over, either you can come into town or Amy will come out to you before we head back to Courage Bay. We can get the ball rolling. Look, if you ask her nicely, she might even throw in a prescription for something to help you sleep.” That comment lightened the loaded atmosphere just enough for Cheryl to do the hard bit.

“I really do have to get back, Beth. I’m sorry I haven’t got more time….”

“I understand.” Beth nodded bravely, and Cheryl’s heart went out to her, every shred of nursing instinct telling her that this woman really needed help.

For the next little while Flynn was a model patient, asking endless questions as Cheryl applied the back slab. An incredulous smile broke out on his face as Cheryl bandaged over the plaster slab.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said.

“Great, isn’t it?” Cheryl grinned. “But keep it dry, or it will go all soggy.”

“Thanks so much again,” Beth said as she followed Cheryl to the hallway. “For everything, Cheryl.”

“Can Flynn have this?” Pulling a chocolate bar out of her pocket, Cheryl gave it to Beth who seemed to remember something and dashed off.

“Wait there!” she called, but was back seconds later with a large tin. “The cookies I baked.” She smiled, handing them over. “Share them around the crews, but make sure Hal gets a couple from me.”

“Will do, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You get back inside and put your feet up. Forget the housework, forget the baking, concentrate on you and your boys for now.”

CHERYL WOULD HAVE RUN to the Jeep, but the wind was so strong, it was more a case of two steps forward, one step back. And as for breathing…Cheryl had no trouble getting air in. It whipped into her throat and pushed its way into her lungs uninvited—but breathing out was almost impossible. The driver door swung back in her hands as she opened it, and she had to battle the wind to close it once she was inside.

Starting the engine, Cheryl prepared to drive off. The rain was so loud on the roof, she at first didn’t register the pounding on the driver’s window, then frowned in concern as she saw a drenched Beth banging furiously on it.

Cheryl didn’t dare try opening the door again. Pushing the power window switch, she felt a moment’s un-ease, wondering what on earth could have forced Beth to leave her son and baby and run out in this weather.

“What’s happened?”

“The storm’s shifting course,” Beth shouted against the wind. “It just came over the radio….”

Cheryl felt her heart lurch. Mitch had been right!

“Is it going to hit Turning Point?”

“They’re not sure, but it’s swerved from its predicted course and it’s coming closer than they expected. A couple of nearby rivers have already burst their banks. You need to get back, and quickly, before the route back to town floods and you’re stuck here!”

Cheryl nodded. “Get inside, Beth.” The wind almost whipped the words out of her mouth. “Secure the house.”

“I will.” Beth nodded. “There’s a shortcut you could take.” She was pointing behind the house. “There’s a private road. Follow it down, then take a left at Hansen’s Barn.”

“Where?”

“Hansen’s Barn. You won’t be able to miss it. It’s an old, derelict barn. There’s a bridge…”

The conversation was becoming more difficult with every word, and Cheryl shouted over the wind. “The road behind your house?”

Beth gave a rapid nod. “Then swing a left.”

“Call Mitch,” Cheryl instructed her. “Tell him I’m coming. And Beth…get inside!”

Cheryl could feel the adrenaline kick in as she drove off, only this time it wasn’t welcome. It wasn’t the usual surge of excitement that hit her when an alert came in. This was the first fluttering of real panic as she contemplated what they could be facing if Hurricane Damon hit this region full force. She thought of her colleagues, Dana, Nate and Amy, all out on calls.

Would they know?

Stay calm, Cheryl. The mantra pounded in her head, She had to get back to town. Once there, she’d have the answers. She’d be in a position to do something. She’d be back in control—

“Hell!” The curse slipped out of her lips as a dark bundle dashed across the road, too quickly for Cheryl to swerve. She slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt just in time to avoid hitting the object.

Craning her neck, she peered out at the roadside, her heart rate slowly returning to its already accelerated state. A fox perhaps, running for shelter. Immediately she wished she hadn’t checked the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of solemn eyes and a shivering mass of fur. If only she were one of those people who could just drive right on.

But she wasn’t.

Cheryl pulled up her collar and forced the door open. She had no desire to venture outside again into the driving wind and rain, but she had no choice now that she knew it was a dog.

“Come on, little guy.” She crouched by her vehicle. “You’re not looking at some sentimental animal lover here. This lady’s in a rush, so if you want a ride, this is your only chance.”

What was she doing? A category four hurricane was about to hit, and here she was, trying to coax a stupid dumb mutt into the van. What was Mitch’s reaction going to be when she arrived back at the station with an extra passenger?

“Last chance,” she warned, shaking her head in exasperation when the little dog refused to move. She had to walk away and head back to town. But as she climbed inside the Jeep, the smell of Beth’s fresh-baked cookies was the first thing to hit her.

“Very last chance,” Cheryl corrected wryly, stepping back down from the Jeep and holding out a cookie, which was fast dissolving in the rain, to the shivering mutt. “Come on, little guy.”

It wasn’t going to work, and even though Cheryl wasn’t the world’s greatest animal lover, it tore at her heart to turn her back. But a lost black dog must surely be way down on her list of priorities.