Washed Away. Carol Marinelli

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ