When Hearts Collide - By James, Kendra Page 0,6

But what was going on with his abdomen? A lacerated spleen or kidney? Also a good prognosis, if treated in time.

Time. The biggest factor.

The head injury might account for his ramblings about Gracie and foster care. She would follow the ambulance to the hospital, get Gracie checked over, and then find someone to take over her care. She studied his face. He looked so peaceful, his eyelids almost transparent, mouth soft, turned up at the corners.

But he was so still, too still. His skin was cool to her touch. She tucked the blanket around his shoulders, then slid her fingers along his neck to a point below his jaw. His pulse bounded through the artery. She counted. Ninety-six. It was accelerated, but at least there were no irregular beats. So far his heart seemed to be tolerating the injury he’d sustained.

She stroked the salt and pepper sideburns, hoping he would be all right for his daughter’s sake. She’d grown up without a father, without parents at all, and she’d never wish that on anyone. Her thoughts were disturbed by the wail of a siren in the distance. It began as a whisper, but within seconds it blared through the night air. She saw the strobe lights flashing intermittently through the dense wall of trees. Each second its brightness increased, along with the penetrating cry of the siren. Would it wake Gracie?

The window was open. If the child roused, Molly would hear her. Hopefully she would stay sleeping until the paramedics took over and transported her father to the hospital. She would follow and have them examine Gracie. The child seemed fine, but Molly needed a doctor to check her. The ambulance screeched to a stop, the side doors flew open, and two paramedics jumped out. They were beside her in seconds. “What happened?”

Without waiting for her answer, they were pulling equipment out of a large navy duffel bag. They slid an oxygen mask on Pearce’s face and a blood pressure cuff on his arm. One attendant wrenched open Pearce’s shirt, the other stuck electrodes on his chest with wires extending to a portable cardiac monitor. Waves of electrical impulses traced across the portable screen. The cuff filled with air, then deflated. The digital readout showed 95/60.

“His name is Pearce Taylor. He swerved to miss a deer. His tires caught the edge of the road, and the car crashed into the tree.”

“You got him out?” the gangly twenty-something paramedic asked. His tone was terse, full of youthful arrogance and disdain.

Molly instantly felt defensive. “There’s a gas leak. I thought the car might explode. I stabilized his neck and used the blanket like a hammock to slide him out.”

An oximeter clip was placed on Pearce’s thumb. Instantly a number flashed on the screen. 91. It was too low.

“Is the oxygen as high as it can go?” Molly asked before answering his question.

“It’s on full.” This came from the second, more seasoned, paramedic. “Do you have medical training?”

“I’m an intensive care nurse. I’m sure he has a head injury.” She pointed to the bandage on his head. “And some internal injuries. His abdomen is rigid. He roused for a few seconds and was talking, then lapsed back into unconsciousness.”

They performed a rapid assessment as they talked. “I’m Mark, and he’s Gary.” The older paramedic jerked his head toward the younger one. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.” Mark indicated the makeshift splint on Pearce’s left leg.

“Let’s put a cervical collar on him. I think we should leave the fine leg splint.” He grinned at Molly. “Looks secure. Might damage the leg more to change it. It will be even better when we put him on the fracture board.”

Gary brought a long narrow board from the ambulance and laid it on the ground beside Pearce. Mark was starting an intravenous when Pearce groaned and tried to pull away.

Molly leaned close and took his hand. “It’s okay, Pearce. The paramedics are starting an intravenous to give you fluid. They’re going to take you to the hospital.”

“Gracie...”

“She’s fine.”

He grasped her arm and pulled her close, his voice low and urgent. “Promise me, Molly.”

“Just until you’re better. Just until then.” Or just until as I find your next-of-kin, only until then. His face smoothed and his smile of gratitude touched a place in her heart. She shook her head. What had she just promised?

“Mr. Taylor,” Mark said, “we’re going to put a different collar around your neck and put you on a board. Then we’ll