“Got it.”
Sean expertly wound them down the mountain and into town, using his superb driving skills to get them where they needed to go. The extra-wide set of the tires kept them hugging the curves at speeds that would have flipped a normal vehicle, and the extra horses under the hood made it faster than any conventional ambulance.
“Hold him,” Michael commanded. “Don’t let that line come out.” Shane shifted, extending his long arms to keep his father in place while Michael extracted a cell phone from his pocket. His normally soft voice was at once sharp and clear, capable and commanding.
“Dr. Michael Callaghan en route with male, sixty-five years of age, probable myocardial infarction. Pulse weak and thready, BP...” The stats rang out in the silence, piercing the shock that lay beneath their calm, capable exteriors. “Page Jimmy Yim, have him meet us there and clear a cath room. ETA eleven minutes...”
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June 1968
Pine Ridge
“Eleven minutes.”
That’s what Colin “Fitz” Fitzsimmons said, looking at his watch. To his credit, his voice belayed none of the anxiety in his too-bright eyes. The fluttering in Jack’s stomach turned into a full-blown roil, and not all of it was because he was heading out for newbie training and certain deployment.
His parents had already said their goodbyes. Jack had asked his father to take his mother home when he saw the tears welling in her eyes. These last few minutes were the hardest, and he didn’t want her breaking down into sobs like some of the other mothers were doing. This was hard enough the way it was.
Was Kathleen going to make it? He was torn on whether or not he wanted her to show up for one more goodbye. The past three days had been heaven on earth, and his last image of her, sleepy-eyed but happy, was a nice one to take with him.
On the other hand, the need to see her was a powerful one. He wanted to look into her eyes and see the promise there to reaffirm the words she had spoken as they watched the dawn rise in each other’s arms: that she would wait for him.
It would give him the opportunity to reassure her that he would be fulfilling the vow he had made to her as well: that he would be coming home, hale and hearty, to take that which she had so selflessly offered.
Well, maybe not completely selfless, he thought to himself smugly. She had been so soft, so ready, so willing after they had explored each other thoroughly with eager hands and lips. But it wouldn’t have been right. As wonderful as it would have been, he couldn’t take her innocence in a few moments of desperate passion and then leave. It wouldn’t be fair to her, for one thing. And for another, knowing he had that to come back to was a powerful motivator indeed.
“Ten minutes,” Fitz said, scanning the bus depot on his behalf. Fitz would always have his back; he’d been one of his best friends since elementary school. They’d grown up next door to each other, as close as any brothers. Jack remembered the day they’d first met as clearly as if it had been yesterday.
Fitz’s family had moved to Pine Ridge near the end of the school year, ending Jack’s twenty-three month reign as the “new kid”. Jack knew how hard it could be; Pine Ridge was a small, tightknit community, and most of them had been in the same classes since Kindergarten. Brian O’Connell had been the one to befriend him then and bring him into the fold. So when lunch time came around and Fitz –—a gangly, red-haired, awkward-looking second grader—– found himself in the corner surrounded by a trio of bullying fifth-graders, Jack and Brian didn’t hesitate.
They’d all ended up with black eyes and split lips that day, but something else, too: a friendship that was even stronger ten years later.
It was Jack who spotted her first, running down the sidewalk, looking adorably disheveled. He couldn’t help the grin that split his face as she practically launched herself into her arms.
“I didn’t think I was going to make it,” she said breathlessly.
His joy at seeing her was tempered by the raw-looking scratches on the side of her face. “What happened?” he asked, tilting her head for a better look.
“Ah,” she said, averting her eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“Kathleen, it’s not nothing. You’re bleeding.” Jack removed the handkerchief from his pocket, a gift from his mother, and dabbed gently. “Tell me.”
“My father caught me sneaking in this morning,” she admitted with a frown. “He wasn’t pleased. He grounded me, and forbid me to see you off this morning. So I was forced to get creative.”
Jack lifted a brow. “How creative?”