Read Online Raphaela's Gift by Sydney Allan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sydney Allan
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brace to keep from careening down the path.
By the time, they neared the riverbank; the swift current had carried several of the rafters downstream, including the woman who had been clinging to the rock. But two of them, a man and woman had swum to shore.
Garret looked at Faith as he offered her a hand down the last slope next to the riverbank, then after sucking in a few deep breaths, he ran to the visibly shaking man and woman. Over the roar of the river behind them, he asked if they were injured.
The man stared blankly, but the woman gripped Garret's arm and cried, "Our son! He's ten. With a yellow vest."
With Faith at his heels, Garret dashed down the riverbank looking for boy. "We'll never find him," he called over his shoulder, his breaths bursting through the words as he ran. "The current's too fast. He's probably half a mile downriver by now." Trees and bushes with limbs reaching toward the riverbank blocked his way. He pushed them aside as he ran.
"Ahead, on the other side of the bend, the current slows. If he can swim, he can make it to shore over there." Faith leaned against a tree, looking breathless as she pointed in the direction she meant.
Around the curve, the water still ran swift, but its surface was smooth rather than thrashing. A gathering of rafters stood on the shore about fifty yards ahead. He sprinted toward them, leaving Faith behind.
When he approached the sodden group, curious stares greeted him.
One man looked at Garret and asked, "What's up?"
Garret froze, his gaze shooting from one face to the next. "I'm a doctor. Looking for a small boy. Ten, with a yellow vest." Faith's footsteps shuffled on rock behind him.
The man who'd spoken nodded. "He's here. The guy with him is an RN. He said the boy has a broken leg. Looks pretty bad." He pointed at a small boy, dwarfed by the bright yellow life jacket and helmet, who lay propped up against a large bolder. A man was kneeled next to him, his back to Garret.
Garret shook his head as he jogged toward the boy, shocked that his parents would take a boy that size on a river raft, regardless of the jacket and helmet. Rapids were deadly, and adults died wearing the latest in protection. What parent in their right mind would do something so stupid?
The kid was tiny for his age, sopping wet, and his face chalky white. But he was still awake and alert. The nurse held blood-soaked rags on his leg.
"I'm a doctor. Can I help?" Garret offered.
"I'm trying to stop the bleeding. It's bad." The man lifted the rags to allow Garret to check the wound. The boy had a compound fracture, a sharp splinter of bone piercing his skin.
Garret glanced back at Faith, who was standing behind him, her hands cupped over her mouth, breathing loudly. "He needs to get to a hospital."
Faith nodded. "What do we do?"
The boy's eyelids slid closed, and Garret looked down at the leg again. "Damn!"
"What is it?" Faith asked, stooping down beside Garret.
"He's going into shock. Could be the blood loss." He looked up, searched out the nurse, then glanced back down at the child. As he gazed down at the boy's ashen features, his panic swelled until his heart was racing and his hands shook.
"Oh, my God! My baby!" a woman cried from behind him. "Oh, my God! Help him. Please!"
In the span of a breath, Garret was whisked back in time, standing in the emergency room as a resident treating a small boy who'd been hit by a car. Recalling with gut clenching regret how much a foolish oversight on his part had cost the child his life.
That had been his last trauma case. The next day, he applied for an opening at another hospital in psychiatric medicine.
Now, it was happening again. Another child's life lay in his hands.
Faith gripped his shoulder and shook him. "Garret. Are you all right?"
Firmly in the present again, Garrett called out, "Hey, you! Nurse. Do you have a first aid kit? A thermal blanket?"
The man, who now stood with the boy's parents, his hands on the mother's trembling
By the time, they neared the riverbank; the swift current had carried several of the rafters downstream, including the woman who had been clinging to the rock. But two of them, a man and woman had swum to shore.
Garret looked at Faith as he offered her a hand down the last slope next to the riverbank, then after sucking in a few deep breaths, he ran to the visibly shaking man and woman. Over the roar of the river behind them, he asked if they were injured.
The man stared blankly, but the woman gripped Garret's arm and cried, "Our son! He's ten. With a yellow vest."
With Faith at his heels, Garret dashed down the riverbank looking for boy. "We'll never find him," he called over his shoulder, his breaths bursting through the words as he ran. "The current's too fast. He's probably half a mile downriver by now." Trees and bushes with limbs reaching toward the riverbank blocked his way. He pushed them aside as he ran.
"Ahead, on the other side of the bend, the current slows. If he can swim, he can make it to shore over there." Faith leaned against a tree, looking breathless as she pointed in the direction she meant.
Around the curve, the water still ran swift, but its surface was smooth rather than thrashing. A gathering of rafters stood on the shore about fifty yards ahead. He sprinted toward them, leaving Faith behind.
When he approached the sodden group, curious stares greeted him.
One man looked at Garret and asked, "What's up?"
Garret froze, his gaze shooting from one face to the next. "I'm a doctor. Looking for a small boy. Ten, with a yellow vest." Faith's footsteps shuffled on rock behind him.
The man who'd spoken nodded. "He's here. The guy with him is an RN. He said the boy has a broken leg. Looks pretty bad." He pointed at a small boy, dwarfed by the bright yellow life jacket and helmet, who lay propped up against a large bolder. A man was kneeled next to him, his back to Garret.
Garret shook his head as he jogged toward the boy, shocked that his parents would take a boy that size on a river raft, regardless of the jacket and helmet. Rapids were deadly, and adults died wearing the latest in protection. What parent in their right mind would do something so stupid?
The kid was tiny for his age, sopping wet, and his face chalky white. But he was still awake and alert. The nurse held blood-soaked rags on his leg.
"I'm a doctor. Can I help?" Garret offered.
"I'm trying to stop the bleeding. It's bad." The man lifted the rags to allow Garret to check the wound. The boy had a compound fracture, a sharp splinter of bone piercing his skin.
Garret glanced back at Faith, who was standing behind him, her hands cupped over her mouth, breathing loudly. "He needs to get to a hospital."
Faith nodded. "What do we do?"
The boy's eyelids slid closed, and Garret looked down at the leg again. "Damn!"
"What is it?" Faith asked, stooping down beside Garret.
"He's going into shock. Could be the blood loss." He looked up, searched out the nurse, then glanced back down at the child. As he gazed down at the boy's ashen features, his panic swelled until his heart was racing and his hands shook.
"Oh, my God! My baby!" a woman cried from behind him. "Oh, my God! Help him. Please!"
In the span of a breath, Garret was whisked back in time, standing in the emergency room as a resident treating a small boy who'd been hit by a car. Recalling with gut clenching regret how much a foolish oversight on his part had cost the child his life.
That had been his last trauma case. The next day, he applied for an opening at another hospital in psychiatric medicine.
Now, it was happening again. Another child's life lay in his hands.
Faith gripped his shoulder and shook him. "Garret. Are you all right?"
Firmly in the present again, Garrett called out, "Hey, you! Nurse. Do you have a first aid kit? A thermal blanket?"
The man, who now stood with the boy's parents, his hands on the mother's trembling
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