Temptation Ridge (Virgin River #6)(50)

“I think so,” Jack said helplessly. “She’s pissed off but not bruised or bleeding.”

Mel covered Doc’s mouth with hers and blew into his lungs again. Then, during thirty more cardiac compressions, she asked. “Any lumps on the head?”

Jack ran a hand over Emma’s smooth, bald head. “Don’t see anything.”

Mel finished pumping and went for the respiratory inflations again. Then, breathless, she said, “Check David, and if he’s okay, call someone. Mercy Air,” she said. “I need the defibrillator. I need my bag.”

Jack bolted for the kitchen. David was standing in his playpen, screaming. The second he saw Jack his cries turned to little gasps and he reached a hand toward him. “Da!” he yelled. “Da!”

“Hang in there, buddy,” Jack said, laying Emma in her crib. He ran back to the front of the clinic, found Mel’s bag behind the reception desk and placed it beside her, open. Then he ran to the treatment room, grabbed the case that held the defibrillator and took it to her. By the time he got back, she had ripped Doc’s shirt open.

“Aw, Jesus, Doc,” she groaned, breathing into him again.

Jack was picking up the phone when he heard the sound of heavy, running footfalls and Preacher stopped short in the opened doorway. He took a quick look, assessed and ran into the clinic, kneeling opposite Mel. She was counting. “I can help,” he said, brushing her hands away to take over the chest compressions.

Mel immediately flipped open the defibrillator case and turned on the switch. The portable defibrillator was the same as the type carried on commercial air carriers with patches as opposed to paddles. She put the patches on Doc’s chest and said, “Pay attention for the shock, Preach.” The machine purred and a mechanical voice came from it. Assessing patient. Stand by. Clear for shock. “Clear!” Mel said. Preacher pulled back his hands and Mel pressed the button, delivering the jolt. She felt for a pulse. No response. “Dammit, Doc,” she muttered.

Mel dug around in her bag while Preacher pushed air into the old man’s lungs, then resumed compressions. She started an IV quickly and attached a bag of Ringer’s, holding it high. It was taken out of her hands by Jack, automatically assisting. She then examined the labels of two vials and drew two syringes. She added epinephrine to the IV. Next, the atropine.

Jack was beside her, crouched, holding the Ringer’s over his head. “Airlift’s on the way. I called Shelby to help. And June Hudson in Grace Valley.”

“That’s all you can do,” Mel said, taking the bag of Ringer’s. “Bring me an IV stand from the treatment room so you can take care of the kids.” When he returned and hung up the bag, she switched on the machine again. “Shocking, Preach.” The mechanical voice alerted them. Assessing patient. Stand by. Clear for shock. “Clear!” Preacher pulled back his hands and Mel pressed the button again. Doc’s body arched with the jolt.

Mel put the stethoscope in her ears, listening to his chest. “Jesus, Doc, don’t do this,” she said. “God, I need you!” She brushed Preacher’s hands away and began her own chest compressions. “Breathe for him on thirty—two big breaths,” she told Preacher. “Ten, eleven, twelve…”

Mel wasn’t even aware that the kids had stopped crying. Jack stood behind her, holding them both against him. Mel tried another eppie, shocked him twice more, listened to his chest. He was completely unresponsive. By the time she could hear the sound of rotor blades, tears were running down her cheeks, falling onto Doc’s chest, and she wouldn’t stop compressing. Preacher sat back on his heels. “Don’t stop!” she barked at him. Slowly, the big man leaned forward and put two more useless breaths into the old man.

“How can you do this?” Mel cried to the lifeless form beneath her hands.

Paramedics ran into the clinic and took their places on either side of Doc, scooting Preacher and Mel out of the way. They rushed through a quick assessment while Mel rattled off what drugs had been administered, how many times she’d used the defibrillator. The electrodes for a portable electrocardiogram were attached to his chest as compressions were continued.

Mel backed away and came up against Jack and the kids. He held one on each hip. She turned against his chest. He can’t just die like that, she thought in despair. David had been crying so hard that his breath came in jagged little hiccups of emotion and he buried his wet face in his father’s shoulder. Mel took Emma into her arms, looked her over briefly to be sure she was all right, then her attention was again focused on the paramedics’ resuscitation.

Minutes passed as they worked on him. Shelby arrived, running up the porch steps and into the clinic. “Take the baby,” Jack said. “We found her on the floor beside Doc. I think he might’ve dropped her as he fell. Neither one of us has had a chance to undress her and look her over closely, but she seems okay.”

Shelby took the baby out of the reception area and a few minutes later she was back, holding a now-quiet baby against her shoulder. “I took all her clothes off and she seems to be fine. No bumps or marks or anything.”

“He might’ve felt it coming and laid her on the floor,” Mel said. “He wasn’t on top of her.” She turned her watery eyes up to Jack. “Which could’ve killed her.”

Jack squeezed her shoulder.