I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. I set her down in the truck in the front seat and quickly scrabble around for the rope I know is kept under the seat and make a tight tourniquet around the top of her leg to slow the bleeding. Grabbing the picnic blanket from the tray of the truck I wrap it over her to keep her warm and carefully wrap her right leg in towels. I haven’t really had a good look at her injuries, but I did notice flesh hanging from her calf and I think most of her muscle is gone, and the way her ankle is hanging, I’m positive it’s broken. She’s so white she would disappear in the pure white beach sand we just left.

Hauling Milly up into her car-seat I run around and start the big truck, reversing with a squeal of tires in my panic.

Luckily I left my phone in the console between the seats and I push the phone button on the steering wheel trying to get 000. For the first few kilometres there’s no service and I push my foot down on the accelerator, going as fast as I safely can, with my precious cargo. I thank God I don’t have to touch my phone because my hands are shaking so much I’d never be able to use it. Finally, on the outskirts of town, I get reception and tell the operator what happened, and that I’ll be at the hospital in five minutes. She offers to send the ambulance out to meet me but by the time I hang up I’m almost there. I skid to a halt outside in the ambulance bay, not concerned that I’m taking up their space. I run to the doors, to be met with nurses and a trolley. I carefully lift the still unconscious Haven out of the car and onto the trolley, seeing the blood that’s still pouring from her mangled calf.

Milly is crying and I stop to comfort her and haul her into my arms, as I run behind the trolley disappearing down the long corridor.

A nurse stops me as I see them disappear into a trauma room; telling me I can’t go any further and she’ll come and find me as soon as she has anything to report. She knows Haven and tells me to ring her parents and let them know what’s happening.

Shit. I hadn’t even given them a thought. I was so focused on Haven and getting her here, I’d completely forgotten her parents.

Walking slowly back out to the car I dial their number and briefly tell her mum what happened before moving the truck out of the way. Then I make my way back inside to the waiting area, Milly still on my hip but finally calm. I distract myself by getting her a drink from the vending machine just as Haven’s parents come running through the door in a panic. Her mother demands to know what’s happening and I have to tell her that I don’t know as yet. So she asks me what I do know and I relay what I’ll never be able to erase from my mind, the torn flesh hanging from visible bone on her calf, her foot hanging at an unnatural angle. I keep telling myself that it could have been much worse...it’s just her leg. They can fix legs right? It’s not like it was her abdomen. Her leg may be mauled but it’s still there and that’s a good thing. Pacing the small waiting area, I keep telling myself that she’s gonna be fine. Soon after her parents, Sarah and Micah arrive. Sarah’s a wreck as she clings to Mrs. Montgomery, her sobs drowning out any hope of conversation. I look away after I see tears filling the older woman’s eyes. I feel like this is my fault. Maybe if I’d asked her to help me put the stuff in the car she wouldn’t have gone for that last swim. Maybe if we’d left earlier? Later? I never even saw the shark until I heard her scream and saw the blood in the water. I have no idea what kind of shark it was.

The police arrive soon after, and I answer all of their routine questions as best I can. They leave, happy with the responses I gave and promise to be back as soon as she’s stable enough for them to talk to.

It seems like hours pass till the door opens and the familiar face of the nurse from earlier appears and beckons us to follow her. Sarah and Micah sit with Milly, and wait for our return as we hurry behind the blue scrubs.

Haven’s mum tries to keep it together but fails when she sees her daughter with IV lines pushing blood into her veins and the grey ashen colour that covers her sweaty face. They’re prepping her for surgery, to do what they can to patch her up before they move her to Perth for specialist treatment.

The doctor informs us that she’s lost a lot of blood and they’ll need to keep transfusing her until they can get the bleeding under control. Surgery is risky because of her low blood pressure and the bleeding, but they need to tie off some arteries and can’t do that while she’s awake. He promises that she will have a light anaesthetic and the RFDS will fly her to Perth. They’ve already been called and are on their way.

I listen intently as I look down at the woman who’s becoming increasingly more important to me again. I briefly think of the times that we had together. The years we spent loving each other. Years I thought we could never recover. Now she’s back in my life, I can’t lose her again. They have to save her. I don’t care if she loses the leg, but they have to save her. Everything else we can cope with. Losing one woman I loved was bad enough...I don’t want to lose another.

Surely God wouldn’t do that to me.

I watch as they ready her to move to the OR, and her parents hug her gently, laying kisses over her face, uttering words of encouragement. I see her bleary eyes open in recognition as she grabs her mother’s hand.

“Mumma, I’m scared.” She whispers, and I think my heart breaks all over again. I turn away so they can’t see the tears welling in my eyes. Hasn’t she been through enough these last few months? She doesn’t need this right now, not when she was getting back on her feet and starting to move forward. I lift my hand and scrub it over my face as I turn back to her. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery leave the room, promising to be here when she wakes up. I close in and take her outstretched hand.

“I’m sorry” I say quietly. “If I’d been watching more closely I could have made it to you in time. I blame myself.”

Her gaze locks with mine and I feel the determination in her eyes as she says, “No. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t the sharks fault either. It just happened. Shit happens and then we die, Dalton. I must admit, I never expected to meet the pointy end of a shark like this though.” She states as she winces with pain. Her breathing is shallow and rapid, her hand trembling in mine as I bring it to my face and kiss her knuckles.

“I’ll be right here waiting when you get back from the OR. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” I say as I lower her hand and tuck it under the warm blankets. Someone covered her with a hospital gown and heated blankets.

She shakes her head. “No. Take Milly home. She must be scared and confused. I’ll be fine. I’m tougher than I look.”

Giving her a small smile, I say, “Don’t I know it, Miss ‘I can take on the world and win’.”

I lean down to give her a soft, gentle kiss on her dry lips. I try to give her some of my strength with it. I’d give anything if I could just swap places with her right now.

“I’m gonna win this one too. Just wait and see.” She says, her eyes closing again as the drugs kick in and she sleeps.

“Take good care of her Doc.” I tell him with a nod, and softly run my lips over hers again before leaving.

I ring my parents who come and collect Milly and take her with them to the farm. Dad asks if I intend going to Perth to be with her and honestly I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m just focusing on her getting out of theatre alive. That’s all I can manage right now.

I decide to ask her parents if they want me to take them. I’m in a much better frame of mind than they are right now, even if I’m a mess. On the outside I look cool, calm, collected and in control. Only my jittering knee gives me away. I can’t keep it still. It’s constantly jumping up and down when I sit, which isn’t too often, luckily. Most of my time has been spent pacing the waiting room, like the movement will speed up time somehow.

It doesn’t.

Finally, after what seems like days, the Doctor emerges and informs us Haven’s alive and they’ve managed to tie off the arteries and do a bit of damage control. He’s still worried that they may not be able to save her foot as it was almost severed in the attack. But he’s hopeful because they have better facilities in Perth and she’ll be there soon. She’s on her way back from the Recovery ward and will likely be transported via Ambulance to the waiting plane straight away. As he speaks we watch as the Paramedics pull up outside the ER.

Her mother immediately asks to see her before she goes and the doctor tells us we can have a few moments with her, but warns us she’s still very drugged from the surgery and pain meds.

When they bring her downstairs we all crowd around and one by one everyone gives her words of encouragement and a gentle hug. When my turn comes, I lean down and whisper close to her ear. “We’ll be on our way to Perth as soon as you leave and I’ll bring your parents with me. In the mean-time you get stronger, you hear me? You don’t get to leave this world before me. I won’t allow it. I need you around for a long time yet.”

Wearily she struggles to keep her eyes open, but with a determined frown she forces her lids apart and looks at me. With an unfocused gaze she says, “I’ll try not to. I love you Dalton.” Her eyes close and her grip on my hand loosens. They wheel her out to the ambulance and I stand locked in position as I take in her words. She loves me? Did she mean it or was it the drugs talking? I don’t have time to analyse it right now, I have a long journey ahead of me. I’ll have a boring eight-hour drive to think about it.

We call in to her parent’s house and her mother quickly packs a suitcase for them and then I do the same when I get to the farm. Mum and Dad are staying with Amelia here so that Dad can do the chores for the next few days and Milly gets to sleep in her own bed. I’ll miss her like crazy as I realize that the only time we’ve ever been apart is the weekends that she goes to my parent’s home.

As predicted it’s a long silent journey. I could hear Mrs. Montgomery crying softly in the back seat, her husband frequently looking out the window avoiding my gaze, but I swear his eyes are welling up.

Finally, we make it to the hospital, and as we have no idea where she is, we find our way to the enquiries desk and she tells us.

Pushing open the door to her room, I take a relieved breath in and slowly let it out again, as I see that she has some colour back in her face again and has stopped trembling. She looks our way as we walk in and gives us a small smile. Instantly she’s crushed in her mother’s arms, both of them crying softly.

I step back for a minute, leaving her with her parents as her father moves in, hugging them both firmly.

I look out of the window at the view of the CBD and the glimpses of the Swan River, trying to keep my emotions in check. I know we all had our doubts about whether she would still be alive when we got here, though none of us voiced our concerns. It was written in the tears on her mother’s cheeks and the frown on her father’s brow, and my silence the whole way.

I brush at my eyes as I realize that a tear’s fallen and look down so nobody notices. I have no idea where that came from. The last time I cried was at my wife’s bedside as she took her last breath. Ironically, at the same hospital that just saved Haven’s life.

When I feel more in control I look back as her parent’s step away, wiping tears from their eyes.

“Hi” She says, looking my way.

“Hey.” I say, only managing to make my mouth turn up on one side in a worried smile. “How’re you doing?”

“Okay. I’m going back to theatre in a few hours. They don’t want to wait too long in case some of the tissue has been compromised...I think that means that they’re worried about my muscles not getting enough blood supply. And they want to start to repair my ankle as quickly as they can. I’ve already been seen by the orthopaedic professor who assures me he doesn’t think I’ll lose my foot. Got to be happy with that right?” she says, dissolving into tears, her bottom lip trembling violently. “I’ve got to ha...ha...have some x-rays done...” She tries to continue but can’t.

I take a step forward just as her mother bursts into tears again, and her father hugs his wife closely.

Scooping her up gently, I hold Haven, running my hands down her messy hair gently. My heart cracks open even more while I quietly tell her that it’s gonna be alright. That she’s fine. She’s got this. Anything I can think of to give her hope.

To give us all hope.

I hold her until she calms and her sobs die down to ragged hiccups. I slowly let her go so she can lay back down on the mountain of pillows behind her.

“Is it safe to have two anaesthetics in one day?” I ask worriedly.

“The Anaesthetist said yes.” She says with a nod. “The anaesthetic I had in Esperance was very light and normally they’d wait for twenty-four hours, but because they need to repair it as quickly as they can, they want to do it ASAP.”

“I hope they know what they’re doing, that’s all.” I say, brushing her hair back from her face.

––––––––

Once again we wait as she’s taken away to the OR. This time in her private room instead of a waiting room but this means there’s less room for me to pace. Deciding after an hour or so, that I need to get out and get some fresh air, I offer to go get coffee, and walk around the block in the dark to clear my head while I’m gone.

I’m so sick of waiting.

I know that they’re doing what they can, and I don’t want them to rush it, on account of my impatience, but I’m really beginning to worry now, after six hours. I’ve been pacing. I went out for an hour or so just walking outside in the bright Perth morning sunshine, trying to take my mind off the thought of her enduring yet another surgery. I also got us breakfast, which we attempted to eat, with little success. I rang Mum and Dad and talked to Amelia and then rang Sarah to update her.

At last, the sound of voices in the corridor tell us she’s being brought back to her room – to us.

We stand back and allow them to transfer her to the bed and wait for them to leave before we crowd around, checking on her, assuring ourselves that she’s okay.

Struggling to open her eyes, I watch as she gives a tired smile to her parents, telling them that she’s alright.

I grasp her hand and hold it carefully so I don’t disturb the IV in that arm. Giving it a light squeeze brings her eyes over to meet mine. I give her a warm reassuring smile as I bend down to slide my lips over hers softly, then do the same to her forehead. No matter how bad she looks, she’s still the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. Her face is still pale but at least now she isn’t needing blood anymore. That’s a good thing right?

Not much is said until the surgeon comes in to answer our questions. Of course the first thing we ask is did they save the foot? I’m presuming from the shape under the blankets that they did, but we need to hear him say the words. He tells us that she has a long road ahead, more surgeries to repair the damaged muscles, cosmetic surgery to help with the scars and reconstructive surgery and skin grafts for her foot. At this stage they have no way to know if she will have full use of her right ankle again as most of the tendons holding the ankle together were torn and mangled. Further surgeries will help to fix the ongoing problems but in the meantime they’ll keep her pain free and take it day by day.

Relief floods my body as I finally sit - almost falling down in the chair. Her parents do the same, her mum moving closer to hold her hand in support.

This continues for the next few weeks as I go back to the farm, travelling down on weekends to visit. At last, Haven can leave the hospital, but needs to continue rehab each day so she needs to stay in Perth to recover. Another surgery is scheduled to do more skin grafts on the damaged foot. More surgery and more waiting and more rehab.

They recovered a tooth from the wound and I had it made into a pendant for her, something to remember her recovery.

Eventually after a few months, she’s allowed to come back to Esperance. Thank God because I’m certainly tired of the long drive there and back.

I meet them at the airport as the plane brakes to a halt in front of the terminal. Watching the passengers disembark and greeting most of them by name, I wait as everyone gets off the plane and her mother walks slowly down the stairs and waits at the bottom. An airport worker rolls over the hydraulic platform so that Haven can be lowered to the ground slowly. Though the ankle reconstruction went well, she has a lot of metal holding it all together and isn’t allowed to weight bare on it.

She decided to move back in with her parents till she’s mobile again, so I take them to their house and help her unpack.