She heard a pair of yesses as she peeled her hands off the ambulance floor. “Looks like the ocean’s a bit rough outside of Boston Harbor, kiddos. Maybe the ferry captain’s seen Moby Dick!”

Without looking, Maggie knew her knees would be bloodied and a bump would be growing on her head. How she’d managed to fly past the ambulance’s two vacuum mattresses and conk her head on the gurney wheels was beyond her. She quickly pushed herself back up to a sitting position and checked her patients. They were the priority here, not her.

The ten-year-old twins seemed fine, if a bit wide-eyed at the sudden movement. The ferry journey to the Maple Island Clinic hadn’t been billed as a funfair ride. Nor was it meant to be. The weather had checked out fine, which was precisely why they’d opted for crossing on New Year’s Day before the predicted snow moved in.

She looked down at her knees and saw a bit of blood seeping through the dark fabric as her right hand gingerly checked for...yup...a grade A head bump.

What a way to make a first impression at her new job.

She winced at the misplaced vanity as she tried to pull her wild tangle of red curls back into submission. This wasn’t a beauty contest. Not landing on the kids had been the goal, particularly since their spinal injuries had been from collapsing scaffolding. The last thing they needed was her falling on them right after they’d been released from critical care.

She shoved away the rush of fear that had come with the sudden movement and reminded herself of her priorities.

Arriving at Maple Island with the children safe and sound was the goal. She was good at goals that involved patients. It was only the personal stuff that needed work.

“Billy, you all right up there?” She received a grunt from the paramedic who’d driven them onto the ferry. Better than a moan, she supposed. Or nothing.

“Looks like I should’ve stayed put and kept my seatbelt on, shouldn’t I?” Talking endlessly wasn’t necessarily going to calm them down but—

The piercing screech of the ferry’s alarm came so short and sharp Maggie almost gave her roller-coaster scream. Not the best “responsible adult” response. She was meant to be soothing the patients, not freaking them out. As her last boss had constantly reminded her, not everyone was a finely wired adrenaline junkie.

Not everyone had to give themselves a reason to live at the age of thirteen, though.

Before she could get her seatbelt on, another lurch flattened her to the floor again. Oof.

“We’ve got a bit more than we bargained for in terms of adventure, haven’t we, kids?” They both responded with something indecipherable beneath the screech of the siren.

Clonk.

A small tub of supplies found a perch on her head.

Mercifully the siren stopped.

Maybe it had been a pod of whales.

“Sorry, Maggie. Was on the phone with Vick. Everyone all right back there?” Billy stuck his head into the back as he untangled himself from the coiled radio cables. “Vick just doused herself in hot coffee up on the passenger deck.”

“Ouch.” Maggie winced. Painful way to get through a New Year’s Day hangover. “Did she burn herself?”

“Nah. But she’s going to check if anyone up there needs help. The weather’s closed in. Total blinder. I’d better ring the clinic and let them know this isn’t going to be a straightforward journey.” He held up the tangle of wires as proof the radio was out of commission. “Do you have the clinic’s emergency number?”

Maggie glared at him then flicked her brown eyes toward the children. “Ixnay on the ary-scay alk-tay, my friend.”

He looked at her blankly, then huffed. “I don’t do pig Latin.” He made a gimme, gimme gesture with his hand. “Number for the clinic, please, Mags.”

Maggie recited it from memory, reminding herself that Billy had valiantly maneuvered the ambulance onto the ferry’s small car deck when Vicky, the original driver, had announced an urgent need for coffee. They could’ve parked diagonally if they’d wanted to. Not one other car had followed behind them onto the dinky car deck. Had every other person in Boston read a different weather report from the one she’d had or were they all just hungover, like Vicky?

She’d checked the weather about a hundred times. It was meant to be calm today, snow tomorrow.

The clinic would go ballistic if anything happened to these two. And she wouldn’t blame them. They’d been through enough. The terror of their house’s scaffolding collapsing on them. Spinal surgery. Critical Care. Parents having to wage war with the insurance company and carry on working so they didn’t lose what little money they did have. It had been a horrific holiday season for all of them. The one silver lining had been the clinic taking them gratis. She wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of them getting the rehab they deserved. Not the weather. Not a cranky paramedic. Not on her watch.

“Actually...” she pulled out her own phone “...I’d better do it.”

“Why?” Billy’s arm shot out and only just missed her face as they both sought to stabilize themselves from another lurch.

“Because Boston Harbor’s put me down as the contact and I’m the one signing the children over. My job. My responsibility.”

“You’re their physio. I’m in charge of the ambo, which makes me king of everyone who’s in it.”

She knew Billy wasn’t trying to get one up

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