by Karin Baine
‘Are you all right?’ Another hand covered hers.
‘No harm done,’ she assured him, but it was apparent papa bear was making himself known too.
‘I’ll take a different route back. It’s longer but the roads might be gritted out that way.’
Harriet muttered agreeable sounds as shock began to set in about what could have happened. At that second she realised her baby’s life was more precious to her than her own. She’d give up anything to ensure this child was safe. Including her job and her house if she was sure Heatherglen would be the best place to provide security.
It took several attempts to get the car going in the direction they wanted. That was mainly because Charles refused to let her get out and lighten the weight of the car. The result of spinning tyres as he attempted to get traction on the slick surface was the smell of burning rubber.
The spinning motion of the vehicle combined with the acrid air had her clutching her belly now for a different reason.
‘I have to get out, Charles.’ It was a warning for him to pull over before his car was filled with more than fumes.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ He immediately pulled over to the grass verge.
‘Air,’ she gasped, nausea rising too fast for her to quell with willpower alone.
Charles unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out of the car before she could stop him. He slipped and slid around the side of the car in his hurry to get to her. ‘Be careful. We don’t want any more accidents.’
With one hand steady on the now open passenger door, he held the other out to her.
‘I just need some fresh air. There’s no panic.’ Embarrassed by the sudden bout of nausea, she ignored the helping hand to stand on her own two feet unassisted. A plan that went awry as soon as her foot slipped on the ice and she had to accept all the support offered.
‘I’ve got you.’ He caught her and braced her against the side of the car with his body.
She closed her eyes and wished the world would stop spinning. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Look at me. Open your eyes and focus on me, Harriet. That’s it. Now, take deep breaths. In...and out.’ Charles called her back from the brink of oblivion promising to take her somewhere safe.
She followed his instructions, inhaling his familiar scent, so reassuring and irresistible. Despite her return to full consciousness Charles kept a tight hold on her.
‘Has this happened before?’
‘No, but I don’t usually spend my mornings doing doughnuts in the car.’ Sarcasm was her only defence when she was at his mercy.
‘I’d never have come if I’d realised the roads were so bad. Do you want to go home?’ He eased her back into the passenger seat so she was sitting sideways with Charles kneeling at her feet.
His feelings of guilt were almost palpable, but revenge wasn’t something she’d ever wanted in coming to Heatherglen.
‘No. It’s probably just shock, or morning sickness, or motion sickness. It’ll pass.’
‘You know it’s not a weakness to be sick or, heaven forbid, to let someone help you.’ He was holding both of her hands and Harriet could picture him in the delivery suite with her with the same calm presence, coaching her through labour. She hadn’t realised how much she needed someone like that in her life so she could take a breather once in a while and let someone be strong for her.
However, the birth was a long way off and anything could happen in the interim. It wouldn’t do to become reliant on Charles for support if he wasn’t going to be there at the crucial time.
‘Honestly, I feel a lot better. I’d rather get back on my feet and find something to distract me. Now, you said something about shops?’ With steadier movements than before, she exited the car and slammed the door, forcing him to take a step back.
In London the shops would already be bulging at the seams with savvy shoppers seeking bargains in the sales. Cluchlochry was quiet, as though in hibernation, waiting for spring before the inhabitants would emerge back into the daylight.
Charles huffed out a cloud of breath into the atmosphere, but he’d stopped arguing with her. If these past couple of days had shown him anything about the woman she’d become, he’d realised she was much stronger than the one he’d known previously. Headstrong, stubborn, she’d heard it said before from other people whose interference in her life she’d refused to accept. It was that self-defence mechanism that had protected her fragile heart from any further sledgehammer blows. She had to keep that superwoman cape on at all times. Especially around Charles.
‘Christmas is over. People have a living to make. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see customers in their businesses and we can always stop for lunch at McKinney’s pub.’
Harriet was curious about the shops, which were missing the garish signs the high-street stores usually displayed. If anything, the shopfronts here blended in too well with the surroundings. Especially now it had begun snowing again in earnest and limiting visibility.
‘Any suggestions about where we should begin our shopping trip?’ Left to her, she was afraid of walking in on some unsuspecting local watching TV in her parlour because she couldn’t tell the business premises from the residential buildings.
‘There’s a wool shop if you fancy taking up knitting.’
‘Why would I?’ She rounded on him, waiting for the explanation, which was bound to begin a debate about stereotypical gender association.
‘It’s the sort of thing wo...people do when there’s a baby on the way, isn’t it?’ Charles’s face was unreadable as he waved at the proprietor standing by her colourful window display of yarn.
Harriet hoped he was joking.
‘Are you honing your carpentry skills so you can knock a crib together, then?’ It was a jibe to get back at him for insinuating she should be sitting knitting bootees for the duration of her ‘confinement’.
Not one to give her the satisfaction of winning an argument, Charles countered with a chirpy, ‘Maybe I will.’
Now she was going to be plagued with a sultry montage of him in her head, his naked torso beaded with sweat as he lovingly crafted a masterpiece with his rough, strong hands. Looking for a distraction from her over-active imagination, she pushed open the next shop door.
‘Hello, there.’ The shopkeeper didn’t need the jingle of the bell to alert her that she had customers.
‘Hi, Joanie. This is Harriet, a friend of the family. I’m just showing her around the village.’ Charles made the introduction and Harriet wondered for the first time if any of the locals would remember the scandal of the young Laird’s failed romance. The rumour mill would be working overtime if they heard she was back, pregnant.
‘Nice to meet you, Joanie.’ Harriet shook her hand, already getting friendly vibes from the pleasant redhead and her quirky shop.
The shelves were packed with all manner of knick-knacks and cute gifts tourists and children would lap up. Unfortunately, there was nothing in stock that would aid her quest for a bigger wardrobe.
‘Your hands are freezing. Let me make you a cup of tea to warm you up.’ Joanie wouldn’t hear another word on the subject and disappeared into the back of the shop, ignoring any protest.
‘Hot sugary tea is exactly what you need.’ Charles pulled over a couple of chairs to the counter and gave the impression that impromptu tea parties here weren’t unusual.
Despite the suspicion he’d somehow tricked her into this, Harriet took a seat and warmed her hands by the electric fire. The pleasant warmth seeping into her bones reminded her of how it had felt walking into Heatherglen after being so alone on the road from London. It was cosy, homely and she wanted to stay here for as long as possible.
‘There you go.’ Joanie returned with a tray full of tea things and Charles passed a cup to Harriet before taking one for himself.
‘Try some of the shortbread. I made it mys
elf.’ She prised open a tartan tin full of sugar-dusted Christmas-tree shapes.
Surmising the sugar hit might help her wooziness, Harriet helped herself. One bite and she was in buttery, sugary heaven.
‘You know, I should be sick to death of eating this stuff, but this is really good.’ Charles finished his shortbread in two bites.
Joanie blushed, as most women did when Charles paid them a compliment.
‘Everyone seemed to like it. Perhaps I should start selling it.’
‘You should. It’s delicious.’ Harriet took another when their host offered the tin around a second time.
Joanie beamed at the praise. ‘You two finish your tea. I’m just going to take the rubbish out into the back yard.’
The sudden chill blasting through the building when Joanie opened the door was a stark reminder of the outside temperature.
Charles set down his tea and rubbed Harriet’s shoulders up and down as she shivered, trying to generate some heat back into her body. It was the touch of his hands on her that managed to raise her temperature again.
A thud and the sound of broken glass outside startled them both.
‘Joanie? Are you all right out there?’ Charles called, on his way to find out for himself with Harriet following close behind.
There was no reply and when they were faced with the scene in the shop’s back yard they could see why. She was lying unconscious on the ground, the contents of the rubbish bag strewn around her and a pool of blood staining the ground crimson around her head.
Harriet no longer cared about the cold or the snow as she knelt in it to take the woman’s pulse. ‘Joanie? Can you hear me?’
‘I’ll phone for an ambulance. Hopefully there’ll be one nearby. Watch out for the broken glass. I don’t want you getting hurt too.’ His concern for her continued to amaze Harriet when it came so naturally to him to think about her. It took her right back to the time when they’d been in love and he’d have done anything to keep her safe.
Harriet carried out basic checks on Joanie, making sure her airways were clear, while Charles gave their location to the switchboard operator. He came to assist her once he hung up, covering Joanie with his coat to keep her warm.
‘She’s probably slipped on the ice and hit her head in the fall. We don’t want to move her until we can get a neck brace on her.’ There were all sorts of complications with head or neck injuries and there was a risk of paralysis if they tried to move her.
‘We’re going to need a CT scan to see what the damage is in case it’s more than concussion. If the roads are too bad to get her as far as Glasgow we can make her comfortable at Heatherglen until it’s safe to transfer her to hospital.’
‘There’s a good strong pulse and her breathing is normal.’ Harriet reported her observations, but Charles didn’t seem as positive as he checked the head wound.
‘She has a compound fracture to the skull. The skin and tissue are broken, leaving the brain partially exposed.’ An open fracture presented a risk of bacterial infection. If left untreated it could lead to permanent brain damage or even death. An open head injury also left the patient vulnerable to other conditions such as seizures and paralysis.
They needed a CT scan to assess the extent and severity of the fracture, but it was looking as though Joanie was going to require surgery to reduce swelling in the brain. This was time sensitive.
* * *
Harriet was applying pressure around the wound to control the bleeding, all the while talking to the patient and trying unsuccessfully to get a response. Charles got back on the phone to give an update on the severity of their patient’s condition, but he didn’t return with good news.
‘The weather’s bad out there. They don’t know how long it will take to transfer her to the hospital and an air ambulance is out of the question until that blizzard outside passes.’ He had a decision to make quickly as he could already hear the clinic vehicle drawing near. Joanie didn’t even have any family around with whom he could discuss the situation.
‘We’ll take her back to Heatherglen and do a CT scan there.’ If it proved he was worrying unnecessarily, they could take their time with the hospital transfer. However, something more serious would require immediate action. They didn’t usually carry out major operations at the clinic, referring serious cases to the hospital, but they did act as a local A and E when necessary.
‘Lyle will assess her, but we might have to ask for your skills here if we need to operate.’ His fellow Scot was the one called on for any local emergencies, but Harriet was the surgeon here. This decision could prevent them wasting time and improve Joanie’s chances of recovery. They could make a difference.
This was exactly the sort of situation he’d helped Lyle set the clinic up for in the first place.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY WERE GREETED at the front door of the castle by Dr Sinclair and Dr Kirkpatrick.
‘I thought you might need some extra help on this one,’ Max was offering his services too, which could only improve Joanie’s chances with so many accomplished medical staff available.
Harriet realised she’d already been included in this band of doctors. She was no longer merely a visitor.
‘Do you mind if I take the lead on this one?’ Harriet asked as they wheeled Joanie inside.
‘Not at all. You’re the surgeon here.’ There was no sign of territoriality from Lyle, which went some way to easing the pressure Harriet was suddenly under.
‘We’ll need a CT scan to see what we’re dealing with.’
‘Would you like me to assist if you do have to operate?
‘The more the merrier, right?’ Harriet soon found herself scrubbed in alongside the others prepping for surgery once the scans showed their fears had been justified.
‘I’m glad we had so many hands available.’ Charles managed to lighten the mood a little as the team came together to provide access to Joanie’s injury once she was under general anaesthetic.
He made the initial cranial incision to reveal the extent of the fracture, and he needed assistance to keep the skin flap pinned back out of the way.
Harriet worked quickly to debride the area, cleaning and removing the blood clots that had formed there and repairing damaged blood vessels. Once the bleeding had stopped, she used screws to hold the skull back together in place.
‘We’ll monitor for infection or secondary complications such as intracranial pressure and brain swelling. Charles, we’ll need to keep her on a ventilator until it’s possible to move her to a high-dependency unit.’ Sometimes patients needed additional surgery to relieve pressure and drain any accumulating blood. In the meantime, she’d prescribe strong antibiotics and medication to reduce possible inflammation.
This wasn’t her area of expertise, but she’d spent sufficient time in an operating theatre to be confident in what she was doing. Charles too had put his trust in her skills to make this call. Everything he did was with his patients in mind and whatever would produce the best possible outcome. The easiest option would’ve been for him to leave Joanie at the mercy of the time it would take to get her to that hospital.
Instead, he’d taken on the responsibility for her initial treatment and everything that would happen once she was at Heatherglen. Harriet was beginning to see there was a role here for her to perform emergency surgery when it was required. Along with the everyday cases which came into the clinic requiring her expertise as an orthopaedic surgeon. It was a good balance of cases which would hold her interest and provide a necessary service to the local community.
All the same, she’d be happier when Joanie was getting specialist care at the hospital and she was relieved of her responsibility.
With the benefit of hindsight, and an explanation for his behaviour, she was beginning to understand what had driven Charles to do the things he’d done in the past. It was a pity it had come s
o late.
She was the one who’d been selfish over the years, wanting him to herself when he’d devoting himself to improving the lives of countless others.
* * *
‘I’m sure you weren’t expecting to perform brain surgery on your holiday.’ Unbidden, Charles brought her a cup of tea and set it on the table beside her chair.
‘This was never supposed to be a holiday, remember?’ She was keen to remind him that this stay wasn’t about her taking some time out. It was for them to make life-changing decisions regarding the child they were to have in a few months’ time.
He took the seat opposite, the glow from the fire throwing shadows on his face. It was the first she’d seen him rest since Joanie’s accident. After the surgery he’d insisted she come back home while he oversaw Joanie in Recovery. She’d had the chance to shower, change and take a nap before he’d come back. If this was his regular schedule it was no wonder he didn’t have time for a private life, but that didn’t mean she was willing to pick up the slack.
‘How could I forget when Heatherglen is all about family for me?’ He was staring into the flickering flames of the fire, not seeing Harriet at all and making it difficult for her to believe she was part of that sentiment.
‘Forgive me, Charles, but I don’t understand that. We could’ve been raising a family together by now, but you turned your back on me and our future. I admire your dedication to your work, but I can’t help worrying where you’re going to fit a child into your routine? What’s going to change?’ It was all very well saying the words but what point was there in making promises he couldn’t keep? Relegating her in his affections in favour of Heatherglen was one thing but she wouldn’t let him do that to their child.
‘Nothing. I’m going to remain as faithful to my family as I have been for these last years. That includes my son or daughter.’
