by Andrews, Amy
Nash felt sick. Someone had stabbed her?
‘I’ll call the crash team and Security,’ Gemma said pulling her mobile out of her pocket.
Nash yanked out the heavy-duty scissors he carried in a pouch on his belt and in a couple of seconds had sheared through Maggie’s polo shirt. Her white bra was soaked red as he ran his hands all over her abdomen and chest searching for a wound. The feel of her warm congealing blood made him more and more frantic.
When he couldn’t find an entry point, he sheared through each leg of her trousers and repeated the exercise, looking for the bleeding point.
‘This amount of blood has to indicate a major vessel, Nash,’ Gemma said as she too tried to locate where the fresh-looking blood was coming from.
Nash’s movements grew more frantic. He felt like he was watching the life force ebb from her, could smell her blood all around him, and he wanted to pick her up and hug her to him.
Shake her. Tell her not to leave him.
‘Nowhere. There’s nowhere,’ Gemma said. ‘Where else could she be bleeding from?’
Then Nash knew. The baby. Oh, God, was she miscarrying? Had she haemorrhaged and fainted? A fresh wave of panic hit him. ‘She’s pregnant,’ he said, looking up at Gemma.
Gemma and Linda stared at him like he’d lost his mind. ‘Are you sure?’ Linda asked.
Nash nodded. ‘It’s mine. I’m sure.’
There were a couple more seconds when they continued to look at him in disbelief but then Maggie started to stir and everything was forgotten.
‘Maggie?’ Nash felt his heart leap in his chest as she moved her head and groaned.
‘Maggie, it’s Gemma. Can you open your eyes?’
Maggie’s head was thumping and Gemma’s voice sounded very far away but she prised her eyes open obediently. Gemma swam in and out of focus.
‘Maggie!’
Nash? ‘Nash? What’s wrong?’ She tried to sit up but hands held her down. ‘What happened?’ she asked dazedly.
‘Were you stabbed? Where, Maggie? Where were you stabbed?’ Nash ran his hands over her again looking for a wound.
Maggie frowned as her head continued to throb. ‘What? No.’ The events came flooding back. She struggled to sit and was held down again. She became aware of the congealing blood sticking to her arms, caking on her body. ‘He didn’t stab me,’ she protested. ‘He got the bag of blood. Not me.’
‘He who?’ Linda demanded.
‘Christopher’s grandfather. He slashed the bag and then ripped it off me and ran. I fell...slipped in the blood and hit my head.’ Maggie lifted her hand to her head to try and ease the jackhammers drilling into her skull.
The crash team, consisting of an A and E doctor and two of their nurses, an anaesthetist and two wards men along with three burly security guards, burst through the nearby fire escape door.
Ray arrived as part of the PICU response at the same time. They all froze as they took in the scene.
Had Maggie’s head not throbbed so much she might have laughed. She guessed it did rather look like a massacre had just occurred. And then they all moved at once and there was pandemonium in the corridor.
The head security officer called for back-up and made a call to the police. He sent his two officers to search for the perpetrator. Gemma organised the wardies to get a gurney and sent the A and E staff back to their department. Linda organised Ray to take charge of the unit and two of the newly arrived security officers went with him.
Maggie looked at Nash who was looking even worse than the morning he’d found the positive pregnancy test in her bathroom. He was running his bloodied hands through his hair and a smear of blood marred one otherwise perfect cheek.
‘Nash?’
Nash heard her small voice, usually so firm and assured, and he hauled her into a sitting position and tucked her into his chest. She was trembling and he hugged her closer. He didn’t care that he’d have even more blood over him or that the hand he had on her head, stroking her hair, was covered in the red sticky stuff.
She was okay. The baby was okay.
That was all that mattered.
‘Bloody hell, Maggie, you scared the living daylights out of me.’
Maggie rested her cheek against his shirt. It felt heavenly against her thumping temple and she turned her face into his shirt, smelling the essence of him, eliminating the sickly metallic aroma playing havoc with her nausea.
‘Come on, you two,’ Linda interrupted. ‘We need to get Maggie to X-Ray.’
Maggie looked at Nash and shook her head. ‘No, Nash, I can’t. The baby,’ she mouthed.
Nash smiled and dropped a kiss on her nose, elated to see her sitting and talking and thinking and being all Maggie and bossy. For an awful moment he’d thought she was dead. ‘I’m afraid they know about the baby, Maggie.’
Maggie gaped at him. She would have been really mad had it not hurt her head, and Gemma and Linda were grinning stupidly at her so she just rolled her eyes. ‘Well, okay, then. So I’m not having an X-ray.’
Gemma cocked an eyebrow at Nash. ‘Maggie, you were knocked out. For quite a while. We need to check you didn’t do some damage.’
Maggie squirmed out of his embrace pulling her the edges of her scrub together as she tried to get to her feet on legs that felt like jelly. Nash helped but as soon as she was up she pulled her elbow out of his grasp.
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
Unfortunately, a wave of dizziness chose that moment to assail her and she swayed.
‘Whoa.’ Nash caught her, sweeping her up off her feet with Maggie protesting the entire way. The gurney arrived at the same time and he placed her on it. ‘See?’ he said gently as he spread a sheet over her body to protect her modesty.
‘No X-ray,’ she said mutinously. ‘Do a full neuro assessment if you must, but I’m not irradiating this baby.’
‘Maggie,’ Gemma appealed. ‘One X-ray is not going to hurt the baby. They’ll take appropriate precautions.’
‘No.’
‘You’ll have to stay overnight for observation if you refuse,’ Gemma lectured.
Maggie looked at the two doctors, united in their determination to expose her baby to deadly radiation. ‘Fine.’
Two hours later, Nash was finally free to leave work and visit Maggie. She’d been whisked away by ambulance to the Brisbane General while he’d been held up with the police and handing over to Mac. Every instinct he’d owned had rebelled against their separation but he’d known hospital was the best place for her.
Still, the sight of her lying in that pool of blood kept running through his head with sickening clarity and the need to reassure himself that she was okay was paramount. He was increasingly frustrated by the amount of time it was taking and his nerves were stretched to breaking point when he finally managed to get away.
She was tucked up asleep when he entered her private room. She was wearing one of those awful hospital gowns and looked pale and fragile against the white sheets. An ugly mark marred her left temple, a purple bruise embellishing it further. But at least the blood was gone.
Nash didn’t think he’d ever be able to scrub that image from his mind.
He dropped a light kiss on her forehead but she didn’t stir. Pulling up a chair close to the bed, he sank into it and reached for her nearest hand. She still didn’t stir but Nash could feel the warmth of her palm and see her chest rising and falling so he knew she was okay.
Even if her stillness was almost as sickening as the blood.
Nash rested his chin on the bed and watched. He watched her deep, even respirations. The bound of her abdominal pulse. The fluttering of her eyes beneath her lids. He watched, relieved, overwhelmingly thankful that she was okay.
A nurse came in and smiled at Nash. She performed a set of neuro obs and Nash leaned closer as Maggie stirred to the nurse’s insistent demand that she open her eyes.
‘Nash?’ Maggie murmured, becoming aware of his presence
just as re
tinal-detaching light was blasted into her pupils.
Nash was here? The thought helped soothe the ache a little and she threaded her fingers through his.
‘I’m here,’ he said, squeezing her hand.
Maggie answered a series of questions the nurse fired at her and dutifully moved all her limbs. ‘How’s your head?’
‘Feels like someone’s drilling a hole in it with a jackhammer.’ Maggie grimaced.
‘I can get you something for it,’ the nurse suggested.
Maggie shifted her free hand to her belly and splayed her fingers there. ‘No, thanks. I’ll cope.’
‘A couple of Panadol aren’t going to hurt, Maggie,’ Nash interceded.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Okay, then. See you in an hour,’ the nurse said as she left.
‘Oh, goody,’ she muttered, her head throbbing as her eyes fluttered shut.
Nash chuckled. It was good to see Maggie’s humour was intact. ‘You could have had the X-ray,’ he chided.
Maggie could feel herself drifting off to sleep again and let it slide but a nagging question pulled her out and she forced her eyes open. Rolled her head to the side, she sought and found Nash’s gaze. ‘Did they get him?’
Nash nodded. ‘Yes, he’s been apprehended.’
Maggie pursed her lips, the whole crazy jumble of events too much for her sore head to contemplate. Her lids drifted downwards again.
No, wait, there was something else. She forced her eyes open again. ‘Did Christopher get his transfusion?’
Nash shook his head. Trust Maggie to be thinking of one of her patients in the midst of all of this. ‘Yes. He did. Bree popped in to visit you but you were asleep.’
Maggie smiled as she felt the tug of sleep pulling her under. ‘Not her fault,’ she murmured.
Nash watched her drift away, her grip on his hand easing, grateful that despite her ordeal she was still the same Maggie. His mobile buzzed in his pocket and he slowly extricated himself so he could switch it off.
Maggie, teetering on the edge of the precipice between light sleep and total oblivion, felt his withdrawal as if her safety rope had been tugged away and her eyes flew open as her heart rate spiked. ‘No,’ she murmured, reaching for his hand. ‘Don’t leave.’
An edge of panic welled up inside. Not yet. She had another few weeks with him.
Don’t leave me yet.
‘Hey, shh, it’s okay,’ Nash said, ignoring his phone as she clawed his hand back into her grasp, holding it prisoner against her belly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
He smiled at her and Maggie’s pulse settled again as the panic receded and the imprint of his hand against her abdomen registered. She shut her eyes. ‘Yes, you are.’
The words were her last as this time sleep tugged her completely under.
Nash blinked at the streak of accusation in her mumbled words. Yes, you are. If she’d meant to make him feel guilty – it worked.
Her stomach was warm beneath his palm as Nash turned her words over in his head. He recognised the flat contours he’d grown to know so well in such a short time and felt a pang that he wasn’t going to get to see her shape change, feel the roundness replace the smooth planes.
It was the first time he’d touched her in any intimate way in weeks, and the fact that his child lay beneath their hands made it even more intimate. His mind returned to the awful events and plagued him with what-ifs, and his hand tightened against her belly.
What if she’d really been stabbed? What if the baby had been injured? What if she’d died? What if something like this had happened while he was living overseas? He shuddered, thinking about it, and the feeling that he was shirking his duties returned with a vengeance as her yes you are mingled with the emotions of the night’s events.
Except it was about more than duty now. This was real. Maggie was real. The baby beneath his hands was real. It didn’t feel like a problem that had to be solved anymore or a responsibility he had to bear.
So, what was it?
Maybe he was becoming a father? Seeing Maggie like that on the floor — still and bleeding — had stirred something in him. Shifted something. The thought that the baby might be in danger had been equally as dreadful. Maybe his caveman protective instincts were kicking in?
His woman, his child. His job to protect them. But how could he do that from the other side of the world?
Yes, you are.
Nash groaned and laid his forehead on the crisp white sheet. This made no sense. They’d already figured out what they were going to do. And Maggie had seemed really happy. At peace with it. Except her grip on his hand and her mumbled words just now seemed to refute that.
His career plans and his future dreams inspired by his sister’s struggle warred with the emotions that flooded him as he sat here looking at Maggie.
What the hell was happening to him?
CHAPTER NINE
Maggie stirred early the next morning and stared down at Nash’s golden hair. It took a moment to orientate herself. She’d shuffled down the bed overnight and was lying on her side, facing Nash, in a foetal position.
Their heads were quite close, one of his hands tucked into hers, cradled in the juncture between her curled belly and tucked-up thighs. His head was angled awkwardly towards her, his right cheek against the sheets, his gorgeous face relaxed in slumber.
The usual wave of morning sickness appeared to be absent so she took a moment to just gaze at him. Her love swelled in her chest and she savoured the moment, knowing there would be no more of these. She felt strangely emotional as the impact of last night hit her anew.
Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward and dropped a light kiss against his mouth.
Nash woke up abruptly. He’d slept fitfully all night with the constant interruptions from the nurses and had only fallen into a deeper sleep in the last couple of hours as the neuro obs had gone to four-hourly. Still, he was instantly awake at the brush of her lips.
‘Hi.’ She smiled as he raised his head off the bed like he’d been hit with a Taser. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist it. Bad Maggie.’
Nash’s thundering heart rate settled as he realised everything was okay. He smiled back at her and laid his head down again. ‘She’s my favourite.’
Maggie laughed and the dull throb behind her eyes gave a vicious pulse. She winced.
‘Head still hurt?’
‘Only when I laugh,’ she murmured. ‘It’s much better. I feel much better.’
Nash let his gaze roam around her face. Her colour was back and apart from the bruised graze on her temple she looked essentially normal.
She’d certainly had more sleep than he’d had.
He lifted a hand and brushed her fringe off her forehead. ‘You scared me, Maggie May.’
Maggie’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest at his endearment. ‘I was pretty damn scared myself.’
‘Don’t do that to me again.’
Maggie looked at him. How would he know? But she remembered his face from last night and cut him some slack. Their situation sucked and she had no one but herself to blame. ‘Deal.’
The night nurse bustled in for her last set of obs and Maggie sat up. Nash missed her immediately. He’d loved waking up next to her these past couple of months and this morning hadn’t been any different.
In fact, after last night, it had been an absolute joy.
‘When does the doctor do his round?’ Maggie asked her.
‘He should be around before lunch,’ the nurse said.
Maggie frowned. ‘That long?’
‘You’ve got somewhere to be?’ Nash asked, amused by her Maggie-like annoyance.
‘I’ve got the ball tonight.’
Nash rubbed his hand along the stubble that had peppered his jaw overnight. ‘Ah. I don’t think so.’
Maggie raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry?’
Nash sighed. ‘Maggie. You have a concussion. Don’t give me any grief over this.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You need to be resting.’
‘He’s right,’ the nurse admitted as she recorded Maggie’s pupillary reaction in the chart at the end of the bed.
Maggie gave her the eyebrow this time and she wisely backed out of the room. ‘I’m fine,’ she repeated, turning her attention back to him.
Nash took her hand. ‘It’ll be too tiring.’
‘I slept like a rock last night.’
‘Yes.’ Nash nodded. ‘It’s called concussion.’
Maggie wormed herself out of his grasp. ‘I bumped my head, I didn’t have a lobotomy.’
‘Maggie, you know the doctor’s going to advise against it.’
Maggie wasn’t sure why she was so desperate to go suddenly when only yesterday she’d been thinking how hard it would be to sit near Nash - Nash in a tux - and know he was leaving.
But she’d just be sitting at home, doing it.
Keeping busy was the only way she was going to get through the months until the baby was born. After that she figured she’d be too busy to think about anything.
And then there was the dress. She’d bought it a few days ago and knew she looked spectacular in it. She’d already pictured the look on Nash’s face when he first saw her in it. The look that told her she was his, that covered her in his heavy sexual fingerprints, that said, hey, baby let’s blow this joint and go swap DNA.
It wasn’t love but it was the closest thing to love she was ever going to see on his face and, damn it, she wanted to see it again.
She wanted to dress up for him. Wanted to show Nash just what he was kissing goodbye.
‘I’m going to be in a roomful of doctors and nurses. Hell, the neurologist will probably be there. I couldn’t be in a better place.’
‘You should be tucked up in bed. Fast asleep.’ He added the last bit for his own sake. Maggie tucked up in bed never involved anything as passive as sleeping in his head.
‘What are you going to do, Nash? Lock me in my room?’
Nash knew he had no power to stop her but couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that it was his job to protect her. From herself, if need be. He gave a rueful smile. ‘Don’t be putting thoughts in my head, Maggie May.’
