Needed: Full-Time Father (Medical Romance)

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘MICA?’ Vic gave a panicked, bewildered shake of his head.

  ‘The mobile intensive care unit, Switch will understand. Tell them to say that our doctor has had a cardiac arrest and we need him to be transferred, we need an ICU bed…’ Madison was pulling up the standard drugs used during a cardiac arrest and handing them to Guy, before he even had to name them. She winced as he shocked Gerard again, the horrible, singed smell filling the sterile room. She felt the indignity of seeing the immaculate Gerard with his chest bared, his tie cut and pushed to the side. But as was so much the man, a handkerchief still peeped out of his suit pocket—a poignant reminder of the immaculate man they were trying to save.

  ‘Look, I don’t know if it means anything,’ Vic spoke, his voice shaky, unsure of his reception, but Guy was open to any suggestion and nodded urgently for Vic to go on. ‘He said something about a sore back last night when he went home.’

  ‘He could have a ruptured aortic aneurysm,’ Guy said, referring to a dire surgical emergency where the main artery of the body ruptured.

  ‘He strained his back, moving a box with me, last night,’ Madison said, shaking her head. ‘I was there, Guy. It was a simple strain, I saw it happen myself…’

  ‘Open a thoracotomy tray,’ Guy called, and almost on autopilot Madison went to retrieve one. She set it up to open Gerard’s chest, to rip through his sternum so that Guy could visualise the heart, massage it with his hands, clamp the aorta, tie off a bleed or remove a clot, do something, anything, that might prolong this wonderful life. But all Madison knew was that Gerard wouldn’t have wanted it.

  ‘We did everything we could.’

  She’d heard it said so many times, had used the sentence herself on many, many occasions, but maybe for the first time Madison knew exactly what it meant. That sometimes to do everything you actually had to be brave and do nothing—because nothing modern medicine had to offer was going to help now. Despite heroics, despite best effort, nothing could make a difference for Gerard—certainly not ripping open his chest with a saw.

  ‘He’s gone.’ She couldn’t believe she was saying it, yet she knew that it was true. Knew that going on even a moment longer was an indignity, that Professor Gerard Dalton had gone and nothing was going to bring him back.

  ‘He might have…’ For a second Guy wavered, torn between hope and truth, and for the first time Madison actually looked at him, took in the man she’d never formally met but who seemed somehow to understand the atrocity of what had taken place. Dark blond hair flopped over his forehead, the same raw anguish she had first witnessed when he had knelt down beside Gerard’s lifeless body in the entrance hall more visible now. His hazel eyes stared first at her then down at his patient, his tall, muscular body slumped in resignation, the rhythmic massage stilling. But his fingers were still knotted together over Gerard’s chest as he stared at the monitor.

  ‘There’s no history?’ he checked. ‘Any pre-existing—?’

  ‘He’s a workaholic,’ Madison whispered. ‘That’s all I know.’

  And the agony she had briefly witnessed was smothered now as Guy reverted to the practical, drew on his professionalism. He flicked on his torch, tested Gerard’s pupil response, pulled out his stethoscope and listened for any indication of life, shaking his head as the paramedics rushed in pumped for action, ready to assist. They visibly deflated as they realised who the patient was—anyone who had been in Emergency for any length of time knew and respected Gerard Dalton.

  ‘Time of death.’ Guy Boyd’s voice was hollow, a muscle flickering in his taut cheek as he glance up at the clock. ‘Five thirty-two a.m.’

  And Madison did what was needed but no more—she closed Gerard’s eyes on a world he had left too soon, pulled a sheet up over his body but not over his face, then walked out of the area, dragging in air that seemed stale, nausea seeping into every pore, nerves jumping as Guy Boyd came up behind her.

  ‘What happened? Before I arrived, I mean.’

  ‘You saw what happened,’ Madison choked. ‘One minute we were talking, looking forward to today and the next…’ She took a deep breath, swallowing rising hysteria. ‘His wife, I’ll have to—’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Guy broke in, but Madison shook her head.

  ‘She deserves more than a phone call.’

  ‘I’ll go over to her home now.’ He gave a hesitant nod, then midway it changed and he nodded more firmly. ‘The hospital doesn’t officially open for a few hours yet. I’ll go and fetch her.’

  ‘But Yvonne should hear it from someone who knows her…’ Tears were starting, emotion was creeping in, but Madison choked it all back, appalled at the prospect of breaking down, terrified that if she started to cry she’d never stop, painfully aware that staff would be arriving soon.

  ‘I know Yvonne,’ Guy said, his hand reaching out and capturing her shoulder, squeezing it. Madison couldn’t be sure if he was giving support or taking it. ‘I’ll tell her what’s happened face to face—it’s better that way. No doubt she’ll want to come straight over to the hospital, she’ll need to see for herself…Are you OK?’ His voice changed from pensive to worried, his hand tightened on her shoulder, but more in an attempt to hold her up. ‘Sister…?’

  ‘Madison,’ she filled in, running a tongue over horribly dry lips. A scream built in her throat but she swallowed it back, balled her fists, struggled to keep it all in check as blindly Guy continued.

  ‘Madison Walsh,’ Guy responded, obviously having recognised her name. ‘Gerard speaks very highly of you.’ A flash of pain flickered across his face and mercifully he didn’t correct himself, didn’t relegate Gerard to the past tense while he was still warm in the room nearby. Instead, Guy gulped in air, raked a hand through his hair and then nodded as if to right himself.

  ‘I’ll go and tell Yvonne now. This is going to have to go to the coroner, so don’t remove any equipment from the…’ He gave a tiny swallow before continuing. ‘Just make him look as presentable as you can.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ Madison snapped, not sure where her anger was coming from, not sure at all how she was actually feeling, but relieved to let a little bit of emotion out. ‘As if I need to be told how to prepare a patient.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Guy said. ‘I wasn’t implying…’ His voice trailed off and Madison stood there trying to take it all in, trying to fathom how somehow in a matter of minutes everything, everything, had changed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, and Madison knew he wasn’t apologising for his words this time but for the terrible loss that had been suffered.

  ‘Me, too,’ Madison whispered, wondering how she was going to do this, how she was going to tell the staff. Face Yvonne. Her mind grasped for some comfort, for strength to see her through just the next moment at least. She found it from an unlikely source. Guy Boyd’s hand reached for her shoulder, gripping it tightly for a moment in a tender show of support.

  ‘We’ll get through this, the department is going to get through this.’

  But Madison knew that, knew the team she and Gerard had created, the procedures that had long since been put in place, were enough to withstand even a blow such as this. Her grief was on a much more personal level and when she didn’t respond, Guy seemed to sense why.

  ‘He was more than just a boss to you, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Much more,’ Madison agreed, and perhaps it was the emotion of the moment, a need to voice what was on her mind. Whatever the reason, she found herself opening up in a way she hadn’t in the longest time, and even though there were endless things to be addressed, endless problems to face, the two of them took a small slice of time to share in some memories before they faced the unenviable tasks ahead. ‘He delivered my daughter.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you delivered the baby at work!’ Guy teased, but his voice was tinged with something he couldn’t identify—regret, confusion, he didn’t know. It was hard to believe that this brittle, almost hostile woman should have a softer side, that behind the starched unifor
m and withering stare beat the infinitely gentler dimensions of a woman.

  ‘Not quite.’ A tiny smile wobbled on her lips as she recalled the memory. ‘We needed the money so I worked far into my pregnancy. I was thirty-five weeks pregnant and thought I had a bit of back pain. I tried not to let anyone see, but Gerard, being Gerard, picked up on it straight away. He wanted me to go to Maternity but I insisted on going home first. Being the gentleman he was, he offered to drive me home.’

  ‘You didn’t have it in his car!’

  Looking up, she saw that hazel eyes were somehow, despite what had happened, smiling.

  ‘No, but I found out what those little handrails above windows are for.’ His quizzical frown told Madison that clearly Guy didn’t have a clue—no doubt, he thought that they’d merely been provided to hang his dry cleaning from. ‘Suddenly I was holding onto the handles, gripping for dear life and wanting to push! Gerard was great. He executed a U-turn in the middle of the road and drove me to Maternity. We made it with seconds to spare.’ Like a balloon bursting, the blissful warmth of the memory dispersed and cold reality settled in. ‘He was there for me during good times and bad, there for me when my life fell apart…’ She checked herself, appalled at admitting so much to a stranger, consoling herself that grief did the strangest things to even the most sensible people. Pressing her fingers into her eyes, Madison halted herself and drew on some extremely well-used inner reserve as Guy watched.

  He watched and tried to fathom this woman falling apart—stared down at the very straight brown hair pulled sharply back, the minimal but carefully applied make-up, the crisply ironed burgundy blouse that told everyone she was a senior member of staff, her very neat navy skirt sitting just on the knee and above even neater navy stockinged legs. He wondered what scale she measured herself on because from where he was standing, the closest a woman like Madison Walsh would come to falling apart was a run in her stockings. And no doubt she’s have a replacement pair in her bag, and a couple in her office drawer, too, come to that.

  ‘I can’t somehow imagine your life falling apart,’ he murmured, and Madison let out a hollow laugh.

  ‘Believe me, it did, and through it all Gerard was there.’ Feeling horribly self-indulgent, she shot a shy look at Guy. ‘From what Gerard told me, you know each other pretty well.’

  ‘Not well enough, unfortunately,’ Guy said softly, and there was something in his voice she couldn’t interpret, a pain that however well hidden seemed incredibly raw. ‘I was hoping to put that right, though. I was really looking forward to working alongside him. I’ll go and tell Yvonne,’ Guy said wearily, and headed off to perform the hardest task of the entire morning.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MADISON was glad to be busy and to be able to immerse herself in the seemingly insurmountable task of creating some sort of order out of the chaotic day. When a patient died the work didn’t stop. There were relatives to be contacted, forms to be filled out, the body to be prepared. But when the death was sudden, when the patient was also the director of the ward, the workload tripled and Madison dived straight in, discussing the options with Shirley.

  ‘I’ve paged Terrence Hall, the CEO,’ Shirley said crisply, bustling out of Madison’s office over to the nurses’ station. And though Shirley’s voice and actions were supremely efficient, her red-rimmed eyes revealed the inner pain of dealing with the practicalities. ‘And I’ve asked Vic to send all the arriving staff into the main waiting room for a team meeting. I thought it might be easier if we tell everyone at once.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Madison agreed. ‘A lot of the staff will only have met him during orientation or at their interviews, but for those that have worked with him…’ She let out a long sigh. ‘There are going to be some very upset staff members.’

  ‘How far away does Mrs Dalton live?’ Shirley asked, glancing down at her watch and then frowning. ‘And will this new consultant know where to go?’

  ‘I expect so—from what Gerard told me, they knew each other well. He didn’t ask for an address or directions or anything and, given that it’s five minutes or so away, we ought to get things ready.’

  By ‘things’ Madison meant the body, but some words didn’t need to be said and both women headed into Resus, determined to do their best for Gerard. And that now meant looking after his family.

  Because Gerard’s death would most likely have to be investigated by the coroner, all the equipment such as chest pads and IV access had to be left untouched, so Shirley busied herself clearing away the chaos of wrappers and ampoules and syringes, tidying up the area to make it look as presentable as possible. Madison did up Gerard’s shirt over the equipment, her shaking hands trying to rearrange his cut tie, placing a pillow under his head and moving his arms out over the sheet so that his family would be able to hold his hands.

  ‘He looks peaceful,’ Shirley said, and even though it was a cliché, it was true—in death he looked ten years younger, the tension that must have held him together gone for ever now. ‘Should we move him over to a cubicle to give his family more privacy?’ She stopped as Guy’s solemn face appeared at the curtain. After a brief nod from Madison, he ushered in Gerard’s wife and all the words Madison usually delivered at times like these faded before they even formed on her lips. Seeing the usually immaculate, proud Yvonne Dalton’s ashen, overwhelmed face as Guy gently guided her in told Madison no words were needed now, that Yvonne only needed to be with her husband.

  The guttural scream was heart-wrenching and Madison drew her breath in sharply, biting down on her bottom lip as she guided Yvonne’s trembling hand to her husband’s while Guy placed a chair behind her, his strong hands helping her to sit.

  ‘Would you like us to leave you alone, Yvonne?’ Madison asked. The woman gave a distracted nod.

  ‘Yvonne?’ Guy’s voice was supremely gentle. ‘Can I—?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Yvonne bristled, angry accusing eyes swinging towards him. ‘I’d like to be left alone.’

  ‘How was she?’ Madison asked when they were out of earshot at the nurses’ station. ‘When you were at the house?’

  ‘Much as you’d expect,’ Guy said, revealing nothing. But his strained expression told Madison it hadn’t been easy. ‘I rang her son and daughter for her—her hands were shaking too much—and they’re on their way in from the City. They shouldn’t be very long. Look, I hate to ask, I’m not usually known for passing the buck, but could I ask you to deal with Yvonne when she comes out? I think I’m only upsetting her more.’

  ‘Of course,’ Madison agreed, but, seeing his troubled expression, she felt it wasn’t quite enough. ‘Guy, I know Yvonne seemed hostile in there but she doesn’t blame you for any of this, she’s just upset and confused at the moment. You’re the one who told her the bad news, so it’s you she’s reacting to.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Guy said, but he sounded far from convinced. ‘But I think it would be better for everyone if I stay in the background while Yvonne’s around. OK, bring me up to speed. What have you done while I was gone?’

  And even though Madison appreciated the directness of his question, was more than happy to concentrate on practicalities at the moment, she couldn’t help but feel Guy was changing the subject. ‘Vic’s directing all the staff into the main waiting room so that they can be told together. I’ve got out the interim death certificate forms for you and I’ve pinned the coroner’s number to the front. Shirley—the nurse supervisor—has paged the CEO. I suppose I should let Ambulance Control know.’

  Ambulance Control?’ Guy frowned. ‘I thought we weren’t open to ambulances till eleven.’

  ‘We’re not,’ Madison said, ‘but we can hardly go ahead with opening.’ She registered his bemused expression and it infuriated her. ‘Guy, I don’t think you understand just how pivotal Gerard really is to this department.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ Guy responded, ‘but, then, neither do the patients. In fact, I can guarantee that when someone’s baby starts convulsing or
their husband develops chest pain, the last thing they’ll be expecting is a closed-for-business sign on the door. The only thing that will be on their minds is that the new hospital opens today—thank heaven help’s close at hand.

  ‘We’ll address the staff in ten minutes.’

  He didn’t await her response, which was just as well, Madison realized, because she didn’t have one. Instead, he turned and headed off. Seeing Yvonne come out shakily from behind the curtain, Madison guided the distraught woman to the interview room and sat with her in silence for a few minutes as Yvonne quietly wept. She offered the occasional tissue but deliberately didn’t speak, allowing Yvonne to guide her in what she needed from Madison.

  ‘When he collapsed… ’Yvonne gulped, pleating the tissue between her fingers, her usually strong voice strangled in pain as she forced the words out. ‘When Guy arrived and Gerard collapsed, what did he say?’

  ‘He didn’t say anything, Yvonne,’ Madison said gently. ‘It all happened very quickly.’

  ‘I know that,’Yvonne answered through gritted teeth, ‘but I need to know what was said, I need to know what—’ Her frustrated words halted abruptly and Madison didn’t rush to fill the silence, rehearsing in her mind what to say. Yvonne’s response was very normal, trying to glean anything she could from the last moments of her loved one’s life, trying to find out if something, anything, had been said that she could cling to, a tiny message that maybe she alone might understand. But in Gerard’s case there had been nothing and gently Madison attempted to explain that.

  ‘Guy arrived,’ Madison said slowly, ‘but he was locked out. Gerard and I were on our way to meet him at Reception. We were just chatting about the day ahead, having a coffee before we started work. Gerard wasn’t in pain or anything, I had no idea what was about to happen.’ She watched Yvonne frown as she delivered the words and Madison knew that she had to be very gentle, that this short but vital conversation would stay with Yvonne for ever, that she needed to know every detail of her husband’s last moments. ‘I headed off to let the new consultant in and I thought Gerard was following me, only when I turned around I realized that he was in trouble, he had lost consciousness and was sliding to the floor. He didn’t cry out, he didn’t complain of any pain. I don’t think that Gerard suffered for even a second.’