The One Man to Heal Her

by Meredith Webber

  ‘Does she yell very often?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Only at the doctors,’ Will assured her. ‘They will run over their appointment times and ruin her timetables!’

  Alex laughed.

  ‘Every practice needs a Marilyn,’ she said, seemingly at ease, yet again Will sensed there was something bothering her.

  Was the attraction he was feeling not one-sided? Was Alex feeling something towards him but conflicted over it because he knew her from the past?

  Or his past?

  Heaven knew, he felt weirdly disloyal towards Elise for the way he was feeling, so perhaps—

  ‘Grave thoughts?’ she said, startling him out of his meandering imaginings.

  ‘Stupid thoughts,’ he countered, determined to put all the attraction stuff aside. ‘Brian said one of the reasons he was pleased to appoint you to the team was that you were happy to assist in operations.’

  It wasn’t quite a question but she took it as one.

  ‘I love being involved when my patients go to Theatre. I worked in a private hospital in Glasgow so often worked on the surgeon’s team. I tossed up doing surgery, but I like patient contact and felt I wouldn’t get enough as a surgeon.’

  Nice, easy, medical conversation, and he had to be imagining the thread of tension in her voice.

  Most likely tiredness, exhaustion even, given her recent arrival and the stress that had followed it.

  Alex wasn’t sure how long she could sit there, eating chips and chatting away to Will when the echoes of the phone call were still ringing in her head.

  But much as she longed to tell him, she knew she couldn’t keep leaning on him for support, especially when the attraction she was feeling towards him showed no sign of abating.

  So they talked of work, of patients they’d had, and finally of a young lad who would be her patient.

  ‘He’s seventeen, with congenital heart problems that have got beyond salvage, so he’s waiting for a donor heart.’

  ‘Would someone do it here?’ Alex asked, surprised, although organ transplant techniques were now so advanced most major hospitals could cope with them.

  ‘If a suitable donor turned up, yes. Ideally, he should be in a capital city while he waits, but it could be months.’

  ‘Or even longer, and he’d be away from his friends and family and in the end it could all be for nothing,’ Alex finished, and Will nodded.

  ‘Brian and the cardiovascular surgeon have both backed him wanting to stay here, sure it’s better for him to grab whatever happiness he can, but I worry sometimes that it was the right decision.’

  ‘You’ve got the facilities and personnel?’

  ‘To do either a harvest operation or the transplant, yes, but if the heart was here, we’d have to bring in a team of surgeons to do the harvest. That’s already been set up, with cardiovascular people prepared to fly in, but it’s more likely the heart would be somewhere else, and it would be harvested where the donor is and then flown here.’

  The idea that she might be involved in a transplant sent a different kind of thrill through Alex’s body.

  Good, this was good. Getting excited about work would soon stop her getting excited about Will.

  Perhaps, she added ruefully to herself as he smiled at her and it was obvious the other thrill was still there.

  But it had diverted her from the phone call, which she was now prepared to put down to a wrong number.

  So they talked of work, sipped wine, and ate their fish and chips. The talking of work part was okay, but watching Will take a sip of wine—he took very few sips, his glass still half-full—or his lips close around a morsel of fish was flustering, to say the least.

  Darkness had fallen on the river, so it had taken on a silver sheen, and occasional soft shushing sounds as ripples from a passing craft washed ashore somehow made the scene even more peaceful.

  He should go!

  Will knew that as well as he knew his name.

  But sitting here with Alex was as close to total relaxation as he’d felt in a long time.

  Almost total relaxation.

  She was taking a sip of wine, and even in the gloom he could make out her lips closing on the glass—full, sensual lips…

  He imagined them closing on his mouth, sipping—

  Body hardening, he pushed away his glass, stood, and gathered up the paper wrappings, tipping out one last, cold chip.

  ‘Want it?’ he said, holding it out to Alex, aware he was using it as an excuse to touch her fingers, equally aware he had to sort out his feelings before this went any further.

  Buddy saved the day, swooping from his perch on the railing, where he’d been quietly scolding some errant seagulls.

  ‘Too late,’ Alex said, laughing at the antics of the bird as she too rose to her feet.

  Close enough to touch, to reach out and draw her into his arms.

  She was close enough to touch him and a treacherous voice in her head suggested if she told him of the phone call he’d do the touching—he’d hold her to comfort her—but this whole situation was too…false? Artificial? Too something.

  She’d come home to her father’s death and Will had been there for her—Will was the only familiar person in the town she once had known, but wasn’t it too easy to confuse comfort for something more personal?

  But she did take the wrappings from him, aware it was probably an excuse to touch his fingers!

  Leading the way back through the house, she thanked him for bringing Brian’s message and explaining so much of the set-up she’d be going into.

  Did she sound as stilted and formal to him as she did to herself?

  Maybe, for he grinned and gave a little bow.

  ‘My pleasure, Dr Hudson,’ he said.

  She smiled.

  ‘You can call me Alex,’ she replied teasingly.

  And was startled when he said, in a surprisingly deep and serious tone, ‘I would like that very much, Alex.’

  Upon which he kissed her cheek and was gone.

  ‘I will not press my hand to where he kissed me,’ Alex muttered to herself, scrunching the chip wrapping tighter so her fingers wouldn’t stray.

  But as she went upstairs, stepping over the chaos of clothes still littering the hall, to go into the new bedroom, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever get to share the beauty of this special room with someone special.

  Special like Will?

  She thrust away the thought and busied herself putting clothes from the hall and her second suitcase into her new wardrobes, setting out her toiletries in her new bathroom.

  It’s the beginning of a whole new life, she reminded herself, and it’s up to you to make the most of it.

  But not alone, her heart protested, not alone…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SUNDAY MORNING AND Alex luxuriated in the comfortable new bed, lying there, looking out at her beloved river. She thought of the past, the life she’d once had, here by the river—of her mother, who’d been unable to comfort her when she’d needed it and had died without forgiving her for a sin she hadn’t committed.

  Long ago, with help from counsellors, she’d forgiven her mother’s behaviour, aware that if she hadn’t taken that step it would have poisoned her life.

  But her father?

  What had he been thinking when he’d made this room for her?

  Regret?

  He’d asked for forgiveness and she’d given it wholeheartedly, but this gift spoke of love.

  ‘Love’ hadn’t been a word much used in her home—apart from love for God. Although Alex had felt loved when she and her father had been out in the tinnie, when he’d held her hand to steady it while she’d baited a hook…

  Was that what love was?

  A steadying hand?

  Now she grieved for the man who’d held it out to her, setting aside the pain of his later rejection.

  And sorrow that she hadn’t had more time to spend with him—time to tell him all was well—almost swampe
d her.

  It’s hunger, she told herself, and left the warm nest of her bed.

  Her father had stocked up on basics but it was obvious she’d have to shop, especially as she was starting work the next day, and shopping time in future might be severely restricted.

  Time to take her father’s car out of the garage.

  Wondering why she hadn’t even bothered to check what kind of vehicle it was, she found the keys hanging where they had always hung, used the automatic door-opener to open the garage then went out and blinked in surprise at her father’s choice of vehicle—a fairly new, bright red, small SUV.

  Red! Like the car she’d been saving up for all those years ago, although back then all she’d wanted had been something small and cheap!

  But what fun to have this to run around in, was her next thought, then guilt that she wasn’t feeling worse about her father’s death damped down the pleasure.

  Although, she thought, she now understood enough of her father’s thinking not to get too depressed.

  The bedroom, this smart new red car—these were his way of saying he was sorry—of making restitution for the lost years, which made it okay to take pleasure in his unexpected gifts.

  Didn’t it?

  She shook her head, nearly as confused over her father renewing contact as she was over Will.

  Think shopping, not Will!

  * * *

  Marilyn proved every bit as pleasant and efficient as Will had said, and Alex knew she’d soon settle into the routine of the practice. She’d been there for two hours and was going through the patient list for the week when the pager Marilyn had presented to Alex buzzed.

  ‘It’s the hospital,’ Marilyn told her, as Alex lifted the phone to make the call.

  She listened as a nurse explained the problem then hung up and turned to Marilyn.

  ‘Do you know a Mr Miller—Peter Miller?’

  ‘Unstable AF,’ Marilyn said succinctly. ‘Brian had been hoping his heart had settled down but if he’s in hospital it’s playing up again. He knows to take his pulse every day and to head straight for the hospital if he goes into fibrillation so I guess your welcome to Port will be a cardioversion.’

  ‘Can you get his file for me, please?’ Alex asked, wanting to know as much about the patient as she could before she met him.

  Marilyn returned, handing it to Alex and adding, ‘Do you want me to let the ICU know we’ll need someone to do the anaesthetic for you?’

  ‘I suppose so, if that’s the procedure, although perhaps we should call Mal Parker.’

  Marilyn shook her head.

  ‘He’d be happy to come—Mr Easygoing, that’s Mal—but I think you should do it—plunge right in—then nothing will seem as strange later. You’ll meet some of the hospital staff and begin to know your way around and it’ll give you confidence in starting the new job.’

  Alex nodded, but she wasn’t quite sure about Marilyn’s theory. In fact, she was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed—too big an information dump in too short a time, and now this…

  The procedure itself was simple and usually a nurse with cardiac training would set it all up—could probably do it—so all the doctor had to do was wait until the patient was anaesthetised then turn the switch to deliver an electric charge to shock the heart back into normal rhythm.

  But in a strange hospital, with a new anaesthetist—and she didn’t even know where the patient would be.

  Not that she wouldn’t manage.

  ‘Will Kent is on call at the hospital this weekend,’ Marilyn said. ‘I’ve phoned him to come in.’

  ‘Will Kent? But he’s an intensivist,’ Alex protested, not at all sure she was ready to see Will again.

  ‘Well,’ Marilyn replied, ‘that’s who does all the small anaesthesia jobs at the hospital. Intensivists are trained in practically everything.’

  ‘Of course!’ Alex said, still trying to get to grips with the fact she’d be working with Will on her first job in the hospital. ‘Well, I’ll go and see Mr Miller, find out when he first noticed it. We’ve got twenty-four hours, thirty at a pinch, to safely do the shock treatment, and if there’s any doubt he can go onto drugs for a month and have it then.’

  Marilyn nodded approvingly, and Alex headed for the hospital, Mr Miller’s file tucked under her arm.

  At least, she thought as she crossed the road to the hospital building, she knew the way to the coronary care ward as it was on the same floor as the ICU where her father had been.

  Atrial fibrillation—the offset beat of the patient’s atrium—could cause blood clots to come loose from the wall of the heart, blocking arteries, leading to strokes—

  The information buzzed in her head.

  But every hospital was different, so—

  Thud!

  Of course it had to be Will she’d run into—Will who held her shoulders to steady her, Will who smiled down into her eyes.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ he asked, the twinkle in his eyes sending tremors through her body.

  ‘First patient.’

  She blurted out the words, her thoughts swooping between the procedure and how solid Will’s chest had felt when she’d hit it.

  ‘Then we’ll go together,’ he said, the hint of laughter in his voice echoing that twinkle. ‘Did Marilyn tell you I’m doing the anaesthetic?’

  She looked directly at him now, and sighed.

  ‘Is that so bad?’ he asked, the laughter still there.

  ‘No,’ she muttered at him, not wanting to reveal that she’d been kind of hoping for a few Will-free hours so she could try to sort out her reactions to him.

  Had he sensed her reluctance that he said, ‘We could get Mal in to do it.’

  She glared at the man who had brought unnecessary complications into her life. ‘I haven’t spoken to the patient but it sounds like a straightforward cardioversion. A monkey with a bit of training could do it so I really think I can manage.’

  ‘Ah, but as well as the monkey?’ Will teased, falling into step beside her. ‘Anyway, at least I can introduce you to some of the staff, and tell you all the gossip about them, and help you fit right in.’

  Alex sighed.

  She wasn’t exactly flustered but Will’s presence was having its usual unsettling effect and the one thing she didn’t need when she was working was any kind of distraction.

  But it was impossible to argue. She needed an anaesthetist and he was, apparently, it.

  They were already at the nurses’ station in the coronary care ward and he was introducing her as Brian’s new recruit.

  ‘He’s been held up in Melbourne so Alex will be taking over his patients, who include…’

  He finally stopped talking and turned to Alex.

  ‘Peter Miller,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, good,’ the nurse answered. ‘Can you do him now? It’s just that he managed to get through this afternoon’s milking and if you can zap him tonight he can stay a few hours then get back home in time for morning milking.’

  ‘Not a problem I encountered in Glasgow,’ Alex said, smiling at the thought of a procedure needing to be scheduled around milking time, but the hinterland of this town was famous dairy country.

  A nurse led her into a large private room, where her patient was lying on the bed, chatting to another nurse, who was checking the monitor leads taped to his body. Alex introduced herself to Peter and asked him about his symptoms, at the same time reading the information the monitor was providing. His pulse was running at just over a hundred and twenty—jumping between that and a low of ninety, and the hospital information board told her he’d had drugs to slow it and also an injection to thin his blood.

  In the corner of the room was a bulky but efficient shock-treatment machine, with leads set out ready to be attached to pads on Peter’s skin.

  ‘Two years since last time,’ Peter was telling her. ‘The nurse says it’s good to have gone that long.’

  ‘It is indeed,’ Alex told him.

  Sh
e flicked through his file to the last cardioversion to check if he’d had any adverse reactions but, no, he’d been fine.

  By the time she looked up a small crowd had gathered at the door.

  ‘Not much happens around here,’ Will said, ‘so they’re curious about the new doctor.’

  ‘Well, that’s a pity because the show’s over for them. We need to shut the door.’

  The small crowd at the door melted away as the CCU nurse went towards them.

  Concentrating now on her work, Alex checked Peter’s weight so she could set the correct charge, watched as the nurse stuck the rectangular pads into place, one onto his chest close to his left nipple and the other opposite it on his back. Once Peter was settled, Will put an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, asked the nurse to hold it, and slid a catheter into the back of their patient’s hand.

  It was a swift procedure, a small amount of drug, the nod from Will, a single charge—Peter’s body lifting slightly off the bed—then all eyes went to the monitor to see if the heart had reverted to a normal beat.

  ‘Well done,’ Will said to her, and although it could have sounded patronising, Alex took it as the praise it was.

  ‘It was a fairly simple start to my Heritage Port career,’ Alex told him.

  ‘But good to get it over with?’

  He smiled as she spoke and the smile did things to her insides that it really shouldn’t be doing in a clinical situation—a work situation.

  But Alex knew that what he’d said was true, not solely because of the medical procedure, but here she was in the hospital, with people she’d be working with for a long time to come—or so she hoped—and tiny seeds of friendship were being scattered around.

  Will had disappeared but Alex waited with the nurse until Peter was fully awake.

  The nurse wheeled in a smaller machine and attached new leads for an ECG to ensure the heart was stable while Alex spoke to her patient.

  ‘I’ve had some drugs sent up from the pharmacy for you—I see you’ve been on them before—a blood thinner and a drug that slows the heart rate—instructions are on the boxes. You probably know the shock treatment could last a day, a week or six years, so I’d like you to stay on them for a month. See your own GP next week so he can check on you, then come and see me. Phone for an appointment in four weeks.’