‘I never knew that.’
‘Why would you?’
Why indeed? But the curt response was unnecessary. Unkind. Kate concentrated on her task and inserted the earpiece as gently as she could, but Marcella stirred and moaned.
Rory said something to his mother in Italian. Something so soothing that Kate could feel the words rumbling into her bones. No wonder his mother’s eyes drifted shut again.
‘Temperature’s thirty-eight point four.’ Kate reached for the chart on the end of the bed. ‘It’s coming down.’
‘Good.’
Kate carefully wrapped a blood pressure cuff around the elderly woman’s arm, trying not to wake her. She felt for a pulse, keeping her eyes firmly on what she was doing, because she really didn’t want eye contact with Rory. He was giving the impression that he considered this to be her fault.
Fair enough—to a point—but, unlike many, she had never chased this man. Never let him know even by a glance how she felt about him. She’d certainly never, ever expected to share her bed with him. And, yes, it was her fault as much as his that they hadn’t used any protection, but the possibility of pregnancy had seemed as unreal as everything else about that night.
Kate pumped up the cuff and let it down slowly, listening for a pulse to reappear. She took her time, because she would have to look up when she’d finished and she could feel Rory staring at her.
Sounds from the adjacent cubicle were muffled, but still audible. A junior doctor was talking to Florence.
‘How old is she?’
‘Nearly two.’
‘And she lives at the Castle?’
‘Yes. Her mum, Helen, came when she was fourteen and pregnant. She’s still living there. She helps with the other kids and gives me a hand with the cleaning and so forth.’
Kate unhooked the stethoscope and wrote down the blood pressure. Then she put her fingers back on Marcella’s wrist to time her heart rate.
‘How many children at the home at present?’ the doctor was asking Florence.
‘Nine—if you count Danni, here. Ten if you count Helen—and she’s still a child, really, poor lamb.’
‘And you were at a Christmas party?’
‘Yes. Big charity do where they give us sacks of gifts for the children. They’re still in the back of the bus. Oh, no! You don’t think someone will steal them, do you?’
‘I’m sure the police will take care of that. Danni seems fine. Let’s have a look at that head of yours.’
Kate could hear the noise level in the department increasing, pre sum ably due to a new wave of arrivals, but that wasn’t what made her brow furrow in concern.
‘Is your mother’s pulse normally irregular?’
‘Yes. She has chronic atrial fibrillation.’
‘I might see if I can find a twelve-lead ECG machine that’s free. I’ll check to see if any results are back on those tests as well.’
‘You might be needed more urgently elsewhere.’
‘Help!’ someone was shouting. ‘Help me…’
‘It hurts!’ a child’s voice cried. ‘It really, really hurts!’
It was a cry that would have torn anybody’s heart. Kate looked up deliberately to catch Rory’s gaze.
‘You could help,’ she heard herself suggesting. ‘While your mum’s asleep.’
‘No.’ The word was a harsh dismissal. ‘I’m no longer a doctor, Kate. It’s out of the question.’
She stared at him. This wasn’t the man she knew. Or thought she knew. The brilliant doctor who’d never missed a beat, no matter how much pressure he was under. The leader who had thrived on coping and still being fanatically careful with his treatment of every patient. The physician whose diagnostic abilities were a legend and his skills with highly invasive procedures even more so. The man colleagues had admired and respected. That patients had adored. That women had fallen in love with.
Like Kate had.
And to ignore a child like the one who had just cried out! She’d seen him with children in the past. He’d always gone to whatever lengths were necessary to help a child.
Who was this man? The lines on his face were as uncompromising as his tone had been. The topic was clearly not open for discussion, but surely Kate had the right to know?
‘You left medicine? Just walked away?’
‘That’s exactly what I did.’
‘What have you been doing?’
‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ Rory said coldly, ‘but I’ve been building roads. New mining development in the south of Australia.’
No wonder he looked so tanned and lean. Toughened by a harsh climate and physically demanding work.
‘But…why?’ The word came out as a whisper. It just didn’t make sense.
Marcella stirred, probably disturbed by the now chaotic noise level in the department.
‘Jamie?’
The change in Rory was subtle, but Kate didn’t miss any of it. She’d had too much practice watching this man in the past. She saw what amounted to physical pain at hearing the wrong name. She could see the instant tension in his body, the shadow in his eyes, and it reminded her so strongly of the trouble he’d been in that night.
She was no closer to understanding what it was all about, but—stupidly—she still wanted to help. She almost reached out to touch him. To convey that desire. What stopped her was seeing the fierce determination in his face. Confidence. So something had changed in the months he’d been gone. Whatever it was, and however hard it might be, Rory could deal with this by himself this time. He didn’t need her comfort.
‘Leave it, Kate,’ he said wearily. ‘It really is none of your business.’
‘Oh?’ The tension had been contagious, and Kate didn’t have access to whatever inner strength Rory had just tapped into.
And, yes, the fantasy of seeing the dawning joy in his face on learning he was soon to be the father of twins was over-the-top, to say the least, but to reject her like this was unfair.
Unacceptable, really.
Maybe it wasn’t any of her business, but Kate could at least live up to her responsibilities. She could do what should have been done a long time ago.
‘It might be helpful if you could leave some kind of forwarding address the next time you decide to vanish,’ she said.
‘Why?’
Kate’s smile was wry. ‘So that I can let you know when your children are born.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘CHILDREN ?’
The colour in Rory’s face was draining, but Kate’s gaze didn’t falter.
‘Twins,’ she confirmed.
‘Kate?’
Judy’s voice was coming from behind the curtain screening the cubicle, but something had clicked for Kate. Something important.
‘It’s in your family, isn’t it?’ She didn’t give Rory time to respond. ‘You have a twin. That’s why your mother keeps calling you Jamie.’
‘Kate?’ The curtain was twitching now, but Kate was still watching Rory. Seeing the pain that darkened his eyes to an impenetrable black.
‘Had.’ His voice was so low and raw the words were almost inaudible. ‘He died. A long time ago.’
‘Kate? We need help in Resus 1. I know you’re supposed to be on light duties, but are you up for it?’
‘Of course.’
Judy’s glance turned to Rory. ‘Dr Foster asked me to bring you, too, if possible, Dr McCulloch. It’s a Code Red.’
Meaning that this was a crisis. They had more serious cases than they could safely handle with the staff they had available.
Rory shook his head.
‘We can find someone to sit with your mother. Now that she’s started antibiotics there’s not much more we can do for the moment.’
‘No,’ Rory said aloud. ‘I can’t help you. I’m sorry.’
Judy stared with the same incredulity Kate had experienced only a minute ago. She flicked Kate a ‘what on earth is going on?’ kind of look, but couldn’t linger.
Neither c
ould Kate. But neither could she let Rory get away with dismissing his moral responsibilities like this. He’d taken an oath when he became a doctor. One that Kate considered if not sacred at least equal to the kind of obligation and responsibilities that came with becoming a parent. If he could ignore that oath and the patients that needed him in a situation like this, what sort of father was he going to make to her children?
It simply wasn’t good enough.
‘There are children out there,’ she breathed. ‘Frightened, injured children who thought they were going back to the only home they know to put their Christmas presents under their tree. They need help. Your help.’
It was more than pain in his eyes now. More like agony.
‘You don’t know what you’re asking, Kate.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Kate was already moving. She took a quick glance over her shoulder. ‘And if you can’t do it, you’re not the man I thought you were. And you’re certainly not a father I thought my children could be proud of.’
The sharp stab of discomfort in her chest as Kate walked out of the cubicle felt remarkably like a piece breaking off from her heart.
Or the death of a dream she’d never quite been able to relinquish.
IT TOOK LESS THAN thirty seconds to get from the cubicle Mrs McCulloch was occupying to the resus bay where she was needed. Ahead of Kate was the job she was trained to do. A job she loved. The complicated and often challenging task of assessing and stabilising the condition of injured or sick people. Trying to reduce suffering. Saving lives.
The pull towards that duty and the desire to perform to the very best of her ability was a powerful force.
But Kate could feel a pull from behind her as well.
A link to the man she was walking away from in disgust.
A voice as compelling as the cry of the injured children was inside her own head. Telling her she was wrong.
Reminding her…
Strange how thirty seconds was long enough for a series of impressions to flash through her mind with such clarity. Or maybe not so strange. So much editing had been done to those memories they were now condensed into a single image that was far more than a picture. It could touch her senses and capture her emotions even when she was wide awake.
Every step Kate took seemed to trigger a new image. Another sense. Following one from another. But the first was an image printed on her heart that never failed to stir something painfully poignant.
The way he had been sitting that night. Alone. On that bench in the little park that was halfway between St Bethel’s and her small apartment.
The sight of a lone man late at night should have frightened Kate. It had—but she hadn’t been afraid for her own safety. She had been alarmed because she’d recognised Rory, and for him to be sitting there like that, so alone, was so completely out of char ac ter she’d known something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Rory McCulloch was never alone. He was a man who played as hard as he worked. A man who could make anybody laugh and feel good about themselves. At least smile if a day or a job had been particularly distressing.
His philosophy on life was so well-known someone had printed a card and put it on the noticeboard outside the staffroom. It had Rory’s photograph on it and below was the caption: Life is short. Eat dessert first.
Time away from work was all about life’s ‘dessert’ for Dr McCulloch. It was time to recharge one’s batteries by having fun.
He wasn’t having fun right now. Kate could see that by his solitude and by the body language in shoulders slumped enough to suggest the weight of the world was too much. By the look in his eyes when she got close enough, having veered from her path without hesitation.
A look of…defeat?
Asking if he was all right was such an obviously redundant question that Kate said nothing at all. She sat down beside him and took his hand, and just sat there. Listening to the ragged edge to his breathing. Hearing the oddly thick note in his voice when he finally spoke.
‘You should go home, Katie. It’s very late.’
Nobody else ever called her Katie. It didn’t suit the person she was at work. The efficient, competent nurse she was proud of being. She had thought he might have seen something nobody else had seen about her. Something attractive. A quiet little dream that had been a pleasure all on its own.
He needed someone tonight, though. She could see it and hear it, and she was the one who was there and, dear Lord, she wanted to be the one to help.
‘Come with me,’ she said simply.
‘Why?’
‘Because you need a friend.’
Amazingly, when she’d tightened her grip on his hand and stood up to move he’d come with her. They hadn’t talked, and that had made Kate all the more aware of other sounds. Their shoes on the pavement. The creak of the steep stairs that led to her bedsit. The scratch of her key in the lock. The click of the lamp beside her bed as she switched it on so that she could see Rory’s face to help her try and find words to ask what was wrong so that she could offer comfort.
‘Don’t ask,’ he’d said softly. ‘Please, Katie. Don’t ask.’
It was actually easy to give comfort without knowing what it was for, because it was an expression of love. Unconditional.
The images that flowed from that point were ones Kate could easily suppress if she wasn’t alone. They were too private and too precious.
The taste of that first kiss.
The smell of Rory’s skin.
The touch of his hands and lips.
Her breath escaped in a soft sigh of submission. The pull was too strong.
Kate was almost there, on the other side of the depart ment. Ready to focus completely on the people who needed her now. In the present. She just couldn’t stop herself taking one last peek into the past.
To where Rory was, once again, sitting alone.
Except he wasn’t.
He was right there, a step behind her, and he still had that look of grim determination on his face. He walked right past her into Resus 1, where there were two new patients crowding the area.
Braden Foster was bent over a small boy who was on one of the beds.
He nodded at Rory, who stepped towards the other bed onto which ambulance staff were transferring a grey-haired woman who had to be Mary Ballantyne.
‘Tell me about this patient,’ he instructed a paramedic.
‘Kate?’ Braden Foster caught her glance. ‘Could you give me some cricoid pressure here, please? We need to intubate this lad.’
Her focus was narrowed to just one of the patients occupying this area set aside for major trauma, but Kate was aware of Rory in the same room. Aware that he’d stepped through some kind of personal barrier to be here.
For her? For his children? Because of what she’d said?
It didn’t matter. He was here, and her heart had been right not to let her believe the worst about him.
He was still the man she thought he was.
The man she loved.
CHAPTER FOUR
THIS WAS A NIGHTMARE.
Not quite his worst, but only because he was tasked with treating the older female patient tucked into the corner of the area and not the little boy who was the primary focus of concern.
He could still hear the alarms going off on the monitoring equipment, however. Hear the tension in the voices of the staff dealing with the emergency.
‘Oxygen saturation dropping.’
‘Blood pressure’s dropping.’
‘Heart rate’s irregular. Ectopics increasing.’
‘I need some suction, here. Can’t see a damn thing.’
Focus, Rory told himself. Shut it out. You don’t have to take responsibility for that patient. Look after the one you’ve got.
On first glance it didn’t look good. Strapped to a spinal board, the woman was wearing a neck collar, and her face was largely obscured by blood and an oxygen mask.
‘Facial injuries,’ the paramedic had informed Rory. ‘T
his is Mary Ballantyne and she’s seventy-two years old. She was driving the mini-bus and thinks her face hit the steering wheel as they went over the bank.’
‘Are you having any trouble breathing, Mary?’
‘By dose is blocked.’
‘Keep breathing through your mouth for the moment.’ Rory turned back to the paramedic. ‘Was she knocked out?’
‘I don’t think so.’ The paramedic had a hint of a smile. ‘GCS was fifteen on arrival. Mary was trapped, but still trying to organise everybody else—including the emergency services.’
‘I’b fine,’ came a surprisingly strong voice from the bed. ‘Get be out of this ridiculous con trap tion. I need to look after by children.’
Rory smiled at the feisty tone. He leaned closer. ‘I’m Rory McCulloch, Mrs Ballantyne. I’m the doctor who’s going to be looking after you.’
‘Get on with it, then, young ban,’ his patient directed. ‘And call be Bary. Everyone else does.’
Mary’s nose was still bleeding. Rory pulled on gloves as the paramedic lingered to pass on all the information they had gathered so far.
‘All she’s complained of is a sore nose and nausea, which is probably due to the amount of blood she’d swallowed by the time we got her out. She denied any cervical tenderness but, given the mechanism of injury, it seemed prudent to immobilise her spine.’
‘Let’s get that nose packed,’ Rory directed. ‘I don’t want her losing any more blood. I’ll get a line in and we’ll hang some fluids. What’s the blood pressure now?’
‘One-fifteen on sixty,’ a nurse relayed.
Not too bad, considering. ‘Do you have any medical history I should know about, Mary?’
‘No.’
‘No problems with your heart or blood pressure or breathing?’
‘I get a bit of angina. Nothing buch.’
‘Any chest pain at the moment?’
‘No.’
‘I’m going to loosen this collar and check your head and neck, but I don’t want you moving just yet, OK?’ Rory was surprised to see just the flash of a twinkle in the pale blue eyes watching him. Was Mary actually weighing up whether she would co-operate or not?
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