by Lucy Clark
‘Let me take your blood pressure, Margaret.’
‘If it’ll make you happy,’ she slurred, and held out her arm. As CJ took her BP, Margaret glared at Ethan. ‘Brought a little friend with you.’
‘This is my colleague, Dr Ethan Janeway. He’ll be filling in for me while I’m on maternity leave.’
‘No doubt sticking his nose into everyone’s business, just like you. Giving advice where it’s not wanted. That’s all you doctors are good for.’
‘We’re also here to help you,’ CJ said.
‘You sound like my mother.’ Margaret cleared her throat and mimicked in a nagging voice, ‘Call the doctor if you have any pain. Just put your feet up. That’s our grandchild you need to look after. Don’t do anything.’ She growled the last. ‘Just lie there all day, be a vegetable and provide nourishment for the baby. Baby, baby, baby. I wish Doug had never talked me into having this baby.’
‘You don’t mean that, Margaret. It’s just the drink talking,’ CJ soothed as she reported Margaret’s BP to Ethan. Both of them shared a concerned look.
‘It is not. I didn’t want this child in the first place.’
‘How much have you had?’ It was the first time Ethan had spoken and Margaret glared at him.
‘Don’t you presume to come in here with your high and mighty ways. I don’t have to answer any of your questions.’
‘How much have you had?’ Ethan’s tone was firmer and more insistent than before.
‘How dare you question me?’ Margaret’s voice was becoming shrill.
Ethan glanced around the room and then stalked off through a doorway.
‘How dare you take such liberties? This isn’t your house.’ Margaret went to stand but it was too difficult. CJ put a hand on her shoulder but the other woman shrugged it off. Ethan stalked back in with two empty red wine bottles and one that had just been opened.
‘Call the ambulance. I want her admitted.’
CJ pulled out her cellphone and made the call.
‘Y-you can’t do this. You can’t just d-drag me off to hospital,’ Margaret stammered.
‘We can if we think either you or the baby is in danger,’ Ethan told her.
‘The baby. There it is again. Ruining my life.’
‘You’re doing an excellent job of ruining its life as well,’ he replied firmly. ‘CJ, pack her some clothes and call her husband.’ He offered CJ his hand to help her to her feet.
‘Leave Doug out of this. He has nothing to do with this.’ Margaret was defiant as CJ left the room.
‘He is the father of your child. He has a right to know where his wife and child are.’
‘I’m staying right here. You can’t make me go to hospital and the baby is fine. It kicked me all last night and the only time it really stops is when I have a glass of wine.’ Her words had started out tough but ended on a sob.
Ethan could see the emotional anguish Margaret was in but knew he needed to keep the firm line if he was going to get through to her at all.
‘It’s ruined my life,’ Margaret’s slurring words continued. ‘I was important before I got pregnant. I helped my father, I ran the business, I was important and now...now I’m just an incubator. They won’t let me do anything. They won’t let me even look at the paperwork.’ Tears started falling but Ethan still kept his distance.
He walked over to the hallway where CJ had disappeared and called to her. ‘Margaret needs you,’ he said when CJ returned. She walked into the room to find Margaret sitting on the lounge, rocking slightly backwards and forwards, her hands covering her face as the tears poured out. She rushed over and placed her arm about the other woman, reaching into her pocket for a clean tissue.
‘Here.’ Margaret took it, turning slightly in CJ’s direction, and cried.
‘You know how hard it is,’ Margaret wailed.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘But at least you could keep on working. At least you haven’t been told the only thing you’re good for is providing for the baby. I can’t even blow my nose without them worrying about the baby.’
‘I know,’ CJ soothed. ‘They stopped worrying about you, didn’t they?’
Margaret cried harder. The next time CJ looked up, Ethan had gone. She wasn’t sure where but she didn’t see him again until the ambulance arrived.
‘Margaret.’ CJ gently shook the other woman’s shoulder. She’d cried herself dry before dozing off. ‘Margaret. The ambulance is here.’
‘Huh? Why do I need to go?’
‘So we can check that you and the baby are all right. Your blood pressure is lower than it should be and you have some swelling around your ankles.’
‘Is that bad?’ Margaret now looked concerned.
‘It’s not good. Come on,’ CJ urged. Thankfully, the fight seemed to have been knocked out of Margaret and she was a compliant patient during the transfer to Pridham District Hospital. Ethan and CJ drove behind the ambulance and once they’d arrived they settled Margaret into a room.
Ethan filled out the paperwork for the tests he wanted Margaret to have. ‘We’ll need to keep you in overnight, which is why Dr Nicholls packed a bag for you.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Margaret closed her eyes. ‘Just go away and let me sleep.’
‘Probably a good idea,’ CJ said as they went out of the room. Margaret needed to sleep off the alcohol and here she could do it where they could also monitor her condition. ‘I’ll be around later tonight to check on her,’ she told Bonnie, the CNC.
‘No. I’ll be around later tonight,’ Ethan contradicted. ‘CJ will be at home, resting.’
Bonnie nodded in agreement. ‘Glad to see someone can make her rest. See you this evening, Dr Janeway.’
‘Were there any other house calls for today or can they wait until tomorrow?’ Ethan asked CJ.
CJ checked the list on her computer. ‘None that are urgent. I’ll have Tania put them onto Wednesday’s house call list.’
‘Good. What else do you need to do now?’ he asked as he escorted her out of the hospital.
‘Write up notes for the patients we’ve seen today and then email them to the surgery.’
‘Right. You head back home, I’ll do the paperwork and put my car in the garage.’ He looked pointedly at CJ. ‘Put your feet up and rest.’
‘But I’m hungry. I was going to cook dinner and—’
‘I’ll cook dinner. If I get home and find you standing...’ He let his words trail off and shook his head. There was something about his stance, the abruptness in his voice that made her concerned.
‘Ethan, are you all right?’
‘I just need you to rest, to put your feet up, to ensure that you and the baby are OK.’ He clenched his jaw and CJ decided she’d simply do as he asked, especially as she was rather exhausted. As she headed across the road, leaving Ethan to do the work, CJ admitted that seeing Margaret behave in such a way had indeed been upsetting.
CJ’s pregnancy hadn’t been planned. In fact, when Quinten had told her he was leaving her, that he didn’t love her, CJ had never thought they’d share one last night...one night when she’d foolishly thought she’d be able to change his mind, to show him that she was as adventurous in the bedroom as the next woman. Quinten hadn’t seen it that way at all. Instead, after what she’d thought was a rekindling of their love, he’d kissed her forehead, told her she’d been great but that he couldn’t stay here, living with her in this pokey little town where nothing ever happened.
Then, still lying in their bed, she’d watched him pull an already packed suitcase from the cupboard and head for the door. He’d had it packed even before they’d started to make love? In stunned disbelief, she’d put the question to him. ‘Why did you even bother? If you’d already made up your mind to leave, why even bother?’
‘Hey. I’m a red-blooded male and you were fantastic
, sweetheart, but... I’ve had better.’ He’d started out of the room.
‘Wait.’ CJ had grabbed her dressing gown and followed him as he’d walked to the front door. ‘So this is it? We’re done? Just like that?’
Quinten’s answer had been to sigh tiredly. ‘CJ, we’ve been over for years now. You know it. I know it.’ He’d picked up his car keys, then turned to give her a once-over. ‘Let’s not pretend any more. You and I, we don’t...fit.’
With that, he’d walked out the door, walked to his car and driven away, the tyres squealing on the bitumen road. She’d wanted to shout at him, to slam the door, to release the hurt and pain he’d inflicted on her with his horrible words, but that wasn’t what she’d done.
Now, as she sat at the kitchen table, pickles, chocolate spread and bananas in front of her, CJ spoke softly to her baby. ‘I came inside, little one. I pulled the sheets off the bed and I washed them. I wanted to wash every aspect of him out of my life that night.’
‘Who...are you talking about?’ Ethan’s deep voice sounded behind her and it was only then that CJ realised she’d been sitting at the table for quite some time. He walked into the kitchen, smiling softly when he saw the food in front of her, and sat down nearby. ‘Is everything all right?’
CJ sighed slowly. ‘I was just thinking about how Margaret’s pregnancy was planned, and look how it’s turned out. Yet my pregnancy wasn’t planned, and I just can’t wait for this baby to come and complete my life.’ She picked up a chocolate-smothered pickle and chewed thoughtfully. ‘It’s sad how things work out, never as you thought they might. I really hope Margaret is able to stop drinking, to see that the baby isn’t her enemy. It just so sad,’ she repeated.
Ethan was quiet for a moment before picking up one of the slices of banana and eating it. CJ was more than happy to share her food with him and a small thread of happiness made its way through her melancholy aura. ‘Were you talking about your husband?’
She nodded. ‘I was thinking about the night he left. I thought we were reconciling, that we were going to be able to fix the problems he’d already raised, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, he used me and discarded me. I just needed to wash him out of my life, to pack up everything he’d left behind that reminded me of him and get rid of it, but after washing the sheets, exhaustion set in. I slept that night in my dad’s room, the room that’s now yours, wrapped up in blankets and curled into a tight little ball, feeling so small and so little.’
‘You didn’t pack everything away?’
‘Four hours after Quinten drove off, the police knocked on my door to tell me he’d been killed. He’d driven from here, picked up the woman he’d been having an affair with, who lived in Whitecorn, and then taken a turn too fast on the road and ploughed his car into a tree, killing them both outright. After that, I felt... I don’t know what I felt, except numb. Packing his things away felt too much like erasing him from existence and... I thought I owed him... I don’t know... I owed him something but...’ CJ shook her head.
Ethan reached over and took her hand in his. ‘You owe him nothing.’
‘Don’t I owe the baby at least some memory of who their father was? Sure, Quinten didn’t know about the baby—neither did I—but—’
‘All you owe this baby is love and you’re already providing that. You’re looking after yourself, you’re asking for help, you’re eating strange foods but you’re resting.’ He smiled as he spoke. ‘You’re doing all the right things and that’s what counts.’
CJ looked at their hands, their fingers seeming to intertwine so naturally. His touch made her feel wonderful, reassured, confident about the tasks that awaited her. Still, she noted the sadness behind his eyes, a sadness that shielded repressed pain.
‘Ethan,’ she began softly, ‘when your wife died...’ At her words she felt his hand go limp and he tried to pull back but she held on for a moment longer. ‘How did she die?’
He jerked his hand back and this time she let go. ‘Why do you ask?’
CJ shrugged one shoulder. ‘You mentioned you’d had experience with foetal alcohol syndrome and that it wasn’t via a patient. Then, when you were talking to Margaret, I just had a...feeling. You just seemed overly concerned for her—which is good, I want you to be overly concerned with the patients—but I just sensed there might be more to it than you’re letting on. And with me,’ she continued, before he could get a word in edgeways, ‘you’re very concerned about me, that I don’t overdo things, that I take it easy, that I rest and relax and do what’s right for the baby. I don’t mind. Everyone else in the district fusses over me and the baby but with you it seems...deeper. As though you’re almost desperate to ensure both the baby and I are OK.’
‘I thought that was the role of the GP, to ensure their patients have the right treatment.’
‘I’m not your patient,’ she pointed out.
‘No. You’re my new friend, and as I’ve been a confirmed workaholic for years and rarely have the time to make new friends, is it any wonder I’m concerned about your health?’ He stood and walked to the kitchen bench, his back to her for a long moment before he turned to face her, his arms crossed, his expression closed.
‘You’re avoiding answering the question, Ethan, and I think I might have guessed why. I think I know how your wife died and I think it was due to complications with a pregnancy. That’s why you’re so worried about me. You’re determined to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to me.’
As CJ spoke the words, she watched the blood drain from Ethan’s face, and she knew she was right.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘YOUR WIFE DIED in childbirth?’ She went to stand but he quickly held up a hand to stop her.
‘You need to rest. You need to be off your feet. You need to ensure you don’t...’ He stopped, closing his eyes before saying with choked emotion, ‘That you don’t get pre-eclampsia.’
‘Oh, Ethan.’ CJ didn’t care whether she was on her feet or not, she wanted to be near him, to comfort him, to be there for him as he’d been there for her the whole time he’d been in town, but he clearly didn’t want that comfort, not at the moment. ‘What happened?’
Ethan leaned against the bench, needing to keep the distance between them. He shouldn’t be surprised that she’d figured it out. CJ Nicholls was a smart woman. However, the only reason she’d been able to figure it out was because he’d let down his guard—something he’d sworn to himself he would never do. He hadn’t planned to let anyone inside the wall he’d built around his heart and somehow, without him fully realising it, mortar had broken down and bricks had crumbled, releasing light into the cavern...a light in the guise of the woman before him.
He knew she was waiting for him to speak but first he had to deal with that nagging voice from deep within, telling him to just walk out the door, to leave, to snub her. The more he looked at her, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes, hearing the compassion in her tone, he knew if he was ever going to open up to anyone about his past, it would be this woman. She’d been through so much herself, she’d been honest with him from the very beginning and he instinctively knew that whatever he told her, it would be held in the strictest confidence.
‘Abigail was always so organised, so in control. I was working day and night at the hospital and she resented that. At some point we stopped talking and I couldn’t get through to her, so when I wasn’t at the hospital, I was out in the garage with the car.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘She’d always tell me off for spending more time with the car than with her but...’ He swallowed and chose his words carefully. There was no point in hiding from the truth any longer. ‘Restoring the car relaxed me. She didn’t.’ Ethan spread his arms wide, then let them fall back to his sides. ‘I was a bad husband. A bad father to my unborn child.’
‘I doubt you neglected her completely, Ethan.’ CJ’s tone was reassuring.
‘Of course not
. I loved her. I loved the thought of her having our child, our little girl. I couldn’t wait to be a dad, to have a family. That’s why I wanted to get the car all done and sorted out so that when the baby came, I would have more free time to spend with both of them.’
‘Tell me more about Abigail.’
His smile was natural. ‘Abigail, as I said, was very self-sufficient, very directed. When we met at university, we became friends for a few years and then...things progressed into more than friends. Abby went into organisation mode. She had everything planned. How long it would take for us to save up and get our first house, where we should get married, when we would start having children. It was all in her clearly thought-out plan—sometimes even with colour-coded charts.’
CJ grinned at that. ‘I admire people like that but that’s probably because I’m so disorganised... Or, as my father used to term it, “creatively chaotic”.’
Ethan walked over and pulled out a chair, sitting down and sighing. ‘And that was my major mistake with Abby. I let her organise, I was happy to be organised. I thought that if she had worries or concerns, especially about the pregnancy, that she would tell me but she didn’t. When she was getting angry with me for always being in the garage when I wasn’t at the hospital, that was her cry for help. She didn’t come out and say directly, I’m scared, I’m worried, I don’t feel well. Instead, she just read book after book, scouring the internet, looking up different symptoms and trying to figure things out herself.’
‘She wasn’t a doctor?’
Ethan shook his head. ‘No. Abigail did one year of nursing at university and changed majors to accounting.’
‘That’s a big change.’
‘She was an academic at heart. Did her honours, her master’s degree and finished her doctorate during the pregnancy. I was so proud of her. Order. Structure. Purpose.’
‘You clearly loved her very much.’
