He jerked back to the present with the question. Her thought processes were way different to his. He took a deep breath of his own. Was that the only satisfaction he’d had in the last four years?
Sam thought about what she’d asked. It had kept him sane, having a mission. ‘Probably. Since Bree died I’ve been working on a regime for women who have repeat extreme premature labours, and the results have been promising with the new treatments.’
When he looked up from his hands he saw she was beside him. Her voice was soft. ‘Your way of managing the grief?’
‘Or the guilt.’ Why was he talking about this? He never spoke about Bree. Her hand touched his shoulder as she bent over him. It was feather-light but he felt the pressure as if it was burning into him like a hot coal through ice. Melting him.
‘What was she like? What did she do? Your dad must have been upset as well.’
‘Before the babies Bree was happy. A great paediatrician, wonderful with kids. Afterwards...’ he paused and shook his head, speaking so quietly it was as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘She hid her depression using work too. We both did. She said she wanted more space. When she died my dad felt almost as bad as I did that we hadn’t seen it coming. So it was tough for him as well.’
She leant her head down and put her face against his hair. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ Her lemony freshness surrounded him like angel dust as she reached down and hugged him.
Nobody had hugged him since Bree had died. His dad was more of handshake kind of guy and he didn’t have any women friends. Then she slid her hands around his shoulders, pulled his head onto her chest and stroked his hair. Her hands were warm whispers of comfort, infused with empathy. ‘I’m so sorry. But it’s not your fault.’
He twisted his head and looked at her, saying very slowly and deliberately, his voice harsh and thick, ‘You’ve got as much right to say that as I had to say you can’t waste your life the way you’re planning to.’
He thought she’d draw away at that. He hoped she would because the scent was fogging his brain and the emotions of the last few minutes were far too volatile for bodily contact. All those fantasies he’d been battling with since he’d arrived in this damn place were rising like mist off the ocean. She was holding him close. Pulling him in like a siren on a rock. Drowning him.
She pressed her face against his. ‘I should never have asked. We’re both too nosy.’ She kissed his cheek as if she couldn’t help herself. ‘I’m sorry.’
If he’d thought her enticing while he watched her from a distance, up close she was irresistible. The scent of her, the feel of her, the warmth of her, was intoxicating, and when she leaned in to say something else he lifted his mouth and captured hers as it passed. She stilled—she tasted like the first day of spring.
* * *
She’d made it happen. The kiss had been an apology. A dangerous one. Kissing Sam was a mistake because when he kissed her back driving him away was the last thing on her mind.
Somehow she was on his lap, both her arms were around his hard shoulders, and he was holding her mouth against him with a firm palm to the back of her head.
Inhaling his scent, his taste, his maleness was glorious. The kiss seemed to go on and on even though it was only a minute. His mouth was a whole subterranean world of wonder. In heated waves he kissed her and she kissed him back in time to the crash of the ocean below—rising and falling, sometimes peaking in a crest and then drawing Ellie down into a swirling world she was lost in...one she hadn’t visited before. Until the phone rang.
It took a few moments for the sound to penetrate and then she felt his hand ease back.
He pulled away but his eyes were dark and hot as he watched her blink. She raised her trembling fingers to her lips.
His voice was deep, too damn sexy, and he smiled at her in a way that made her blush. ‘Your phone is ringing.’
She blinked. Scrambled off his lap. ‘Right.’ She blinked again and then bolted for the phone while all the time her mind was screaming, what the heck made you start that?
It was the weekend midwife, Roz. ‘Can you come, Ellie? One of the holidaymakers from the caravan park is in labour. Just walked in. Thirty-five weeks. Twins. Feeling pushy. I’ll ring the doctor next.’
‘Twins! Sam’s here. I’ll bring him. We’ll be there in three minutes. Get help from the hospital to make some calls. Get them to ring the ambulance to come ASAP.’
Ellie strode to the door where Sam was collecting dishes away from the edge from his side of the table. ‘Let’s go, Sam. Thirty-five-week twins. Second stage.’ Ellie was pulling on her sneakers. She could put a surgical gown over her clothes.
Sam matched Ellie’s calm professional face. ‘My car’s outside.’
They were there in less than two minutes. Just before they arrived, Sam said, ‘Ellie?’
She looked at him. She was still off-balance but immensely glad her mind could be on a hundred things other than what position she’d been in and where that could have led only five minutes ago.
This was an emergency. She’d had two sets of twins when she’d been working with a midwife in the centre of Australia. She’d need to watch out for so many things in the coming hour. They had very little equipment for prems. They’d either have a birth of two premature babies here or a harrowing trip to the base hospital. Twin births could be tricky.
‘Ellie?’
‘What?’
Sam’s voice was so calm. ‘This is what I do. Thirty-five-week twins are fine. Not like pre-viable twins. Everything will be fine.’
Ellie felt the tension ease to a more useful alertness. He was asking for a little faith in the team. She smiled at him. ‘Okay. You’re right.’
A dusty campervan with flowers and a slogan painted on it sat haphazardly in the car park. There was no sign of anyone as they hurried through the doors to the maternity unit but sounds coming from the birthing rooms indicated action.
‘We’ll just use the one neo-natal resuscitation trolley. The other’s too slow to heat up and warmth will be the issue.’ Ellie was thinking of the babies. The twins could stay together if they needed help. They’d been closer than that inside their mum and might even comfort each other if kept together.
The obstetric part, Sam could handle. Thank goodness. The mother might not feel lucky at the moment but she was.
They entered the room one after the other and the relief on Roz’s face would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so serious. ‘Her waters just broke. Nine centimetres. At least it’s clear and not meconium-stained.’
Then Roz collected herself. Glancing apologetically at the mother and father, she explained, ‘Dr Southwell’s an obstetrician from Brisbane Mothers and Babies, and this is the midwife in charge here, Ellie. This is Annette and Paul Keen.’
Everyone tried hard to smile at each other. Sam succeeded and Ellie gave them a wave on her way to sort out the required equipment in case they needed to resuscitate either baby or, heaven forbid, both.
Roz was reciting, ‘Annette’s twins were due in five weeks. They were packing up from the park to go home today. Labour started an hour ago but she thought she had a tummy bug because Paul had one a few days ago.’
Annette opened her mouth to say hello and changed it to a groan as the next wave of contraction hit her. She ground out, ‘I feel like pushing.’
Sam stepped closer to the bed. He looked into the terrified woman’s face as she sat high in the bed with lines of strain creasing her face and touched her arm. ‘I’m Sam. It’s okay, Annette, we’ve got this. You just listen to your body and your babies, let go of the fear and we’ll do the rest. It’s their birthday.’
Ellie’s hands paused on the suction as she heard his voice and in that moment realised what she was missing in her life. A safe harbour. It would never be Sam, but just
maybe someone somewhere might be out there for her, someone like this man who could invest so much comfort in words and took the time to offer them. Such a man would be worth coming home to. She wondered if he had always been such a calming influence. Whether he’d grown to understand a parent’s fears since his own loss.
‘It’s my fault,’ Paul mumbled from the corner of the room as he twisted his hands. ‘I should never have pushed for this holiday before the babies were born. It’s my fault.’ Ellie glanced his way but it looked like nobody else had heard him.
Roz bent down and placed the little Doppler on Annette’s stomach. First one and then, after she shifted to the other side of Annette’s magnificent belly, another heartbeat echoed around the room.
Sam nodded, patted Annette’s arm, turned, walked to the sink and washed his hands.
Ellie checked the oxygen and air cylinders were full and then moved to Paul’s side. She spoke very quietly so no one else could hear. ‘You heard the doctor, Paul. The time for worrying is gone. Now is the time to be the rock Annette needs you to be. Hold her hand. Share the moment. You’re about to be a father.’
Paul’s eyes locked on hers and he nodded jerkily. ‘Right. Rock.’ He looked at his hand and scurried over to his wife. He took up her fingers and kissed them. ‘Sorry. Lost it for a minute.’
Annette squeezed his hand and Ellie saw the man’s fingers go white. Saw Paul wince as the pressure increased and with a smile her eyes were drawn to Sam as he stood quietly at the side of the bed with his gloved fingers intertwined, waiting. As if they had all the time in the world and this was a normal day. She felt the calm settle in the room and smiled quietly to herself.
Roz folded back the sheets to above Annette’s thighs.
The first twin came quickly, a fine scattering of hair on her head, a thick coating of white vernix covering her back, and then she slipped into Sam’s waiting hands. Not as small as they’d feared, probably over two thousand, five hundred grams, which was good for a twin.
The little girl feebly protested at the brush of air on her skin until Ellie wiped her quickly with a towel and settled her against her mother with a warmed bunny rug over her back. Annette’s hands came down to greet her as she shifted the sticky little body so she could see her. The mother’s face was round with wonder.
‘Oh, my. Hello, little Rosebud.’
Ellie smiled to herself at the name, actually appropriate for the pink pursed mouth, and positioned the tiny girl strategically to make room for the next baby, making sure her chin was angled to breathe easily.
Ellie slipped a pink knitted beanie on the downy head. The soft cap was too big but would do the job of keeping her little head warm and slow the loss of heat. When she glanced at Paul, tears were sliding down his cheeks as he gazed in awe at his wife and new daughter.
Annette’s brows drew together but this time she was confident. ‘I need to push again.’
Paul started, and Ellie grabbed another towel and blanket from the stack Roz had collected under the warmer. They all waited.
‘This one’s breech,’ Sam said quietly.
The contraction passed and they all waited for the next.
Annette breathed out heavily and Ellie looked down and saw the little bottom and scrotum inching out, the cord falling down as the belly and back eased up in a long sweep. First one leg sprang free and then, finally, the other leg. It was happening so fast. The contraction finished and they all waited.
‘Going beautifully,’ Sam murmured two minutes later as the pale shoulders rotated and birthed one by one, followed by the arms, in a slow dance of angles and rotations that magically happened the way nature intended thanks to the curves of his mother’s pelvis.
Ellie stood awed at how quickly the baby was delivering by himself.
Sam hadn’t touched the torso. His gloved fingers hovered just above in case baby took a wrong turn as it went through the normal mechanisms and she remembered the mantra ‘hands off the breech’. He was certainly doing that.
Then, unexpectedly, the rapid progress stopped. Annette pushed again. Just the head to come, Ellie thought. Come on. Annette was still pushing.
‘Deflexed head,’ Sam muttered and glanced at Ellie. He slipped his arm under the baby’s body to support it and gently felt for the face with his lower hand. With the hand she could see he placed his second and fourth fingers on each side of the baby’s nape at the back.
‘Annette. We need to flex the baby’s head for birth. I’m going to get Ellie to push on your tummy just above the pelvic bone.’
Annette hissed an assent as she concentrated.
Sam went on. ‘Ellie, palpate just above the pelvic brim. You’ll feel the head. Lean on that ball firmly while I tip baby’s chin down from here.’ He glanced at Annette. ‘Don’t be surprised if baby needs to go to the resus trolley for a bit to wake up, okay?’
Paul’s eyes widened. Annette nodded as she concentrated. Ellie could feel the solid trust in the room and marvelled how Sam had achieved that in so short a time. It was worth its weight in gold when full co-operation was needed.
Sam’s firm voice. ‘Okay, push, Annette. Lean, Ellie.’
Ellie did as she was asked and suddenly the head released. Baby’s chin must have shifted towards his chest, allowing the smaller diameters of the head under the pubic arch and through the pelvis, and in a steady progression the whole head was born. Sam expelled a breath and Ellie began to breathe again too.
The little boy was limp in Sam’s hands.
Paul swayed and Roz pushed the chair under him. ‘Sit.’ The dad collapsed back into the chair with his hand over his mouth.
Sam quickly clamped and cut the cord and Ellie reached in, wiped the new-born with the warm towel and bundled him up to transfer to the resuscitation trolley. ‘Come over when you’re up to it, Paul,’ she said over her shoulder as she went.
Sam spoke to Roz. ‘Can you take over here, Roz? Call out if you need me.’ He followed Ellie.
Ellie hit the timer on to measure how long since birth, and dried the new-born with another warm towel to stimulate him, but he remained limp.
Sam positioned the baby’s head in a sniffing position and applied the tiny mask over his chin and nose. The little chest rose and fell with Sam’s inflation of the lungs through the mask.
Ellie listened to the baby’s chest. ‘Heart rate eighty.’ She applied the little pulse oximeter to the baby’s wrist which would allow them to see how much oxygen from their lung inflations was circulating in the baby’s body.
‘Thirty seconds since birth,’ Ellie said, and leant down to listen to his heart rate again, even though the oximeter had picked it up now. ‘Seventy.’ If the rate fell below sixty they would have to do cardiac massage.
‘Okay,’ Sam said and continued watching the steady rise and fall of the small chest. They both knew it wasn’t great but it also wasn’t dire yet. Babies were designed to breathe. Unlike adults, new-born babies needed inflation of their lungs to start, were respiratory driven, and even more important than cardiac massage was the initiation of breathing and the expulsion of the fluid from the untried lungs.
Ellie reminded herself she had great faith in the way babies had recovered from much more dramatic births than this one.
Sam continued with his inflations for another thirty seconds, Ellie wrote down the observations and finally the baby wriggled a tiny bit. Ellie felt the tension ease. ‘Come on, junior.’
‘His name is Thorn.’ Paul was there and he wasn’t swaying. He seemed to have pulled himself together. ‘Come on, Thorn,’ he said sternly, staring down at his son. ‘This is your dad speaking. Wake up.’
Ellie decided it was just coincidence but Thorn’s blue eyes opened at the command. The baby blinked and struggled and began to cry. The pulse oximeter rate flew from eighty to a hundred and thirty in the
blink of an eye and Sam eased back on the mask.
‘Well, that worked,’ she said and smiled at Paul. A sudden exuberance was bubbling inside her and she looked across at Sam, who grinned back at her. She guessed he was feeling it too.
‘Good work, Thorn,’ Roz’s relieved voice called across and Ellie heard Annette’s shaky relief as she laughed.
Thorn was roaring now and, after a glance at Sam and catching his nod, Ellie scooped the baby up and carried him back to his mother. He was soon nestled in beside his sister on his mother’s chest.
There was a knock on the door and one of the young ambulance officers poked her head in. ‘Did you guys call us?’
Sam said, ‘Thanks for coming. Transfer to the base hospital, thirty-five-week twins, but we’d like to wait half an hour—check the bleeding is settled and babies stable—if you want to come back.’
‘We’ll have coffee. Haven’t had lunch. Ring us when you’re ready.’ She looked to the bed. ‘Congratulations.’ Then she disappeared.
Ellie decided that was eminently sensible. The impact of an urgent emergency transfer of all concerned would have ruined the moment when everyone was settled. More brownie points for Sam.
She wouldn’t have taken the responsibility for delaying transfer but having an obstetrician on site made all the difference. It was fabulous for Annette and Paul to have a chance to collect themselves before they had to leave.
Roz was standing beside Annette, helping her sort the babies, and Sam and Ellie went over to the sink to strip off their gloves and apply new ones.
‘Rosebud and Thorn,’ Sam said in an undertone, and his eyes were alight with humour.
The names clicked. ‘Cute,’ she whispered back, grinning, and realised this was a moment she wasn’t used to—savouring the feeling of camaraderie and a sudden urge to throw her arms around Sam and dance a little.
She whispered, ‘That was very exciting and dramatic. Thank goodness everything is great.’
A Month to Marry the Midwife Page 9
