‘I love kids,’ Dylan answered when he’d swallowed. ‘I’ve done a fair bit of time in Theatre but I prefer my patients awake. I’ve done everything over the years. Nursing’s a great job to travel with and I’ve got the world’s itchiest feet. I never stay in one place for more than a few months.’
So she’d been right about more than the ear piercing. He was a gypsy. Would he cart Sophie from pillar to post with him?
Jane opened her mouth to tell him how unsuitable a life that would be for a young child and then snapped it shut. It wasn’t her place to criticise. He loved the baby. She was happy with him. He was a nurse and he loved kids and he was Sophie’s uncle. End of story.
Any niggling doubt was erased by looking down to where Sophie was sound asleep in her car seat beside Dylan’s chair.
‘Is she all right, sleeping in there? Doesn’t she need a cot or bassinette or something?’
‘She’ll be fine. I’ll make up a bed with pillows and she can share my bed.’ Dylan was scraping up the last of his scrambled eggs. ‘When I find one, that is.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I came straight to the hospital from the airport. I was going to ask you for a recommendation for accommodation but we didn’t really get that far, did we?’
‘You mean you haven’t got something booked? It’s after 10 p.m.! What have you been doing for the last few hours? I thought you’d be getting yourself sorted. With a hotel and a cot and supplies and so on.’
‘Did you now?’ Dylan’s gaze was steady. ‘You hoped I’d be riding back in on my white charger to rescue you from any responsibility?’
Jane could feel the heat creeping up from her neck to her cheeks. It was exactly what she’d been hoping.
‘Um…how long are you expecting to stay?’
‘As long as it takes.’
‘As long as what takes?’ Dismay enveloped Jane. This was actually a very long way from being sorted.
‘You need time,’ Dylan said calmly. ‘A chance to get used to the idea that you’re a mother. Your only chance to be one, from what you’ve said.’ He pushed his plate away but he was watching Jane with that intense kind of focus he seemed very good at. ‘You never intended having a child and you’re not about to change your mind.’
Jane would have confirmed his statement but he didn’t give her the chance. He kept talking. Quietly. His voice was compelling.
‘If you send us away, we’ll go, but you’ll probably never see Sophie again. You’ll never know what it’s like to hold a baby in your arms and know that she’s yours. That she’s utterly dependent on you and that she’s going to love you in a way that no one else can ever love you. Don’t be in too much of a hurry to break that connection, Jane. It might very well be the only one you ever have.’
He’d called her Jane. In that soft, lilting tone he’d used throughout that extraordinary short speech.
He’d go away, he said. If she chose. He’d go away and take the baby with him.
She wouldn’t have to hear him tell her about the responsibility she should be taking on. She wouldn’t have to feel guilty or contemplate the shattering effect this child could have on her life.
She wouldn’t have to see him sitting here—so out of place in her perfect apartment—with his big, masculine body and his tousled hair. She wouldn’t have to listen to that accent that reminded her of Josh and…and Izzy.
She wouldn’t hear him calling her ‘Jane’ like that. Like he knew her.
Like she mattered.
Jane had to swallow hard. And move. She gathered up the empty plates.
‘Fine,’ she managed to choke out as she stood up. ‘You can stay here tonight.’
CHAPTER FOUR
SOMETHING was different.
Flipping open another set of patient notes that Mike handed her, Jane took a quick glance at her watch. It was 9 a.m. and they were well into their Saturday morning rounds that had started at 8. ICU had been covered and they were on their way around the ward. Not behind or ahead of themselves. Nothing important had been missed. Everything was the same as it always was.
Except it wasn’t. Something different, that shouldn’t be here at work, was making its presence felt, even though Jane couldn’t identify what it was. She tried to push the odd feeling of disquiet away. It was hardly surprising that life seemed slightly out of kilter this morning, given that she’d left a half-naked man and a baby in her apartment.
Well, not really half-naked. Dylan had been wearing those faded blue denim jeans and a singlet when she’d discovered him in her kitchen at 6 a.m. He had been mixing baby formula with one hand, his other arm occupied by holding Sophie, and he was making what had to be an awkward task look effortless.
Jane hadn’t heard the baby awaken. The apartment had been peaceful and disconcertingly normal when she’d shut herself in the bathroom for a shower. They must have just emerged from the small spare bedroom when Jane had found them. The baby’s fine dark hair had been almost as tousled as her uncle’s, but only Dylan had smiled at Jane. Sophie had taken one look and started wailing.
‘Coffee,’ Jane muttered—as she had done in response to the ear-splittingly loud noise that baby was capable of producing.
‘Sorry?’ Mike sounded startled. ‘You want…um…coffee?’
‘No.’ Jane gave her head a sharp shake. ‘Of course not. I…’ She glanced up from the notes she was holding into the door of the room they were standing outside, her brain finding an escape route with commendable speed. ‘Matthew’s parents are looking pretty tired, don’t you think? They might appreciate a coffee.’
Her registrar gave her a strange look. Jane ignored him and stepped briskly into the room where fifteen-month-old Matthew was standing in his cot, banging a plastic hammer on the top bar. His father was trying to read him a story and his mother, Sarah, was picking up toys that looked as though they had been flung from the cot.
Jane smiled. ‘I see Matthew’s feeling a lot better.’
Sarah’s smile chased much of the weariness from her face. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? He’s almost himself again.’
‘Did you get any sleep?’
‘Not much.’
‘We can let Matthew have a bit more freedom today. He’s doing exceptionally well, seeing as his surgery was only three days ago.’
‘What about the results?’ Matthew’s father had discarded the picture book. ‘Are they all in now?’
‘Most of them. They’ve confirmed the first results we obtained during the surgery. Matthew’s neuroblastoma is definitely Stage 1.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Sarah dropped the toys she was holding into the cot and responded automatically to her son’s raised arms and demanding chirps, scooping him up gently to hold him.
‘It’s the best we could have hoped for,’ Jane agreed. ‘We’ve managed to remove the tumour completely and there’s very few signs of any microscopic residual disease. Tests on the lymph nodes have all come back negative.’
Tears shone in Sarah’s eyes. ‘So he’s going to be all right?’
‘He’s low risk.’ Jane had to add a note of caution. ‘My part in his treatment is over for the moment. The paediatric oncology team will be in to see Matthew and talk to you very soon. They’ll be the ones to make any decisions about chemotherapy and any other treatments.’
‘So it could come back.’ Matthew’s father moved closer to his wife and son. He put his arm around Sarah. Matthew smiled and reached up with a chubby fist.
‘Dad dad dad,’ he said proudly.
‘The five-year survival rate for children with Stage 1 disease is seventy to ninety per cent,’ Jane told them, trying to sound upbeat. ‘We’re going to watch Matthew very carefully but the odds are good. Very good.’
But not good enough, judging by the fear Jane could still see in the eyes of Matthew’s parents.
She had seen that fear before. Many times. Jane specialised in dealing with patients like little Matthew who had needed surgery fo
r childhood cancers. She was very good at what she did and she knew that her skills improved the odds for survival. Sometimes even provided a complete cure.
Yes, she was used to seeing that fear. Understanding it and reassuring people as much as possible.
But this time it was different.
Jane could not only see the fear and understand it. She could feel it. As if it were her own. As if it were Izzy and Josh standing there, holding Sophie, and she had just delivered a verdict on odds that didn’t sound so great if you turned them around and said that this baby had a ten to thirty per cent chance of not surviving.
This was what was different today.
Because her world had tipped and now included a baby she was connected to—whether she liked it or not— Jane was seeing her world through a new perspective.
A dangerous perspective. One that she had deliberately avoided. Yes, she was good at what she did but she intended to get a whole lot better. She couldn’t afford distraction or burnout and if she became too emotionally involved with her caseload, that was precisely what could happen.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t or didn’t empathise with her patients and their families, but Jane had to hang on to the clear, scientific perspective that enough distance could provide. She had to think like a doctor, not a parent.
She had always known that if she became a parent it had the potential to cloud her judgement. Colour her decisions. Leach a little more of her strength every time she had a difficult choice to make or a heartbreaking result.
She couldn’t be a parent.
Sophie seemed to know that, too, because she hated the sight of her, as she had demonstrated so ably again this morning. And that was a good thing. It would make sorting this situation so much easier. It was also good that the rest of this weekend was available to focus on doing exactly that.
Jane popped into the ward office before she left work a little after 11.30 a.m.
‘Sally? Thanks again for your help yesterday.’
‘My pleasure.’ The older nurse manager smiled at Jane. ‘What a wee poppet. It was a treat to have a healthy baby to play with for a while.’ She reached for the files Jane had put down on the side bench. ‘We tend to forget that most of the babies in the world are like her. Our perspective gets a little skewed, working in a place like this.’
‘Mmm.’ Jane had the disconcerting thought that Sally sensed the way her perception had been challenged that morning.
Had Sally touched on how paediatric doctors who were also parents coped? By being aware of that balance? Did they get to relieve some of the stress engendered by work by appreciating what was normal and healthy?
They still had to be too much in tune with how their patients’ parents felt, however, and that had to dilute the kind of focus you needed if you wanted to be exceptional in your field.
The way she intended to be.
Sally was slotting the files into the trolley in alphabetical order. ‘Did it get sorted?’ she queried. ‘The crisis that left you looking after Sophie?’
‘We’re working on it.’ Jane’s hesitation was only momentary. Sally had seen it all over the years, hadn’t she? She was motherly and wise. ‘The baby’s actually an orphan.’
‘Oh!’ Sally’s face creased in sympathy. ‘The poor wee mite!’
Jane didn’t want to go too far down that track and end up feeling too sorry for Sophie. ‘Her uncle’s looking after her. He loves her.’
‘Hmm.’ Sally turned back to her filing but cast a sideways glance at Jane. ‘I guess he was the one who was waiting to see you in ED yesterday?’
Jane blinked. Hospital grapevines were astonishing information networks. What else did Sally—and everyone else—know?
‘Why did he come here?’ The query was tentative. Sally knew she was stepping over a boundary that could be deemed too personal but her curiosity was clearly getting the better of her.
Jane’s secret was still safe, then. The relief was enough to loosen her guard. ‘Do you remember Isobel Summers? She was a registrar in ED here until a couple of years ago.’
‘The name seems familiar.’
‘She was my best friend. She’s the…um…she’s Sophie’s mother. Or was…’
‘Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Jane. That’s awful!’
Jane accepted the sympathy with a tight smile and nod. Sally might be the closest thing to a mother figure in her life but Dr Walters was not going to break down in the ward office.
‘Dylan, the…um, Sophie’s uncle wanted to tell me the news himself.’
Sally nodded. ‘That was kind. I suppose it’ll be the grandparents who will raise her. Isobel’s family? Is that why he’s here?’
‘Possibly.’
The option was new and momentarily attractive but, sadly, she had to dismiss it just as quickly. Izzy had long been estranged from her mother, who had been far more involved in her new marriage than her daughter for many years. Why on earth would she be interested in raising a baby that had absolutely no genetic connection to herself?
Suppressing a sigh, Jane turned to leave. ‘What I came in for was to say that I’ll be out of town for the rest of the weekend. I’ll still be available on my mobile, though, and I’m only an hour or so away if I’m needed.’
‘You’re not on call, are you?’
‘No.’
‘You shouldn’t make yourself so available all the time,’ Sally admonished. ‘You go and enjoy a bit of peace. Are you going to your mother’s place? In Akaroa?’
Jane nodded. ‘I haven’t been there for a couple of months and the garden will be a mess. I…just need to get away for a day or two.’
She was being forced to get away, more like.
Not that she could dispute how right Dylan had been when he’d pointed out that he and Sophie couldn’t possibly stay in her apartment any longer. That it was no place for a baby. She could have told him that.
He’d also been right when he’d stated that they needed time to talk about this situation and she even had to agree that a place far enough away from the hospital and the apartment so that she wouldn’t be distracted had been a sensible suggestion.
But why, oh, why, had she instantly come up with the idea of using the cottage in Akaroa?
Her private place. Her touchstone.
Because it had been the obvious and ideal solution, that’s why. Available. Easy. A quick way to escape the unsettling sound of a baby crying, not to mention the possibly more unsettling sight of Dylan’s bare torso.
So the offer had been made and Dylan had approved. It was too late to back out now. It would take too long to find furnished accommodation to rent elsewhere and what was the alternative? Putting them both into a hotel? Hardly a private place to discuss something that had the kind of long-term repercussions this did.
‘Of course you do,’ Sally was saying kindly. Her expression made it necessary to stamp on any hint of tears once again. ‘You’ve had terrible news. I hope you’re going to have some company. Someone that will understand what you’re dealing with.’
Jane’s smile was wry. ‘Oh, yes. I think so.’
‘Wow! This is so not the kind of car I would have expected you to drive.’
Jane unlocked the back door of the huge SUV. ‘I had it delivered to the hospital this morning. It’s on hire.’ She flicked what could only be described as a challenging glance in Dylan’s direction. ‘What sort of car would you expect me to be driving?’
Dylan grinned. ‘That’s easy. Something sleek and sexy. A BMW convertible, probably.’
She went bright red. Was it because she thought Dylan had suggested she might be sleek and sexy?
Well, she was, come to think of it. Intimidatingly so, in fact, in the civvies she had probably draped a white coat over for her ward round that morning. That tight-fitting black skirt shaped slim hips and the shirt and waistcoat were trendy but still dignified. The high heels of her black shoes were even better than the boots Dylan had imagined because he could see the le
ngth of leg encased in sheer black tights.
Fortunately, Jane was leaning into the vehicle to fold down seats and didn’t see the appreciative scan Dylan gave her body so he was surprised to see a vaguely embarrassed expression on her face when she emerged.
‘My Beemer’s in the garage,’ she muttered. ‘Good guess.’
He shrugged. ‘Not that hard. Not after you handed me a gold credit card and told me to go crazy in the baby shop this morning.’
‘Did you get everything you think you might need?’
‘I reckon. The big stuff, anyway. Cot and stroller and front pack and blankets. And look—this was a free gift.’ Dylan carefully fished a small item from his pocket.
‘What is it?’
‘A headband.’ Dylan let the soft loop of cotton knit unfold to hang in a circle from his finger. ‘A Christmas headband.’
Jane gave the white band with its embroidered holly leaves and red berries a dismissive glance. ‘It’s only November.’
It wouldn’t have made any difference if it was the last week of December, would it? Christmas festivities and frivolities clearly had no place in Dr Walters’s life. They were probably deemed a nuisance that created clutter and interfered with smooth routines.
‘No harm in being prepared,’ he said mildly. ‘And it looked very bonny when she tried it on. The girls in the shop said it was the cutest thing they’d ever seen. They were very helpful girls.’
Jane raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure.’
Dylan ignored the innuendo. ‘I’m assuming this place we’re going to has shops that will have baby food?’
She nodded. ‘Akaroa’s a top tourist destination. Along with all the gourmet restaurants and boutique shopping, you’ll find a supermarket and pharmacy. There are doctors and even a small hospital if it’s needed.’
‘Great. Maybe I can get a job.’
Her Baby Out of the Blue/A Doctor, A Nurse: A Christmas Baby Page 4
