A Doctor's Christmas Family

by Meredith Webber

  ‘You lot are malingering now—staying on in hospital when you’re well enough to play cards!’ Her pretence at scolding made them smile, and though she didn’t interrupt the game to check any of them, she guessed at least three of them would be well enough to be discharged the following day.

  But Mr Armstrong remained unconscious, Gwyneth was still desperately ill and little Chloe had slipped, her respiration rate rising and her blood pressure dropping.

  A tourniquet test, where a blood-pressure cuff was applied for five minutes and inflated to a pressure halfway between the systolic and diastolic blood pressure, had resulted in petechiae coming up on Chloe’s skin, revealing the fragility of her capillary walls and indicating she was probably suffering internal bleeding.

  Esther went out to the desk, asking the sister there for the bag of whole blood she’d ordered and checked earlier. She’d have to speak to Bill before transfusing it, both for his permission to give the treatment and for his OK as a doctor, but in Esther’s opinion the sooner it went into the child, the better.

  He came into the ward as she was checking the bag again, and before she could apologise for not waking him and explain about Byron’s arrival, he frowned so fiercely at her she found herself wondering what she’d done wrong now, and the apology was forgotten.

  He was about to walk past her, no doubt going straight to Chloe’s room, when she remembered she needed to speak to him.

  ‘Bill, I think we need to give Chloe whole blood. Do you agree? Will you give permission?’

  He stopped, turned, and took one pace back so he was looming over her beside the desk.

  ‘I looked in on her before I went to eat,’ he said. ‘You’re probably right about the blood.’

  It was a grudging agreement but enough for Esther to pick up the bag of blood. She was about to take it into Chloe’s room when it was snatched out of her hands.

  ‘You’re giving this to Chloe? What are you trying to do? Kill her? Didn’t you check her blood tests? Check the cross-matching? Check the bag? Or are you trying to harm another of my children?’

  Esther was so shocked by his outburst she barely felt the pain of that final knife-thrust into the heart of her emotions. Her mind scrambled to make sense of his fury, while the doctor in her knew she had to remain calm no matter how she felt inside.

  And how she felt inside was that his last comment was unforgivable. She could put it aside for now because she needed to be a doctor, not a woman, but while the doctor might get over it, the woman wouldn’t.

  Never.

  ‘What are you saying, Bill? That we’ve made a mistake with the blood typing? I realise she’s a rare group and for that reason I double-checked—with a new blood sample. The results came back, the blood was ordered on the basis of those results, and this bag has been checked against those results by two people.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong. She can’t be Group B,’ Bill said, calmer now but still so tense Esther could see the pulse beating in his temple.

  ‘I know you’re O,’ Esther said to him, ‘but blood’s not like your genetic inheritance where you inherit half and half. You can inherit a blood group from one parent.’

  Before Esther had even finished this rational reminder, Bill had turned away, his face so pale she put out a hand to steady him. The implication of Chloe’s blood group hit Esther then, as it had obviously struck Bill some seconds earlier.

  He must know Marcie’s blood group—must know she wasn’t B—and if Chloe didn’t have Marcie’s blood group, or Bill’s, then Bill wasn’t her father.

  ‘We’ll get another test done,’ she said, but Bill was already walking away, into Chloe’s room, where he stood, head bowed, beside her crib.

  Fearful that this might be the final straw that pushed him over the edge of what a man could bear, Esther followed.

  ‘Don’t take more blood,’ he said. ‘If you’ve tested twice, you’re probably right about it. You know, I’ve always been pleased and proud when folk said she looked like me.’

  Esther stood beside him and slipped an arm around his waist.

  ‘She does,’ she said. ‘And no matter what the blood tests say, you’re still her father. You’ve cared for her since she was born, you’re the person she knows best in the world. Nothing can change that. You may not be her biological father but what’s biology compared to love?’

  Bill turned to her, anguish clear in his eyes.

  ‘I don’t know how you can even talk to me after what I said,’ he muttered.

  ‘That was shock talking, and fear, and pain,’ Esther said, excusing him because for Chloe’s sake they had to get through this new crisis. That sick baby needed her father, and Bill was the only father she had. Esther didn’t think he’d reject the little one, but men thought differently to women and she wasn’t sure just how he’d handle it.

  She left him standing there and walked around to the other side of the crib to start the blood transfusion, warning the nurse that Chloe would need even more careful watching while the blood ran into her body.

  ‘Reactions to transfusions are quite common, particularly a slight rise in temperature, so be alert for it and keep her cool,’ Esther said, not adding her fears about convulsions and possible encephalitis.

  Once satisfied the blood was flowing at the right rate, she left Chloe’s room to check on Gwyneth and Mr Armstrong, the other two patients causing concern. The monitor printouts for both showed they were holding their own, though Mr Armstrong’s comatose state continued to worry Esther.

  Then, emotionally drained by the new drama that was being played out, she decided stale sandwiches wouldn’t be enough and, telling the sister at the desk where she’d be, went down to the canteen.

  The huge room was empty, apart from a couple of kitchen workers behind the counter, so the atmosphere of the place was spooky and unsettling. Even worse, the meal tasted like sawdust, Esther’s mind and heart so tangled up with Bill’s pain she barely knew what she was eating. Would Bill reject the baby? Lose another child?

  Surely not, for who would take Chloe? Her mother didn’t want her, that much was obvious.

  Esther felt the heaviness of the baby she’d held in her arms earlier, and her body ached with loss, though this time it was for Bill.

  Back upstairs, blood still flowed slowly and steadily into Chloe while Bill sat motionless by the bed, his hands holding his bowed head.

  Esther wished there was something she could say or do to help him through this trauma, but she sensed he had shut himself away behind a protective wall, in the same way he claimed she had done three years ago.

  Depressed by her uselessness, she headed for the office. She’d start working on the relationships between the dengue victims, and draw up a chart of the course of the outbreak. It was hard to get started, her mind still with Bill, but as she fitted pieces of information together, she became involved in spite of herself, and soon the excitement of seeking out the development of the disease took over, so she was startled when someone tapped on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ she said, barely lifting her head from the diagram she was drawing, then a charge in the air, or a shift of balance in her body, made her look up.

  ‘What do I do?’ Bill said, slumping into the hard, uncomfortable chair across the desk from her.

  ‘Has Chloe changed in any way?’ she asked him, and he raised haunted eyes to look at her.

  ‘Is that a pertinent question?’

  ‘I think it is,’ Esther told him. ‘I can’t think of any reason other than her changing that would make you love her less.’

  He dropped his head into his hands again, and Esther forgot she was never going to forgive him and walked around the desk to put her arms around his shoulders and draw his head against her body.

  ‘Bill, you’re not the kind of man who believes heredity is everything. Actually, I don’t believe it’s nearly as important as people think. Think about it. Why are human babies born so helpless? Surely one reason could be the fac
t that they’ll die if some adult doesn’t look after them. Their total dependence on the adult who cares for them helps the bonding process, and love grows from that. Chloe’s your baby. You love her and she loves you. That hasn’t changed.’

  He shrugged against her, then lifted his head and looked up into her eyes.

  ‘What I said earlier—that was unforgivable,’ he said, the pain in the blueness telling her he meant it. ‘I was hitting out, and not because I’m at my wits’ end with my mother and daughter so ill. I can’t even use that excuse. No, it was because I saw you downstairs with that soldier, and jealousy so strong it was like a tidal wave rushed through me. Three years we’ve been apart, Esther, yet my mind and body can’t accept you’re not still mine. Not mine in the sense of ownership, but mine to love. And be loved by, though I suppose that’s too much to ask.’

  He shifted away from her, dropping his head back into his hands, and Esther couldn’t work out just how she felt, let alone find words to fit the thoughts.

  Mine to love?

  Was Bill saying he still loved her?

  Well, whether he was or wasn’t, this was hardly an appropriate time to be talking about it.

  ‘Let’s just get through tonight, and then tomorrow, and the next day, eh?’ she said, touching him on the head, feeling the slight roughness of his thick, short hair.

  He must have heard her confusion in her voice, or maybe he took her evasiveness as rejection. For whatever reason, he stood up, straightened his shoulders and was about to leave the room when he turned back to her.

  ‘I’ll be here all night with Ma and Chloe. Why don’t you go back to the apartment and have a proper night’s sleep?’ He waved his hand towards the desk with all her papers spread across it. ‘Another day won’t hurt that stuff you’re doing. You’ve still got the keys?’

  Keys? For a moment Esther wondered what he meant, then she patted her pocket and felt the bulge of Bill’s set of keys.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘though it seems so long since I used them I can’t believe it was only this morning.’

  Bill forced himself to smile at her, though he guessed it was a very weak effort.

  ‘We get days like that in this business, don’t we?’ he said, and, knowing there was nothing more to say, he walked away.

  But in his head he was wondering if normal people did have days this bad. Or whether he attracted trouble like bad meat attracted flies. Trouble! Ma had labelled Esther trouble but knowing Esther, loving Esther, living with Esther, had brought him nothing but pure joy. And slowly but surely he’d begun to believe he’d been breaking through the barriers she erected to protect herself, and his love had been reciprocated.

  Then they’d lost the baby and she’d retreated again, shutting him out at a time when they’d most needed to be together, sharing their grief and supporting each other.

  Shutting him out so completely their marriage had collapsed.

  Yet today, when the bombshell of Chloe’s blood group had blown up in his face, it had been to Esther he’d turned. Snapped at her first—because she’d been there to snap at—but he’d still turned to her in his time of need.

  And Esther, being Esther, hadn’t held his harsh words against him. In her usual forgiving way, she’d held him and comforted him, then helped him through his confusion and reminded him of the deep, abiding love he felt for Chloe—a love that had nothing to do with biological parentage. Esther claimed it had grown from Chloe’s dependence on him—a dependence that led to bonding.

  Bonding.

  Esther was the one who was now bonding with Chloe. He’d seen it when he’d come into his daughter’s room unexpectedly to find Esther singing to the sick child or nursing her. Once he’d even seen a suspicious-looking dampness on Esther’s cheeks and had wondered if she’d finally cried for the other baby.

  And tired though he was, he felt excitement tighten his body, and he allowed himself a couple of minutes to dream of how things might be…

  How things could be?

  Was there hope?

  There had to be! He would make it happen!

  When he wasn’t quite so tired and this wretched epidemic had run its course, and Chloe and Ma were better, and he’d sorted out the nagging question of his divorce, and possibly been given a couple of Christmas miracles to help things along…

  Bill was right about her needing proper sleep, Esther knew, and though she was reluctant to leave the hospital with three patients very ill and Bill in a fragile mental state, she also knew she would function more effectively through whatever was to come if she went.

  She might also be able to think more clearly if she was out of this environment. Think not about patients, or even about Bill’s shocking dilemma, but about what he’d said.

  Three years ago he’d said she was too hard to love—that it was killing him, trying to love someone who hid all her emotions behind an impenetrable wall. She’d walked out of his life, telling herself it was for the best, because she was how she was, and nothing would change her, but that lost love had cast dark shadows over her life ever since.

  So what did the statement he’d made this afternoon mean?

  Most likely nothing much. He’d been apologising, and people often said too much in an apology, as if overcompensating for the hurt they’d caused.

  Esther packed up the papers on the desk and went back to the ward, stopping at the desk to ask the sister to phone her at Bill’s apartment if she was needed.

  She hesitated outside Chloe’s door, but Bill looked as if he was dozing in the chair so she walked past, going in to check on Mr Armstrong and then Gwyneth.

  Gwyneth was awake, and she obviously recognised Esther, which was good as she’d been very confused earlier in the day. She gestured to Esther to come closer, and even though the movement was weak, it retained a certain imperiousness.

  ‘How are you, Gwyneth?’ Esther asked, coming closer and taking the woman’s hand.

  But she didn’t answer, her lips moving but little sound coming out.

  Afraid she was getting agitated, Esther leaned forward and heard the word ‘Chloe’.

  ‘She’s doing well,’ Esther said, although it wasn’t entirely true. ‘Bill’s in with her, but he’ll come and sit with you later.’

  Gwyneth made a noise that sounded like a snort, as if Esther’s words meant nothing to her.

  ‘There’s something else you want to tell me?’

  Gwyneth nodded.

  ‘About Chloe?’

  Another nod, then hoarsely whispered words.

  ‘Bill loves her.’

  I already knew that, Esther thought. It’s obvious to anyone seeing him with her, so why the battle to tell me?

  Then a dreadful thought struck her. Did Gwyneth know Chloe wasn’t Bill’s biological child? Had Gwyneth, in order to achieve the marriage of her dreams, conspired with Marcie?

  And was Gwyneth now warning Esther away from Bill in case he lost the child he loved?

  ‘Oh, Gwyneth,’ Esther whispered. ‘You must know I’d never be the cause of Bill losing another child.’

  She touched Gwyneth’s cheek, wondering how things might have been if the older woman hadn’t been so fixated on Bill marrying Marcie. Would Gwyneth have been more welcoming to her son’s bride? Would she have helped her daughter-in-law when she’d most needed help—after the loss of her baby?

  That was the trouble with the past, Esther reminded herself. There were too many unanswerable questions, and even if, in retrospect, you learned the answers, or even some of the answers, there wasn’t anything you could do to change what had already happened.

  Back at the apartment, Esther showered then took herself to bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about all that was going on. She slept deeply, waking in the early dawn and lying for a moment in bed, relishing the feeling of being thoroughly refreshed.

  Another shower, a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, and she was ready to face the day. She made her way to Chloe’s room and ga
thered up some toys. There was a brightly coloured strand of plastic beads across the crib, so she detached that and took it, too, thinking it might help Chloe’s recovery to have familiar things around.

  She wasn’t going to give brain-space to Chloe not recovering. Oh, no, Chloe was going to get better, and so was Gwyneth, if for no other reason than because she, Esther, willed it so.

  And she wasn’t going to give brain-space to the past. She’d lived without Bill for the last three years and she could continue to do so once this job was finished. The pain she’d suffered over their marriage break-up had reinforced within her all the reasons it was dangerous to love someone.

  And that included chubby babies with winsome smiles and little starfish hands…

  She reminded herself of all of this as she returned to the hospital, where she found at least part of her hopes had been fulfilled. Bill was sleeping, Janet told her, but Chloe was so much better she was demanding attention when she was awake.

  Esther held up the bag of toys she’d brought with her.

  ‘Just what she needs,’ Janet said. ‘Distraction.’

  Esther checked on Mr Armstrong first. His condition remained unchanged. Then she saw Gwyneth, who was asleep, or perhaps semi-comatose. Not good, but as with Mr Armstrong they were doing all they could for her.

  Then into Chloe’s room where the baby was grizzling quietly in the nurse’s arms. She still had a drip running into one hand and the way it was taped suggested she’d been irritated by it and had been trying to pull it out.

  ‘Bill reseated it before he went for a sleep,’ the nurse told her, then she looked apologetically up at Esther. ‘I’m actually off duty but whenever I put her down, she cries.’

  ‘Little madam is obviously feeling better,’ Esther said. ‘I’ll take her.’

  The nurse passed the baby to her and, with more patients to see, Esther decided Chloe would have to accompany her on her rounds. Not easy when it involved taking the drip stand with her as well, but it was on wheels and she could kick it along in front of her.