Baby Miracle in the ER

by Sue MacKay

  He’d have sworn she’d been as ready for him as he had her last night. That supple body had moulded to his and she’d all but had to peel herself off him when she’d chosen to leave.

  Even Chantelle barrelling in to collect Aaron hadn’t cooled his ardour. At night once Aaron was asleep there was no waking him—which was why he hadn’t thought anything of heading to the bedroom with Stephanie.

  He was hugely grateful not to have been caught with Stephanie, but there was nothing else that made him happy about her walking out.

  Chantelle would have had plenty to say about where his obligations lay. And that would be with her and Aaron, and Carly if needed, not with an outsider.

  Chantelle had once nearly cost him his job in another ED when she’d needed too much of his time and concentration. There wasn’t room for a meaningful other half in his life and risk it all crashing and burning around his feet again. So, yes, he’d dodged another bullet. So had Stephanie.

  Across the room, she and Kellie were bent double with laughter, shaking their heads at each other. Steph, when she laughed, was another woman. Soft and cute and so lovely. She was all those things most the time.

  Last night he’d wanted to haul her down to his bedroom and press her to the sheets, make love to her until she begged him to stop. Then and only then would he have sunk into her heat and lost his mind. He owed her big-time for having the strength to leave, because in the end he wasn’t available for more than those snatched moments and Stephanie deserved far more. She deserved permanence. Commitment. Love.

  Michael froze. Love? Not from him. He’d screwed up one marriage by apparently not devoting enough time to his ex, and he couldn’t promise Stephanie any more because of all his other commitments. A second failed marriage was not happening.

  His gaze fixed on the woman playing with his mind. She looked marvellous in those tight-fitting jeans and a thick woollen jersey that accentuated her breasts. Breasts he hadn’t had the chance to hold, to kiss and lick and enjoy last night. Under his scrubs his groin tightened. This was lust—not love.

  The squeaky, tight pulling in his veins, the out-of-rhythm beat of his heart—all of it was to do with the lust hardening below his belt. Nothing to do with love. He knew what love felt like—knew the agony and the ecstasy, the hollowed out sensation when it was withdrawn.

  His marriage had lasted fifteen months, had ended in fireworks and national headlines, and proved he had the family ‘no good at long-term’ gene. Proved that he was not good at commitment.

  His mum and dad had divorced when he was seven—his dad again six years later, after increasing his family by two. One half-sister had a divorce behind her, and the other refused to marry her partner. With that pedigree he wasn’t prepared to take another gamble.

  Yet Stephanie had stirred him up something terrible. Once again.

  Stephanie. His blood was always warmer when she was around. Hotter, thicker.

  She was still with Kelli, her head tipped back as she listened, that thick hair shaped around her slim neck so tempting his fingers itched.

  She hadn’t been laughing when Kelli had said she was pregnant. There’d been a sharp stab of pain in the back of her eyes. Quick to show, quicker to disappear, but now he knew to look for it it had been obvious.

  Yes, taking her to bed was high on his list of needs. But it wasn’t going to happen.

  Anything else he wanted also had to be ignored.

  And if that made him cruel then he’d put his hand up. He could not stop wanting her, because it was the wrong thing to do, but he could and would keep her at arm’s length.

  He picked up the phone and punched in the number for PICU. Stephanie would want an update on those twins.

  So much for arm’s length.

  * * *

  ‘This is Con from the dog pound. I’m at your address now and there’s no sign of the dog you called in.’

  Steph’s heart sank as she pulled off the road and held her phone hard against her ear. ‘I couldn’t find anything safe to tie him up with.’

  ‘I’ve been around to where he lived with Mrs Anderson and he’s not there either. The neighbours say they haven’t seen him since the day she was found dead.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Con sighed. ‘Three days ago concerned neighbours broke into her house and found her deceased in bed.’

  ‘That’s awful.’

  For everyone. No wonder Zac was wandering the streets. He was hungry and lonely and desperate.

  ‘Does anyone want him? Family? A friend or neighbour?’ She held her breath.

  ‘Not that we’ve been able to ascertain. He’ll most likely go up for adoption—if we can find him before it’s too late.’

  The man didn’t have to say what that meant. She had a vivid imagination. ‘I’ll go for a walk—call out to him when I get home.’

  She didn’t have to.

  ‘You’re a persistent little guy, aren’t you?’

  Steph bent down to pat Zac, who’d raced to her car the moment she’d pulled into the drive. ‘I have to let the ranger know you’re here so he can pick you up.’

  Didn’t she?

  Zac’s head tipped to one side. He sensed that she was weakening?

  Could she keep him? Adopt him?

  Getting a pet would be another step in making her move home feel permanent. No way could she take off and leave him behind, and she couldn’t take him overseas.

  Hey, you’re not going anywhere. This is home. Warts and all.

  Dog and all?

  ‘Zac, do you want to come live with me?’

  ‘He’s a German Shepherd Collie cross, with probably some other bits thrown in,’ Con told her when she phoned him back. ‘Two years old, fully vaccinated, no record of wandering until now.’

  ‘Can I keep him?’

  ‘I talked to your neighbour earlier and there’s no problem with you taking him.’

  That made her uncomfortable. She didn’t know her neighbours very well. ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘There’s paperwork to fill in. We need a record of where he’s gone in case anyone asks later on. But as of now he’s yours.’

  ‘Zac...’

  Steph blinked and smudged tears away from her cheeks. How easy was that? She’d wanted someone to love. So the object of that love had four legs and a collar? Worked for her. Another box ticked.

  Dropping to her knees, Steph wrapped her arms around her new housemate and sniffed hard. ‘Welcome to my world, beautiful.’

  She’d done it. This was a permanent step and there was no going back. Instantly exciting and frightening.

  Her new life really was underway. She was now a paramedic with a dog, living in her own house. And she was facing up to Michael.

  ‘Let’s go shopping for doggie things.’

  An hour later she drove through the streets towards home, Zac sat beside her, his head out of the window, catching the breeze. Her fingers tapped in time to the country song blasting out from the stereo and her mouth kept lifting into unbidden smiles.

  Yeah, she’d done the right thing—for her and for Zac.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘THIRTY-ONE-YEAR-OLD MALE, burns to left leg and foot caused by hydrochloric acid splashing when a glass cylinder fell and smashed,’ Steph told the nurse meeting them in the ambulance bay at Auckland Central’s ED. ‘Matthew Brown, science teacher at Point Chev High.’

  There’d been a lot of unnecessary panic going down in the classroom when she and Kath had arrived, which had taken longer to deal with than making their patient comfortable.

  Kath handed over the PRF before helping Matthew on to the bed. Another case delivered into the care of experts.

  Steph relaxed and looked around the department. Of course Michael wasn’t here. It was Saturday and his weekend off. Disappoint
ment hit her hard. He shouldn’t affect her like this, but she looked for him every time they delivered a patient. Every single time.

  ‘I’m going to grab a coffee to go,’ Kath told her once the stretcher was locked back in place inside their vehicle. ‘Want one?’

  ‘I’d kill for one. Fingers crossed we don’t get called for the next five minutes.’

  ‘I’ll get them if you want to go see how those babies are doing.’

  Did she? Last she’d heard the twins were improving as much as anyone could hope for, which Michael told her had to be the best news.

  ‘Won’t be long.’

  Racing to the elevator, she went up to the neonatal unit only to be told that Melanie and the babies had been transferred to Auckland Women’s.

  ‘The babies are doing okay?’ Was it a bad thing that they’d been sent across the city?

  ‘They’re doing fine,’ said Sarah, the PICU nurse Steph gone to nursing school with. ‘The specialist wanted them close to him so he can be on tap if anything changes.’

  Which it could with such premature babies. ‘That’s good.’

  Steph headed back to the ambulance and her coffee, her heart a little lighter for Melanie.

  ‘One latte.’ Kath handed her a paper cup with a grunt. ‘It’s turning into a long day.’

  ‘Busy’s good.’ It left no time for sitting around thinking about the impossible—how to put Michael out of her head.

  Kath blew on her long black. ‘What have you got planned for tonight? A party or a hot date?’

  If only.

  Steph started up the ambulance and headed for base. ‘Try a quiet night in with the dog.’

  Kath spluttered into her coffee. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’

  ‘Auckland Central Ambulance Three.’ The dispatcher’s voice came through loud and clear.

  ‘Here we go again.’ Saved by the radio.

  Steph reached for the handpiece, but Kath beat her.

  ‘Ambulance Three.’

  Steph listened in as she negotiated the ambulance towards Karangahape Road, ready to turn at the lights in whichever direction they were needed.

  ‘Thirty-six-year-old male, leg wound from tomahawk axe, severe bleeding. One-zero-five Albany Street, Parnell.’

  One hundred and five Albany Street? Steph’s heart hit her toes. No way. What would Michael be doing with a tomahawk? It would have to be very sharp to do severe damage. Air stuck in her lungs. If not Michael, then who?

  ‘Roger, coms,’ Kath responded, then repeated the address and details.

  Struggling to find her calm mode, Steph concentrated doubly hard on traffic and loose cannon drivers who liked to beat a racing ambulance to the corner.

  The siren seemed to screech louder than usual as she headed to Parnell. To Michael.

  A shudder ripped through her. It might not be Michael. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.

  ‘How do you chop your leg with a tomahawk?’

  ‘Chopping kindling? But being distracted enough to hit your leg is beyond me.’

  ‘I wonder who called it in?’ Michael himself? Most likely.

  ‘You know who lives at the address?’ Kath asked.

  ‘Michael Laing from the ED.’

  ‘Ah...’

  Steph didn’t like the way that sounded. ‘“Ah”, nothing. I was thinking that he’s not going to be happy about being taken into his own department by us.’

  She tapped the address into the GPS to see if there was a shorter route, as she only knew one way there.

  ‘Or he might be so thrilled so see us he’ll shout us a night out at Scarpio’s. It’s the best restaurant in town at the moment.’

  Steph couldn’t find a laugh. Not even a single chuckle.

  ‘Get out of the way!’ she snarled at the driver of a pickup truck blocking the intersection ahead. Her temper was not improved when the guy waved as they roared past.

  This trip was taking for ever, and every kilometre gained seemed long and tortuous. Finally Steph swung into Michael’s drive and turned off the siren. Kath was already in the back with the kit in her hand, so Steph leapt out and ran. Up the path, around the house and aimed for the back porch, where Michael sat on the step, pale, obviously in pain—and angry.

  ‘Michael, what happened?’

  She raced up the steps and dropped to her haunches beside him, already reaching for the blood-soaked jersey wound around his thigh, with the fingers of his right hand splayed over it, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. He was shivering, shock clearly coming into play.

  ‘Slow down. It’s not an emergency. No need for the siren either. Now the nosey neighbours will be turning up to gawp.’

  Nice to see you too. ‘What happened?’ she repeated. ‘I need to know.’

  ‘The neighbour’s cat was fighting a stray and chased it through here—right across my feet. I didn’t hear the hissing and snarling until it was too late. I had only just finished sharpening the blade this morning. I was distracted. And when I knocked into the shed wall...’

  Snapping on gloves, Steph began gently feeling for deep trauma in his thigh. It was a bad laceration that possibly went through to the bone. ‘When you do something you do it thoroughly.’ It must be extremely painful, though he was being stoic beyond belief.

  A sudden indrawn breath had her looking up. Got that wrong. She caught him, putting her hands on his chest to stop him tipping sideways onto the porch.

  ‘Easy does it.’ Gripping his shoulders, she studied him as he opened his eyes slowly. He was obviously in agony. ‘Deep breaths.’

  He focused on her as his chest lifted.

  ‘Breath out now.’

  His chest stopped, held, then sagged.

  Good. ‘We’ll get you on the stretcher.’

  ‘Right here,’ said Kath from behind her.

  ‘I don’t need that. I can walk to the ambulance.’

  He started struggling to his feet, and there was a lot more swaying going on.

  ‘Sit down,’ Stephanie snapped.

  She could do cranky too. Especially since Michael was hurt and not letting her help him.

  ‘Now.’

  To emphasis her point she pulled at his elbow until he obliged by sagging onto the step with little control.

  ‘Be careful.’

  This was a very different Michael from the one she knew.

  He glared at her. ‘I’m the doctor here. We’ll do it my way.’

  Resisting the urge to run the back of her finger down his pale cheek and reassure him that she’d do everything he needed, she dug deep for a retort.

  ‘I’m the paramedic, and in case you’ve forgotten that means I’m in charge at an accident scene.’

  She couldn’t have him thinking she was going soft on him.

  ‘That jersey isn’t doing a good enough job, so I’ll have to remove it and wrap bandages around the wound.’

  ‘Need some readings done too.’ Kath added her bit as she reached for his left wrist and got growled at for her trouble.

  ‘What’s wrong with your wrist?’ Steph asked.

  He held it awkwardly. ‘Must’ve cracked it when I fell over.’

  Cracked or broken? ‘When were you going to mention that?’ she snapped, her patience wearing thin. ‘Michael, we need to know everything. You understand that.’

  The eyes looking at her were darker than she’d ever seen them before, filled with pain and anger—and a message she couldn’t interpret. As if he was angry with her for some reason.

  She was doing her job—nothing more or less. But her heart was thumping and her breathing was too fast.

  Slowly drawing in a lungful of cold air, she laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. ‘We won’t make a big deal of anything, I promise.’

  Fi
nally he dragged his gaze away. ‘Go ahead. I do know what you’ve got to do.’ The sharpness had gone, and his voice was suddenly heavy and lethargic.

  Until Kath said, ‘Right, let’s get you on the stretcher.’

  ‘I’ll make my own way, thank you very much.’ But the curse he bit out afterwards wasn’t that quiet.

  ‘Michael, stop being an idiot. That injury is serious—as in probably needing surgery serious.’

  ‘I know that,’ he snapped.

  He might be a doctor and know what was ahead, but he was also a man in pain, and clearly not looking forward to the coming hours.

  ‘At the moment you’re a patient.’

  ‘It has dawned on me,’ he snapped.

  He wanted to walk to the ambulance so she’d give him that—but nothing more. If she slipped her arm around his waist what would he say?

  She was about to find out. Swinging the kit over one shoulder, she put her arm around him, took a step, and stopped when he didn’t join her.

  * * *

  ‘Stop hovering,’ Michael growled.

  He hated it that Stephanie was intent on hanging around right beside him—with him, holding him—ready to catch him if his head did that spinning, floating, not getting a grip on reality thing again.

  As if she could hold him off the ground. She was small and soft—he was big and muscular. Didn’t she realise that he could do her some damage? He should’ve taken the offer of the stretcher. Was he going soft in his old age? He’d taken plenty of hard knocks playing rugby and not once been stretchered off. Nothing was changing today. He might be acting like a prat, but a man was entitled to his pride.

  ‘Where are your house keys?’ Steph asked in her professional voice.

  He’d hurt her with his determination not to let her help him, but that was who he was—how he’d got through the painful take-downs on the rugby field, how he’d survived a broken heart.

  He groaned in pain and frustration. Why Stephanie and Kath, when there were dozens of ambulance crews working in the city? What were the odds? It seemed that when it came to Stephanie and him they were fairly short.

  ‘Hello? I asked a question. As a patient you’re supposed to answer so I know how alert you are.’