‘I cut her off because I don’t like the staff making judgements about patients, and they all know it.’ Defiant emerald eyes met his. ‘I hate the way a label can be slapped on someone and judgement made because of that label. As if people are nothing more than varieties of tomato sauce.’
Sam felt a smile twitching at his lips. This was definitely a Meg he knew, standing up for the rights of others—ready to take on the world if necessary. That hadn’t changed!
‘And Brad’s brand of tomato sauce had “single parent family” on the label?’
Meg grinned at him.
‘Same as yours—Bad Boy Brand!’ she said, but the words slipped in one ear and out the other, his mind too occupied with the jolt he’d felt inside his chest when Meg’s face had lit up with that cheeky smile.
‘I don’t know how to be with you.’ The words blurted from his lips, and a frown chased Meg’s smile away.
‘How to be with me?’
Sam knew the smile he offered was a foolish one, and shrugged his confusion away.
‘That came out wrong, but this is so weird, Megan. I feel I know you yet I don’t know you. The old Meg—well, we usually picked up right where we left off…’
Wrong analogy. Right where they’d left off last time had been a disaster—a hurtful, painful, unmitigated disaster.
Was Meg remembering?
‘It’s been thirteen years, Sam,’ she reminded him, revealing nothing beneath an ultra cool and controlled exterior and a polite smile he knew was false. ‘We’ve both changed.’
‘Have we?’
He shouldn’t be persisting with this conversation but couldn’t stop himself.
‘Of course we have. We were kids thirteen years ago—now we’re adults.’
‘Are we?’ He caught himself just in time. ‘Dumb question! Of course we are, although do you really feel different—feel like an adult—all the time?’
Meg’s cool façade cracked and she smiled again, enthusiasm bubbling back to the surface with the memories.
‘Right now I feel fifteen again—or thirteen—or eleven—having one of those earnest, interminable discussions we used to have. About evolution or religion or morality or—’
‘Friendship,’ Sam reminded her, taken back himself. ‘Would you lie for a friend? Die for a friend?’
‘No to both—wasn’t that always my stand? That there had to be another way around the problem?’
‘Oh, Meg, there you are.’ A nurse Sam hadn’t met came hurrying towards them. ‘Ben Richards is on his way in by ambulance—heart pains. Jenny phoned, asked if you could meet him.’
‘Ben Richards? The Ben Richards I—’
‘Put in hospital,’ Meg finished for him, but she said it softly so the nurse, who was walking away from them, didn’t hear her.
‘Damn!’ she continued as she hurried down the corridor, Sam following in her wake. ‘His father died from heart disease and Jenny’s been warning him this would happen. Ben’s overweight and he drinks too much.’
‘Then he hasn’t changed,’ Sam muttered, uncertain how to tackle this new challenge in the ‘returning home’ scenario.
‘He’s a patient and whatever that was all about—it was a long time ago,’ Meg reminded him, although she’d have given her eye teeth and probably a couple of front ones as well to know what had happened.
‘I should be able to manage, Sister Anstey,’ Sam told her, coolly polite, the nostalgic moments of accord between them lost again. The Sam who could always hide his feelings was back in control again. ‘In fact, if I remember rightly, you’re the one more likely to lose your temper in pressure situations.’
‘I didn’t put Ben Richards into hospital with concussion and a broken jaw thirteen years ago,’ Meg snapped, then regretted the jibe when she saw the pain on Sam’s face.
It was the one time he’d lost control! No one had ever found out what had started the fight but, whatever it was, the memory still had the power to hurt Sam deeply.
And seeing Sam in pain still affected her…
Oh, dear!
She led the way towards the emergency room doors where the ambulance bearers were already unloading their patient.
‘ECG’s OK but we can only do a rhythm strip so it’s hard to tell. He was in a lot of pain. We gave him aspirin and 5 milligrams of morphine IV, notes all here.’
Meg took the initial assessment forms, signed for them, then handed back one copy to the ambulance bearer before turning to introduce Sam.
‘Cal Johnson, meet Sam Agostini, acting medical super at the hospital.’
‘Sam Agostini? That really you, Sam? Didn’t end up in jail after all!’
Ben’s voice was hoarse as he interrupted the introduction, but he obviously wasn’t upset at meeting his old adversary. He grabbed at Sam’s hand and held it in both of his.
‘I hope you’re a good doctor, mate. My Jenny couldn’t cope with something happening to me right now.’
Sam leaned forward to reassure him as tears began to stream down Ben’s cheeks.
‘Our baby is sick.’ The big man’s voice was hoarse with emotion, his face twisted with grief. ‘So little and so sick—leukaemia. Did you know boys with Down’s syndrome are prone to it? Hardly fair, is it? And just when Jenny needs me to be strong, and supportive for her and the kids—for little Benjie—look at me. Useless bastard that I am!’
‘We’ll have you out of here in no time and, knowing this town, there’ll be someone out there with Jenny right now, helping with the kids.’ Sam rested his other hand on Ben’s shoulder. ‘But first things first. Let’s see if we can find out what’s causing your pain and what we can do to stop it happening again.’
He glanced up at Meg.
‘Get him straight onto a twelve-lead ECG. I’ll take blood for testing. Does the hospital have its own path lab?’
‘We can do basic stuff. In Ben’s case cardiac enzymes, white-cell count, ESR, U and E, glucose, lipids and a clotting screen.’
Sam frowned at her.
‘Are you sure you’re not a doctor in disguise?’
Simple enough question, one would have thought, but once again he watched as Meg’s face lost colour. Anguished green eyes were raised to his—anguished green eyes that caused pain in the part of his chest where he didn’t have a heart.
‘Quite sure,’ she said quietly, walking beside the trolley as Ben was wheeled into the trauma room.
She was all efficiency—this woman he hadn’t expected to see and certainly hadn’t expected to feel anything for. Working with swift, sure movements, she changed Ben’s oxygen feed from the bottle on the ambulance trolley to the hospital supply, attached the leads to Ben’s chest, added more leads for a heart monitor then moved the monitor screen so Sam could see it.
And as she worked she talked to Ben—nothing kind of talk, explaining what she was doing, teasing him gently in a way, Sam realised, that boosted Ben’s spirits far more readily than sympathy would have done.
She passed Sam a catheter to insert into Ben’s arm, first to take blood for testing, then so drugs could be administered into his veins. Her fingers accidentally brushed his when the exchange took place, and she glanced up at him, bewilderment showing on her face, as if whatever she had felt puzzled her.
What he’d felt puzzled him as well…
‘It’s bad? Is that what you think?’
Ben’s anxious query told Sam he must be frowning.
‘No way, mate!’ he assured the man. ‘In fact, the exact opposite. There are no visible signs from the ECG that your heart’s playing up.’
‘But the pain!’ Ben protested. ‘It was like an elephant sat on my chest.’
‘I’ve heard it described more elegantly,’ Meg told him.
‘And I’ve heard it described exactly like that,’ Sam put in. ‘The pain is definitely a symptom that something’s not right, which is why we’ve got you hooked up to monitors that are telling us how your heart and lungs are working, and the level of oxygen in your blood. W
e’ll know more when we get the results of the blood tests back from the lab.’
He glanced enquiringly at Meg who assured him the blood had been sent.
‘What can happen,’ Sam continued, ‘is that the arteries that feed your heart muscle become clogged with plaque, and if they’re not getting enough blood to the heart and the heart muscle isn’t getting enough oxygen from the blood, you’ll feel pain. I’m giving you nitroglycerin to open up those blood vessels so more blood gets through, and the monitors will tell us how the drug is working. We’ll let you rest for a while but eventually you’ll be having a whole battery of tests. Have you been referred to a cardiologist before this?’
Ben shook his head, then grinned at Sam. ‘Only been in hospital once before,’ he said, ‘and you know why that was!’
Sam stopped still, an image flashed before him. A big group of them had been in the street outside the cinema complex, having celebrated the last day of the school year at the movies. He’d been thinking about Meg, who had been due to arrive the following day, when one of the girls—had it been Coralie West?—had come up and slipped her arm through his, suggesting they nip away for a kiss and cuddle at the beach.
He’d backed off, trying to find a way to say no without hurting her feelings, then suddenly Ben, who’d probably been sneaking rum into his Coke, had raised his voice.
Made an unbelievable accusation…
Sam’s head and fist had exploded simultaneously, sending the much taller Ben flying backwards. A mate had grabbed Sam, but he’d shaken him off, while Ben had clambered back to his feet and surged towards his adversary. Ben had been tough, farm-hardened and cunning in his choice of punches, but in the end, it had been rage that had won the fight for Sam.
Although it hadn’t been a win—it had been a loss.
A loss of innocence…
Of joy…
Of love…
CHAPTER TWO
‘FIRST lot of test results, Doctor.’
Something in the nurse’s voice made Sam look more closely at her.
‘I should know you, shouldn’t I?’ he said and the pert blonde smiled.
‘Thirteen years is a long time, Sam,’ she said. ‘I’m Kelly Warren, Eddie’s younger sister.’
‘The pest!’ Sam remembered, grinning at the woman. ‘You look great. How’s Eddie?’
‘He’s still in town. He took over Dad’s pharmacy. Boy, did he miss you when you left.’
Sam nodded. Eddie had been a good friend—Sam’s one true friend, apart from Meg—yet he’d never bothered to keep in touch. But that was how his friendships had been—surface things—because he’d never been good at letting people get too close—letting people in.
Except for Meg…
He smiled at Kelly.
‘I’ll be sure to look him up,’ he promised her, taking the test results and studying them, nodding to himself as he walked back into Ben’s cubicle.
Meg was holding Ben’s hand and talking quietly to him.
Comforting him, Sam told himself, though he couldn’t have said why he needed to find an excuse for Meg’s presence.
Or the hand-holding.
Get over it!
‘OK!’ he said, edging near enough to the bed for Meg to have to move. ‘Your blood has an increase in something we call CPK. That’s a cardiac enzyme—creatine phosphokinase, if you want the whole story. An increase in CPK usually indicates a heart attack even when the monitors don’t show it, and the level of CPK indicates how severe or otherwise the attack was. You’ve been lucky, Ben. It was very mild. Next we’ll do an echocardiogram to see if we can see any damage to the heart muscle and there’ll be further tests once you see a cardiologist.’
‘We have a visiting cardiologist who comes twice a week—Tuesday and Thursday,’ Meg offered. ‘He’ll be in town tomorrow and we can make arrangements for him to see Ben here.’
‘Here? I can’t stay here,’ Ben protested, trying to sit up. ‘I’ve got to get home to Jenny and the kids. Benjie’s due for more chemo tomorrow.’ He broke down again, tears pooling in his eyes as he added, ‘We both come in with him every time.’
Sam felt Ben’s anguish but before he could explain why he couldn’t be released, Meg was talking.
‘Benjie’s tough,’ she reminded their patient. ‘He’ll be OK just with Jenny, although, as he has it right here in the hospital, if you’re OK, there’s no reason why you can’t be with them. But right now the best thing you can do for Jenny and all your family is to rest and get better.’
Sam nodded, adding, ‘And you’ve no option but to stay here. We’re giving you drugs to keep your arteries open and to dissolve any clots that might be lurking in them. We need you on the monitors so we can see how the drugs are working.’
And to make sure you don’t have another heart attack. As he left the cubicle, Sam couldn’t help thinking of the number of times he’d seen a second more severe heart attack occur in patients while they’d been in A and E. Chest pain caused anxiety, anxiety caused blood pressure and heart rate to increase, and the higher the blood pressure and heart rate, the harder the heart had to work. Unfortunately, a heart already battling to work properly didn’t take kindly to an extra workload.
‘Are you going to move him to a ward?’
Meg joined him outside the curtains, seeing his worry for Ben in Sam’s narrowed eyes and furrowed forehead.
Sam hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.
‘If the hospital had a coronary care unit I would, but right now the best monitoring he can get is right there, for a few hours at least. We’ll move him later. His wife’s coming in?’
‘As soon as her mother gets out to the farm to mind the kids.’
‘How many kids do they have?’ Sam asked, concern warming his voice, surprising Meg because he’d always remained detached from other people’s problems. Except for hers… ‘I know about Benjie! Talk about rotten luck—the little fellow getting leukaemia. I guess the only good part is you’re able to give him chemo here so there’s less disruption to the family.’
‘Not without a fight,’ Meg told him. ‘The powers that be insisted at first he go to Brisbane, but Ben’s a farmer—he can’t get away for any length of time, and there are three older girls as well, so it wasn’t exactly easy for Jenny to go either.’
Sam’s smile twined around Meg’s heart.
‘You did the fighting?’
‘The whole town fought,’ she told him, not wanting him to think her special—more especially not wanting smiles that affected her heart. ‘The mayor wrote directly to the premier, every doctor in town wrote to the Health Department, and ordinary, everyday citizens bullied their local MPs until an agreement was reached. The Bay hasn’t changed much in that everyone pulls together in a crisis, and Benjie’s leukaemia is just one of many uniting forces I’ve seen since I came to live here permanently.’
‘Why did you come back, Meg?’
It was the last question she’d expected and she hesitated, uncertain how to answer. She couldn’t lie to save herself, her tendency to go fiery red a dead give-away. In the end she settled on part truth.
‘Cheap accommodation.’
It was a flippant reply and Sam obviously read the warning she’d hoped to convey.
‘None of my business, huh?’ he said, then he changed the subject. ‘Ben’s wife—Jenny, is it? Do I know her?’
Meg heard a hint of apprehension in his voice and frowned at him.
‘Are you surprised people remember you?’
‘I’ve been gone thirteen years, Meg. Of course I’m surprised.’
‘Then you didn’t think through this “back to the Bay” decision too well. Why wouldn’t people remember you? You were into everything—the swimming champ, the football captain. Jenny was Jenny Wilson—her parents still have the bakery in town. Mrs Wilson used to give us finger buns whenever we went in there. Mind you, she probably gave finger buns to every kid in town.’
‘Of course. Jenny
Wilson was in my year at school.’ Sam spoke slowly, as if he was only just beginning to consider the implications of his return to the Bay. And for a moment Meg almost felt sorry for him.
‘Exactly,’ she said, quelling the feeling before it had time to take hold. Then curiosity got the better of her. She asked the same question he’d asked earlier. ‘Why did you come back?’
Sam’s face closed. Someone else, standing in front of him, might not have noticed the wiping of all expression from a face that didn’t give away much in the first place. But Meg had seen it happen before—often enough to recognise that whatever minor truce might have existed between them for a few minutes was now over.
Not that she should be worried about it—Sam Agostini was none of her business.
Though not yet late—just after seven—it was dark by the time Sam drove back up to the Point and along the road to his house.
His house?
In his mind it was still the Anstey house.
He glanced towards cottage but there were no lights on. No doubt Meg was still performing one of her seemingly limitless roles at the hospital. Family counselling it had been when he’d called in to check on Ben Richards late that afternoon and had found Meg there with Jenny and various other family members who all remembered him—and registered their surprise he wasn’t in jail—but were strangers as far as he was concerned.
He parked his car and walked up the front steps—hoping the removal men had successfully completed the unpacking for him. I don’t care what goes where, he’d told them, sure they’d be better able to place furniture and stack cupboards than he would be.
He wondered what they’d made of the drawer full of feminine underwear in the main bedroom.
On the front veranda, he stopped and turned towards the view, seeing the sweep of the bay and far out a faint twinkle of light from the island. A fisherman on the beach? Someone camping in the sand dunes?
His chest began to ache again and a savage anger swept over him as he realised Meg had been right.
He hadn’t thought through his return to the Bay.
Oh, he’d considered all the practical aspects of it—the business side of things, the opportunities it presented—the reasons he’d had to come. But if he’d considered any emotional impact, it had merely been to remind himself he was older now—a mature adult—and in spite of what an interfering, psychiatrist ex-girlfriend had once said about him carrying emotional baggage, he’d been totally convinced that all the past was right where it belonged—safely in the past.
Bride at Bay Hospital Page 2
