A Father for Her Son (Medical Romance)

by Rebecca Lang

  ‘Can I have ice cream after?’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’ she said, kissing him again. It was so good to be with him. When she’d been at work he had always been on her mind, her longing to be with him sharp. Before having had Finn, she had not known or suspected what it was like to love a child, that overwhelming sense of adoration and protectiveness, that willingness to work and sacrifice for them.

  They were in the basement apartment, she and Finn, of her parents’ big old rambling house that they had bought many years before in a good residential area, at a time when there had been a slump in the housing market. Otherwise they could never have afforded such a house. Over the years they had slowly, painstakingly renovated and generally improved the house and gardens, doing a lot of the work themselves.

  Anna broke eggs into a bowl and began beating them with a fork, considering yet again how fortunate she was to have this accommodation in her family home, to have parents who helped her in every way possible, as far as they could. Money was not plentiful, yet they managed to live with a sense of security most of the time. Just recently she had realised again that Simon should be in the picture. There were few real certainties in life.

  Thoughtfully she stirred the eggs in a pot on the stove, then put Finn’s portion on a plate, together with some vegetables.

  ‘Here’s your supper, darling,’ she said. She lifted him into his booster seat at the table, tied a capacious napkin around his neck because he still made a mess when he ate but balked at having a bib tied round his neck, which he said was for babies.

  ‘Mummy eat with me?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I’m having an omelette,’ she said.

  As they ate, Finn talked about what he had been doing with his granny that afternoon, then what had happened at the play-group that he went to several mornings a week at the local small community centre.

  The telephone rang when they were two-thirds of the way through their meal. ‘Excuse me, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘I’ll listen to the rest of the story later.’

  She went into the kitchen to answer the telephone, from where she could still keep an eye on Finn but he could not hear precisely what she was saying. These days, since she had contacted the detective agency, she never knew when she might get a call from them.

  ‘Ms Grey?’ a deep, masculine voice enquired, pleasant and oddly soothing. It was not Hector Smythe. In spite of its pleasantness, she cringed a little inwardly, her heart seeming to make a disturbing flip of recognition that the owner of the voice was attractive to her. That was the last thing she wanted. ‘This is Seth Ruelle.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said flatly. Although she had given him her number, she had assumed that it had just been a formality and that he would most likely not call her. Any information that he discovered about Simon he could pass on to Hector Smythe, she had also assumed.

  ‘You don’t seem overjoyed to hear from me, Anna…if I may call you that?’ She could detect a faint amusement in his tone. For her part she felt more or less tongue-tied and was glad that he could not see her blush. Now that some time had elapsed, she felt that perhaps she should not have been quite so open with him about her private life and hoped that she would not regret it later.

  ‘Er…do.’ She said.

  ‘I’m calling because my conscience has been bothering me,’ he said. ‘I may have seemed somewhat abrupt and rude today, for which I apologise. It goes against the grain.’

  ‘You were a little…boorish, perhaps,’ she conceded. ‘But, as I said then, I was grateful for your time.’

  ‘I like to think that I do not often forget my manners, pompous though that may sound,’ he said.

  ‘Especially not with a lady,’ she finished for him.

  This time he laughed. So he did have a sense of humour after all, she thought. Earlier in the day he had seemed, at the end of their conversation, somewhat suspicious and almost dour with her. Of course, she was a little paranoid, too, where her situation was concerned, somewhat on the defensive.

  ‘Does that mean,’ she asked, ‘that you no longer find my story “unlikely”, as I think you put it?’

  Again he laughed. ‘Sorry for that. Well…no, my views are more or less the same, essentially,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I could have couched my remarks in more tactful terms. And, as I think I said, it’s possibly your interpretation of events that might not be…er…in line with reality.’

  ‘Yes, you could have put it more tactfully,’ she said primly, disappointed that he had not fundamentally changed his stance. But perhaps she couldn’t really blame him, when he knew next to nothing about her as a person. What she had divulged to him would obviously be in her favour.

  ‘At the time,’ he said, ‘I felt it was probably better to be cruel to be kind.’

  ‘Oh?’ she said. ‘You don’t have to be kind, particularly, Dr Ruelle, especially if it’s patronising, because I don’t expect it. Neither do you have to be cruel. I think I understand my own situation pretty well, even though I am somewhat…unrealistic, perhaps, and maybe given to wishful thinking. But thank you for calling. If you do find out anything, perhaps you would pass it on to Hector Smythe.’

  ‘There is something else I want to tell you, Ms Grey,’ he said. ‘You said that you were looking for work, part time, so I wanted to let you know that there are positions available at University Hospital, in the operating rooms.’

  ‘Do you work there?’ she asked. During their conversation earlier in the day it had not come out where he worked, where he operated. She had just intimated that he was patronising, and here he was telling her about a possible job, which was good of him.

  ‘Yes. It’s a good place to work in. And I want to assure you that what you’ve told me will remain confidential,’ he said.

  ‘I had rather taken that for granted,’ she said. It was a lie. At least he was sensitive to what she must be thinking, and she was pleasantly, though reluctantly, surprised. His somewhat contradictory attitude left her a little confused. ‘I have a friend who works at University Hospital, in the OR—Emma Fielding. She told me there might be work soon.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I know Emma. We work together a lot. Very good OR nurse.’

  If she were to find employment at that hospital she could possibly be working with him if they were in the same service, and she did not want to start off on the wrong foot with a verbal sparring match. Her antipathy matched what she sensed in him, which was not to women per se, for she felt that he found her attractive, in spite of himself, but to trusting and getting involved. How she knew that, she could not say. It came from a sort of instinct. Having thought that, he might be married for all she knew, even though he had said he had no children.

  She and Simon had loved each other passionately and completely in the short time that they had known each other, and in that time she had learnt a lot about human relationships, about being really close to someone emotionally, spiritually. That was why she was so convinced that something awful had happened to him.

  With this man, Seth Ruelle, she sensed a desire for closeness, yet a rigid holding back. Again, how she knew that, she could not have said. In her job she had to know something about human nature, as he did in his. It was evident that he did not trust her, or he did not trust her judgment—he had made that much clear, something which his apology did not annul.

  ‘Um, what sort of surgery do you do?’ she enquired.

  ‘General surgery,’ he said. ‘With an interest in the liver.’

  ‘Transplants?’

  ‘No. Although I do assist with transplants frequently, to keep my hand in. I mainly remove parts of diseased livers.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ she said, forcing herself to speak calmly when she found herself somewhat disturbed, and not sure why. ‘I worked in the general surgery service in the operating suite myself, at Gresham General.’

  ‘Mummy!’ Finn shouted, loud enough for Seth to hear.

  ‘You must be busy,’ he said.

  ‘Um…
yes. I must go. I would like to get the two photographs back from you, too, please, Dr Ruelle.’ As she said his name, she thought again how odd it seemed to be saying Simon’s name. No wonder she felt disturbed.

  ‘Of course,’ he said smoothly. ‘So you accept my apology, Ms Grey?’

  ‘Oh…Yes, I do, Dr Ruelle. Thank you.’

  ‘Mummy! I want to get out of my chair,’ Finn yelled.

  ‘I must go. Goodnight and…er…thank you again.’ She hung up.

  ‘Wait, Finn,’ she said, rushing into the sitting room. ‘You haven’t had your ice cream yet.’

  ‘All right,’ he said, settling back into his chair.

  ‘I won’t be a minute,’ she said.

  As she took out two cartons of ice cream from the freezer and took them into the sitting room with a glass dish, she thought again how odd it was that she had had very little meaningful personal contact with men since Simon had gone. Although she had worked with many men as part of the large OR team, that had all been very professional. The short time she had spent with Seth had made her even more acutely aware how much she missed male company. It left her with a hollow sense of mourning. She had not allowed herself to be available or respond to the vibes of other men.

  Emma had never met Simon, as he had worked at Gresham General. She, Anna, had told Em something about Simon in general terms, but did not think she had told her his surname. At the time, she had wanted to keep her personal affairs very private. If Emma had known his name, she would, no doubt, have said something when Seth had started work at University Hospital. It was just as well, less complicated, that few people should be in a position to connect the two individuals.

  ‘Chocolate or vanilla?’ she said to Finn, giving him another kiss on the forehead. ‘Or some of each?’

  ‘Each,’ he said.

  ‘So it shall be.’

  * * *

  Her parents’ part of the house was spacious, filled with cosy clutter—lots of books and pictures, comfortable furniture, eclectic knick-knacks—and she looked forward to taking Finn up there for a short while in the evenings after supper.

  Although Finn did not have a father that he knew, he had a grandfather who loved him. Finn called his grandfather Poppa. Anna had kept a photograph of Simon in the sitting room from Finn’s birth, so he knew what his father looked like, and he didn’t question her explanation that his father was away somewhere. Too young to understand, he just accepted as normal that his father could not be with them.

  Anna and Finn, holding hands, went up the basement stairs to her parents’ kitchen. As they reached the top of the stairs and saw her father sitting at the kitchen table, Finn ran forward, calling ‘Poppa! Poppa!’

  ‘How’s my boy?’ Her father smiled, holding out his arms.

  Looking at them, Anna knew that she must persist in trying to find Simon. Sometimes her resolve in that faltered, especially earlier today when Seth had cast doubts on her own perceptions. In spite of him, she must go on. Once Finn started proper school he would see that other children had fathers. In the meantime, “Poppa” was a great father.

  Statistically, Seth had a point, a very strong one, she had to admit. Some men, no doubt, would be willing to give up a job, a good training position, in order to escape from a woman they did not want to be with. She had seen that knowledge and cynicism in his eyes as he’d looked at her. She had also seen it, veiled, in the more experienced eyes of Hector Smythe. It was nothing personal, she knew that—it was simply an acceptance of common fact, of human nature.

  Sweet Simon, a man of integrity, she knew, did not come into that category.

  She kissed her mother and gave her a hug. ‘How are you?’ she asked. ‘And how’s Dad? He looks good.’

  ‘He is good, and I’m all right. Not quite as frazzled as I was before Dad’s operation.’

  ‘Good. Mum, I’m thinking of applying for a job at University Hospital. I’ve heard from my friend, Emma, that there’s work, part time, in the OR. Is that all right with you? Will you be able to babysit again?’

  ‘I don’t see why not, once your dad is fully operational again.’

  ‘I’m going to phone Emma and ask her to get me an application form from the human resources department, then I’ll have to go for an interview with the head nurse of the department,’ Anna said. ‘If they take me on, I could be working in about two weeks.’

  * * *

  Lying in bed, sleepless, later that night, she found that she could not get Seth Ruelle out of her mind, and the fact that he had phoned her. That had been unexpected. She thought of his thick, dark hair, which looked as though it would be soft to the touch, and she acknowledged that she would like to run her fingers through it. Today he had been largely unsmiling as he had looked at her, taking in her story, assessing her. She would like to see him smile more, just at her…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE hospital did take her on, to work Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

  First, there was a two-week orientation period, during which she was paired with her friend and colleague, Emma, under a ‘buddy system’ that they had in place for new personnel.

  On the first day of the orientation period, she planned to meet Emma in the locker room where the OR nurses changed from their outdoor clothing to the scrub suits and white shoes that they wore for the job.

  ‘Hi, Anna!’ her friend called to her, and waved from the far side of the locker room when she entered, rather tentatively.

  The place was packed with nurses changing quickly in order to get a cup of coffee before having to go on duty. The level of chatter was deafening.

  She knew that although they did not officially have to start work until half past seven, most nurses got there at seven, or before, so that they could start on their work early. There was a lot to do to prepare for the first case starting sharply at eight, although the night nurses did much of the prep. Just opening the large sterile packs of instruments and drapes took quite a lot of time. Then the nurse who was to “scrub” for the case had to go through the scrub process, organise her work tables of sterile instruments and count the sponges and instruments if there was to be an open body cavity, as there was in major general surgery.

  As she made her way through the crush of bodies towards the locker that was hers, beside Emma’s locker, her mind ranged swiftly over all that, over the familiar routine. The sense of excitement, tinged with stress, took hold of her. That was also familiar, an occupational hazard. The time to worry was when you didn’t feel stress, when you relaxed too much and let your concentration drop. That was when things happened that shouldn’t happen.

  ‘This is Anna Grey, everyone!’ Emma yelled over the sound of conversation.

  ‘Hi, Anna!’ There was a general chorus of welcome. They were a good crowd, so Emma had told her.

  ‘Welcome to University Hospital OR,’ someone said. ‘The only place to be in the whole city. You want something replaced, taken out, lifted or shifted, this is the place to be.’

  There was general laughter. ‘Thanks,’ Anna said, smiling all round. Already she liked the ambience of the place.

  ‘I got you a scrub suit,’ Emma said, handing her a pale blue two-piece cotton suit. ‘You’ve got your shoes with you?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  ‘We’re going to be working together in the general surgery service, as I told you on the phone the other day. That hasn’t been changed. And…’ She lowered her voice. ‘It’s Dr Ruelle today in our service.’ Anna had told her about meeting Seth Ruelle, and something about the circumstances of their meeting.

  ‘OK,’ Anna said, her stress level going up a few notches. She was missing Finn, whom she had left with her mother.

  ‘There will be three of us in the room today, as it’s your orientation period,’ Emma went on, as she took off her outdoor shoes. ‘You’ll scrub with me for the first case, mainly observing, which is for a partial removal of liver, for an early stage metastatic cancer.’

  ‘I s
ee,’ Anna said, hanging her coat in the locker.

  ‘There are three rooms in the general surgery service, and we’ll be working in one of them,’ Emma said. ‘We’ll grab a cup of coffee before we go in. Never pass up an opportunity to take some nosh in this place.’

  Once changed, they headed out at a quick walk to go to the coffee-lounge that was just for the doctors and nurses who worked in the operating suite. Feeling a little shy, Anna followed Emma and did what she did.

  ‘What’s he like to work with, this Dr Ruelle?’ Anna asked, when they were standing together, nursing their Styrofoam cups of coffee.

  ‘Pretty good,’ Emma said ruminatively. ‘He’s a nice guy, if a little reticent at times. He’s gorgeous, really, in every respect.’

  ‘Yes, he’s very attractive,’ Anna admitted.

  ‘If I were not so besotted with Ross,’ Emma said, referring to her boyfriend, ‘I could fall for Seth Ruelle in a big way.’ She laughed. ‘No one knows much about his private life. Mind you, that’s not a bad thing when you think of the gossip around here. Don’t give anyone food for thought, that’s my motto. Anyway, he hasn’t been here long, less than a year. Came from somewhere in the States. He’s an asset to our place. Before he came, there was no one who specialised exactly in what he does with the livers.’

  ‘Does he know I’m coming?’ Anna said.

  ‘He knows,’ Emma said. ‘I told him.’

  Anna let out her breath on a sigh of relief. It was going to be a rather strange situation. The best thing, she had decided, was not to let anyone know, other than Emma, that she had ever set eyes on Dr Seth Ruelle before that day. No one else in this hospital knew anything about her private life.

  Inside the inner sanctum of the operating suite proper, the porters were wheeling in patients on stretchers, to park them in front of their designated rooms. Rooms one, two and three were for the general surgery service.

  There was another nurse in room one when they went into the general surgery unit. ‘Hello, Jay,’ Emma said to her. ‘This is Anna Grey. She’ll be scrubbing with me. Anna, this is Jemimah, otherwise known as Jay.’