by Rebecca Lang
He saw her and smiled when she moved forward to greet him. ‘Good afternoon, Dr Melburne,’ she said.
He extended a hand to her and they shook hands formally, a gesture that for some reason brought a lump to her throat. She had got the distinct, subtle impression that he had wanted to touch her and that the handshake was the only way. For her part, she had felt the urge to sway forward against him so that he could hug her. The idea of it sobered her. In the space of a very short time she had come to feel a sense that she was relying on him. That would not do. Even if they were to work together, if luck were with her there, it would be a professional relationship.
‘Good afternoon, Deirdre,’ he said, looking at her searchingly. ‘I hope that all is well with you?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Good. This is a nice time to go to the cafeteria, if you’re hungry,’ he said. ‘The first lunch rush will be over. It’s on this level.’
Deirdre nodded, feeling suddenly tongue-tied.
Within a very short time they were seated at a table in the spacious cafeteria, where Deirdre had chosen a sandwich and a glass of orange juice, with their trays before them.
‘I’ve arranged with the head of the operating room for me to show you around,’ he said. ‘We have to be there in precisely twenty minutes, which doesn’t give us much time to gobble this food.’
‘I’d forgotten how rushed everything often is in a hospital,’ she said, smiling tentatively at him across the expanse of the table. ‘Constantly watching the clock and having deadlines throughout the day.’
‘Yes, I expect you get out of it after a while, then you have to make an effort to get back in. Maybe we’ll do a test. We’ll start with giving you two minutes to change into a scrub suit in the nurses’ change room. How about that?’ The smile he gave her made her heart do a little flip.
‘I think I could make it,’ she said. An almost forgotten feeling of happiness, euphoria, came over her.
It seemed amazing that less than twenty-four hours ago she had not known he existed, had sat like a zombie on a bus, unable to move. It was also amazing how quickly your life could be changed, for better or worse, if you took certain steps. Probably she would have contacted the human resources department on her own about jobs if she had not met Shay Melburne, but it would have taken longer and certainly would not have been so pleasurable. Not that she deluded herself that she was over her depression yet, or whatever it was, in spite of the positive effect of her companion. Something like that took time to work through. She would give herself that time, yet take action as well, she resolved there and then.
‘Good. I’ll show you where the change room is, then there are piles of uniforms inside and the disposable overshoes that you can just put on over your regular shoes. Remember?’ He grinned at her.
‘Yes, I do.’ She grinned back. ‘I’m looking forward to it. I…I’m really grateful to you for setting this up, Dr Melburne.’
‘I just hope it works out for you, if you decide it’s what you want,’ he said. ‘Please, call me Shay.’
They ate quickly and talked at the same time. ‘You mentioned to me last night that you were going to see the children’s grandmother,’ he said.
‘Yes. I did go this morning. We’ve sorted out some things. If the children really don’t want to go on living in the same house as Jerry, they can move in with her. But, of course, the house they are in now is bigger and nicer, and he’s away a lot, but they are going to have the option, and will move over some of their clothes and other things, to be ready if he gets worse. So far he hasn’t been physically abusive to them, thank goodness. They stay at my parents’ house with me, too, fairly frequently.’
There was the other concern that she was not sure she should, or could, tell him, something that she could not make up her mind about because it would have a profound effect on her life. How could she tell him, this virtual stranger, that she was apprehensive that she would not be able to have a husband and children of her own.
‘And?’ he said, stopping in the act of finishing off his food, looking at her very astutely, so that she found herself blushing. It was uncanny that he seemed to read her mind on such a short acquaintance.
‘How do you know that there is an “and”?’ she said.
‘In the short time that we’ve known each other,’ he said, ‘I’ve come to interpret the nuances of your reactions, Deirdre,’ he said, smiling slightly.
‘That’s a little scary,’ she said.
‘A matter of acute observation,’ he said, smiling again so that such a reply would not seem pompous.
‘Um…there was one other thing,’ she said in a rush, deciding to tell him. ‘She—Mrs McGregor—asked me if I would agree to be legal guardian to the children if she were to become incapacitated…or die in the near future.’ She looked down at her plate, remembering the shock of being asked, not knowing what to say. ‘She’s a lovely person, I really like her. I really don’t want to think of her as not being around.’
‘And what did you tell her?’ he probed gently.
‘Well, I couldn’t make up my mind then and there,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘I…I told her I would think it over. There’s no hurry, because she’s in good health, but she obviously wants to get it settled. But I…I don’t think Jerry would allow that. He would fight. It’s very complex. It’s not as though he cares for the children—he doesn’t. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Hmm,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘If you’d like to talk about it some more later, Deirdre, I would be very happy to listen and maybe offer my two cents’ worth. Right now we have to rush up to the operating suite.’
Deirdre welcomed the sudden change of pace as they walked quickly to the elevators and went up to the second floor of the wing where the operating suite was situated. It made her feel exhilarated to be in a crowded elevator with hospital personnel again—talking to each other, greeting colleagues, laughing—and made her once again realize how isolated she had become. Here she was, back in an adult world that she understood, where her skills would, perhaps, once again be valued…if she was lucky.
‘Two minutes. Remember?’ Shay instructed her as they came to a room outside the main part of the operating suite, which he told her was the nurses’ change room. He looked at his watch to indicate that he was timing her.
When she found herself laughing, Deirdre was struck again at how strange it was that yesterday she had been in despair and then in such a short time her world was beginning to change.
There was no one else in the change room and she quickly looked around for a locker with a key and flung her things into it, then picked up a light blue scrub suit, a paper hat to put over her hair and soft paper overshoes. This was just like old times, she thought as she stripped off her sweater and skirt and quickly got into the scrub suit. Not bothering to look at her watch, she knew that she was within the two minutes when she opened the door to join Shay.
‘Great!’ he said, as she came out, his eyes lighting up, his eyebrows raised at the sight of her. For a brief moment her eyes locked with his and she found herself colouring at his obvious appraisal, smiling back as he smiled at her. Then she looked away quickly as a frision of awareness overlaid the camaraderie that they had shared, which had nonetheless remained somewhat formal, for all its apparent casualness.
Instantly she knew that in her vulnerable state she was in danger of falling in love with him, or at least getting a schoolgirl crush on him, which was not appropriate as she was now a woman.
‘Come on,’ he said, giving no sign that he had noticed her colour. ‘I’ll introduce you to the head nurse. Her name’s Darlene Reade and she’s been here a long time.’
The head nurse’s small office, like a command post, which was the purpose it served, was just inside the main double doors of the operating suite, over to one side. Directly in front of them, as they entered, was a desk for the main receptionist, who vetted everyone who entered the suite.
‘Hello, Bev,’ Shay addressed the receptionist, a blonde woman of about forty, while he deftly took a paper cap from a pile and put it on his head, then took a disposable paper mask for himself and handed one to Deirdre. ‘This is Deirdre Warwick, RN, who’s come to have a quick tour of the OR. Deirdre, this is Bev, who knows everyone and knows everything that’s going on here, at all times.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Deirdre,’ Bev said, standing up to shake her hand. ‘Are you coming to work here?’
‘That depends,’ Deirdre said, ‘on what I find here…and whether anyone would want me.’ When she smiled at the receptionist she was very aware of how her confidence had risen a few notches as Shay had referred to her qualification—it had been a long time since anyone had introduced her as an RN.
‘You’ll be wanted. Darlene’s in her office, so you’d better grab her before she disappears. This has been a hectic day so far.’
They went through the same process with the head nurse in her office. Darlene Reade could have been anywhere from forty-five to over sixty, Deirdre thought, viewing the tired, pale face of the head nurse who nonetheless looked cheerful and welcoming, if harried.
‘You go ahead, Shay,’ she said, after shaking hands with Deirdre. ‘I’m pretty well tied up here. We’ve had more than our fair share of emergencies.’ When one of the office telephones shrilled, Shay took Deirdre’s arm and they left.
‘Put your mask on,’ he said, ‘then we can be anonymous. At least, you can. I’ll show you around generally, we won’t go into any rooms where there’s an operation in progress.’
When she tied on the rather stiff paper mask, her hands felt clumsy with a certain nervousness, not least because she found that she wanted very much to impress Shay, but feared that she was out of touch and would need a refresher course.
He showed her everything—the stockrooms, the clean instrument room where trays of instruments were packed and sterilized for specific operations, the dirty instrument room where used instruments were washed and sterilized by specially trained staff. The central supply unit was thus part of the operating suite, yet separate from it. Then they went on to the operating rooms themselves, each with a scrub area outside, of sinks where the surgeons and the nurses scrubbed before an operation.
‘I do mainly general surgery,’ he informed her. ‘And this room, number one, is where I usually operate on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.’
‘I see,’ she said, looking through a small communication window off the scrub area so that she could see inside the room where an operation was in progress. ‘It’s so nice to be back in an operating room. Is that a gut resection they’re doing?’
Shay moved up close behind her to look over her shoulder, so that suddenly she was acutely aware of his physical presence just inches away from her. Swallowing nervously, she stared straight ahead. ‘It looks like it,’ he said. ‘There’s an operating list over here.’
Beside the entrance door to each operating room, the operating list for the day was posted on the wall. Shay ran his finger down it. ‘Yes…look,’ he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and drawing her over beside him to view the long list of operations that were on the agenda for that day, many of which had already been done. ‘It is a gut resection.’
Aware of nothing other than his touch, Deirdre stared blindly at the list. Then he dropped his hand, having touched her for no longer than a few seconds, not long enough for it to be suggestive or offensive had she not liked him. He was simply being attentive and kind, Deirdre knew, and it was having a devastating effect on her, starved for affection and attention as she was. Hoping that wasn’t too obvious, she searched her mind for something to say.
‘Well…you certainly get through a lot of work here,’ she managed to get out.
All too soon the tour was over and they were back at the main entrance. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘I like the atmosphere of the place.’ All along, other members of the staff had spoken warmly to Shay and had greeted her warmly also when introduced. Her first impressions were that this department was very professional, very efficient, very busy and a good place in which to work. ‘There seems to be a good team spirit.’
‘There is,’ he agreed. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? We could get one in the main lobby. There’s a coffee-lounge up here in the OR, but the coffee at this time of the day leaves something to be desired. I’m parched myself.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said, her heart lifting at the prospect of spending a little more time with him, as the thought that she might not see him again for a long time had tempered her previous light mood as the tour had wound up.
They walked back to the nurses’ change room. ‘Two minutes?’ she said to him.
‘I’ll give you three this time,’ he said, grinning.
The time that it took her to comb her hair and put on a little make-up after she had changed back into street clothes took up the three minutes.
She felt awkward with him as they went down in the elevator to the lobby again, worrying about how to thank him finally and how to say goodbye. The thought of having to say goodbye depressed her.
‘If you think you would like to work here, Deirdre, I can direct you to the human resources department to pick up an application form,’ he said when they were in the lobby, walking towards the tiny coffee-shop. ‘It’s down that way. Follow the signs. What sort of coffee will you have? This is my treat.’
‘I’ll have a latté with soy milk, small, please…if they have it,’ she said.
‘They have it.’
Carrying the two cups of coffee, he headed for the main doors. ‘Do you mind if we get a bit of fresh air? It’s not too cold, I hope.’
‘I don’t mind.’ She was warmly dressed, while he had only a cotton lab coat over his scrub suit. The entrance was sheltered from the light drizzle, and they moved to one side of the main doors.
It was good to stand there with him in the cool, brisk air, with her hand round the warm paper cup. They were more or less alone for now.
‘Well…’ he began, ‘do you think you will apply to work here, Deirdre? It’s a good place.’
‘I think I will apply,’ she said pensively. ‘I have a few things to work out first—in my head, as well as from a practical point of view.’
‘Yes, I think you do,’ he agreed.
‘I…I couldn’t work here until other things were working smoothly. I don’t want to bore you with all my difficulties. You’ve been very kind and patient.’ She sipped her coffee pensively, staring out into the rain-slicked street, having the sense that they were enclosed in a little world of their own, from which she did not wish to extricate herself.
‘You don’t bore me, Deirdre,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve enjoyed showing you around. Will you have dinner with me again some time soon?’
‘I…well…’ she said, her heart beating more quickly. More than anything she wanted to have dinner with him. In fact, she clung to the possibility that she would be able to see him again. But she couldn’t do it. ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to go out to dinner with a married man. You see, I’m too susceptible to…um…your attention, and I might make a fool of myself.’
Surprising her, he flung back his head and laughed. ‘I wish you would make a fool of yourself with me, Deirdre of the Sorrows,’ he said. ‘As for being married, I’m not. I was married once, now I’m divorced. I’m not proud of that. My wife left me. She’s now living with a sheep farmer in New Zealand. She met him over here while she was working as a physiotherapist and he was on holiday from the sheep. He had an accident in his car, touring the back country, and as a consequence of that he eventually met my wife in the course of his treatment. I guess she went for his rugged masculinity, not to mention the time and attention that he paid her.’
This time it was her turn to laugh, such was her relief and the comic nature of his description. ‘I shouldn’t laugh,’ she apologized. ‘Do you mind—about the divorce, I mean?’
&nbs
p; ‘I minded at the time, particularly for my son. Now I don’t. I have custody of Mark. Sometimes he misses his mother,’ he said, a new note of regret coming into his voice.
‘It’s sad,’ she said.
‘It was my fault,’ he said. ‘I suppose one could describe me as having been a workaholic…not an easy thing for a wife to have to deal with. She, Tony—short for Antonia—used to call me “the twenty-four-seven man” where work was concerned. She was quite right there.’
‘And now?’ Deirdre enquired softly, turning to look at him.
‘I’m learning to temper my ambitious drive, you might say,’ he replied, an odd note of bitterness in his voice.
She wanted to ask him about his son, about the remark that his colleague had made, but knew it was too soon and that it was not her business to ask. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her. For a few moments they sipped their coffee in silence.
‘It’s not enough to be in love,’ he said very quietly, as though talking to himself. ‘You’ve got to have staying power…and a lot more besides. Anyone can go through a wedding ceremony. It’s what comes after that’s the test, the day-to-day living, the daily grind.’
‘Yes.’
‘One needs tolerance and forgiveness,’ he said. ‘That is, the ability to display those qualities, to feel them. I think it was the poet Goethe who said something about love being an ideal thing, marriage a real thing. One must be easy to live with, and all that that implies—consideration, kindness, respecting the other’s privacy, sharing the tedious chores of life, good manners, thoughtfulness, integrity… The list goes on. In short, I suppose it adds up to maturity, which is not particularly common.’
‘Yes…’ she said, knowing the quote. ‘I… can’t speak from experience about marriage. I’m sorry about all that’s happened to you. It’s not easy being a single parent. Sometimes I feel as though I’m losing my sanity myself, with all the angst. And they aren’t even my own children…’
Was his son ill, on top of everything else? She pondered that silently.
