by Tina Beckett
‘One half.’ Annabelle’s voice was calm and measured, giving no hint of what must be going through her mind. Things like, Are we on track? Or, How long until I see those beautiful eyes of hers open?
Max knew those fears all too well. He experienced them on each and every surgery. But for him to do his job, he had to put those thoughts aside and move systematically through the process. The worst thing he could do was waste precious time worrying about each and every possible outcome.
But Max couldn’t help giving her a tiny piece of reassurance. ‘We’re a little ahead of schedule. As soon as I finish these final sutures we can begin warming her up.’
In his peripheral vision, he saw Annabelle’s eyelids close as if she was relieved by the words. Then she squared up her shoulders and continued to watch both him and the clock.
When the last stitch was in place, Max looked at every vessel and each part of the heart, making sure he’d forgotten nothing. Only when he was completely satisfied did he give Gary the okay to start the warming process and begin weaning Hope off the bypass machine. Sometimes the weaning process itself would coax the new heart into beating, the return of blood flow triggering the electrical impulses, which would then start firing. The surgical suite was silent until Annabelle’s voice again counted down the time. ‘Three quarters.’
This time there was the tiniest quaver to her tone. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just give her a few minutes.
Sweetheart?
He hadn’t used that endearment when thinking about her in ages. And he shouldn’t be thinking it now.
His gaze zeroed in on his patient’s open chest to avoid glancing up at Annabelle, knowing something in his expression might reveal emotions he wasn’t even aware of having.
Two more minutes went by. If the heart didn’t start soon, they would have to shock it with the paddles. Even if it came to that, they could still have a good outcome, but something made him loath to use more aggressive measures.
Just one more minute. Come on. You can do it.
This time he couldn’t resist glancing at Annabelle. Her face was tight and drawn, no colour to be seen, even in her lips. It was as if she were sending her own lifeblood over to the baby so that she could live.
His assessment of his wife’s thoughts was interrupted by a quick blipping sound from a nearby machine. Everyone’s attention rocketed to the heart monitor. Blip-blip.
Looking directly at the new heart, he saw a beautiful sight. The organ contracted so strongly it seemed to want to leap out of its spot.
Within a few more seconds, it had settled into a normal sinus rhythm. Strong. Unfaltering. Unhesitating. The most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
‘It’s working.’
There were cheers of relief throughout the operating theatre, but one voice was missing. When he looked up to see why, Annabelle’s hand was covering her mouth and tears were streaming down her face. His instinct was to go to her, wrap her in his arms and say everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t promise her that. Not ever again. It was why they were no longer together, because he couldn’t bring himself to say those words. He’d been at the end of himself by that point and had to let her go in order to save her.
At least that was Max’s reasoning at the time.
Had it been valid?
It didn’t matter now. What was done was done. There was no going back. Not that he wanted to.
So he turned his attention to the patient in front of him, assessing her needs and checking the sutured vessels for any sign of leakage. Everything looked tight and steady. And that beautiful heart was still beating.
Five minutes later, the decision was made to close her up. Max could have passed that work over to someone else. In fact it was customary after a long surgery to let an intern do the final unglamorous job. But Max wanted to do it himself. Needed to follow the path all the way to the end before he would feel right about passing her over to the team of nurses who would watch over her all night long.
‘Let’s finish it.’
Soon the room was alive with different staff members doing their appointed tasks, the atmosphere much different now than it had been twenty minutes ago when that heart had sat in Baby Hope’s chest as lifeless as her old heart was now. They would start the immunosuppressant medication soon, to prevent her body from turning on her new organ and killing it, mistaking it for an invader. She’d be on medication for the rest of her life, which Max hoped would be a long and healthy one.
He set up the drainage tube system and then closed the sternum, using a plating technique that was made up of tiny screws and metal joiners. He carefully tightened each and every screw. Once that was done, muscle was pulled back into place and finally the skin, leaving space for the tubes that would drain off excess fluid. And the ventilator would remain in place for the next day or so, until they were sure everything was still working the way it should.
An hour later, an exhausted but jubilant Max cleared the baby to head to Recovery and then to the critical care ward to be closely observed over the next couple of days. Six hours of surgery had seemed like an eternity, at least emotionally. He was worn out.
When the baby was wheeled away, he congratulated his team, aware of the fact that Annabelle was standing in the corner. She looked as tired as he felt. A cord tightened in his gut as he continued thanking everyone individually.
The last person he went to shake hands with was the perfusionist, who had done his job perfectly, with stellar results. Only when he reached the man, his head was swivelled to the side, looking with interest at...
Annabelle.
He frowned.
Max peeled off his gloves and tossed them in the stack of operating rubbish that sat in a heap a few feet away, watching Annabelle. She was gathering instruments, seemingly unaware of the other man’s gaze.
Gary’s attention finally swung back to him and he smiled, stretching his hand out. ‘Were you waiting for me? Sorry. It was great working with you.’ He nodded in Annabelle’s direction. ‘I was just wondering who the nurse was. She looks vaguely familiar, but I don’t think I’ve seen her in surgery before.’
One of his biceps relaxed, and he accepted the man’s quick handshake.
She wasn’t using her married name any more, but he decided to use a tactful approach and see if the perfusionist understood his meaning. ‘That’s Annabelle Brookes-Ainsley. She works down in the neonatal unit, but was interested in this particular case.’
‘Because...’ The drawn-out word said Gary hadn’t connected the last names yet.
‘Because she’s been working with this patient. And it’s my first surgery here at the hospital. It was a chance to see me in action.’ He connected the two phrases, even though one had nothing to do with the other. He certainly didn’t want to spell out that Annabelle was his wife. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate that, but the guy had put him in a tough spot.
‘To see you in...’ Gary’s eyes widened and a hint of red crept up his neck. ‘Of course. I should have realised.’
‘Not a problem. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing, but I wanted to come over and say how much I appreciate the smooth handling of this surgery.’
‘I—well, I appreciate it.’
With a ghost of a smile, Max swung away from the man and spoke briefly with the intern who’d been observing, answering a couple of questions he had. He kept that easy smile, but his insides were churning to get to Annabelle before she disappeared. And she would, if he knew her. She would want to go see how Baby Hope was doing.
The heart transplant marked the third patient ‘crisis’ that she’d assisted him with, and in each instance she’d done her job with precision and without hesitation. Max found it amazing that two people who’d been through what they had could still pull together and work for the good of someone els
e.
No rancour. No snide remarks, just an uncanny ability to know what the other was thinking, probably ingrained from years of living together. Whatever it was, they’d worked well together.
Except it evidently didn’t carry over to their ‘off times’ because Max had no idea what she was thinking now. He answered one final question and then glanced at where Annabelle had been a second ago. Except, just as he’d suspected, she wasn’t there. She’d already left the room. Without a single word.
CHAPTER SIX
ANNABELLE WASN’T SURE where she was going, but she had to get away from that room. It wasn’t just the pile of bloody gauze and surgical tools that bothered her. Or the sight of Hope’s still form being wheeled out of the surgical suite. It was Max’s easy handling of both the case and the surgical staff.
And the aftermath of an adrenaline high that would probably send her crashing back to earth over the next hour or so. She didn’t want Max to see her like that. He’d seen it enough over the course of their marriage.
She got ten steps down the hallway when she heard her name being called. Annabelle stopped in her tracks.
Max. Of course it was.
He had always been too good at ferreting out her emotional state, picking up on the nuances of what she was feeling. Maybe if he hadn’t been quite so adept at it, she would have been able to hide her anguish over her repeated miscarriages. Only she hadn’t. So she’d resorted to pulling away emotionally in an attempt to hide it from him. And in doing so had driven a wedge between them that had been impossible to remove.
Steeling herself, she turned to face him.
He came even with her, looking down into her face. Searching for something. She had no idea what.
‘Good job in there.’
That made her lips twitch. ‘I didn’t have a very difficult task.’
‘No, but I know you had a vested interest in that baby. It couldn’t have been easy watching the clock ticking without any idea of what to expect.’
‘I’ve watched transplants being done before.’
He frowned. ‘You have? Because Gary, our perfusionist, doesn’t seem to remember seeing you before.’
‘I haven’t actually watched one done at this hospital. Well...I mean, I’ve watched videos of them.’ Lots of them actually. She’d wanted to see exactly what Hope would experience from start to finish.
‘And did I measure up to what you saw in those videos?’
She sensed a slight hint of amusement in his voice. But yes, Max had measured up, damn him. Except she’d desperately wanted him to be as good as or better than anything that had passed across her computer screen. And he had been. His fingers had been nimble and yet gentle as he’d handled Hope, both before surgery and during it. There’d been a steely determination about him as those brown eyes had inspected the new heart. She’d seen it again as he’d waited for that same heart to begin beating. And then the smile he probably hadn’t even realised he’d flashed when that tiny organ had started pumping oxygen-rich blood through Hope’s tired body.
Watching him work had caused something warm to flood through her own insides. Just as the warmth had washed through Hope’s veins as the surgery had neared completion. And that scared her.
‘You already know the answer to that. Hope is alive because of you.’
That same devastating smile slid across his lips. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve done surgery in a hospital setting. Actually it’s been a while since I’ve done anything in a modern hospital.’
Annabelle matched his smile. ‘I’m sure it takes some getting used to after what you’ve seen.’
‘It does.’ He paused for a long moment and his eyes dipped to her mouth.
Annabelle’s breath caught in her lungs. ‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like.’
Slowly his glance came back up to hers. ‘You’d have to be there to really understand.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I actually have a Christmas fundraising gala to attend with Doctors Without Borders the day after tomorrow in London. If you’re interested in learning more you could always come with me. Or are you slated to work two nights from now?’
‘No, but...’ Was he asking her to travel to London with him? Because it sure sounded like—
‘I know we haven’t made any hard and fast decisions about the future, but maybe we should. We could talk on the drive over.’
She stood there paralyzed, afraid to say no, but even more afraid to say yes.
‘I would like you to come, Anna. Please.’
Oh, Lord. When he asked her like that, with his head tipped low to peer into her face, it was impossible to find the words to refuse him. So she didn’t try. ‘What about Hope?’
‘We should be able to tell by tomorrow how things are going, and Sienna has already agreed to cover for me that night—along with her team, which she assures me is the best in the area. We’ll just be gone overnight. Hope will never even know we’re gone.’
Overnight? That word sent a shiver through her, even though it shouldn’t. Memories of other nights in London swirled to life in her head despite her best efforts. Of them in their flat, making love as if there were no tomorrow.
Of course, in the end, there hadn’t been.
She shook herself back to reality. This was no big deal. And they did have a lot to discuss. Most fundraisers were held at night. By the time the festivities wound down and they got back on the road it would be late. Probably much later than Max would want to drive. And if there was alcohol involved...
They could stay at a hotel. Annabelle had done that on several occasions when she’d gone into London for a seminar or lecture in her field. It was no big deal. She’d travelled with colleagues before. They’d simply taken care of their own sleeping arrangements.
Would he bring the divorce papers with him and sign them on the dotted line in front of her? If so, she should just let him. They both needed some closure, and maybe this would give it to them.
Even if the thought of taking that final step made her throat clog with emotion.
Why? It was time. Past time, actually.
‘Okay, I’ll go.’ And she would just suck it up and muddle through the best she could. ‘What kind of dress is it?’
‘Black tie, actually.’
‘Really? Isn’t it too late to tell them you’re bringing along a guest?’
‘No.’ He shrugged, the act making his shoulder slide against hers, a reminder of just how close he was standing. ‘The invitation is for me and a guest. Most people bring a significant other.’ That devastating smile cracked the left side of his mouth again. ‘You’re as close as I have to one of those.’
As in close, but no cigar? As in an almost-ex significant other?
‘Ditto.’ Her brows went up. ‘I think.’
His hand came up, the backs of his knuckles trailing down the side of her face, leaving fire in their wake. ‘We did good in that surgical suite. We gave her a chance that she wouldn’t have otherwise had.’
‘You did good. You made this happen.’
‘Sienna could have done just as well.’
Annabelle was sure the other surgeon could have. But there had been something about the way Max had looked at that baby that had turned her inside out. Something more than simply a surgeon treating a patient. Hope had touched him as much as she’d touched Annabelle.
A wrench of pain went through her. Max would have made such a great father.
She’d wanted to do that for him more than anything. To give him what he hadn’t been given by his own parents: the chance to watch a normal, happy childhood unfold. To love. And be loved. Only it hadn’t worked out that way.
‘Sienna didn’t do it, though. You did.’
The fingers that had been slowly caressing her face curved around to the back
of her neck.
Oh, Lord. He was going to kiss her. Right here in the hospital corridor. Was that the act of a man who was about to finalise a divorce?
Maybe. Weren’t there exes who had sex as they travelled down the path to divorce?
Not her.
And yet, every nerve ending was quivering with awareness. With acceptance. Her lips parted.
‘Sorry. Is your last name Ainsley?’
‘Yes.’ Their necks cranked around at the same time, foreheads colliding as they did so. Ouch. Damn it!
Only then did she remember that she didn’t go by Ainsley any more.
She slid away from Max as a male nurse came towards them, horrified that she’d been caught red-handed flirting with her ex-husband.
He’s not your ex. Not yet. And she wasn’t flirting. She’d been... Oh, hell, she had no idea what either of them had been doing.
The nurse’s eyes went from one of them to the other. Of course. He wasn’t sure exactly who he was looking for. ‘Max Ainsley?’
‘That would be you,’ Annabelle said, glancing sideways at Max.
The nurse frowned. ‘There’s been a complication with the transplant patient.’
‘Oh, God.’ Annabelle’s stomach clenched. She should have been in that room monitoring Baby Hope, not hanging around in the corridor mooning after her ex.
She hadn’t been mooning. And she’d been heading for the recovery area when Max had stopped her to talk. Had asked her to go with him to some gala. Neither of them had expected the moment to morph into something more.
Didn’t it always, though, where Max was concerned?
They hurried down the hallway following the retreating nurse. ‘What do you think it is?’
‘I have no idea.’ He took his smartphone out of his pocket. ‘No one tried to page me that I see.’
They arrived in Recovery, and Max slid through the door with Annabelle close behind. ‘What’s the problem?’
