by Lucy Clark
She continued to stroke Juzzy as she mulled over what her brother was saying. ‘So you and Mum and Dad weren’t protecting me from Virgil?’
‘Honestly, Clara, if an email or a letter from Virgil had found its way to me, I would have given it to you. I would have discussed the possible emotional outcome with Mum and Dad, and probably your doctors, before giving it to you, but I would never have kept it from you. Neither would Mum or Dad. We love you, yes. We want to protect you, yes, but we wouldn’t have hidden something like that from you.’
‘That’s what I thought. I just needed to check—just needed to be sure.’
Her phone had been disconnected, her email address had been wiped from the hospital server and her mail redirection had probably expired by the time Virgil had tried to get in touch.
‘OK.’ She heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Thanks.’
‘Are you OK? You don’t want to talk about things some more? You could come down and join us for a drink. Maybelle won’t mind. She loves seeing you and—’
Clara smiled. ‘I’m OK, Arthur. Humpty Dumpty has been put back together again, remember?’
‘I know, but I’m always going to worry about you—and especially where Virgil Arterton is concerned.’
Clara felt the warmth of his brotherly love. ‘I’m fine,’ she reiterated, before signing off with their usual farewell. ‘Love you, bro.’
‘Love you, too, sis.’
Clara disconnected the call and looked down at Fuzzy-Juzzy.
‘Virgil tried to contact me, to apologise and ask for a second chance. What do you make of that, Juzzy?’
The dog’s answer was to snuggle in closer.
‘All these years and now he’s back. I guess it’s time for me to start walking through the next chapter of my life. The chapter where Virgil and I are nothing more than professional friends, consulting about patients together and being polite.’
So why couldn’t she stop thinking about the way he’d held her hand, the way he’d looked into her eyes? She’d seen his hope that they’d be able to patch up the past and move forward into a happier future. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve and that was yet another indication that he’d changed.
‘I just need to walk very carefully,’ she told her dog. ‘Very carefully indeed.’
* * *
During the week following their dinner—Virgil’s first week working at the Specialist Centre as well as at Victory Hospital—Clara was surprised at how little she actually saw him. Twice she’d seen him walking through the corridors of the Specialist Centre, but both times he’d been deep in conversation with Cedric. The two men had nodded politely, acknowledging her, before continuing to discuss a patient they shared.
Perhaps this could work after all. Virgil had listened, and was clearly being the professional friend she’d asked him to be.
So why did the knowledge make her feel forlorn, as though she was missing out on something really special?
She shook the thought away and went back to work.
On the weekend she was rostered for an evening shift in the ED, and as Virgil didn’t hold any clinics at the weekend, there was no real chance of her running into him.
‘And even if he is at the hospital he’ll probably be up on the surgical wards, doing a quick check on his patients before going home to spend time with his daughter,’ she told Juzzy. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
Clara finished pinning her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.
‘He has his professional life, I have mine, and that’s that. No reason to feel forlorn. No reason to think I’m missing out on something great. I’m happy with my life the way it is.’
She nuzzled closer to the fluffy Pomeranian, receiving a lick on her cheek in return.
‘I love you, too, Juzzy,’ she told the dog.
After putting Juzzy to bed, Clara headed out of the apartment and drove to the hospital.
Her shift turned out to be an average one for a Saturday night. Kids with coughs, teenagers who had been drinking too much and a few patients with broken bones.
An hour before her shift was due to end, early Sunday morning, Larissa, one of the ED nurses, beckoned her over to the nurses’ station.
‘Just received a call from the paramedics. They’re on their way in with Michelle DeCosta, who’s been complaining of—’
‘Abdominal pains,’ Clara finished for her, and nodded. ‘Michelle’s one of my patients. I saw her in the clinic last week and made an appointment for her to see Dr Arterton as soon as possible. Virgil was able to squeeze her in yesterday, but apparently she didn’t show. I was going to follow-up her no-show on Monday.’
‘Clearly the pains have become more intense. Do you want me to call Dr Arterton in for the consult?’
‘Let’s order some tests first—see what we’re dealing with.’
Clara didn’t want to bother Virgil.
She turned and headed towards a treatment room, wanting to ensure it was ready for Michelle’s impending arrival, but after a few steps she stopped and sighed.
Michelle suffered from acute anxiety. Even when Clara had told her patient she was referring her to Virgil, Michelle had had a minor panic attack. Clara had managed to calm the woman down, telling her that Virgil was an exceptional surgeon, that he would take good care of her and that Victory Hospital was fortunate he’d come to operate there. She didn’t want Michelle having another anxiety attack now.
Clara turned back to Larissa. ‘On second thoughts, call Virgil in now. When Michelle gets here I’ll order an abdominal ultrasound and see if my suspicions are confirmed.’
‘What do you think it is?’
‘Gallstones.’
‘I’ll call him in right away.’ Larissa picked up the phone.
When the ambulance arrived Clara was waiting for Michelle, ready to care for her patient. As the paramedics wheeled Michelle’s stretcher into the hospital, Clara realised Michelle was slap-bang in the middle of a panic attack.
‘She’s refused all medication,’ Adrian, Michelle’s husband, told her. ‘She doesn’t want to take anything—either for the pain or to help calm her nerves.’
He was clearly worried about his wife, trying to hold her hand as the stretcher was taken through to the treatment room.
‘I know she doesn’t have any allergies so I’ll draw up some Methoxyflurane—which should help calm her down long enough to get some tests done.’
Clara headed over to Michelle, eager to calm the woman down.
‘Clara. Clara! I’m so happy you’re here. Why are you here? This is the hospital. I’m sorry I didn’t see Dr Arterton.’ Michelle spoke fast, her words tumbling out in a rush. ‘I was too scared. I was—I was shaking and unable to move. Adrian tried to get me to go but I was scared, Clara. I was so scared.’
Even now Michelle was shaking. She was white, her breathing was rapid, and even if Clara had wanted to check the other woman’s blood pressure there was no way she’d be able to get a cuff onto her arm.
‘It’s OK, Michelle.’ Clara hooked up the oxygen and held the mask out to Michelle. ‘Nice deep breaths. You can do it.’
‘You’re not angry?’ Michelle checked, accepting the mask from Clara.
‘Of course not. What I am concerned about is the pain you’re in.’ Clara spoke in soothing tones, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder in a show of support. ‘I’m here, and I’m not going to leave you until we know exactly what’s causing the pain and how it’s going to be treated. OK? Now, I want you to try and focus on your breathing. Slow it down. In and out.’
Her words were calming, yet firm. She needed Michelle to focus and thankfully, as Michelle held her gaze, the two of them practised breathing in slowly and then exhaling slowly.
Once her breathing was more steady, the nursing staff
were able to take Michelle’s vitals and Clara was able to give the injection of Methoxyflurane, which would not only help to keep Michelle calm, but also assist with the abdominal pain.
By the time Virgil arrived she had the results of Michelle’s abdominal ultrasound, which confirmed her diagnosis of gallstones.
‘Clara! What are you doing here?’ he asked when he saw her standing at the nurses’ station.
His tone had resonated with a hint of delight at seeing her so unexpectedly and he’d smiled. Darn it—why had he smiled? She hated it when he smiled, because when he did it caused the butterflies in her stomach to churn with excitement. She didn’t want to be aware of his nearness, his scent, of the way he held his body so perfectly that his polo shirt pulled across his broad shoulders. She didn’t want to be this attracted to him.
‘It’s my bi-monthly shift in Emergency at the hospital.’
She didn’t want to dwell on anything but the main reason why he was here. She didn’t want chit-chat—she just wanted to focus on getting Michelle sorted out. She handed him Michelle’s file and began discussing the case.
Virgil read the results of the scans and tests Clara had ordered. ‘She has anxiety?’
‘I’ve been treating her for the past two years. She’s actually much better than previously, but coming to hospital and being out of her comfort zone has triggered her anxiety.’
‘Of course.’ He held Michelle’s notes in his hand. ‘As you’re Michelle’s GP, I think it might be best if you come with me when I go and talk to her. That way she’ll have your reassuring presence to fall back on when she learns she’ll need to have surgery.’
Clara nodded, pleased he was thinking about the emotional welfare of their patient rather than playing the part of brisk, arrogant surgeon.
As they headed to Michelle’s room, he asked, ‘Have you told her the diagnosis?’
‘I’ve told her she has gallstones and that she may need surgery.’
‘How did she react to that news?’
‘She started to hyperventilate. But it didn’t last too long and she was able to control her breathing. Last time I checked, she was sleeping.’
He sighed. ‘Unfortunately, we’re going to need to wake her.’
Together they woke Michelle, who was far more relaxed now than when she’d arrived. Her husband Adrian sat in the corner.
‘Hello, Michelle. I’m Virgil Arterton, the new general surgeon here at Victory Hospital. It appears, as I’m sure you’ve been told, that you have gallstones.’
Michelle nodded, tears springing to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have the scan sooner. I’m sorry to be causing all this trouble. And I’m sorr—’
‘It’s perfectly all right,’ Virgil interrupted, putting his hand on hers and instantly soothing his patient. ‘One of the gallstones is quite large, measuring in at almost one centimetre. The other isn’t quite as big, but both will need to be removed.’
‘H-how?’ The worry in Michelle’s voice was prominent.
‘It’ll be a short procedure in which I’ll remove your gallbladder. It’s all done in the day surgery unit, so you’ll be able to go home the same day.’
‘What?’ Michelle’s eyes widened at this information. ‘The same day? But what if I have problems—what if the pain comes back and—?’
Her breathing started to accelerate again and she reached blindly for her husband’s hand. Adrian was instantly on his feet, taking her hand in his and trying to soothe her.
‘Would you prefer to say in overnight?’ Clara asked. ‘That way we can keep you under observation for twenty-four hours after the operation. And once you’re home we can put you on the district nursing roster. I can also come and do a house-call to check on you,’ she offered.
She glanced at Virgil and the unspoken communication they’d used to share, seemed to kick in. With one look she was able to convey to him that whilst Michelle indeed only required a small operation, it was her anxiety which was the bigger threat.
‘That sounds like an excellent solution, Dr Lewis.’ He nodded in Clara’s direction before addressing his comments to Michelle. ‘I’ll admit you to the ward now, and then I can organise a theatre for later this afternoon. All being well, you can go home tomorrow.’ He smiled at his patient, his tone reassuring.
Michelle looked from Clara to Virgil and then to Adrian, who nodded encouragingly. ‘Uh... OK...’
‘You’re not alone, Michelle. We’re here to look after you,’ Clara reassured her, before she and Virgil headed back to the nurses’ station.
Throughout the consult Clara had been aware of Virgil’s every move, and she had to admit that his bedside manner was exemplary. Was he trying to show her how much he had changed? If so, it was working—because she was noticing. It seemed the chauvinistic, arrogant man he’d been all those years ago had been replaced by someone who was calm, caring and absolutely charming. He clearly didn’t see his patients as just a number on a file, but rather as the individuals they were.
They left Michelle in the care of the nurses who were organising her transfer to the ward, while Clara helped Virgil with the necessary paperwork to book an operating theatre for later that day and contact the anaesthetist.
‘Where would I be without you?’ he crooned as he leaned back in the chair and flexed his arms above his head.
The action caused the polo shirt he was wearing to pull tightly across his upper arms and chest, and Clara found it difficult to look away. Clearly, he’d kept in shape. When she finally raised her gaze to meet his, it was to find him regarding her with an interested smile.
‘Like what you see?’ he teased.
Clara felt an instant heat come to her cheeks as he flexed his muscles in the familiar pose body builders used. Although it was early Sunday morning in the ED, there were still quite a few of the night staff around to witness him teasing her.
‘Behave,’ she warned him, looking away and straightening some papers on the desk.
She needed to be doing something other than looking at the way that shirt fitted him to perfection. She had so many memories of him teasing her this way, of joking together, of laughing and enjoying themselves, and until that moment she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed that easy camaraderie they’d shared. She’d missed him. Missed his friendship, missed his calming manner, missed the way he would stare into her eyes and make her feel as though she were the most important person in the world to him.
Clara glanced at him over her shoulder, only to discover he was watching her intently, the smile still in place.
‘Do I really need to behave?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ He glanced around. ‘No one’s looking—and, besides, it used to be me who was always telling you to behave.’
‘Untrue,’ she declared instantly.
‘You were the one who had the idea to put sticky tape over all the taps in our lab at medical school. You were the one with the party trick of drinking a whole glass of water whilst doing a handstand. And I distinctly remember several of us turning up to ward round wearing cartoon masks.’
‘OK. OK.’ She couldn’t help but smile at the memories he was recounting.
Virgil pointed at her. ‘Another one of your brilliant ideas.’
He chuckled, the warm sound washing over her.
‘And I was the one who took the blame for them all—well, for the sticking tape over the taps, at least.’
‘The cartoon masks were when we were doing a rotation in Paediatrics. The kids loved them,’ she felt compelled to point out.
Virgil stood and looked down into her upturned face. ‘We used to have so much fun together, Clara.’
‘We did, but we’re not medical students any more.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Tell me about it. I found another grey hair yesterda
y—on my chest!’
Clara couldn’t help but laugh at the disgusted look on his face. ‘Oh, Virgil. We have so many wonderful shared memories.’
‘We do.’ He placed one hand on her shoulder. ‘Which is why I really want to be more than just nodding-in-the-corridor professional friends with you.’
‘But you’re wanting something I can’t give.’
‘All I want is a second chance—and you can give me that. A chance to be your friend again. A real friend, not just an acquaintance.’
‘Friends?’ She mulled it over. A large part of her wanted so desperately to say yes, but she needed to protect her heart. ‘It’s not as easy as that.’
‘Yes, it is.’
She closed her eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze. ‘You broke my heart. You really broke it, Virgil. So much pain...’ Tears welled in her eyes.
He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t me...it wasn’t the real me. My mind was overtaken by my own stupidity, my own arrogance, my own self-importance and I hurt you. But I’ve worked on those negative qualities, Clara. I’m a wiser, more well-rounded person nowadays. Please?’
His words had been soft and intimate, yet imploring. She could see the sincerity in his eyes and she knew she was about to capitulate—against her better judgement.
‘OK.’
‘OK? OK, you’ll give me a second chance?’
‘To be my friend.’
‘Yeah. Yeah. That’s good. That’s excellent.’
And before she knew what he was about he’d drawn her close and hugged her.
‘Thank you. You won’t regret it.’
‘I’d better not,’ she mumbled against his chest, doing her best not become hypnotised by his alluring scent.
Although he’d surprised her with the hug, the warmth from his body meshed with hers and she closed her eyes, savouring every second to think about later.
‘Now, let me go, you big oaf, before someone sees us.’
‘And what if they do?’ He released his hold on her and shrugged one shoulder. ‘We’re just two old friends enjoying a quick hug. Nothing wrong with that.’
