The Princess and the Pediatrician

by Annie O'Neil

  She’d protested. Loudly.

  Oliver had talked her away from the edge of the cliff by reminding her that choosing their battles would be a wise way to go in advance of her having the baby. They weren’t building a track record of conceding to the palace’s will...they were building an arsenal—showing willing so that when push came to shove they had ammunition.

  She’d had to do the same for him when his parents had revealed their guest list. ‘Some of these cousins must’ve been unearthed from the family mausoleum,’ he’d said in disbelief.

  ‘Ammunition,’ she’d said to him, and she’d called the palace, green-lighting the Duke of Banford’s invitations. ‘Ammunition.

  Another plus point. She didn’t have to worry about planning the wedding or having it invade the lives they lived here.

  After ordering some spirit-lifting chocolate cake from the clinic’s restaurant, she and Oliver had agreed that they’d fly in, pretend it was the equivalent of a Vegas-style wedding, then fly back home and do something special, just the two of them, to celebrate.

  But between the baby, the wedding and the shiny new fiancé, she needed something in her life to stay the same—and that something was work.

  ‘I hope he’s not expecting you to do anything fancy today.’ Grace clicked her tongue disapprovingly. ‘This isn’t a bells and whistles number. But it’s important.’

  ‘Of course!’ Amelia replied, horrified that Grace would think she’d do anything less than her best on any of the surgeries. ‘All the surgeries we do here are important.’

  It was a straightforward endovascular coiling for an elderly musician’s cerebral aneurysm. The minimally invasive technique meant they wouldn’t need to make an incision into the skull, and if they were successful the aneurysm would be prevented from rupturing.

  Grace clicked again, then continued, clearly unpersuaded, ‘We need your full concentration, so I hope you don’t plan on blowing him kisses—’

  This wasn’t like Grace. ‘No! Heavens, no. I’m scrubbed in, aren’t I?’

  Her eyes flicked up to Oliver’s. He winked and blew her a kiss, clearly having heard the entire thing. A delicious spray of sparkles danced around her tummy. He was so scrummy. And sweet. And kind. And she had never, ever in her life been quite so smitten, quite so quickly.

  Pregnancy hormones? Or maybe it was the guy? He wasn’t just a wonderful lover. He was an amazing friend. A confidant. Someone she could have an insane morning bed head with, and someone she also wanted to dress up for. He was the real deal and, rather amazingly, he was all hers.

  Grace’s forehead was a crease of frown lines.

  A mischievous thought popped into her head. Just to wind Grace up, she justified, and she air-kissed her surgical glove, then blew it up to the viewing deck. Oliver caught it and pressed it to his heart, then took a big, happy bite of his sandwich.

  Lia began to hum as she turned her attention to the surgical tray Grace had none too ceremoniously placed in front of her with a loud, aggrieved, sigh.

  Was this what it was like to fall in love? To smile at an instrument tray, knowing the person you cared about was there to support you? She hoped so. With every cell in her body she hoped so. Because it felt great. Unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  ‘Your patient here is a national treasure, I’ll have you know.’ Grace was clearly unconvinced that Lia’s focus was where it should be.

  ‘Grace,’ Lia insisted, ‘I’m right here. We’re going to do the very best we can.’

  Grace harrumphed.

  That had Lia’s full attention. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  Grace swished around the surgical table without saying anything, then stopped and looked Lia in the eye. ‘He played at my wedding,’ Grace said, a slight catch in her voice. ‘That man blessed our marriage with his music and—and I don’t want to play any part in seeing those magical skills destroyed.’

  ‘Hey...’ Lia soothed. ‘We’re a dream team. We won’t let him come to any harm. I promise.’

  It was the first time Lia had ever seen Grace grow emotional over a patient. She thought of the guitarist who’d been playing when Oliver had first taken her in his arms. That music would be with her for ever, she realised, and finally she answered the question that had been playing through her mind for days.

  Yes. She was falling in love.

  Grace made a decidedly different noise beneath her surgical mask. The crinkles round her eyes suggested she was finally smiling. ‘Girl, that man up there has definitely done something to you. Did you know that’s the first time you’ve not gone all “instruction manual” on me?’

  Lia snorted, then said, ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Oh, you know... You’re not exactly the cuddly, huggy type.’

  ‘I’ve hugged you—’ Lia began, then stopped herself...because maybe she hadn’t.

  Grace lowered her voice. ‘Don’t take offence, Doctor. We’re used to how you are now.’

  ‘How am I?’

  ‘Clinical. You know... Like a training manual. You’re all “Hand me the fluoroscopy aids” this and “arterial occlusion” that. You’re... Well, you can’t help the way you are. It’s not everyone who goes in for emotional folderol, and you’re definitely not one of ’em. But it looks like being with Dr Bainbridge up there has made you much nicer. We all like it. I just want to make sure it isn’t pulling your focus away from where it should be during working hours.’

  She threw a pointed glare up to the viewing room.

  ‘I—’ Lia began to protest, her cheeks pinking with the knowledge that Oliver was listening to all of this, and growing properly red when she realised Grace was right.

  In her three years here, Lia had made no actual friends—least of all amongst the surgical staff with whom she spent the bulk of her time. She’d always blamed it on her upbringing, but perhaps she’d played a bigger role in her isolation than she’d thought. With that instinctive tendency to keep people at arm’s length.

  She was like the Princess in Frozen. With a warm heart chilled to the marrow because of the burden she bore through an accident of birth.

  She looked up to the viewing deck again. Oliver was there, elbows on his knees, all his focus on her.

  Her heart gave a hot, skippy beat. They’d had a lovely week. They’d shared meals with other doctors Oliver knew from the clinic and the hospital. Met the locals who Oliver played football with once a week. She’d even exchanged numbers with a teenager who volunteered at the hospital and was considering becoming a surgeon.

  Gosh... Grace was right. Oliver Bainbridge was her very own climate change. With his resoluteness of character, his passion for his work and, more to the point, his ability to look past his own cold upbringing and become the warm, caring soul he was... The man exuded possibility. And he was changing her. For the better.

  She held her hand above her heart and hoped he knew what it meant. He was melting her heart.

  The surgery, happily, went like clockwork.

  It was quite an interesting technique and, more importantly for her patient, a lifesaver. It involved inserting a microcatheter with a coil attached through a surgical catheter. Once she’d manoeuvred the microcatheter into the aneurysm, she sent an electrical current through, to separate the coil from the catheter, thereby sealing the opening of the aneurysm.

  The patient would need to spend a night or two in the clinic, so they could monitor his progress, but she assured Grace that he would be playing his guitar again as if none of this had happened within a handful of days.’

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. After her final surgery and a quick shower she wandered down to the paediatrics department, where she knew she’d find Oliver. It was his regular day at The Island Clinic, and they usually had takeaway from the clinic restaurant.

  He was just leaving a patient’s room, an
d he’d spotted her, his smile brightening, when a nurse approached him with a worried expression on her face.

  * * *

  Oliver gave Lia a quick wave of acknowledgement, but listened intently as the nurse, Maddy Orakwee, told him about the call she’d just had from St Victoria Hospital.

  His heart crumpled in on itself as he listened. ‘Élodie? Really?’

  He raked a hand through his hair, as if the gesture would alter the facts.

  Maddy nodded, her expression grim.

  His young patient had been released a few days ago, with multiple cautions to call if her fever returned or any of her symptoms worsened. A tough ask for a six-year-old girl who was as full of life as she was.

  ‘She’s heading for a case of secondary pneumonia,’ Maddy said apologetically.

  ‘They’ve given her antibiotics?’

  Maddy nodded. ‘They’ve put her on oxygen and a drip, but...’ She glanced over at Lia, who wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending to read a magazine nearby.

  ‘Come on over, Lia,’ he said, and then, to Maddy, ‘You’ve met my fiancée, haven’t you? Dr Trelleburg? She’s the head surgeon over in the neurology department.’

  Maddy nodded, and smiled at Lia.

  ‘You were saying about Élodie?’ Oliver continued.

  ‘The nurses mentioned she was a favourite of yours, and as it’s out of hours, and the emergency room is slammed...’

  ‘Why is the ER so busy? Has there been an accident?’ he asked.

  Maddy had his and Lia’s full attention now.

  ‘Nothing too serious. There were a few stags—you know...’ She made a ‘muscle man’ pose.

  ‘Men having a stag party?’ Lia asked.

  ‘Yes. Exactly. Anyway, they were out on jet skis, showing off for a group of girls on a hen do, and—’ She threw up her hands, as if that explained everything.

  Oliver nodded. She didn’t need to spell it out. Wedding season on the island meant one thing: a lot of alcohol-related showing off. Drink, the ocean, and motorised vehicles never made a good combination.

  Oliver glanced at his watch. ‘Élodie’s not alone, though, right?’

  ‘No. There are obviously staff on the ward. But...’ The nurse bit the inside of her cheek.

  There’s no one special there just for her.

  The staff at the hospital did their best to make every child feel safe and secure, offering beds in the rooms to parents and loved ones, with nurses and doctors regularly popping in to check on them, but with the hospital slammed, and no spare hands on deck, some children felt the energy of the ward shift away from them and, as such, needed an extra dose of TLC.

  Élodie was one of those children. Ultrasensitive to the slightest change of focus.

  ‘What about her aunt and uncle? Is one of them able to go in?’

  Maddy’s eyes darted between the pair of them, as if she were deciding to confess something, and then she blurted, ‘They can’t come in for the next three days. They’re doing the catering on an island cruise that’s not back until the end of the week.’

  ‘What?’ Oh, hell. ‘Where was she meant to stay at night?’

  Maddy shrugged. ‘Another relative, maybe? I don’t know. But in her condition she’ll need to stay in hospital for at least the next few nights.’

  Oliver stemmed a few curses on the little girl’s behalf. Élodie’s aunt and uncle worked hard. They each held down two and sometimes three jobs at the local resorts, trying to make ends meet. A private catering job on a yacht meant a lot of extra money.

  He knew they would never have made the decision to leave her lightly. They would’ve put some provision in place for her care. But with their own children to look after, and jobs to complete, staying nights at the hospital was out of the question.

  A fortnight ago he would have jumped in his Jeep and headed straight to the hospital. But his reality was different now. He was engaged. He was going to be a father.

  He and Lia had agreed that their work wouldn’t be sidelined during the lead-up to the wedding, and this week had been a particularly busy one. After a few late nights at work, they had promised each other they’d have dinner tonight. Just the two of them. So that they could regroup, look through the ream of lists the palace had sent for them to go over for the wedding and, most importantly, they write their vows.

  While there had been a few lost wars in their skirmishes with the palace over flowers, venue, dresses, even the bows on the chairs, Lia had been adamant about putting their own stamp on the vows, refusing to let the palace have a final say in how they committed their lives to one another.

  But Élodie... His eyes drifted to the exit.

  ‘Bring her here,’ Lia said, as if reading his mind. ‘There are free beds. We can check in on her throughout the night—if you’re staying,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Otherwise take the helicopter back to Williamtown. It’ll cut half an hour off your journey.’

  ‘You sure?’ He wasn’t asking about the timing and she knew it.

  ‘Of course.’

  He sought her eyes for any sign of wavering and saw none.

  Her smile softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. ‘Otherwise you’ll spend the entire night wanting to be where you should be...’

  He gave her a questioning look.

  ‘With your favourite patient,’ she finished.

  ‘I don’t have favourites,’ he protested. Feebly.

  Both Maddy and Lia rolled their eyes. So much for being Dr Unpredictable.

  He saw her gesture for what it was. Selflessness. Lia had never had anyone in her life who had put her first. He’d wanted her to know he would be the man to fulfil that role. But...

  He took her hand in his. ‘You’re sure you’re sure?’

  She squeezed his hand in place of a verbal answer. It was a yes. She was sure.

  Oliver felt his reality shift as he continued to wrestle with his decision. He wanted to be the man Lia could rely on—and not just because it was his duty as the father of their child, but because he was falling for her.

  ‘We can sort out her transfer together, yeah?’ Lia said, shifting into action mode. ‘Then maybe get a snack later, from one of the chefs.’

  He grinned. Last week’s ‘snack’ had been a luxurious seafood platter for two. Who knew what the chefs would magic up tonight?

  He tucked the happy thought of a midnight snack with Lia away, and focused on the here and now.

  A mad half-hour of information-gathering ensued.

  One of the ‘show-offs’ on the jet skis had turned out to be a famous rap star from Miami. He was best man to his producer, who was getting married at a private estate on the island. The rapper, C-Life, had been trying to pull off some wild manoeuvre, and had ended up slicing the cords on a passing kite surfer’s rig, before flipping his vehicle and himself into a shallow part of the bay.

  The extent of his injuries was still unknown, but his entourage had insisted he be brought to the clinic, where his entire team could be housed in the luxurious hotel there if needed.

  The helicopter pilot agreed to do a return journey to St Victoria Hospital, where Élodie was collected and brought back to The Island Clinic.

  When the helicopter’s arrival was announced Lia gave Oliver a kiss on the cheek, then said, ‘I’m going to head over to Intake and see if there’s anything I can do to help with the stag party crew. Unless you want me to stay?’

  ‘You go on ahead. We’ll catch up in a bit, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ She grinned, her thumb playing at the edge of her engagement ring as if she’d been doing it for ever.

  He could get used to this, Oliver thought as he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head before heading off to the helicopter pad. Working together. Playing together. Giving each other enough room to stay true to the person they’d both fou
ght to become.

  Lia understood that his work was a calling, more than a job, and more importantly she respected that. He’d got so used to prioritising his work, he’d have to ensure she knew she and the baby were every bit as important to him.

  An hour later, after Élodie’s oxygen levels had been restored to normal and a fresh antibiotic IV was in place, he gave the little girl a smile.

  ‘Story time?’ She looked at him hopefully.

  ‘Story time,’ he confirmed.

  She scooched over to make room for him on her bed, her lungs making a little wheezing sound as she did so. It took all his power not to gather her up in his arms and promise her he’d look after her always.

  Once he was in place, she looked up at him with expectant eyes.

  There weren’t any books to hand, so he’d have to make a story up tonight. ‘What kind of story do you want to hear? Scary?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Funny?’

  She gave a Maybe shrug, then said, ‘I want a story about a princess!’

  Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Lia, in the doorway. She gave him a tiny fingertip wave, then put her index finger to her mouth, indicating that he should go ahead with his story.

  ‘A story about a princess, eh?’ he said, thinking for a moment. An interesting challenge, given he was a handful of metres from a real-life one.

  ‘Once upon a time,’ he began, ‘there was a beautiful princess who lived on an island a lot like this.’

  Élodie sighed and let the mountain of pillows she was propped on take her weight, tipping her head onto his arm.

  Lia tipped her own head to the doorframe, ankles crossed, clearly settling in to hear the story as well.

  ‘This particular princess,’ he continued, ‘had never been very good at sleeping.’

  ‘Why?’ Élodie asked with a yawn.

  ‘Someone kept putting peas under her mattress.’