Royal Doc's Secret Heir

by Amy Ruttan

  “No, but why don’t you tell me now?” he said archly as he kissed her again.

  “I love you. I didn’t believe in all those old fairy-tales, the ones where a prince came and swept a girl off her feet, but now I’m a believer.”

  Maazin caressed her cheek. “I just wish my sweeping you off your feet had gone a bit more smoothly and in a more timely fashion.”

  “That only happens in movies. Real life is a lot messier and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Maazin kissed her again before taking her hand as they walked off together.

  Happy that their happily-ever-after had come at last.

  * * *

  If you missed the previous story in the Cinderellas to Royal Brides duet, look out for

  Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride

  by Ann McIntosh

  And if you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Amy Ruttan

  The Surgeon’s Convenient Husband

  Carrying the Surgeon’s Baby

  NY Doc Under the Northern Lights

  A Date with Dr. Moustakas

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Dr. Right for the Single Mom by Alison Roberts.

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  Dr. Right for the Single Mom

  by Alison Roberts

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘HAS ANYONE HEARD what’s happening?’ Laura McKenzie slowed down as she pushed an IV trolley past the central desk of Wellington’s Royal Hospital’s emergency department and then she stopped. ‘Has the baby arrived yet?’

  One of the department’s consultants, Fizz Wilson, was in front of a computer screen, studying the lab results on blood samples. ‘Last I heard, it’s not far away. Maggie was almost fully dilated. When Cooper brings Harley in for his feed later, I’m hoping we can use my break to go and meet the new arrival.’

  ‘Yes... I’m due for my break at the same time.’ Laura nodded. ‘I’ll come with you.’ Maggie was a close friend and ex-flatmate and Laura couldn’t wait to meet her baby.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ Tom Chapman, the senior consultant in this emergency department, dropped a patient file on the desk.

  ‘To see Joe and Maggie’s baby.’

  Tom’s eyebrows rose. ‘Maggie’s in labour?’ He was already scanning the board that provided the update of all the patients currently in the department, whose care they were under and at what stage of their assessment or treatment they were. ‘I was working with Joe at the rescue base yesterday and he thought it was still a week or two away.’

  ‘Nope. Today’s the day. They headed into Maternity at about four this morning.’

  But Tom didn’t seem to be remotely excited and Laura could feel a slightly puzzled frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she let her gaze rest on his profile for a moment longer. She’d worked with this man for more than two years now but sometimes she had absolutely no idea what was going on in his head. He was a brilliant doctor, was warm and kind and completely trustworthy but, at the same time, he could be oddly reserved. Like now, when you might expect him to share at least some of the excitement of imminent parenthood to people he knew well.

  Maybe he just had other things on his mind. Like how his emergency department was coping with the patient numbers and the levels of attention they needed. Laura brushed off an urge to reassure him in some way that, as always, he had everything as under control as it was possible to have it but a couple of seconds later she thought that it had been just as well that she hadn’t said anything because someone would have blamed her for tempting fate as potential chaos broke out. An ambulance crew was rushing through the automatic doors leading to the vehicle bay, someone was calling for assistance from one of the cubicles and a cardiac arrest alarm was sounding.

  Tom was the first person to put his hands on the trolley that contained a lifepack, airway and IV equipment and the drugs that could be needed to manage a major cardiac event.

  ‘Where’s the arrest?’ he demanded.

  ‘Waiting room,’ someone responded.

  Tom started moving. ‘Fizz, take over here for a minute. Laura? Come with me. We can get there before the arrest team arrives.’

  Abandoning the IV trolley, Laura was almost running to keep up with Tom’s long stride. Expecting to see an elderly patient who had collapsed in the waiting room, it was a shock to find that the cardiac arrest button had been pushed for someone who looked like a child.

  ‘Help...please...she’s not breathing...’ The distraught woman who had her arms around the young girl had to be her mother and Laura’s heart immediately went out to her. She’d be this terrified, as well, if she was holding her son, Harrison, and he’d just stopped breathing.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Tom eased the girl from her mother’s arms to lay her flat on the floor and then he tilted her head back to open the airway. He put his fingers on the side of her neck as he leaned closer.

  Laura was peeling open the pack that contained the defibrillator pads. She cut the neck of the girl’s T-shirt and ripped it open to give her access to the point below her right collarbone and then lifted the hem to press the second pad on her left side. She noted the dramatic rash on the child’s skin and caught Tom’s gaze to make sure he was aware of it, as well. He was. Of course he was.

  ‘She’s allergic,’ the mother was saying. ‘To dairy. She was eating chips in the car and I thought they were the plain ones and they were safe but they weren’t...someone had given her some flavoured ones. Ketchup. She thought that was fine but we could already see the hives starting to come up.’

  ‘We’ve got a pulse,’ Tom told Laura. ‘But she’s bradycardic. Not breathing.’

  He reached for a bag mask, fitted the mask over the girl’s face and delivered a breath. And then another. But he was frowning and Laura knew why. This had to be an anaphylactic reaction to an allergen and the child’s airways were swelling up and making it harder to deliver oxygen. They needed to move fast or it could become impossible to intubate and secure the airway. The fact that the heart rate was already too slow meant that they could be dealing with a cardiac arrest as well as a respiratory arrest in a very short time.

  Tom glanced up and this time it was him who was catching Laura’s gaze. It was another moment of silent communication and something they were both so used to now it took only a split second to have a question asked and answered. This was a critical situation and every second counted. They would be losing quite a few of those seconds to take the girl into one of the resuscitation areas on the other side of the swing door
s but it was entirely possible that they would need more equipment than they had in this trolley—like a surgical kit to perform a cricothyroidotomy if a tracheal intubation proved impossible.

  With no more than a subtle nod, Tom broke the glance, scooped the child into his arms and took off.

  ‘Follow us,’ Laura told the mother. She had picked up the lifepack as Tom had started moving and she really was running this time to keep up with him and not break the connection between the pads and the defibrillator.

  People in the emergency department stepped hurriedly out of their way. Laura saw the startled expression on Fizz’s face and the way she signalled junior doctors to take over what she was doing. She was right on their heels by the time Tom put the girl down on the bed.

  ‘Respiratory arrest,’ he told Fizz. ‘Anaphylaxis. Known allergy to dairy.’

  ‘Has she had any adrenaline?’

  ‘Yes...’ The girl’s mother was near the foot of the bed, her arms held tightly across her body as if she needed physical support. ‘We used her auto-injector but...but it didn’t seem to be working. When she started getting wheezy I just drove straight here.’

  She was used to coping, Laura thought. Used to providing her own support. Was she a single parent, like herself?

  ‘Laura? Draw up some adrenaline, please.’

  ‘Onto it.’ The personal connection Laura was feeling to this patient and her mother had to be put firmly aside as she focused on what she needed to do.

  Other staff members were arriving now, including the two medic arrest team. Laura was pleased to see a new nurse beside their patient’s mother, easing her to one side of the room, out of the way, but staying with her as she endured the terrifying sight of a medical team fighting to save the life of her daughter.

  There was so much happening. Tom was intubating the girl, using a video laryngoscope so that he could actually see what he was doing amongst the swelling tissues. An anaesthetist who’d been on call for the arrest team was setting up the ventilator that would be attached as soon as the intubation had been successfully completed. He had a kit on standby for creating a surgical airway if the intubation was not possible due to the amount of swelling.

  Fizz was working to gain IV access and someone else was setting up the bags of saline and the giving sets that they would need for a fluid challenge to combat anaphylactic shock. Laura administered the first dose of intramuscular adrenaline and then began sorting the other drugs that she knew would be needed. More adrenaline, to set up as an infusion if there wasn’t enough response to the first doses, along with an antihistamine and steroids. She filled syringes and taped the ampoules to the barrel of the syringes to identify them. She was keeping an eye on the screen above the bed, too, so that she could warn Tom of any changes that could be significant, like a further drop in blood pressure or heart rate. This would become even more of a challenge if the heart stopped in the wake of the lack of oxygen from the respiratory arrest.

  The tension was palpable and, at one point, Laura heard the stifled sob of the girl’s mother behind her. She could feel a lump in her own throat. This was every parent’s nightmare, wasn’t it? She was going to hug Harry so hard when she went to pick him up after work today that she knew he would squeak and wriggle free, probably giggling or groaning at the same time, the way six-year-old boys did. In the meantime, she was going to do everything she could to help save this young life in front of them. The alternative was simply unimaginable.

  ‘We’re in...’ Tom gave a satisfied nod as he hooked his stethoscope back around his neck after checking the placement of the airway. ‘Now, let’s get this oxygen saturation looking a bit better.’

  ‘Heart rate’s picking up.’ Like Laura, Fizz was watching the screen above them. ‘And I’ve got wide-bore access on both sides.’

  ‘Let’s start the fluid challenge.’ Tom turned his head to where the child’s mother was standing. ‘How much does she weigh?’

  ‘Um...she was about twenty-six kilos the last time it was checked.’

  ‘And how old is she?’

  ‘Nine. Nearly ten...she’s always been small...’

  Like Harry, Laura thought. He’d always been small for his age and a bit underweight, as well. It made them seem younger than they were. More vulnerable. She wanted to give this young mother a hug. To try and reassure her. She could actually sense the same empathy coming from Tom, whose face creased in an almost smile.

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Elizabeth. We call her Lizzie...’

  * * *

  ‘She’s going to be fine. The immediate danger is over.’

  ‘But she’s in Intensive Care...’

  ‘This is the best place to monitor Lizzie for a few hours. Just to make sure that everything’s under control and the medications are doing their job.’

  The woman closed her eyes as she nodded slowly. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Dr Chapman.’ She pressed her fingers against her mouth. ‘I feel like it was my fault. How could I not have noticed that the auto-injector was past its expiry date?’

  ‘I’m sure that’s something that will never happen again. And you did exactly the right thing, bringing her straight to Emergency.’

  ‘I could have lost her. I... I thought I had...’ She had her hand over her eyes now.

  The urge to touch this woman’s shoulder, or hug her even, to provide comfort was so strong that Tom had to curl his fingers into a fist.

  He didn’t get personally involved with his patients. Or their families. If he did, he’d never be able to do his job well enough and doing his job to the very best of his ability was the most important thing in Tom Chapman’s world.

  The only thing, pretty much...

  ‘Go and sit with her now,’ he told Lizzie’s mother. ‘Or take a break? You probably need one after all that drama.’

  ‘I won’t be leaving her side for a while yet. It’s you that needs a break, I reckon. You worked so hard to save my little girl.’

  ‘It’s my job. And my privilege.’ Tom glanced at his watch. ‘I am on a late lunch break now. That’s why I popped up to see that Lizzie was settled well.’

  ‘I hope you’ve already had your lunch?’

  ‘Not yet. That’s next.’

  But he wasn’t really hungry at all, Tom decided as he walked towards the café in the Royal’s entrance foyer. It was often like that, in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush that came from treating someone so critically ill—even more so when that fight for life was on behalf of a child. All life was precious, of course, but children and especially babies were so vulnerable you couldn’t help becoming emotionally involved to some extent. For some reason, the feeling of connection was harder to shake off after this case. Maybe that was why Tom gave in to the impulse to turn into the gift shop beside the café.

  Ten minutes later he was standing in front of a door in the maternity suite of the Royal.

  Hesitating...

  He didn’t actually have to go in, did he? He could leave his gifts with one of the nurses. He didn’t have to prod that no-go area of his heart any more than it had already been prodded today.

  But visiting Joe and Maggie as they basked in the glow of new parenthood was a friendly thing to do. A polite thing, and Tom Chapman was always polite. Manners that had been developed as a form of self-protection had evolved to be useful under even the most extreme circumstances and he’d learned that there was truth in the old adage to “fake it till you make it”. Tom had faked it for long enough to have made it long ago.

  So, with the string of the pink “It’s a girl!” balloon in one hand and the softest baby toy the gift shop had had available, Tom tapped on the door and poked his head through the gap.

  ‘I can come back later,’ he offered. ‘If you’ve had too many visitors already.’

  ‘No, come in, Tom.’

  ‘J
ust for a minute, then.’ Tom shook the outstretched hand of the paramedic who had become a trusted colleague in recent months. ‘Congratulations, Joe. And there you were telling me only yesterday that you thought this was a week or two away.’

  ‘Bella had other ideas.’ It was Maggie who spoke. ‘I have a feeling we’re going to be scrambling to keep up with this little one.’

  Tom smiled at Maggie, another paramedic who worked at the Aratika Rescue Base. Her blonde curls looked a little tangled and she looked exhausted but the glow of joy in her eyes nearly blinded Tom.

  He’d seen that look before.

  He’d worn it on his own face, once.

  And yes...it was hard to drop his gaze to the bundle in Maggie’s arms. To the tiny, slightly scrunched-up face of a baby who’d been born within the last few hours. The pain never really went away, did it? You’d think it had faded or been safely locked away somewhere but sometimes all it took was something like seeing that tiny starfish hand poking up from out of the blanket folds and there it was again. So sharp, it could have been yesterday.

  So poignant, it could have brought the sting of tears if he’d allowed it. But, of course, that was never going to happen.

  ‘Would you like to hold her?’ Maggie offered.

  ‘Ah...no...’ Tom actually took a step backwards. ‘I really can’t stay. We’re pretty busy in Emergency.’

  He knew Joe was watching him. He also realised that Joe had respected the confidence of a personal discussion they’d had a while back now. That he hadn’t even told Maggie that he’d learned something about Tom that he never told others. And Tom could feel the understanding in that gaze he was under. Joe knew that this was tough. That being with a couple who were so much in love and welcoming their first child had to be a painfully sharp reminder that he’d lost his own wife and son.

  He didn’t want that understanding. Or rather, he didn’t want anybody feeling sorry for him because he had no desire to start feeling sorry for himself.