Baby Miracle for the ER Doc

by Kate Hardy

  * * *

  It warmed Rob that she’d gone straight to his defence. ‘I wasn’t fishing, but thank you for having faith in me.’ Her theory made sense. A lot of sense. But at the same time it made him feel as if someone had taken the ground from under his feet.

  ‘I can’t believe none of us has picked it up before. I mean, OK, it’s not the sort of thing we diagnose in the Emergency Department, but Ollie’s a GP. And none of our teachers ever mentioned it.’

  ‘If you weren’t falling behind in classes, they probably assumed you were...’ She stopped.

  ‘A lively child. That’s what every single teacher put in every single report. Every single year.’

  ‘It’s not a bad thing, Rob. Just a possible explanation.’

  Florence was the first person ever to have suggested it. She’d seen something in him that nobody else had ever seen. It made him feel as if she saw him more clearly than anyone had before—and she wasn’t judging him. She wasn’t pitying him, either. Her brown eyes were full of sympathy and understanding.

  ‘It would explain a lot. Why Mum had to put me on reins as a toddler because she knew otherwise I’d abscond, but Oliver didn’t need them because he’d walk nicely. Why I need to climb or just move, even as an adult. Why I fidget all the time. Why I can just about sit through an action film, but anything slow doesn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘Low boredom threshold, bright, fidgety: it fits,’ she said. ‘Though I apologise for being—well, intrusive. It wasn’t my place to...’ She grimaced.

  ‘I don’t think you’re being intrusive,’ he said. ‘You’ve just given me an explanation for a puzzle I’d never been able to solve. Something that never even occurred to me or anyone else.’ He looked at her. ‘What made you think of it?’

  ‘It’s just that everything the boy’s mum said sounded so much like the way you talk about yourself. And it made me wonder.’

  ‘Now you’ve said it, I can see it.’ He shook his head. ‘We always assumed it was just me just “being Rob”. But there’s a reason. Something that isn’t a f—’ He stopped.

  ‘Isn’t a what?’ she asked quietly.

  Could he tell her the thing that he barely even admitted to himself? Then again, she probably already knew. She saw him more clearly than anyone ever had. Including himself.

  Would she turn away from him if he said it? Or would she...? He decided to take a risk. ‘Failing in me. Why I’ve always let women down in the past.’

  ‘Let them down?’

  ‘I’m not a cheat or a liar,’ he said. ‘But I always seem to pick people who don’t want the same things as me. People who wanted me to give up climbing and the overseas aid work.’

  ‘Then I think the failing was in them for expecting you to be something you’re not. To expect you to change for them,’ she said.

  And how weird it was—as if she’d taken a huge load off his shoulders. All the guilt of his past. For the first time, she’d made him see that it wasn’t just him.

  ‘You’re fine just as you are,’ she said.

  His mouth went dry. So was she saying she liked him, the way he was starting to like her?

  He’d already said more than he’d intended. But he ended up blurting it out anyway. ‘I like you, too.’

  She went very pink. ‘I...’

  ‘That wasn’t meant to be any pressure,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’

  But the air hummed with sudden tension. The things neither of them were saying. The more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her. She was like nobody else he’d ever met. But what did she want? She’d said before that she didn’t want any complications. Did that rule him out? Could he become someone who wasn’t complicated?

  ‘Florence, I...’ His words deserted him. He’d never had that happen before.

  And she let him off the hook by moving the subject back onto safer ground. ‘I might be completely wrong about the ADHD,’ she said. ‘Either way, it’s a huge thing to take on. It’d knock anyone for six. Give yourself time to... Well, to let it sink in. Talk to your brother about it.’

  All very sensible. And he was supposed to be sensible. Plus, much as he wanted to scoop her up and carry her off and kiss her until they were both dizzy, he was still feeling under par and couldn’t actually do it. He’d told her he liked her. He needed to take it slowly and build on that. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I will. Seeing as I’m being forced to rest all week, I’ve got the time to do a bit of research.’ He grinned. ‘My brother’s going to love this. Especially as I talked him into making a pact with me.’

  ‘What kind of pact?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s going to “be more Rob” and do things outside his comfort zone, and I’m going to “be more Ollie”. That way, we’re both kind of bringing out the best in each other.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s worked so far. If I hadn’t nagged him to be more me, he wouldn’t have told Gemma how he felt about her and they wouldn’t be together now.’

  ‘So he’s kept to his side of the pact. Did you keep to yours?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. The proof is that I’m sitting here right now,’ Rob said. ‘Being sensible and resting while I’m recovering from the infection.’

  ‘I seem to remember having to pull rank and boss you about to get you to stay here,’ she pointed out. ‘Which only worked because you were really ill—otherwise I don’t think you would’ve been sensible.’

  ‘I’m trying,’ Rob said. ‘And that’s the best I can do.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Florence said. And her smile made his heart feel as if it had done an anatomically impossible backflip.

  * * *

  Florence was feeling decided out of sorts by the time she got home on Tuesday.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Rob asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she lied.

  He simply raised an eyebrow.

  She sighed. ‘No. I had a case that really got to me today.’

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘I had a patient who’d gone out to lunch to celebrate her retirement, tripped on the stairs, and smacked her knee on the metal trim of the step.’

  ‘Sounds nasty,’ Rob said.

  She nodded. ‘There was a ten-centimetre laceration under her knee, about two centimetres wide—and it went down to the bone.’ Though that wasn’t what had upset her. She’d seen far gorier cases.

  But Rob seemed to have worked out that talking through the medical stuff was giving her the space she needed to sort out her feelings, because he asked, ‘So you treated it as an open fracture?’

  ‘Yes. There was an arterial bleed, too. We managed to stem it, and I gave her prophylactic intravenous antibiotics and sent her for an X-ray to check if there was a fracture. Luckily there wasn’t, but I had to send her to Theatre so the surgical team could close the wound.’

  ‘Good call. A wound that deep gives a huge risk of infection,’ Rob said.

  ‘I asked her if I could call anyone to be with her, and she said no. No partner, no kids, her sister’s in New Zealand, and she didn’t want to burden any of her friends.’ And that was the thing: would that be how her life was, in thirty years’ time? No partner, no children, maybe not living near her sister any more and with the girls having moved away? She bit her lip. ‘So I sat with her in my break.’

  ‘That was kind,’ he said.

  Kind wasn’t how she felt. At all. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit...’ She grimaced. ‘I probably need to go for a run. Shake off my shift.’

  ‘You’re a runner?’

  ‘It clears my head if I have a case that gets to me,’ she said. ‘Given that in Manchester you’d actually have to drive somewhere to climb, I’m surprised you’re not a runner when you’re at work.’

  ‘I am, when I can’t climb,’ he said. ‘I like to run by the canal or the river. Water works when I can’t
get to climb something. It’s not quite as good, but it’s better than nothing.’

  She smiled. ‘I like being beside the sea, when I’m out of sorts. I take the girls and we build sandcastles or look for shells.’

  * * *

  Another vision flashed through Rob’s head of three little girls with his eyes and Florence’s fine bone structure. The five of them building sandcastles by the sea, finding pretty shells, listening to the waves swishing on the shore...

  Oh, for pity’s sake.

  He’d never had these sorts of fantasies. This was the second time in a week. What the hell was wrong with him?

  He needed air.

  ‘You know what? You’ve had a shift that’s left you feeling a bit down, and I think we both need a change of scene. Let’s go out for pizza or something,’ he said. ‘My treat, because it’s my idea.’

  For a moment, he thought she was going to protest.

  But then she nodded. ‘Thanks. That’d be nice.’

  ‘You don’t have to dress up,’ he said swiftly. Because he’d be in real trouble if she looked as incredible as she had at the departmental Christmas dinner. Dressed casually and with no make-up she was gorgeous enough; dressed up, she’d be irresistible. ‘Just you and me, pizza and a taxi?’

  ‘No need for a taxi. I’ll drive,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll do some car karaoke, then,’ he said. ‘Pretend I’m your nieces and sing along with me.’

  That, to his relief, made her smile.

  And somehow they ended up singing various Abba tracks on the way to the pizza place.

  He noticed Florence smiling to herself as she parked the car. ‘What?’

  ‘I was just wondering about your teenage band. Which was better, your guitar playing or your singing?’

  ‘Oh, my singing,’ he said. ‘By a long way. My guitar solos were right up at the screechy end.’

  The corner of her mouth twitched. And then they were both laughing themselves silly.

  ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to mock you. But...’ She trailed off, shaking her head. ‘Singing might not be your forte, Rob. I hate to think what your guitar was like.’

  ‘I did say our parents and our neighbours were all over the moon when the band broke up,’ he reminded her, and grinned. ‘Ollie can’t sing, either. Imagine the pair of us doing harmonies round the house. You should’ve heard our version of “Bohemian Rhapsody”.’

  She grinned back. ‘Well, hey. Nobody’s perfect.’

  ‘You’re right. By the way, you sing flat, too. Though not quite as flat as I do,’ he allowed.

  It broke the tension between them, but when they were settled at their table in the pizza place Rob found himself wishing that this was a proper date.

  Florence had said she was over her ex, but was she really? Did he stand a chance with her? He’d been trying to tell himself he should stay away; but the pull he felt towards her was so strong.

  Then he became aware that she was asking him something.

  ‘Sorry. I zoned out temporarily. Lack of carbs,’ he fibbed, not wanting to tell her what he’d actually been thinking about. ‘Would you mind repeating that?’

  ‘I was just wondering how your research was going,’ she said. ‘The ADHD stuff.’

  Brilliant. So he could avoid the emotional stuff he found it hard to deal with. ‘It’s hugely interesting,’ he said. ‘I went through some questionnaires, based on what I was like as a kid and how I am now.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It looks as if I’m pretty much a textbook case,’ he said. ‘And it’s probably why I like emergency medicine: everything’s fast, I know what I’m doing and I thrive on—’

  ‘—pushing yourself too hard,’ she finished.

  And it explained why his relationships had fizzled out in the past. He got bored quickly and he wasn’t good enough at paying attention to his partner’s needs. And he suspected that both his brother and his parents had accommodated his behaviour because he’d never got into real trouble at school and he’d never struggled academically. Everyone had just assumed that he was a bright boy with a low boredom threshold. Rob the Restless. Rob the Risk-Taker. It had been good-natured teasing: but maybe if he’d had a clue earlier he might not have hurt past girlfriends by not being there enough for them. At least he knew what to watch for now.

  ‘So where do you go from here?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m meeting Ollie for lunch tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I thought we’d throw a few ideas about.’ And, given that Oliver was so happy with Gemma now, maybe he could point Rob in the right direction with Florence, too...

  * * *

  Florence was glad that they hadn’t bothered ordering wine, on the grounds that she was driving and Rob was on antibiotics. She needed to steer well clear of anything that might lower her inhibitions even a fraction in the vicinity of this man.

  He was good company. Charming, warm and funny.

  He was beautiful, too.

  And he kissed like an angel.

  But he also thought he wouldn’t make a good dad, which meant he probably didn’t want children. So she’d just have to keep reminding herself that he was Mr Wrong.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ON WEDNESDAY, ROB took a taxi to Ashermouth Bay and met his brother outside the surgery.

  ‘You look terrible,’ Oliver said, giving him a hug. ‘Have you been overdoing things?’

  ‘No. I just had a bit of an infection. The antibiotics are working nicely, and I’m on the mend now,’ Rob said.

  ‘What? An infection? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?’ Oliver demanded.

  ‘Because you’d worry, you’d tell Mum, and she’d fuss.’ Rob clapped his brother’s shoulder. ‘Stop worrying. I’m fine. Really. I felt a bit rough on my shift last week, and I was sensible about it and went to the renal department. No misplaced heroics.’ Even though originally he had intended to wait until after the end of his shift, Ollie didn’t need the worry of knowing that. ‘They ran all the checks, decided it was an infection rather than the beginning of rejection, and gave me some meds.’ He grimaced. ‘And they signed me off for a week.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come and stay with me?’ Oliver asked.

  Rob squirmed. ‘Look, I’ve already wrecked one engagement for you. I didn’t want to wreck this one, too.’

  ‘Apart from the fact that it wasn’t your fault Tabby ended things, and Gemma isn’t Tabby—Rob, for pity’s sake, you’re my twin. Next time something like this happens, you call me,’ Oliver said, glaring at him. ‘Yes, of course I’ll tell Mum, because we need to keep her in the loop so she doesn’t worry herself stupid, but I’ll also be a buffer and make sure she gives you the space you need.’

  Rob blew out a breath. ‘Sorry. I know I probably should’ve said something earlier.’

  ‘There’s no “probably” about it,’ Oliver said.

  ‘I just didn’t want to worry you. Or get in the way with you and Gemma.’

  ‘You wouldn’t get in the way. Gemma seems to like you, for some strange reason,’ his twin said dryly.

  ‘I like her, too. She’s right for you,’ Rob said. ‘So, where are we going for lunch?’

  ‘Pub?’ Oliver suggested.

  ‘Can we get a quiet table?’ Rob asked. ‘I’d like a bit of advice.’

  ‘That sounds serious.’ Oliver’s eyes were full of concern.

  ‘It’s absolutely nothing to do with the infection or the transplant,’ Rob reassured him.

  Once they were seated and they’d ordered, Rob said, ‘So, the advice stuff. As a GP, how would you go about diagnosing a patient with ADHD?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Humour me,’ Rob said.

  ‘All right. I’d start with talking to my patient’s parents, go through the diagnostic questionnaires with them and maybe with the school with the
parents’ permission, then do a referral to a paediatrician specialising in spectrum cases.’

  ‘What about if the patient was an adult?’ Rob asked.

  ‘Then I’d go through the diagnostic questionnaires with them. Why?’

  ‘Has it ever occurred to you,’ Rob asked, ‘that I might have ADHD?’

  ‘No. You’re just you.’ Oliver looked thoughtful. ‘Though, now you’ve said it, you certainly fit the hyperactive side of the criteria. Mum always says you were the busiest toddler she’s ever met. But we’re identical twins, and I don’t fit any of the criteria: so how can you have ADHD if I don’t?’

  ‘Because we’re not quite identical,’ Rob said. ‘Remember when they tested us before they did the transplant? Bits of our genomes are different, which is why they put me on low-dose immunosuppressants. I’ve been reading up a lot about the copy variant stuff, this week, seeing as I’ve been off work—’

  ‘—and you can’t sit still and rest,’ Oliver interjected.

  ‘My point precisely,’ Rob said. ‘And it’s possible that we’re a bit more different than we thought.’

  ‘So you think you might have ADHD.’ Oliver looked him straight in the eye. ‘Are you asking me to diagnose you and maybe prescribe something, Rob?’

  ‘No, to both,’ Rob said. ‘I’ll see my own GP for a proper diagnosis. I just wanted to know what you think. And apparently there are other ways to deal with it, not just medication.’

  ‘A lot of undiagnosed adult ADHD patients self-medicate to manage how they feel,’ Oliver said. ‘Actually, now I think about it, that’s what you do.’

  ‘What? How?’ Rob frowned. ‘You know I’ve never abused prescription meds or taken any kind of drugs. I don’t smoke. And, although I appreciate good red wine, I stick to the limits.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean,’ Oliver said. ‘And not even your chocolate habit. It’s the risky stuff you do. The climbing. The humanitarian aid stuff. I think that’s how you manage yourself.’

  ‘So are you saying that, if my GP put me on meds, I wouldn’t need to climb any more?’ Rob asked.