Pregnant by the Single Dad Doc

by Louisa Heaton

  The tension eased somewhat and he continued with his work, even though he still felt bad. And he’d called her Miss Jones. Talk about creating an issue when there didn’t need to be one! Now she’d probably spend the rest of the day calling him Dr Riley rather than Logan. He needed to change that. And quickly.

  ‘Can you see what I’m doing here, Ellie? More light, please,’ he instructed the theatre technician, standing to one side.

  Ellie moved forward to see better.

  ‘What are the complications of a silo—do you know?’

  ‘Er...infection and fascial dehiscence.’

  ‘Good. You’ve been reading up.’ He looked up at her and smiled. ‘On your lunch break?’

  He was pleased to see her eyes crease at the corners, indicating a smile back.

  She nodded. ‘Best time to cram.’

  ‘Removing the silo now... What are we looking for?’

  ‘We’re checking that the bowel looks healthy.’

  ‘Yes. I’m going to stretch the defect now, to reduce this final section of bowel.’ He carefully placed his fingers inside the defect, checking all around, before pushing the last of the bowel inside. ‘Ellie would you like to irrigate the bowel and abdomen?’

  She nodded quickly and he could tell that she was grateful to do something towards the surgery.

  He organised the skin for closure, starting opposite the umbilicus, sealing off small bleeds with the cautery and separating the fascia, explaining what he was doing and why.

  ‘I’m creating a purse string suture. Irrigate the wound again, please.’ Good. She was doing well. Her hands were steady and sure. No hesitation. ‘Now I’ll make a new umbilicus.’ He created another purse string on the outer skin.

  ‘It’s so quick,’ she said, glancing up at the clock. ‘Barely twenty-five minutes.’

  ‘And Baby remained stable throughout, which is the best thing,’ he said, stepping away from the table and pulling off his gloves. ‘How did you find that, Ellie?’

  She pulled off her surgical mask as they went into the scrub room and her face was a mask of awe and wonder. ‘Amazing! You made it look easy.’

  He basked in her praise. ‘You might be doing it yourself one day.’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Have you decided on a specialism yet?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’d like to do transplants—I know that.’

  That was a good choice—though he was a little disappointed she didn’t want to choose his speciality. ‘General surgery? That’s good.’

  ‘You sound like you don’t approve.’

  ‘I do. Is that because of your dad?’ Her father had had a heart transplant; he remembered that.

  Ellie looked away. ‘I guess...’ She began washing her hands.

  Logan stood watching her for a moment. He’d never felt so far away from her as he did at that moment. As if she was unreachable and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way he’d spoken to her earlier? He wanted to put that right. Hated being at odds with her.

  ‘I’m sorry about how rude I was to you at the beginning of surgery.’

  She glanced at him. Gave a brief smile. ‘It’s okay. I was being nosy and it wasn’t very professional of me.’

  ‘Not nosy at all. It’s just... I wanted to be the one to tell you about Rachel.’

  ‘No one was gossiping about you.’

  ‘I know. It’s just...she’s my daughter and I’m very protective of her.’

  Ellie turned to look at him. ‘Your daughter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She laughed. ‘I thought she was your—’ She stopped speaking, blushed and grabbed some paper towels to dry her hands with. ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Six. Going on sixty.’

  Ellie smiled and pulled off her cap. ‘I’d love to meet her one day.’

  ‘She has Asperger’s,’ he blurted out, not sure why he was explaining, but it was out now. However, Rachel having Asperger’s was only one part of who she was—he shouldn’t have labelled her as if that was all she was. ‘And she’s sweet and kind. And many other wonderful things besides.’

  Ellie smiled. ‘She sounds lovely.’

  * * *

  The rest of the day had passed almost in a blur. Doing half-hourly obs on the gastroschisis baby... Running around after the others... She hadn’t got to see Logan at all after they’d done a consult in A&E. She’d wanted to talk to him more, after her little mistake about who Rachel was, but she’d ended up going home without seeing him again.

  His daughter! Not his wife, or partner, or whatever she’d suspected her to be. But that still meant there was a mother to his child. Where was she? How come he didn’t meet his partner for lunch?

  She could be busy. Working hard.

  I don’t even know what she does. She could be a high-flying surgeon like Logan.

  Of course she would be. Logan liked successful people. He’d been surrounded by them his entire life. Both his parents were doctors, he had an uncle who practised law, and a cousin who had created his first app aged just sixteen and was probably a multi-millionaire by now.

  I’m happy for him.

  She forced a smile to her face, telling herself this was true, but she was having a hard time with it. A small, selfish part of her had wanted him to be stuck in some kind of limbo, too. Her life had been ripped apart and now she was starting again—why wasn’t he? She felt so far behind everyone else now. Constantly playing catch-up.

  But why did she constantly give herself a hard time? Was it because everything she tried failed? Her relationship with Logan had collapsed out of nowhere. Being a mother had ended tragically. Her marriage to Daniel had collapsed too. Her business had failed.

  But now she was trying to be a doctor, and there was no way she was going to fail at that!

  Somehow, and without remembering climbing the stairs, she found herself in the doorway to Samuel’s bedroom. Everything was as she’d left it. In limbo. Half done. Two of the walls still needed painting. The crib was still in its flat-pack. A lonely teddy bear sat in the windowsill, waiting to be loved.

  It all just looked so...sad.

  But what was the point in finishing?

  Ellie closed the door and went back downstairs to make herself some dinner. She’d barely had time to eat today, what with the surgery, and then rounds, and then she and Logan had been called down to A&E to assess a patient who might have been going into early labour. Thankfully, she hadn’t. The maternity unit had managed to stop her contractions with tocolytics and Ellie had got to inject her with steroids to help with maturing the baby’s lungs, just in case.

  It had felt good today to be hands-on—first in surgery, then doing obs during rounds, and then later with that emergency patient. She finally felt as if she was moving forward—that she was achieving something. And Logan was actually a very good teacher.

  She remembered how he’d drilled her on the way back up in the lift.

  ‘Why do we inject with corticosteroids?’

  ‘It helps the baby’s lungs mature.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Brain function.’

  ‘What would happen if we didn’t?’

  ‘An early delivery would mean the baby might be more likely to suffer respiratory distress syndrome or other complications.’

  ‘Side effects of giving steroids?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Studies have shown that there are no adverse effects on the baby, but if more than one course is given studies do show that some babies can be a little smaller, though there are no long-term consequences. How far apart do we give the injections?’

  ‘Twenty-four hours.’

  Standing in that closed confined space with him had made her realise how her body still reacted to him. It was as if it remembered. As if it
wanted to feel him against her once again. It had been a terrifying and delicious feeling all at once.

  She liked it that he drilled her with questions—even over some of the simpler things they did. He was being thorough, making sure she understood the basics—because if you didn’t understand the reasoning behind those, how could you understand the more complicated issues? And his questions took her thoughts away from how it had felt to hold him. To kiss him. To have him kiss her back...

  She liked being tested. Liked getting the answers right. It felt good. And distractions were helpful.

  Downstairs, as her ready meal of lasagne cooked in the microwave, she picked up her book on neonatal medicine and began reading from where she’d stopped at breakfast that morning.

  She was happy that Logan had a daughter. That he had a happy, healthy child. He was lucky to have someone to hold in his arms.

  She missed that. Being able to hold someone. To squeeze them tight, love them, knowing that they loved you back just as much.

  He was lucky.

  Very lucky indeed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘DON’T TOUCH ME!’ Rachel screamed.

  Logan backed off, hands palm upwards. How had he forgotten? She didn’t like bodily contact, she didn’t like to be touched, and he’d stupidly, unthinkingly, bent down to kiss the top of her head as he’d left her at Verity’s.

  Rachel was looking at him like a cornered animal, scared, her eyes darting all around. His gut twisted to see her so upset. And he’d been the one to cause it.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I forgot. I’m sorry.’ He turned to Verity. ‘I’m going to be late—are you going to be okay?’

  ‘We’ll be fine. You go. She’ll calm down.’

  He nodded, smiling a thank-you. Verity was an absolute godsend for him. A childminder who specialised in children with autism and special needs, and she was just down the road from the hospital, too. She ran a strict ship, full of routine, and all the kids enjoyed it during the long summer school holidays, but she also allowed him to turn up sometimes at lunch, to take Rachel out for the hour, so he could see her in the day.

  It wouldn’t be long until she was back at school, and then that would change, but for now he could do it. He hoped that if he got to see her later today she would have forgotten his little misdemeanour and they’d be able to go back to talking about blood, as they often did.

  He gave his daughter a wave from the door, but she didn’t see it, still in the process of calming down from his thoughtless contact. Briefly he wondered what it would be like to give his daughter a hug goodbye, like other parents did when they dropped their children off at school.

  I guess I’ll never know.

  As he walked to work he thought back to when Rachel was a baby, and how it had felt to hold her then. Even then she’d cried, and he’d thought it was because she was crying for the mother she didn’t have. That he wasn’t doing it right. That he was a bad father who couldn’t soothe his own daughter.

  She’d been way behind on her developmental milestones, hadn’t talked until she was two and a half, and because he was a doctor it had been incredibly frustrating for him. Until a paediatrician had suggested she might be autistic. Then it had been as if a veil had been lifted, and he’d finally understood her.

  It had been better for Rachel after that. Not for him, though.

  When he got into The Nest he saw Ellie standing at Reception, laughing with a nurse, and he envied her her simple life. Carefree. No children. Starting a new chapter in her life.

  He was suddenly hit by a wave of nostalgia, of longing for how it had used to be, sitting in his bedroom, laughing and chatting, holding her in his arms, loving the feel of her, the warmth of her smile, the way that she laughed. It was infectious, her laugh. He’d like to hear it again. But most of all he missed his friend, and having her this close again was agonising, because he wanted to tell her everything.

  About Rachel...about this morning at Verity’s.

  About Jo.

  He ached for the ease that they’d once had.

  ‘Ellie?’

  She looked up, saw him and smiled, and it felt just like before.

  He was out here in the world, feeling all alone, and he knew that she had once loved him. Cared deeply. She’d listen. He knew it. He needed someone in his corner.

  Up close, she looked to him as if she was waiting for instructions. Keen. Eager to learn. Ready for whatever came next.

  Such beautiful blue eyes. So trusting.

  And suddenly he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t burden her. No matter how much he wanted to. He had to do this alone, as he always had.

  ‘I want you on Darcy’s case today. The gastroschisis baby? She’s all yours. I want hourly observations. Report them back to me. Her Mum will be in later and I thought you could get her to give Darcy a bed bath. She’d like that. Get her hands-on. Parents like contact with their children.’

  She looked pleased. Thrilled, in fact, to have a case of her own. ‘I will. Thank you. Are you okay?’

  He nodded. ‘Tough morning.’

  ‘With Rachel?’

  How to answer? He didn’t want to blame his daughter for what had been his own mistake. ‘No, it was me. I screwed up.’ He grimaced.

  She smiled. ‘I’m sure your wife will forgive you,’ she said, and she turned to go and check on her patient.

  She doesn’t know about Jo.

  He sank down into a seat, his head in his hands, knowing he had to tell her. But how to do so without coming across as if he was looking for sympathy? Because he wasn’t. He was looking for...understanding. Ellie had used to have that in bucketloads. She’d been a good listener.

  He recalled the time that he’d been so annoyed at not passing his driving test first time, convinced that the test invigilator had been unnecessarily strict, and she had listened patiently as he’d ranted and raved about the unfairness of it all.

  And then another time she’d held his hand and listened as he told her stories about his grandmother, when she’d passed away. She’d even gone with him to the funeral and not once had she let go of him. Always there. Always ready. And when they’d stood by the graveside and he’d been bereft of words she’d stood with him, her head upon his shoulder, just waiting for him to be ready to go. She’d laid one hand upon his arm, gently stroking it, just letting him know that she was there for him.

  She’d always supported him—and what had he done for her? He’d abandoned her. Left her behind. Disappeared for years and not got in touch. And now he expected her to still be the friend she’d once been? How selfish was that? He’d never put his needs before hers.

  He placed his bag and his jacket in his office and looked at the single photo on his desk. One of Jo. She’d been facing away from him on the beach promenade and he’d lifted his camera just as she’d turned to look at him, one hand behind her ear, holding back her hair, which the wind was blowing everywhere. It was a perfect shot. Her smile captured in an instant. Her eyes looking directly at him, full of love and affection.

  I failed you, too. Never loved you the way that I should have.

  Was he destined to fail all the women in his life? Ellie. Jo. Rachel. When would he ever get it right?

  Draping his stethoscope around his neck, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. He might screw up personally, but professionally he had lots of little babies depending upon him—and that he knew he could get right!

  At least he would try.

  * * *

  ‘She shouldn’t be here.’

  Ellie looked up in surprise. Darcy’s mother had arrived, entering the ward almost silently. She had been about to change Darcy’s nappy, but if her mother was here perhaps she would like to do it instead?

  Logan’s words about parents needing contact with their babies rang in her ears, s
o she closed the incubator and stepped back. ‘No one expects their baby to come to the NICU.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant by rights she shouldn’t be here. At all.’

  Ellie frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Darcy’s father is a married man. I didn’t know that when I met him. I thought he was free and single, like me. Perfect. The perfect guy. I thought we were in love...that things were moving forward for us. Then I found out I was pregnant, and when I told him he told me he was already married. Happily!’

  Darcy’s mother looked up at Ellie with a rueful gaze.

  ‘If Patrick hadn’t cheated on his wife then Darcy wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t have to sit day by day beside her, wondering if my baby is going to be okay. Do you know, when I found out she had gastroschisis I thought I was being punished? For cheating.’

  Ellie didn’t know what to say. She gazed at Darcy’s mother, seeing the hurt, the pain, the loss of her dream. The dream of having a perfectly healthy child with a man she’d thought loved her. Instead she was here alone, coping with the stresses that came with a child in Neonatal Intensive Care. All alone.

  She wasn’t sure of the best way to answer as a medical student. Perhaps if she were a doctor then she would know the professional way to respond. Perhaps there was a class instructing students on the best way to manage something like this?

  But she did know how to respond as a parent. She understood the emotions of loss and fear and loneliness. So she stepped around the incubator and pulled the woman towards her in a hug. ‘It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I don’t know what the future holds for Darcy, but right now she’s doing really well. The operation worked wonderfully, there were no complications, and there’s no reason at all why Darcy shouldn’t grow up with any problems at all. She’s sleeping and she’s breathing well. She’s a good weight, and right now she’s got a wet nappy that we can change. Do you want to do it?’

  Darcy’s mother nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. ‘Yes. I would. Thank you. And I’m sorry for just blurting that out. I do that sometimes.’