Читать книгу Emergency Baby - Алисон Робертс - Страница 8

IT COULD never work.

By 10:00 p.m. that night, Sam had changed her mind. Even ignoring having to get over the embarrassment of what she would have to ask Alex to supply, the potential complications of using him as a sperm donor loomed like clouds quite dark enough to dim the light of that bright idea.

What if Alex wanted a say in how the child was raised, for instance? If he thought that day-care centres were less than satisfactory, he would disapprove of Sam returning to her job and their working relationship would be irreparably undermined.

She might have to justify every decision she made, from where and how she chose to give birth to when and how she wanted to start potty training the child. Alex could be just as determined as she was when it came to getting his own way. Sam could conceivably end up with all the disadvantages of being married to the father of her baby without any of the benefits, like someone else getting up at night.

No. Being totally independent about this was the only way to go.

Sam wondered if Tom had thrown that pamphlet away. She would need to check whether she fitted any eligibility criteria for obtaining a totally anonymous donation.

The pamphlet was nowhere to be seen around headquarters the next morning and Sam certainly wasn’t going to make any enquiries, but it didn’t matter because by 11:00 a.m. that day she had changed her mind back again.

Her close observation of Alex since she’d arrived at work at 7:00 a.m. hadn’t been deliberate in any way and Sam was confident it had been subtle enough not to have been noticed. Maybe it had started because she was still finding it impossible not to throw things into the mental scales her brain had activated so energetically last night. She had come to work with the scales way down on the negative side of the equation but, bit by bit, the positive side was getting heavier again.

Maybe that cheerful smile and greeting from Alex had been the catalyst. Everybody else was grumbling about the weather. A southerly blast was catching the east coast of New Zealand’s South Island and it was cold, wet and blustery. Arriving at their airport base, Sam was inclined to agree with the helicopter pilot who was gloomily forecasting a dull day with them not being able to get off the ground.

The squally showers had eased by midmorning but it was still cold and grey and no jobs had come in. Boredom or frustration hadn’t dampened Alex’s mood, however. It never did. How come she had never noticed before how much she appreciated his generally cheerful demeanour? He was never surly first thing or too snappy or irritable when exhausted. Sam had seen him angry when things hadn’t gone the way he’d intended them to go but that anger was almost always used in a positive fashion. If an error had occurred, Alex Henry was going to make damn sure it wasn’t likely to happen again.

Cheerfulness was an attribute high on the list of what desirable children should have. Sam could imagine a small person beaming at her from its cot when she went in to wake it up in the mornings. Or toddling towards her with outstretched arms and a wide, cheeky grin on its face. Just like its father’s. The flash of fantasy was enough to make her smile. She would catch that toddler and hold it close. Maybe swing it around and hear a gurgle of laughter before hugging it tight and planting a kiss on a mop of silky curls.

At 11:30 a.m., Sam’s apparent concentration on her textbook was interrupted by the strident beep of her pager. Alex dropped the car magazine he’d been leafing through and picked up the phone that was a direct link to the control centre.

Sam kept writing to finish the note she was making about ‘Hammon’s crunch’—a noise that could be heard with each heartbeat from mediastinal emphysema caused by a pneumothorax. The incoming job was bound to be road-based, in which case Alex would be keen to drive and he could fill her in at the same time with any details he was gleaning from Control.

Any estimation of blood loss?’ she heard him ask. ‘Any other injuries?’

Something in his tone stilled Sam’s pen. Not tension exactly, but an alertness that suggested he was more than normally interested in what he was hearing. If Alex was that interested, the job had to carry a substantial element of danger.

‘It’ll be up to Terry, I guess.’ Alex was peering up at the sky through the window now. ‘It’s a hell of a lot better than it was an hour ago, anyway.’

So it was a helicopter job. Terry’s pager must have sounded already because he entered the office from where he’d been pottering about in the hangar. He saw the question in Alex’s expression and gave a brief nod.

‘I’ve just had the latest met report,’ he said. ‘We’re sweet.’

That gleam in Alex’s eye was definitely a worry. Sam ripped a small strip of paper from her pad and used it to mark the textbook page before closing the heavy volume on emergency medicine. She had the distinct impression it could be some time before she could resume her study.

‘It’s a fishing boat,’ Alex announced as he hung up the phone. ‘We’ve got rough co-ordinates but there’s no GPS on board. It’s about thirty kilometres off shore.’

An oddly heavy sensation settled in the pit of Sam’s stomach. Perhaps it was the thought of the heavily rolling sea that the ebbing southerly would have left in its wake. A winch job onto a vessel was tricky enough even in relatively calm seas. Not that Sam suffered from any kind of motion sickness. She was just experiencing an empathetic moment for whoever was unwell out there.

‘What’s happened?’ she queried.

‘Partial amputation.’Alex held the door to the hangar open just long enough for Sam to catch up. ‘Compound fracture tib and fib. Sounds like the guy got in the way of a wire that snapped when the boat hit a particularly deep swell.’

‘Mmm. Deep swells, huh?’ Sam tried to summon the reaction she would normally have to the prospect of such a challenging job. To see it as a personal step towards conquering anything that could hold her back. There was no need for either of them to discuss the dangers of trying to get from a helicopter to a pitching ship’s deck safely. ‘Sounds fun.’

Alex’s head turned sharply to catch her gaze and Sam had the horrible thought that he might have detected something she wouldn’t admit even to herself. That that heavy sensation in the pit of her stomach wasn’t empathetic seasickness at all. It was fear.

She grinned at him. ‘Toss a coin, then?’

It was their usual method of deciding who got to do the most challenging part of a job they were both equally qualified to do. Both Sam and Alex were trained to be either the winch operator or the person who got dangled. They needed to decide in advance, however, so that the winching harness could be put on and the correct seats taken before the confined space of the aircraft made it difficult.

‘It’s my turn,’ Alex said firmly. ‘You got to do it last time.’ He reached for the winching harness and stepped into it.

Had she? Sam tried to remember the last sea rescue they’d been on. It had been months ago and hadn’tAlex gone down and brought a conscious patient up in a nappy harness?

‘But—’

‘Too slow.’ Alex clipped the front of the harness together and turned to step onto the skid and into the cabin. ‘Get with it, Sam. We’re off.’

Terry had already done all the checks the helicopter needed. The rotor speed was increasing and Sam knew they would be off the ground as soon as her safety belt was fastened. There was no point trying to argue with Alex and it wasn’t until well after take-off, when they started scanning a menacing-looking sea beneath them, that Sam realised why it was still bothering her.

It wasn’t that she needed to face whatever was causing that irritating level of nervousness. It was more that she sensed Alex had picked up on it and had claimed the more dangerous part of the job because he was trying to protect Sam.

The cheerful grin she received on shooting a suspicious glance in Alex’s direction had an element of self-satisfaction that she would normally have put down to Alex scoring in the game of chasing the biggest adrenaline rush. The flash of something quite different that she caught in the depths of those dark eyes confirmed her suspicion, however.

The impression was gone in an instant. If she hadn’t been searching for it, Sam would never have recognised it. On how many other occasions might she have missed it? She’d never looked for anything like it because Sam had never had any doubts about what she wanted to do so had never been concerned that anyone would pick up on something potentially shameful.

They all had things that scared them to some degree. They would be idiots if they didn’t, but Sam, like the boys, had never allowed any level of fear to put up a barrier she couldn’t find a way to cross. She’d always fought for her chance to take on anything that came their way. Sometimes she won and sometimes she didn’t, but now that Sam was thinking along new lines, she realised that Alex had often found ways to circumvent the coin-tossing on jobs that had the potential to be particularly fraught.

He hadn’t denied the accusation she’d fired at him once—that he just wanted to claim the glory of doing the hardest part of the job—but it was quite possible that the gung-ho attitude was a cover. That Alex tried to protect her far more often than she’d ever been aware of.

The very notion should have been like a red rag to a bull as far as Sam was concerned. If she’d picked up on anything like this a month ago she would have been furious. Would have demanded a showdown once they got back to Base and sorted her colleague’s attitude out. But Sam was too puzzled to be angry.