Читать книгу Back In Dr Xenakis' Arms - Amalie Berlin - Страница 12
ОглавлениеTHE SATISFACTION OF seeing Ares blanch came and went in a single sluggish heartbeat. Fighting about the past wouldn’t do anything to help this situation, and Jacinda and her baby deserved one hundred percent of their focus and attention. Now wasn’t the time to talk about their own child.
Erianthe tried again. “I’ve assisted before in this type of surgery twice. I’ve observed another couple times. I’m not a surgeon, but I perform C-sections and I’ve done surgery rotations. If we had any other option, then I’d say send her off the island, but you saw the level of her white cell count. It’s possible the damned thing has already ruptured. It has to come out as soon as possible. We cannot wait.”
He held out his hand for the results and she handed them over. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to look at him, but there was nowhere else to look in order to divine what he was thinking.
Resignation was clearly written in the grim set of his lips, the furrow of his brow. “Tell me where the appendix tends to get shoved. Is the surgery usually performed with an ultrasound to guide?”
She shook her head, then waved a hand. “Imaging is used, but not usually ultrasound. I think we could do that, though, if you wanted to get a look at it.”
He nodded. “Have you ever assisted in this surgery without the patient being pregnant? Can you tell me what differences occur between the two surgeries?”
He was going to do it. Thank goodness. “I can tell you what I know, but it’s been years since I saw a run-of-the-mill appendectomy.”
“When?”
“My first year in residency.”
“How are you with an ultrasound?”
That she could give him confidence with. “Excellent.”
“That’s your other job—assisting and maneuvering the wand so we can get and keep a visual on the appendix until I understand what I need to do.”
“I can do that.”
“I’m trusting you,” he said—which shouldn’t have made cold shoot through her, but did.
She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, to pretend the sentiment was reciprocated. It wasn’t—except probably medically. Whatever might have been said or done between them, she didn’t trust him personally. She was just taking the only available exit from a burning building right now, and that was what made her stomach pitch and roll like a dinghy on the front edge of a tsunami.
“The anesthesiologist—do we know if he’s put under a pregnant woman before? It’s not as deep a sleep. And there are frequent issues with reflux, so we need a good proton pump inhibitor.”
He opened the door and stepped out, one curt hand motion beckoning her to follow after him.
Inside thirty minutes they had Jacinda in the surgical suite, were both scrubbed in and had her under. Erianthe kept the anesthesiologist busier than normal, demanding that the heart rate for both mother and baby be announced at any change of more than three beats per minute.
In her head, when she’d pictured how this surgery would go, she’d been standing on the opposite side of the table from Ares, with the patient—and space—between them. But with the introduction of the ultrasound she not only had to stand beside him, she had to be close enough that the fabrics of their surgical gowns brushed and rustled against each other.
Something else to ignore.
She focused on the ultrasound wand in hand and maneuvered the cart holding the unit with her foot, so that Ares could best see the screen.
“Here—that’s the cross section of the appendix.”
“Enlarged...” he murmured, confirming the diagnosis in that second.
Why hadn’t she thought about ultrasound to image the appendix before? Because she wasn’t a surgeon. Because she was used to modern, fully equipped hospital situations. Because she didn’t even know what equipment was located at this facility—which had to change immediately.
Moving on, she slid the wand to another position and pressed, showing the path usually taken in such a procedure. He had her move the wand a few more times, until he was satisfied with the visual and knew that he’d have room to move.
As soon as he’d made his incision the ultrasound was abandoned, and her job shifted to handing over the instruments as he asked, holding back tissue with forceps, controlling the flow of blood.
“How’s the baby’s heartbeat?” she asked the anesthesiologist yet again, probably ensuring that he’d never want to be on the same surgical team with her ever again, prompting him for readouts even if he’d only just given them.
The pattern they fell into was surprisingly easy. Ares’s hands, always elegant in their masculine way, moved with a certainty and grace his current appearance contradicted.
She’d gotten by on having faith in her coping mechanisms for so long, but she found that faith shaken before they scrubbed in. Chatter and keeping her mind occupied held the line between being shaken up and on the floor, but she couldn’t dismiss her doubts about how long she could keep it up.
However, unlike what she’d expected, he was professional. And extremely skilled.
And different.
But then so was she.
“I see it,” he said, and leaned over a bit, letting her visualize the swollen, enflamed organ.
“Goodness, it’s big. But it looks clean.”
“Doesn’t look like it’s ruptured either. I’ll extract—you examine it.”
She passed over instruments, one at a time, allowing him to clamp the organ off from the ascending colon, then repeat the maneuver from the colon side so he could make a clean extraction.
Once he had placed the faulty organ into the surgical tray, she maneuvered it around to look for any openings.
“Intact,” she announced after pressing and examining for longer than she would probably have done under normal circumstances. She needed an extra layer of assurance that her powers of observation and attention were still functioning at a high level, even with the chaos going on in her head.
Finally satisfied, she returned to his side to help flush the area with saline before closing up.
“We’ll have to check our antibiotic inventory. If there’s one you prefer but we don’t have in stock, we can have it by the evening. I’m starting her on whatever’s the best we have in the meanwhile. Eri... Dr. Nikolaides...”
Even with the face mask he wore, she saw his silent correction in the squint of his eyes. But she didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know what any of this meant to him. He’d frozen, briefly, upon seeing her. And again when she’d reminded him what the health of her patients meant to her, but she still didn’t know what it meant to him.
He could just be reacting to the worry that she was going to lose it in front of everyone and he’d have to answer difficult questions. Or he might not care at all about her, or the events that had rewired her brain to expect betrayal from those she loved.
But she told herself she didn’t care about how affected or unaffected he was. She cared about Theo, Chris and Deakin. She had to figure out how to be around Ares without losing her senses, or all those years of keeping secrets from the rest would come undone, and that would mean she’d gone through all that alone for no reason.
Theo, the quintessential protective older brother? She didn’t even have to wonder how he’d react. And, no matter what Chris and Deakin might think, knowing what had happened between Ares and her would divide the four close friends, probably forever.
Even if the clinic didn’t rely on them all getting along and maintaining their long, loving, sibling-like relationship, she didn’t want to be the cause of their pain. Every single one of them had gone through enough pain in their lives without her adding to it now, when it could change nothing about the past.
And she’d lost enough. She didn’t deserve to lose Chris or Deakin, even if they were more forgiving than her super-protective brother would be.
“Dr. Nikolaides?” He said her name as if he’d said it before, and she finally realized what he’d said about the antibiotics. She hadn’t answered him.
“I’ll look as soon as we’re done,” she said, clicking back to the present. What was the next step? “Does anyone in the lab stay around the clock? I’d like labs drawn tonight and in the morning, to track her blood count. And I want the bacteria in the appendix cultured to check for resistance.”
“We can arrange it. If not, I’ll stay and do it. I’ve done them before.”
“Do you do every job with your charity outfit?” He’d clearly learned pretty adept surgical skills there.
“We all do whatever we have to, to keep things going. They’re even worse off for personnel than we are here.”
He tied off the last suture and she clipped it, then took over swabbing the incision site and applying a good dressing. That was the next step. The anesthesia was out, and she grabbed a stethoscope to listen to the baby’s heart and then the mother’s.
“And I’m good at what I set my mind to,” he added.
Hearts were steady—both of them. Jacinda’s rate was a little higher than she’d like, but that happened with infection.
“Do we have a recovery room? I’m guessing not...?” Erianthe asked, pulling the earbuds out.
He’d removed his mask and gloves but stood watching her in that same way he had in the patient’s room, looking too long, too intently. It made the back of her neck prickle, and she felt that tension return. What did it even mean? She had no way to know what he was thinking and never had—even when she’d thought she couldn’t know anyone better than she knew him.
“She’s coming up,” the anesthesiologist interrupted.
Erianthe removed her mask to stand over her patient’s head. “Jacinda? Open your eyes for me.”
When she complied, Erianthe delivered the good news and Ares backed her up.
“We’re going to take you back to a room and look after you there.”
His voice changed when he spoke to Jacinda, becoming imbued with a gentleness that made her own throat thicken. It reminded her of the way he’d held and comforted her after the pregnancy test that had changed everything. When she’d been terrified of the way Dimitri and Hera would react to it, wondering if they could run away to be safe.
“Where are you going?” he asked her now, the voice change denoting the shift from comforting his patient to addressing Erianthe.
“Nowhere...” she croaked, then cleared her throat.
“You’re backing up.”
He did seem farther away.
A shake of her head and she gestured to the door. “I’ll go with her to monitor vitals.”
“Was the baby’s heart rate still good?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, still wanting to talk about the patient as it kept her from thinking about the way he was looking at her. “Can we bring the ultrasound to her room?”
Ares pulled his surgical cap off and tossed it into the bin, tired all the way to his bones suddenly. Too tired for gentleness, or for this weird circling around one another that they were doing.
“You take her up and I’ll bring it in a moment,” he said.
She had always bristled when told what to do, but who knew if she still had something to prove? It was a long time ago, and they’d both had to grow up in that time.
All he knew was that he needed air at this precise second, so he might as well go home. If he stayed, as was his usual custom, he’d only be stuck in a room with her and nothing to do. Judging by her actions and words so far, there was no way she’d leave a pregnant mother and child in possible jeopardy.
Besides, his own island was very close to Mythelios proper, and his boat was fast. He’d rather stagger out of bed in the middle of the night and rush here without pants on than stay in a room with Erianthe for hours, when every time she looked at him her expression seemed stuck somewhere between someone just vomited on me and why is that spider carrying a machete?
“Who is going to show me where that is and help get her settled?”
The fact that even now, when they weren’t focused on their patient, she still didn’t want to look at him said enough about her state of mind on the matter. She probably still hated him—and Ares couldn’t blame her. There was no undoing what had happened. He’d keep paying for that mistake, just as she would. But he didn’t want that heartache to spread.
He’d known it would be hard to see her again. What he hadn’t expected was the tightness in his chest that just kept on increasing. Every look at her had him cataloging the changes over the last decade. The small line between her brows said she frowned a lot. There were no faint matching brackets at the corners of her mouth to evidence smiles and laughter.
He couldn’t change that. He still didn’t know what he was supposed to have done back then—what might have made it work out for all three of them. If he hadn’t come up with the answer in ten years, he wasn’t going to now. All he knew was that she’d borne the brunt of that mistake alone—without him, without anyone.
His suffering paled in comparison to hers.
He didn’t expect her to forgive him and wouldn’t ask her to. Couldn’t even picture what kind of heart could even offer him that kind of absolution.
“I’ll get Petra to organize everyone,” he said, then pulled off his gown to fish a pen and notepad out of his pocket.
A quick scribble of his number and he laid the sheet of paper on one of the machines, waiting for her to stop counting beats for the baby’s heart and remove the buds she’d replaced in her ears before he carried on speaking.
“If you need me to run the labs, or if she shows signs that there’s a leak or that we missed something, call me first. Don’t go through someone else—call me. I can be here in ten minutes.”
She lifted one hand but didn’t immediately reach for the paper. The way her fingers curled, then stretched too hard, was like watching someone warm up before arduous exercise. Like picking up this single sheet of paper was heavy lifting and she didn’t want to sprain her thumb.
In that second he regretted his decision to leave. The way she looked at him right now, would she call him for any reason?
“What time did you get up this morning? It was a travel day for you...” Ares said, ignoring the irritated sigh he got in answer.
She could sleep there. He didn’t care. But it would be stupid, and she would probably remain at the bedside of their patient all night long rather than count on the night nurse to wake her if something did go wrong.
He wouldn’t let any of his colleagues do that in her situation, he told himself; this wasn’t specifically about her.
“Erianthe.”
“Huh?”
The sound came out like a space filler—a tone loosed purely to give her time to think of what the right thing to say would be. A liar’s sound, a way to avoid conflict, a monotone prayer that the speaker would give up on the question.
“You traveled today. You must be tired. I’ll stay. You go home with Theo.”
“I’m not...” She started to say something but then looked past him toward the door. “I’m not going to stay with Theo. I need to tell him that.”
He knew enough to know that her staying with Theo was the plan. Even if Theo hadn’t already told him that, he knew neither of the Nikolaideses would want to stay with their parents. Hell, none of them would want to stay with their parents. He’d bunked down at Deakin’s upon first arriving on Mythelios, until he’d found out his own father currently lived in another country.
“Why aren’t you staying with Theo?”
“He and Cailey should have some privacy. Chris arrived a couple of days ago, so I’ll see if I can stay with him.”
“They can keep it down, I’m sure,” he muttered, his friend’s cozy domestic bliss suddenly irritating him. “Whatever. Chris’s, then. But Theo’s is closer, should I need to call you in.”
“I’m going to Chris’s.”
His teeth clenched hard enough to make his head ache. Obviously she had no idea that she was seconds away from being pushed out of the room.
“Fine—go to Chris’s. I’ll stay.”
He could only stay if she went. If anyone overheard them bickering, or—God forbid—saw the way she looked at him... Well, it was good that their patient was unconscious again.
“I’m being kind to you, Erianthe. We don’t need to both stay, and I’m staying.”
“I’m the obstetrician.”
“I’m the surgeon.”
“So?”
“If labor starts, I will call you. Do you want to stay here and spend more time with me, pretending every second in my presence isn’t like navigating a swarm of bees? I’m already tired of it. I don’t want you here.”
What he wanted was to forget about their past—and that couldn’t happen if he had to look at her and see pain on her face. He’d been in some truly terrible places during his service, so he knew what pain looked like in all forms. Physical pain he could deal with, but this sort of quiet, chronic emotional suffering ate at him. And on her it was worse. It made him want to drag her to the airport and shove her onto a plane himself...make her go where everything wasn’t so loaded. Somewhere he wasn’t.
She didn’t move.
He gave her a few seconds and then his control snapped, and he prowled forward to stand over her chair. Their patient was oblivious still, from the lingering effects of general anesthesia, and would not witness him about to yank Erianthe out of the seat and march her to the door.
“Swarm of bees?” she said finally, shaking her head, her cheeks growing pink as her gaze swiveled up to him. A second of eye contact was all it took. “That beard must have made you poetic, Ares.”
Then, jumping to her feet, she rounded on him and jabbed a finger into his chest, her cheeks blazing now.
“I’d have to be in a coma to miss how badly you want me gone—which is fine, as I’m not all that eager to spend time with you either. I’m leaving the clinic, but I’m done running from my home.”
As soon as the words flew out his hand twitched, and it was only at the last second that he shut down the urge to grab her before she got away. As much as he wanted her gone, he also wanted to sort things out with her. It was a ridiculous and undoubtedly destructive instinct.
He could do nothing about the heat rolling over his face. “I never asked you to do that.” He’d never asked her for anything—not even explanations. And he had no idea if he should...if she’d want him to. Directly acknowledging the past would probably make this tension between them that much worse.
She fumbled the paper with his number from her pocket, flipped it and scribbled a number on the other side, then handed it back to him. “No, you were just part of what made it uninhabitable for me.”
He snatched the paper, half tearing it with the rough handling. “You were the one who never wanted to see me again. It was your decision to stay gone—just as it was mine to stay gone too. Until now.”
“That’s right. I make my own decisions now.”
“Make them at Chris’s house,” he muttered, and stepped purposefully back from her. “And don’t come back here before tomorrow unless I call you.”
“Have you been listening at all? I told you I make my own decisions, Dr. Xenakis. You have reached your lifetime limit of making one for me. I’m leaving now because I’m tired, and looking at you makes me want to scream. How about you take some time to look for a drop of civility before tomorrow? The others aren’t stupid. The only reason they haven’t figured anything out is because they haven’t seen us together yet.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked out.
That was the first thing she’d said that he couldn’t argue with. They really had to get it together. But not tonight.
He sat down and listened for the door to swing closed behind her. A week hadn’t been long enough to prepare to see her again. Maybe he should’ve tried to call her before she arrived, to see if they could find some neutral ground.
The shock of it was that he’d spent a decade picturing the same girl he’d known. She’d stopped aging in his mind—which was right in line with how old he felt when he thought of her. Still eighteen...still stupid. Still desperate for a solution that would work out.
Happiness hadn’t even been on his radar as something that could be possible long-term—he’d learned from his parents’ string of broken nuptials how infrequently marriage led to happiness. But safety? That might have been possible. Temporary happiness. Until he’d botched everything up with her and made her leave, with their child, before he could screw them up with his own ineptness when it came to family. That was right where Dimitri Nikolaides had struck too—in his weakest spot.
It hadn’t worked out between them a decade ago, and now that girl was gone forever. She’d been the queen of mascara and makeup, which had made her look older and harder. Using eyeliner he’d seen her melt with a cigarette lighter before applying it, just so she could get the absolute blackest smudge possible. The reddest lipstick. The shortest skirts. Whatever would annoy her parents the most.
Brazen. Fearless. Strong.
Now she was fresh-faced, and somehow she looked younger to his eyes. Anytime her gaze fell on him her dark eyes were a string of long, empty nights and full of something even darker. Disappointment. Anger. Hatred...
Something bruised and broken dimmed the sparkle in those midnight eyes. How other people wouldn’t see it, he couldn’t imagine. Anyone with vision and human emotion would see right through her.
He checked Jacinda’s vitals, then the baby’s, and sat down.
If the three weeks he’d planned on staying was too long—and it was, even though the first week had already flown by—the three months he’d actually agreed to when Theo had called him was dramatically beyond the limits of what he was willing to subject himself or her to.
The second he’d seen Erianthe again—when no one had thought to warn him she’d arrived and was treating a patient—he’d seen her face and had only been able to imagine how he’d looked. God help them both if he’d looked half as distraught as she had.
When Theo had called him home, the need to be there for the friends he considered his family had made him agree to the three months requested of him.
Then his survival instincts had kicked in when he’d spoken with his boss. When he’d been asked when they could call him for his next assignment, he’d said three weeks. He’d even heard the word leave his mouth, known it was wrong and hadn’t corrected it. The word choice had been an accident, but letting it stand had been a conscious decision.
Three weeks, and now he had to keep it together only until the final two were finished, then find a way to bow out quietly when his office called him for reassignment.
A lot could go wrong in two weeks.
The door opened behind him.
Dammit, Erianthe.
He surged to his feet and spun around, readying himself for another argument, but instead saw Deakin standing there, his brows halfway up his forehead.
“Do you greet everyone that way, or did I do something?”
“I thought you were Erianthe,” Ares muttered, sitting back down. “I made her leave to get some sleep. She wasn’t best pleased with me.”
Back when they’d been together, hiding their relationship, pretending to pick at one another had actually been fun. Now lying to the men he considered his brothers stood out as the lesser of two evils. Hiding the ugly truth from people he loved was better than being the one who delivered the information that would burn everything down.
No sooner had the fire reference occurred to him than his conscience pinged as he recalled Deakin’s extensive burns; he must be getting callous to forget that about his friend.
“No one ever riled Erianthe like you could. Just like old times.”
Deakin rounded his chair to head for the patient monitors, doing what they all did with every patient—checking in. Ares took no offense and, considering his preoccupation, was even glad for Deakin’s diligence.
“She’s never been one to take orders easily. But she must’ve been tired, because she got a ride with Theo a few minutes ago. Either that or she just really wanted to get away from you. How did you make her leave?”
“I told her I didn’t want her here,” Ares answered. He could be truthful about that at least. It fit their pattern.
“Harsh.” Deakin’s one-word pronouncement came with a frown.
“I wanted to sleep for a year at the end of my residency, but she arrived in a crisis and was immediately drawn into emergency surgery.”
Ares listed what he knew, leaning back, trying to will the tension from his frame.
“She needed to go and rest, and making her mad was the fastest way to assure she went.”
“So it was for her own good?”
And his.
“Is there something you want to say, man?” he asked Deakin directly.
“Just trying to figure you out.”
“She’ll thank me tomorrow.”
They both knew that was a lie, and Deakin’s arched brow called him on it, but Ares ignored it.
“You’re grouchy as hell.” Deakin printed a short record of the EKG, dated it and went to slip it into the chart. “You sure you don’t want someone else staying with the patient?”
Not sure. The only thing he was sure of was that he needed to get off the island—even if it meant going to the tiny adjacent island where his family’s estate was. But that baby—let alone the mother—deserved his diligence. And it would be one less thing to quarrel about with Erianthe tomorrow if he stayed.
“I’m sure.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, sloughing off some of his weariness but none of the lingering agitation. “This is a walk in the park after the Sudan.”
“Unconvincing...” Deakin said.
He needed to work on his poker face as badly as Erianthe did. “Tough. I don’t need you to be convi—”
Jacinda stirred, shutting down the grumbling between them. Ares stood over her, took her hand and said her name. She woke and he repeated what Erianthe had told her—anesthesia had amnesiac qualities.
“The surgery went very well. You’re doing great. Both of you did really well.”
“The baby’s okay?” she asked, her words still a little slurred, but her confusion might be the first thing not to annoy him today.
“The baby is fine. I’m staying with you to keep an eye on you, but all I expect to see is you sleeping peacefully. Okay?”
She nodded, squeezed his hand and then was already drifting back off.
“Don’t stay up all night,” Deakin said more quietly at his side, reminding him of their previous conversation, “Get her past recovery from the anesthesia, then get some rest yourself. We’ve got a breakfast meeting at Stavros’s Taverna. That’s what I actually came here to tell you.”
“Breakfast meeting? Why?”
“Because for some reason we want to see you there with the rest of us. Full group.”
“With girlfriends?”
“No. Just us.”
Staying up all night with a pregnant postsurgical patient would be a perfectly acceptable reason to skip that land mine. He’d met with all the guys since his return, but doing it again with Erianthe there... Bad idea—at least before they’d had a chance to work out how to be normal around one another. In fact, it was the worst idea he’d heard all day.
He couldn’t even imagine them pretending to snipe at one another and squabble, in order to keep anyone from suspecting they had genuine painful issues and memories to be raw about.
“I’ll try to make it, but I’m not making any promises.”
“Barring emergencies, you’ll be there.” Deakin gave his head a small, affectionate shove from behind as he passed on the way for the door. “You should also think about shaving, if you don’t want all of us thinking you’re suffering from exhaustion. Logic says that anyone with even a small amount of extra energy would have tamed that thing as soon as they could. And it will have to be gone by the time the auction comes around or we’ll be paying someone to take you.”
“Just because you and Theo got out of being auctioned off to bored socialites, it doesn’t mean Chris and I have to carry your weight.”
There was a lot Ares would do for the clinic and Mythelios after the quake, but there had to be a line drawn somewhere. Perhaps he could buy himself...
Deakin’s soft laughter creaked through the closing door, and he added something rude about posing for the next calendar.
That bullet he had dodged, by being so far removed from civilization they hadn’t been able to find a photographer to come meet him. And he’d made a bit more of a donation to the clinic to make up for it. But the charity bachelor auction was still a few weeks away.
He’d be gone by then, if anything in the universe could go in his favor where Erianthe was concerned.
