Читать книгу Her Motherhood Wish - Anne Fraser - Страница 8

CHAPTER ONE

My darling Josh,

I am writing this to you, knowing it may be years before you read it. If you are reading this, it means I have lost you.

And if I lost you you’re probably not even called Josh now. But whatever name your father has chosen to give you, I hope you have had a wonderful life so far. I know your father loves you, otherwise he wouldn’t have fought so hard to keep you.

I love you too. More than I can say. I loved you before you were even growing inside me and as you grew I loved you more. I still love you—I hope you have never doubted that.

I wonder what kind of man you turned out to be. I wonder what your childhood was like. It tears me apart thinking of you growing up without me. I almost can’t bear to imagine it and I want you to know that I tried to do everything in my power to keep you.

I enclose the newspaper cuttings from the time I was pregnant with you. It may help you understand what happened and why I had to give you up.

You will always be in my prayers. If you ever want to find me, I’ll be waiting. If you don’t, I’ll understand that too. All I want, my darling child, is for you to be happy.

Your birth mother,

Olivia Simpson

Four months earlier

DAVID leaned against the pillar, nursing his coffee and making the most of the last few minutes he had before he was due in Theatre. The early morning sun warmed his skin, promising another glorious day in San Francisco.

Shortly he’d be putting in a shunt for a patient with hydrocephalus. He’d done several like it before and all the patients had recovered well. He hoped, however, that the theatre staff here would be as good as the ones in his last hospital in New York. Theatre staff became teams, knowing instinctively after a while what the surgeon needed and when. No doubt it would take time before he and his new team meshed, and in the meantime he—and they—would have to be patient.

He watched idly as a Volkswagen Beetle pulled into the car park with its roof down.

The woman at the wheel immediately caught his attention. In a city of beautiful women she was still stunning. She had thick blonde hair that was held back from her face with a scarf. Her eyes were hidden by oversized sunglasses, but her full, wide mouth was turned up at the corners as if she were enjoying some private joke.

The car came to a stop a few yards away from where he was standing and as he swallowed the last of his coffee, the driver’s door opened and he caught a glimpse of slim, tanned legs peeking out from a yellow sundress. As the woman reached over to pick something up from the passenger seat, her dress inched tantalisingly up her thigh.

She pushed her car door open further with her foot and eased her way out of the car, clutching a heavy armload of files to her chest as she did so.

The yellow dress and her blonde hair made him think bizarrely of a sunbeam. He should really go and help her, but he was enjoying himself too much.

She kicked the car door closed, and as she did so, the files slid to the ground, where they fanned out in an untidy heap. As she swore under her breath, David threw his paper coffee cup in the bin and pushed himself away from the wall.

She was crouching by the files, her canary-yellow dress once more riding up to reveal the best legs David had seen in a while.

‘Need some help, ma’am?’ he drawled, and without waiting for a reply hunkered down beside her and reached for the papers.

‘Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind,’ she said in an English accent. She lifted her sunglasses and pushed them on top of her head. Bright green eyes caught his for a second and something shifted behind his ribs. She might have the best pair of pins he’d seen in a while, but those eyes. Man, a guy could lose himself there for a while. The rest of her wasn’t too bad either. Her nose was pert, a little too turned up for some tastes perhaps, but he thought it made her look cute. Without that nose her face would have been too perfect, too severe almost. He’d dated enough perfect-looking women and after a while they began to merge into one. The way this woman looked … well, she wasn’t so easily forgettable.

He reached for a book that had slithered under her car. He read the title as he passed it to her. Mmm … interesting reading. Not just beautiful, but bright. Unless of course the book was for someone else. That was okay too. Brains were a plus, but not essential.

Instinctively he glanced at her hands. No ring. That was good. He had a date for tonight, but he could easily cancel. Plead pressure of work or something. Now he needed a name and a number to add to his growing collection.

‘I’m Dr Stuart,’ he said easily. ‘One of the neurosurgeons.’ That, he found, never failed to impress.

Didn’t seem to be working with this one, however. She raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

‘Indeed?’ She smiled showing even white teeth. ‘I would offer to shake your hand but …’ she indicated the files in her arms ‘… I don’t fancy having to pick them all up again.’

He, on the other hand, would be quite happy to spend another few minutes looking into those green eyes. Later. There would definitely be later. Would she be a dinner-and-a-show girl, or an outdoorsy one? He was looking forward to finding out.

He placed a hand under her elbow to help her up to her feet.

He was checking out the rest of her and just about to move on to stage two when he noticed something that sent a wave of regret from his libido to his brain. She was pregnant. No doubt about it. The way her yellow dress clung to her slim frame emphasised the swell of her belly. Around sixteen weeks, he guessed. And just when it was going so well.

Her eyes held his and the corners creased with amusement as she seemed to notice his reaction.

‘Thank you, Dr Stuart.’ Her smile was wide and mischievous.

‘You’re welcome.’ Damn. His timing was off on this one. His mind shifted away. There was no reason to cancel Melissa after all, and if her dark hair and liquid eyes seemed less appealing now, it was only because this buttercup-yellow woman had made him think of sunshine rather than a cool winter evening.

His pager bleeped insistently. That would be the theatre nurse letting him know that his patient was on his way. His thoughts moved away from the buttercup woman and towards the theatre. Images of the structures of the brain were forming in his head, as they always did just before he operated. He had approximately ten minutes to get changed and into Theatre.

He smiled in the direction of buttercup woman.

‘Got to go and save a life. See you around,’ he said, and spun on his heel. Two seconds later he’d forgotten all about her.

Olivia pushed her way through the double doors and into the emergency room, still grinning. What an idiot Dr Stuart was. Did he honestly use that line? I’m a neurosurgeon and I save lives! Good grief. And did women actually fall for it? Admittedly, he was gorgeous, with his wide, sexy smile and platinum eyes. His physique wasn’t too bad either. Even under his scrubs she could discern the lines of his muscular legs and broad shoulders. Clearly he was a man who worked out.

As usual, ER was already going like a fair. Most of the chairs in the waiting room were occupied. Two gurneys were lined up in the corridor, with patients waiting to be taken to the wards, and in one of the exam rooms she saw several shadowed figures through the semi-opaque glass as her colleagues from the night shift worked over a patient.

Kelly, the chief ER nurse, barely glanced at her as Olivia placed the folders down on the reception desk.

Olivia knew Kelly didn’t mean it. The ER nurse had worked in the department for years, and despite her claims that she would sail off into the sunset in a heartbeat if only she would win the lottery, everyone knew she was lying through her teeth. The department without Kelly was as unthinkable as Kelly without the department. The staff often joked that Kelly must live in the hospital as she always seemed to be there when they arrived, and was there again when they came back the next morning.

This time Kelly did raise her head. ‘The usual mix—three suspected fractures, one MI, half a dozen with vague symptoms that have to be investigated, and an elderly lady they’re working on in exam room one.’ She pushed a carton of sugary doughnuts towards Olivia. ‘Help yourself. You’re going to need at least five to get through the day.’

Olivia glanced longingly at the carton. Doughnuts were her favourite. At one time she had survived on them, washing them down with strong black coffee. But these days she feasted on fruit and oats and refused to let anything without a vitamin past her lips.

She shook her head and regretfully pushed the box back across the counter well away from temptation. ‘No, thanks. Proper food is all I’m eating these days.’

‘And how is that working out for you?’ Kelly said, with a sarcastic lift of her eyebrow. ‘You disappoint me, Dr Simpson. I thought I had found an ally in this city where no one eats real food, and now I find you have gone over to the other side!’ She smiled. ‘I have to say, for someone who eats nothing but rabbit food, you are looking good, girl. And how is that baby doing?’

Kelly was one of the few people who knew the whole story behind Olivia’s pregnancy. The others speculated, Olivia knew, and that was hardly surprising. Since Richard had died, she hadn’t dated anyone, to their knowledge. Yet here she was, pregnant. Their curiosity was natural, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to go into long, elaborate explanations. Her pregnancy was her business.

She patted her stomach protectively. She had waited a long time for this baby. All she wanted to do was enjoy every moment of being pregnant. She only wished Richard was still alive to enjoy it with her.

Her heart still ached when she thought of Richard, but somewhere over the last couple of years the intense, breath-robbing pain had eased. It had been three years since he’d died and slowly she’d come to accept that it was time to start a new chapter in her life. She’d promised Richard, after all.

Unexpectedly, an image of the man she’d met in the car park flashed into her head. Despite his bad taste in chat-up lines, he really was a hunk—if you liked that sort of casual look. He’d been unshaven—not totally professional for a surgeon—but she only had to think of his grin and her heart turned over.

She pushed the image away. Men were still off the agenda. Typical, though. The first time she had found a man that had made her pulse bounce, he was an idiot. Not that what she thought made the slightest difference, given her condition. Nevertheless, she was curious.

‘I met someone in the car park,’ she said casually as Kelly shoved a herbal tea in her direction. ‘Dr Stuart, I think he said his name was. I haven’t seen him about. Is he new?’

Kelly eyed her with amused exasperation. ‘Not you too! What planet have you been on? The nurses and female doctors have been talking about nothing else lately. Dr Stuart has joined us from New York. Started last week.’ Kelly always knew everything about the hospital. She made it her business to know. ‘He was in this morning when we admitted a patient with a head injury. I’d almost swear the nurses arranged it so they could get him down here for a consult!’ Kelly’s eyes were twinkling as she lifted an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me he’s managed to capture the cool Dr Simpson’s attention? That would be a first.’

Olivia moved across to the board keeping her back towards Kelly so she wouldn’t see that her face was hot. ‘Don’t be silly, Kelly. I’m hardly in the market for a man.’

‘Just as well,’ Kelly replied. ‘In the short time he’s been at the hospital he’s taken two of the staff out on dates. The man is a mass of walking pheromones. Let’s hope he’s as good a surgeon as he is at making pulses rise.’

Olivia felt curiously disappointed. So the way he’d looked at her, as if she were the only woman in the world, was all an act. But why should it matter? As she’d told Kelly, she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She had more than enough to be getting on with.

The phone that linked them to the emergency services rang and Olivia’s attention focussed on Kelly.

‘We’ll expect you,’ Kelly said, replacing the phone after listening for a few moments. She stood and immediately was all business. ‘Male. Forty. Suspected stroke. ETA ten minutes. Let’s get to work.’

Although Brad Schwimmer was displaying the signs of someone who had some sort of cerebral event, Olivia wasn’t sure what it was. His speech was unintelligible and he was disoriented, but Olivia didn’t believe he’d had a stroke.

His wife, a distraught woman in her early thirties called Sally, watched anxiously as the nurses cut away her husband’s clothes and attached him to the monitors.

‘I did the school run. I was away longer than usual—for over an hour. I met a friend I hadn’t seen for a while and we chatted. When I got back I thought he’d gone to work, but then I went into the kitchen and he was just lying there.’

‘BP one hundred and two over fifty-six, pulse rapid and weak,’ one of the nurses called out.

‘How was he this morning?’ Olivia asked. ‘Was he complaining of anything? A headache? Feeling dizzy? Sick?’

‘No, he’d just come back from his run before I left. He goes every morning before work—when he’s at home, that is.’

‘Does he travel much?’ ‘He’s a sales executive. He travels out of the country for a few days most weeks. Is he going to be all right? Please! You have to help him!’

‘We’ll do everything we can, I promise. But first we’re going to have to do a few tests to find out what exactly we’re dealing with. Would you like to wait in the family room?’

‘I want to stay with him. Please let me. I promise I won’t get in your way.’

‘Okay, Sally. He’ll probably find it reassuring to have you here. Talk to him. It’s possible that he can still hear what we’re saying even though he’s not responding. When was he last away?’

‘He just came back from Thailand yesterday.’

Thailand. Recent foreign travel added a long list of possible diagnoses they had to rule out. Although rare, Japanese encephalitis was one possibility.

‘Was he vaccinated for encephalitis? And did he take prophylaxis for malaria before he left?’ she asked. Cerebral malaria was something else she should exclude.

‘He always takes the meds he’s supposed to. He knows the risks if he doesn’t. He’s very particular about his health.’

‘Could we get a consult from Infectious Diseases?’ Olivia asked. Something wasn’t adding up. ‘In the meantime, let’s get a CT scan of his head and draw blood for a full infection screen, including malaria. Keep him on twenty-eight per cent oxygen.’

‘Dr Simpson?’ One of the interns popped her head through the door. ‘Dr Scutari is asking for help in room two if you’re free?’

Olivia peeled off her gloves and apron and chucked them in the bin. ‘I’m on my way.’ She turned to the nurses. ‘I’ll be next door. Call me if there is any change, or when the attending from Infectious Diseases gets here.’

This was typical of the ER on a weekday morning. Often it was busy and there was no predicting what they’d get in. It was what she loved about working here. Not everyone enjoyed the high-octane atmosphere, but most of them who worked in the department loved the buzz.

She helped the intern deal with his patient, a straightforward MI, then returned to Resus and was surprised to find Dr Stuart bending over her patient. However, if she was surprised to see him, he looked floored to see her.

‘You’re a doctor! Why didn’t you say?’ he said, glancing up at her.

Because you didn’t give me the chance. Because once you saw I was pregnant, I might as well have been invisible. Of course none of that could be said out loud but it didn’t mean she wasn’t enjoying his discomfort. That would teach him to go around introducing himself as a neurosurgeon to strange women.

‘I’m Dr Olivia Simpson. ER resident.’ She smiled briefly in his direction. In the time she’d been away, dealing with the other patient, Brad had lost some of his pallor. However, there was no improvement in his conscious level. ‘I didn’t ask for a neuro consult.’ She raised her voice. ‘Do we have Brad’s CT scan?’

‘I have it here.’ Candice, one of the ER nurses, flicked on a screen.

‘Besides, aren’t you supposed to be in Theatre—saving lives?’ Olivia couldn’t resist adding, sotto voce, as he stepped alongside her to study the scan.

He didn’t even look mildly embarrassed. ‘I was. Job done. I was at a loose end so I thought I’d come down to the ER to see if you had anything for me. Failing that, I hoped to scrounge a cup of coffee.’

Job done? She couldn’t have been in the department more than twenty minutes before her patient had arrived. Take another twenty-five when she’d been examining Brad and helping Dr Scutari—he was still done pretty quickly. What sort of neurological procedure took so little time? She hoped to hell Dr Stuart knew what he was doing.

‘Now you’re here, what do you think?’ She gestured to the screen.

‘I’m pretty sure he has an infarct of the right cerebellum,’ he said after only a few moments. He pointed to the area of the brain he was talking about. ‘But we need to find out what caused it. I’m guessing a clot. We should let the radiologists do an angiogram. If there is a clot they can be pretty good at aspirating it.’

Dr Stuart turned to Sally, who had been listening to the exchange with frightened, uncomprehending eyes.

‘We think that your husband might have a blood clot blocking an artery inside his brain. That’s what is making him so unresponsive. There is a procedure that can help. The radiologists put a catheter, a fine tube, into the artery in his groin and locate the blockage. If there is a clot present, they’ll try to suck it out.’

‘But …’ Olivia shot Dr Stuart a warning look ‘… you should be aware that the procedure carries some risks.’

‘What kind of risks?’ Sally’s voice rose to a squeak.

‘It’s possible that the procedure could well make whatever is wrong with your husband worse.’

‘On the other hand, if he doesn’t have it, he may not improve from where he is.’ Dr Stuart interrupted.

Typical of a surgeon, Olivia seethed. Any chance to intervene and they always took it over the more conservative approaches. She kept her voice level and matter-of-fact. ‘If Brad has had a stroke then he might well improve over the coming months.’

‘That’s true,’ David said easily. ‘But until we do the angiogram we won’t know for certain. Here’s what I suggest we do. We get him up to the MRI suite, ask the radiologists to take a look, and make a decision from there. How does that sound, Dr Simpson?’

It was, Olivia had to admit, a sensible approach. There was no point at this stage in giving the wife options and possibly scaring her further until they knew what the radiologists had to say.

‘Why don’t you come up and, if my diagnosis proves correct, watch the procedure?’ Dr Stuart said to Olivia. ‘You’ll find it interesting. The radiologists can do some pretty amazing stuff.’

‘Let me check what Kelly has waiting first, but if they can spare me, yes, I’d like to watch.’

Olivia took Sally by the hand and spoke soothingly to her. ‘Try not to worry too much until we hear what the radiologists have to say. Then we can decide how to proceed from there.’

Candice looked across at them. She was positively preening under the neurosurgeon’s gaze. ‘I’ll check that they’re free upstairs, shall I?’

David flashed her a grin and Candice blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘That would be helpful,’ he said.

Sally looked relieved that she didn’t have to make a decision just yet. Olivia gave her shoulder one final squeeze and went in search of Kelly. She had only got a few steps when she heard Dr Stuart’s voice coming from behind her.

‘Good thing I was in the department.’

She whirled around. ‘I’d have seen it eventually, Dr Stuart.’

‘It’s David.’ He cocked his head to the side and regarded her from his silvery eyes. ‘But you might have wasted time getting the Infectious Disease consult. You can cancel them.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait?’

‘Absolutely not. I’m almost certain. Brad needs the blockage cleared—either an angioplasty or clot aspiration—and the sooner the better. I’m the attending, so the decision is mine.’

Olivia’s pulse was racing and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the way his grey-blue eyes locked onto hers. She shook her head slightly in an attempt to regain her focus. He was right. This was his area of expertise. She was letting her peculiar reaction to him make her flustered, behave out of character and question his judgement.

‘I’m happy to wait to see what the radiologists have to say,’ David continued mildly, ‘but I’m convinced they’ll confirm my diagnosis. We can discuss it before speaking to his wife about his treatment options. Okay?’

Olivia forced a smile. ‘Fine by me.’

She turned to the head ER nurse, who had been watching the exchange with obvious amusement. ‘Kelly, is there anything you need me for in the next hour or so?’

‘If there is, I’ll page you. There are other doctors on duty, you know.’ It was a barbed reference to the fact that Olivia liked to be involved in as many cases as she could. Apart from Kelly, Olivia was often first in and last out. As chief resident, the work of the interns was her overall responsibility—a responsibility she took very seriously indeed. Just because she was going on maternity leave in a few months was no reason to let her standards slip.

David reached across Olivia and swooped down on the box of doughnuts. ‘Worth coming down here just for this,’ he said as he took a bite out of one.

Olivia glanced at her watch. ‘We don’t have time.’ She reached across and removed the remains of the doughnut from his hand and chucked it in the bin. David stared. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned.

Kelly looked at Olivia and then at David. ‘You’re causing a bit of a ruckus in my department, young man. I just hope you’re as good a surgeon as everyone says you are.’

Upstairs in Radiology, Olivia watched as they injected dye through the arterial catheter in Brad’s groin. David murmured something to the radiologist when almost immediately a blocked vessel showed up on the screen. ‘There’s our culprit. The vessel wall looks quite normal so it must be blocked by a fresh blood clot,’ David said. He turned to Olivia. ‘There’s no time to talk to his wife—we have to remove it.’

The radiologist inserted a suction adapter onto the groin catheter and Olivia held her breath as he carefully sucked out the clot. Within minutes Brad’s eyes opened briefly to the call of his name and he appeared to look at them purposefully.

David lifted his head and grinned at her. ‘Pretty impressive, huh?’

Olivia nodded. It was a procedure she hadn’t witnessed before. And as David had said, it was pretty dramatic.

‘I’ll let his wife know he’s regained consciousness,’ she said.

She left the X-ray suite and hurried back downstairs, Kelly’s words echoing in her mind. David might be as good a surgeon as everyone said he was. Pity about the rest.

Olivia tossed her car keys onto the table by the door before going into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water. The remainder of her shift in the ER had been hectic. Not long after she’d come back down from Radiology a multiple RTA had come in. It had been an hour after her shift was due to finish when they’d finally sorted everyone out and either sent them home or to the OR. Thankfully all the casualties had survived.

She tipped some dog food into Bouncer’s bowl, which he devoured in three quick mouthfuls. When he looked up at her hopefully she shook her head.

‘No, you know you’ll get fat, Bouncer. I’m doing this for your own good. I’ll take you for a walk in a moment.’ Bouncer, her three-year-old Labrador, attended doggy day care whenever Olivia was on duty. It meant a detour on the way to and from the hospital, but he was worth it. She shouldn’t really have a dog at all, she knew that, not with the hours she worked, but he was company for her and taking him for long walks kept her fit.

Taking her water through to the sitting room, she eased off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet. Bouncer plonked himself next to her and laid his head on her knee, nudging her arm with his wet nose.

‘Okay, bossy boots, I get the message. You want your head scratched.’ Rubbing Bouncer’s golden fur, she clicked on the TV remote. Not that she really wanted to watch the news or follow some trashy reality show, it was more to fill the house with noise. When she and Richard had first viewed the house in Sea Cliff, they’d both known instantly it was the perfect forever home for them. It had spectacular views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific, and with its six bedrooms and three reception rooms had been more than large enough to entertain Richard’s business colleagues and clients. Most importantly, though, it was spacious enough to be filled with the children they had both longed to have together.

Now, without him in it, it just felt big and cold and empty. She’d considered selling it several times since Richard had died, but at first she hadn’t wanted to leave the house that still smelled of him, still held his memory in every room—especially the uncompleted nursery. Then, when the shadow of grief had lifted and she’d returned to work, she’d simply been too busy. Perhaps now was the right time to find a new home for her and the baby? Somewhere cosy with a smaller, more manageable garden and a playroom? Of course she would always miss Richard, and she would have his baby to remember him by, but the life they had shared was in the past. Hadn’t she promised herself a new start? Wasn’t having this baby the beginning of that? But with work and her pregnancy it was unlikely she’d get around to finding somewhere else to live now.

It wasn’t as if money was a problem. Richard had left her so well off that she’d never have to work again if she didn’t want to. But she did want to work. It was what kept her sane. She’d have to stop, of course, for a while at least, when this baby came along, but eventually she’d go back. Being single, she’d have to employ a nanny but, assuming she found the right person, that would be okay. She’d already asked an agency to start looking.

She placed a hand over her swelling stomach. ‘Not too long now, baby,’ she whispered. She should be relishing this brief interlude of peace and quiet, because when the baby came there wouldn’t be much of it. Not that she didn’t yearn to hold her child. Even another twenty-two weeks seemed an eternity.

She rested her head on the back of the couch and unexpectedly an image of David filled her mind. What was it about him that made her react the way she did? She’d never been attracted to his type before. The type that thought all he had to do was smile and a woman would melt.

She grimaced. To be honest, she had melted. Just a little bit. She’d liked the frank and blatant approval in his eyes. It had made her tingle, and that had made her feel good. More than good—it had made her feel alive. What woman wouldn’t feel flattered being admired by such a devastatingly attractive man? Until he’d seen her bump, of course. Then she had disappeared so far off his radar she might as well have been in outer space. Olivia tutted. Dr David Stuart might be gorgeous but he wasn’t for her. Especially now. All her love, affection and attention were going to be devoted to the child growing inside her—Richard’s child and hers. All things considered, David would have to remain where he belonged. In the realms of fantasy.

Bouncer was snoring contentedly so Olivia eased herself off the couch, careful not to disturb him. She crossed over to the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The lights of the Golden Gate Bridge twinkled in the night sky and a gentle breeze carried the sounds of distant traffic. Strange how this view always seemed to soothe her and fill her with renewed energy and hope. Perhaps it was the reminder that life went on, no matter how much you wanted time to stand still. And, oh, my God, Richard, I wanted time to stop before you died. But it hadn’t and she’d had to come to terms with life without him. She wrapped her arms around herself. In a few months she would have their baby and at least a part of Richard would live on.