Читать книгу The Doctors' Baby - Marion Lennox, Marion Lennox - Страница 7

DR. EMILY MAINWARING had been awake all night, delivering twins. She was probably asleep and dreaming, but right in her waiting room was…

Her ideal man!

But… This was Bay Beach. She was in the middle of morning surgery, and staring was hardly professional. Instant marriage wasn’t on the cards either. So somehow she forced herself back to being a twenty-nine-year-old country doctor instead of a lovesick teenager staring at a total stranger.

‘Mrs Robin?’

The elderly Mrs Robin rose with relief. She’d been waiting far too long. Every other patient looked at her with envy, and the stranger looked up as well.

Whew! He was even more good-looking eye to eye, and when their gazes locked…

For a moment, Em allowed herself to keep looking. Doctor assessing potential patient.

Ha! There was nothing professional in the way she was looking at this man.

For a start, he was large, in a strong-boned, muscular, six-feet-of-virile-male sort of way. Then he had the most gorgeous, burnt-red hair, crinkling into curls that were a bit unruly, and made you just want to run your fingers…

‘That’s enough of that! Concentrate on work!’ she told herself sharply. The last thing she needed this morning was distraction, and if a pair of twinkling green eyes had the capacity to knock her sideways then maybe she was even more tired than she’d thought.

‘I’m very sorry,’ she told the rest of the waiting room, the stranger included. ‘But I’ve had a couple of emergencies. I’m running almost an hour late. If anyone would like to sit on the beach and come back in a while…’

It wasn’t likely. These people were farmers or fishermen, and a visit to the doctor was a social occasion. They’d sit placidly enough, outwardly reading magazines but in reality soaking up every piece of gossip they could get.

Such as who the redhead was.

And she might have known they’d find out.

‘He’s Anna Lunn’s big brother,’ Mrs Robin told her before she even started on her litany of ills. ‘He’s three years older than Anna, and his name’s Jonas. Ooh, isn’t he lovely? When he came in with Anna, I thought maybe she had a new fella, and that wouldn’t hurt at all since that no-good Kevin walked out. But if this can’t be her new man, then it’s good that she has a brother kind enough to bring her to the doctor’s, don’t you think?’

Yes. It was. Anna Lunn was barely thirty, yet already weighed down with poverty and kids. But why…Em glanced down her list and saw the appointment, and she couldn’t suppress her misgivings.

Anna had made a special appointment and she’d brought her brother along for support. Em just knew this wasn’t going to be a five-minute consultation for a pap smear.

But there was little point in worrying about it now. With an inward sigh she mentally added another half-hour to her day and turned her attention to Mrs Robin’s blood pressure.

Charlie Henderson collapsed before she’d finished. Booked in for his regular coronary check, the fisherman was so old that he looked shrivelled and preserved for ever. He’d tucked himself into a corner of the waiting room and had been contentedly observing the kids and chaos and general confusion. Now, just as Em started writing Mrs Robins’s prescription, his eyes rolled in his head, he crumpled and slid soundlessly onto the floor.

‘Em!’ Her receptionist was banging on Em’s door before he hit the carpet, and Em was by his side almost as fast.

The old man was deathly white, cold and clammy. Em did a fast check of his airway and found no obstruction.

And she found no pulse.

‘Get the crash cart,’ she snapped at Amy. She gave Charlie four deep breaths and ripped his shirt wide to bare his chest. There was no time for niceties here. and there was no time to move him. This looked like total cardiac arrest.

And Amy wasn’t her usual receptionist. Lou was off sick. Amy was standing in and, at eighteen, she had no medical training at all.

Em was on her own.

She could only try, and she must try now. To attempt resuscitation with all these people watching was dreadful, but there was no time for anything else.

‘Could you clear the room?’ she demanded between breaths, not looking up from what she was doing, and not even hopeful that anybody would listen. She couldn’t care. She was breathing for her old friend, pumping down on his chest in an attempt at cardiopulmonary resuscitation as she waited for the crash cart.

And then, from above…

‘Could you all move outside? Now!’ It was a male voice, backing up her order with harsh authority.

Em blinked, wondering who the voice belonged to. It was rich and deep and seemed accustomed to command, but she was kneeling on the floor beside the old man and her attention was totally with him.

Breathe… Please, Charlie, breathe…

‘As you see, this is an emergency and we need room to work,’ the voice continued. ‘If your need’s not urgent, can you make an appointment later. Otherwise wait outside. Now!’

And then suddenly, magically, Red-Hair was kneeling on the other side of Charlie. The crash cart was beside them and she had someone placing jelly on the paddles as if he’d done it countless times before. As she rolled Charlie onto his back, he helped adjust him—just as if he knew what he was doing.

Who on earth was he?

There was no time to ask. All she could do was move with him, fitting a proper mouthpiece now the trolley was here. Normally she wouldn’t have tried to breathe into a patient without a mouthpiece, but Charlie was special. Charlie was her friend.

Charlie…

She had to stay professional. There was no room for emotion if they were to save the old man’s life. With the mouthpiece fitted, she gave him four more quick breaths, then the deep voice cut in.

‘Move back. Now.’

He shifted away. She did too, and then it was the stranger’s hands that fitted the paddles over Charlie’s bare chest. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she could only be thankful.

Please…

The charge hit and Charlie’s body jerked in convulsion. Nothing. They both stared at the trace. It showed no heart activity at all.

They must keep trying! Em gave him four more deep breaths. Then…

‘Back again.’

The stranger’s hands brought the paddles down once more. A jerk—yet still the trace showed nothing.

She breathed for the old man again. Over and over. Still nothing.

And finally Em sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. ‘Enough,’ she whispered. ‘He’s gone.’

There was absolute silence.

Amy, standing behind them in white-faced horror, drew in her breath and started to cry, her tears streaming silently down her face. She was too young for this, Em thought wearily. And, aged all of twenty-nine, Em felt suddenly far too old. She rose stiffly to her feet and crossed to give her receptionist a hug.

‘Come on, Amy. This is OK. Charlie wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.’

That, at least, was the truth. Charlie lived and breathed for Bay Beach gossip. He was eighty-nine, he’d known he’d had a dicky heart for years, and to go out dramatically in the doctor’s waiting room, rather than by himself at home, was just the sort of ending he’d think fitting.

‘Ring Sarah Bond, Amy,’ Em said wearily, as Amy sniffed and tried to pull herself together. ‘Sarah’s Charlie’s niece. Tell her what’s happened. She won’t be too surprised. And then could you ring the undertaker?’

Finally she took a deep breath and looked up at the man who’d been helping her.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply, and something in her face must have betrayed her exhaustion and emotion because the man swore softly. He crossed the distance dividing them to stand before her, and placed a pair of strong, male hands on her shoulders.

‘Hell. You’re done in.’

‘N-not quite.’

‘You were fond of Charlie?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Everyone’s fond of Charlie. He’s been a Bay Beach fisherman all his life.’ She looked uncertainly down at Charlie’s body. They’d closed his eyes, his body had gone limp and he looked incredibly peaceful. Asleep. This was death as it should be.

She shouldn’t mourn, but… ‘I’ve known him for ever,’ she whispered. ‘He taught me to fish when I was five years old. He taught me to swim and he taught me…so much else. So much about the ocean and about enjoying what I had. So much about life.’ With that, her rigid control broke, and her voice broke with it.

‘You need time to recover.’ He looked outside where there were still half a dozen patients who’d decided they were urgent enough to wait. He could see that as soon as Em had spoken to Charlie’s niece and the undertaker had taken Charlie away, this overworked doctor had yet more work to do. ‘Do you have anyone else to take over?’

That reached her. Em took a deep breath and fought for resumption of normality. ‘No.’

‘Then I will,’ he told her calmly. ‘I’m a surgeon. This sort of medicine may be unfamiliar territory, but I can cope with urgent cases while you get your breath back.’

‘You’re a surgeon?’ Her voice was incredulous. She knew he must have medical training—the full implications just hadn’t sunk home until now. ‘Anna Lunn’s brother is a surgeon?’

Anna didn’t have a cent to her name. This wasn’t making sense.

‘I’m a surgeon all the time,’ he told her. ‘I’m only Anna Lunn’s brother when I’m allowed to be.’ He gave a short, harsh laugh, and then pushed away whatever it was that bothered him. ‘But my problems can wait. I can certainly see your patients and deal with anything urgent. Let’s get Charlie sent off with dignity, and then take time for a cup of coffee. The only thing is…’

‘Yes?’

He hesitated. ‘It’s taken me weeks to bully my sister to come and see you,’ he said, and the reluctance to give her more work was plainly written on his face. ‘We had to leave her children in emergency child care at the Bay Beach Homes while she came to see you. It’s almost been like a military operation to get her here, and if I let her go home now I won’t get her back. Will you see her?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘There’s no “of course” about it,’ he said. ‘If you do, it’s on the condition that I look after your urgent cases after that.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘There is a need.’

He looked at her more closely then, and Em wondered just what he was seeing. She was pale at the best of times, tall, over-thin from skipping too many meals or eating on the run, and her slimness was accentuated by her long dark hair braided down her back.

Normally braiding her hair back from her face suited her, but she was aware that fatigue had created shadows under her brown eyes and made her finely boned face look etched with strain. Her colourful print dress, one of several that she wore almost as her uniform, now only accentuated her pallor.

And, yes, he could see her exhaustion. His next words confirmed it. ‘Don’t you have any help at all?’ he asked explosively, and she spread her hands in a negative.

‘Why the hell not?’ he demanded. ‘Surely Bay Beach is big enough for two doctors—or even three?’

‘I was born here and I love it,’ she said simply. ‘But there are lots of lovely little coastal towns in Australia for doctors to choose from, and most of them aren’t as far from the city as this. Doctors want restaurants and private schools and universities for their children. We’ve been advertising since my last partner left two years ago. We haven’t had a single response.’

‘So you’re it.’

‘I’m it.’

‘Hell.’

‘It’s not so bad.’ She ran a hand over the smooth silkiness of her braid and sighed as she looked down at Charlie. ‘Except sometimes. Except now. I’m so glad you were here—so I know that there was nothing else that could have been done to save my friend.’

‘I can see that.’ He, too, looked down at Charlie’s limp body. ‘Damn.’

‘It was time for him to die,’ she said softly.

‘Like it’s time for you to go to sleep.’

‘Nope.’ Another weary sigh. Then Em pulled herself together, and her usually laughing eyes managed a smile. ‘There’s no rest for the wicked, Dr Lunn,’ she told him. ‘Or should that be Mr Lunn?’

‘Make that Jonas.’

Jonas…

It sounded nice, she thought. Right. ‘OK, Jonas,’ she agreed. The undertaker was pulling up outside. ‘Let’s say our goodbyes to Charlie and then I’ll get on with my morning’s work.’

‘You heard what I said,’ he growled. ‘You see my sister, and then I’ll take over until you’ve had a rest.’

The temptation was almost overwhelming. She had two patients in hospital who she really should be with now. If she left Dr Lunn—Jonas—with the surgery, she could see them, have breakfast-cum-lunch and maybe even have a nap before afternoon clinic.

‘Do it,’ he said, and she could hardly resist. Heavens!

But to hand over her work to a stranger was totally irresponsible.

‘I’m fully qualified,’ he told her, sensing her last qualm. ‘A quick phone call to Sydney Central will confirm it. I promise.’

She believed him and it was good to resist any further. ‘It sounds wonderful,’ she admitted. ‘You’re on. But, first, let’s see your sister.’

‘She won’t tell me what the trouble is, but she’s scared stiff.’

Half an hour later Em was back by her desk. What had happened seemed unreal. But before her sat Anna Lunn, pale-faced and silent. Gripping her hand, as if willing strength into her, Jonas looked almost as grim.

‘I don’t know what’s going on, Dr Mainwaring,’ he told Em, and she cast him a quick glance. He’d turned formal. It was a good idea. This had to be purely professional.

‘Anna doesn’t let me close. She and I went our different ways early, and she’s never let me help her, even though bringing up her kids on her own must be a nightmare. But now… I came down to see her a couple of weeks ago, and something’s scaring her. She won’t tell me what. But I know her well enough to realise it’s something bad. I’ve been badgering her by phone from Sydney ever since. Finally I’ve made her to agree to come and see you.’

‘Anna?’ Em turned her full attention onto the woman before her.

Like her brother, Anna was a vivid redhead, but there the resemblance ended. Younger than her brother, she actually looked much older than him. Her short red curls were a bit uneven, as if they’d been cut at home, her green eyes were shadowed and she seemed…defeated.

In fact, she looked as if the world had dealt her some really hard knocks, and with this one she was about to topple over.

‘Y-yes?’ Her voice was barely a whisper, but Em could hear the fear.

‘Would you like your brother to leave so you can tell me what’s wrong in private?’ Em cast a warning glance at Jonas. Having brought her this far, he must understand he had to be prepared to back off.

But he knew. ‘I’ll go if you like,’ he offered, and half rose, but Anna’s hand came out and caught him. ‘No.’

Jonas sank again. ‘Then tell us what’s wrong, Anna,’ he said softly. ‘We’re with you all the way. Both of us are. But you have to tell us what’s happening.’

Anna took a deep breath. She raised her face to Em’s and her eyes were like those of a rabbit caught in headlights—terrified beyond belief.

‘Tell us, Anna,’ Em said gently, and the girl shuddered.

‘I don’t…I don’t know if I can face it. My kids…’

‘Just tell us.’

‘There’s a lump in my breast. I think I have breast cancer.’

There was, indeed, a lump in Anna’s breast. It was as big as a pea and close to the nipple, and it moved a little as Em gently palpated it.

‘How long have you been able to feel it?’ Em asked, carefully examining the rest of the breast. There was nothing else—just the one tiny, single lump.

‘F-four weeks.’

‘Is that all? That’s great,’ Em said warmly. She had Anna on the examination couch behind the screen. Jonas stayed out of the way, but he was still within earshot. ‘It’s very small and you’ve come early.’

‘Early?’

‘Some women worry about a lump like this for a year or more without having it checked,’ Em told her. ‘You have no idea the kind of trouble that can cause. But you’ve come quickly. And this is small. It’s less than a centimetre across, I’d think,’ she added for the benefit of the listening Jonas.

But Anna was trembling under her hands, afraid to meet her eyes. ‘So it is cancer?’

‘It might well be a small breast cancer,’ Em admitted. There was no use giving false reassurance when the most important thing was to get Anna to agree to have the necessary tests. ‘But there’s also a very good chance it’s just a harmless cyst. Cysts in breasts are common—much more common than cancer—and they feel very similar. It needs a biopsy to tell the difference.’

‘So…’ The girl’s eyes flew to hers, hope flaring. ‘This may well be just a waste of time. If it’s just a cyst, I can go home and forget it.’

‘Yes, but you can’t go home and forget it yet,’ Em told her. ‘Because you may be right in your first guess. Your age means that you’re in a low-risk group for breast cancer, but we have to exclude that possibility.’

‘But I don’t want to know.’ Anna put her hand to her mouth as if to stifle a sob. ‘If it is…cancer…then I want to be as normal as I can for as long as I can. I have three kids. I want to be there for them. Jonas made me come, but if it’s cancer then it’s better not to know.’

‘Well, that’s exactly where you’re wrong.’ Em handed Anna back her blouse—and a tissue—and waited until she was decent. Then she pushed back the screen so Jonas could join in the conversation. ‘It’s far, far better to know.’

‘Why? So you can cut off my breast?’

‘That hardly ever happens any more,’ Jonas growled. Unable to restrain himself, he rose and moved to give his sister a hug. ‘For heaven’s sake…Stoopid. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have eased your fears.’

‘By agreeing I may have cancer?’ She was looking wildly from one to another. She was very close to the edge, Em thought, and knew this visit was the culmination of weeks without sleeping. ‘No one’s easing my fears now.’

‘I can do that,’ Em said gently, but there was a note of iron in her voice. What Anna didn’t need was false sympathy or reassurance. She needed facts. ‘Sit down, Anna.’

And Anna sat, still looking like a hunted animal. She was like a tigress defending her cubs, Em thought, and suddenly realised that the comparison was appropriate. Anna wasn’t scared for herself as much as for the three small children who depended on her.

‘Anna, your brother’s a surgeon,’ she told her, casting a quick glance at Jonas. He could intervene any time he liked, but she sensed he wanted this to come from her. ‘He’ll back up everything I say, but I want you to listen.’

She held up her hand.

‘One, you’ve come very early, and the lump I’m feeling seems very well defined. That means it’s either a nice little cyst, which we can confirm with a biopsy, or, at worst, it’ll be a small cancer that we can remove. Now, I can’t make promises until the tests have been done, but if, as I suspect, it’s confined to the one small area, then there’ll be no question of you losing your breast, even if it is cancer.’

‘But I’d want…’ Anna gasped, then continued. ‘If it’s cancer I’d want it off. All off. The whole breast.’

‘Surgeons don’t remove breasts without very good reason,’ Em told her. ‘Even if it is cancer, with modern surgical techniques there’s usually no need. They’d simply take away the affected part. That means you’d be left with a scar and one breast a little smaller than the other.’

‘And that’s it?’ Anna looked as if she just plain didn’t believe Em. ‘What about chemotherapy?’

‘If it’s as early as I suspect it must be, then you’d undergo a six-week course of radiotherapy just to mop up any stray cells. Then you and the oncologist would decide whether you wanted chemo.’

‘But…’

‘The survival rate for early breast cancer is great,’ Em said firmly. ‘After surgery and radiotherapy it’s well over ninety percent. And it’s not the fearful experience it once was. Honestly, Anna, about the worst side effect of current chemotherapy is fatigue as your body copes with medication, and hair loss. And hair loss is no big deal.’

She grinned. She may as well be honest here. ‘You and your brother are so good-looking that having shiny scalps would only make the pair of you even more attractive. It’d just bring you back to be on a level with the rest of us ordinary mortals.’

‘And I’d shave with you,’ Jonas said promptly, and he finally succeeded in drawing a smile from his sister.

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Watch me!’

Em blinked. The thought of a bald Jonas…

Good grief. Once more, there was a wave of pure fantasy. Jonas bald…

She was right. They’d both be stunningly attractive, no matter what they did to their hair, or…or anything.

But Anna was back on consequences. ‘I don’t want to be bald.’

‘So you never need to be,’ Em told her. ‘The health system in this country makes sure you’ll get a wig if you want one, no matter what your income is, and wigs are great.’ She smiled at the pair of them. The tension was decreasing by the minute. ‘You know June Mathews?’

‘I…yes.’ Everyone knew June. She ran the local minimart. June was a stunning strawberry blonde. Or, to put it more truthfully, she was an interim strawberry blonde. Until she tired of it.

‘June doesn’t dye her hair.’ Em’s smile widened. ‘Whenever June tires of her hairstyle, she just buys a new one.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘I’m not kidding.’ Once more, Em’s voice gentled. ‘She doesn’t mind me telling people who need to know, as long as I ask that you don’t tell anyone else. June suffers from alopecia—hair loss—and she’s been wearing a wig for twenty years.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ This was clearly a side of June that stunned Anna, temporarily diverting her from more serious issues. Which was just what Em wanted.

‘Believe it. And I know there’s nothing June would rather do than help you choose a wig if it ever becomes necessary. She adores wig-buying. She told me once that choosing hair is better fun even than sex!’

Then, as Anna blinked in astonishment, Em pushed home her advantage. She smiled her most reassuring smile. ‘But, Anna, we’re crossing way too many bridges, and we’re crossing them way too fast. As I said, chances are we’re talking about a cyst.’

‘You’ll be fine, Anna,’ Jonas added, and Em heard the catch of emotion in his voice. This was his baby sister after all.

Em looked at Jonas and she realised with a sense of shock that he, too, was asking for reassurance. For facts! As a surgeon, he must know the statistics, but he wanted to hear them out loud.

Cancer was a frightening word, she thought, no matter who faced it, and the only way to lessen the fear was to confront it head on.

Help me, he was asking, and it was suddenly all Em could do not to put out a hand and touch his. Her smile died.

Because brother and sister were both afraid of one thing. Anna was taking a long, drawn-out breath, searching for courage for the next question.

‘If…if it’s cancer, it’ll come back,’ she said finally, and her voice was now strangely calm. ‘I’ll die. My kids… Sam and Matt and Ruby. Ruby’s only four. Who’ll look after them?’

‘Anna, I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours giving piggy-backs to your three terrors,’ Jonas said, in a tone of one much maligned. ‘I love your kids dearly and of course I’d take care of them, but for the sake of my aching back, can we arrange to have you live?’

‘I…’

‘Please, Anna.’

Anna took another deep breath. ‘I don’t have a choice, really. Do I?’

‘We don’t,’ Jonas said. He rose and his hands clenched and unclenched. He’d also been under a huge amount of strain, Em realised, wondering just what was wrong with his sister. This must come almost as a relief. There were so many worse diagnoses than early breast cancer. ‘Anna, I love your kids but, let’s face it, they’d be much better off with their mum than with their Uncle Jonas.’

He grinned then, a wide, lazy grin that sent Em’s insides doing crazy things again. Stupid things! She had to force herself to focus on what he was saying.

‘I’m willing to stay in Bay Beach while you need me,’ he was telling Anna. ‘In fact, I have a feeling that Dr Mainwaring could use some help, too, and with two women in need, what’s a man to do but stay?’ He flashed them another grin, even wider than the first. ‘So can we organise these tests and get on with it, please?’

Anna looked up, long and hard, at her brother—and then she turned to Em. In her face was a slackening of terror. There was still fear, but less. The hardest decision had been made.

And the smile she finally gave almost matched her brother’s. ‘Yes, please,’ she said.

‘Then let’s do it.’ Em reached for the phone and started dialling.