Stormbound Surgeon

CHAPTER TWO

IT WENT like clockwork.

This team might be unusual but their competence was never in question. As he cut through the abdominal layers the old woman called Marie handed over instruments unasked. When Joss did need to ask, her responses were instantaneous.

And Amy’s anaesthetic was first class.

All this was-had to be-ancillary to what he was doing. He was forced to depend on them: his attention was on the job. The anaesthetic was looking fine. All he knew was that he had what he needed and the woman’s heart rate was great.

If only the baby’s heartbeat held…

This was the moment of truth. He looked up to ask, but once again his needs were anticipated. The second of the older women stepped forward to push down on the uterus, giving him leverage as he slid one gloved hand into the incision.

Please…

‘Here it comes.’ He lifted the baby’s head, turning it to the side to prevent it sucking in fluid. ‘Yes!’

It was a perfect little girl.

Joss had only seconds to see that she was fine-the seconds while he scooped the baby free. As soon as she was free of her mother-before he’d even tied off the cord-hands were reaching for her, the sucker was in her mouth and they were removing mucus and freeing her to breathe. These people knew what they were doing! The old man behind Marie ducked in to scoop the infant into the waiting blanket as the elderly nurse cleared her airway.

‘We’ll be fine with her.’ Amy motioned him back to the wound. ‘She’s looking good.’

He had no time to spare for the baby. He turned back to deliver the placenta, to swab and clamp and sew, hoping his geriatric helpers were able to clear the baby’s airway in time.

Amy would supervise. He knew by now that she was a brilliant theatre nurse. She was acting as a competent anaesthetist. Apart from a couple of minor queries about dosage, he’d rarely had to intervene.

And as he began the lengthy repair process to the uterus there came the sound he’d been hoping for. The thin, indignant wail of a healthy baby.

The flattening of its heartbeat must have been stress-induced, he thought thankfully. A long labour and then the impact of the crash could have caused it.

How long had the girl been in labour?

A while, he thought, glancing to where Amy still monitored the intubator. The new mother was as white as death and the wound on her forehead still bled sluggishly. He’d suture it before she woke.

If she woke.

Why was she unconscious?

Hell, he needed technology. He needed to know if there was intracranial bleeding.

‘We can do an ordinary X-ray here,’ Amy said, and his eyes flew to hers. Once again she was thinking in front of him. ‘We have the facilities. It won’t show pressure if there’s a build-up, but it’ll show if there’s a fracture.’

‘Is there no way we can we get outside help?’ He wanted a CT scan. He wanted his big city hospital-badly.

‘Not until this rain eases.’ Outside the window, the rain was still pelting down. ‘Given decent conditions, a helicopter can land on the golf course, but not now. There’s too many hills. The country’s so rough that with visibility like this they’d be in real trouble.’

So they were still on their own.

‘We’ll be OK,’ she said softly as he worked on. Their eyes locked and something passed between them. A bonding. They were in this together…

Joss felt a frown start behind his eyes. He didn’t make contact like this with theatre staff. He didn’t make contact with anyone. But this woman… It was as if she was somehow familiar…

She wasn’t familiar at all. ‘We’re not finished yet. Let’s get this abdominal cavity cleaned and stitched,’ he said, more roughly than he’d intended, and bent back over his work.

Finally the job was done. Under Joss’s guidance, Amy reversed the anaesthetic, concentrating fiercely every step of the way. At last, still rigid with anxiety, she removed the endotracheal tube and the woman took her first ragged breaths.

Amy had done it, and until now she hadn’t known she could. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again Joss was beside her, his hands on her shoulders and his face concerned.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I… Yes.’ She tried to draw back but his eyes were holding her in place as firmly as his hands were holding her shoulders.

‘Exactly how many anaesthetics have you given in your professional career?’ he demanded, and she gave a rueful smile.

‘Um…one,’ she confessed. ‘A tourist who had penile strangulation. The doctor from Bowra was here seeing someone else when he came in, screaming. I had no choice there either. If I hadn’t given him the anaesthetic he’d have been impotent for life.’

‘But…that’s a really minor anaesthetic.’

‘I know.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And, of course, as you reminded me, the insurance is a nightmare and if anything went wrong I could get sued for millions. So I shouldn’t have done it, nor should I have done this one. But I’ve seen it done and, the way I figured, I didn’t have a choice. Bleating to you about my lack of training wasn’t going to help anything.’

She was amazing, he thought, stunned. Amazing!

‘You were fantastic,’ the woman called Marie said stoutly. ‘To give an anaesthetic like that… She was wonderful, wasn’t she, Doctor?’

Joss looked around at them all. He had four helpers in the room. Three geriatrics and Amy. And he had one live and healthy baby and one young woman whose colour was starting slowly to return to normal.

Because of these people, this baby would live and the unknown woman had been given a fighting chance. Because Amy had been prepared to take a chance, prepared to say to hell with the insurance risk, to hell with the legalities; because these old people had been prepared to shake off their retirement and do whatever they could, then this baby stood a chance of living. Living with a healthy mother.

‘I think you’re all wonderful,’ he told them. He smiled at each of them in turn, but then his gaze returned to Amy’s. And there was that jolt of…something. Something that he didn’t recognise.

Whatever it was, it would have to wait. Now was not the time for questioning. ‘I think you all deserve a medal,’ he said softly. ‘And I think we all deserve a happy ending. Which I think we’ll get.’

He lifted the baby from Marie’s arms and stood looking down at her. The tiny baby girl had wailed once, just to show she could, but she was now snuggled into the warmth of her prepared blanket and her creased eyes were blinking and gazing with wonder at this huge new world.

‘You need your mum,’ Joss said, and as if on cue there was a ragged gasp from the table. And another. Amy’s eyes flew from the baby back to her patient.

‘She’s coming round,’ she said softly. ‘It needs only this to make it perfect.’

The woman was so confused she was almost incoherent, but she was definitely waking.

Joss took her hands, waiting with all the patience in the world for her to recover. When this woman had lost consciousness she’d been in a truck heading out of town. Now she was in hospital-kind of-and she was a mother. It would take some coming to terms with.

‘You’re fine,’ he told her softly, his voice strong and sure, and Amy blinked to hear him. Joss looked decisive and tough but there was nothing tough about the way he spoke. He was gentleness itself. ‘My name is Joss Braden. I’m a doctor and you’re in hospital.’ Of a sort. There was no need to go into details. ‘Your truck crashed. You were in labour-remember?’ And then at her weak nod, he smiled. ‘You’re not in labour any more. You’ve had a baby. The most gorgeous daughter.’

He held the child for her to see.

There was a long, long silence while she took that on board. Finally she seemed to manage it. She stared mutely at the softly wrapped bundle of perfect baby and then tears started trickling down her cheeks.

‘Hey.’ Joss was gentleness itself. One of his elderly nurses saw his need and handed him a tissue to dry her tears. ‘There’s not a lot to cry about. We’re here to take care of you. We had to perform a Caesarean section but everything’s fine.’

Her tears still flowed. Amy watched in silence, as did her three geriatric nurses.

There were more outside. The door was open-just a crack. How many ears were listening out there? Amy wondered and managed a smile. Well, why shouldn’t they listen in to this happy ending? They’d worked as hard as she had, and they deserved it.

‘Can you tell me your name?’ Joss was saying.

‘Charlotte…’ It was a thready whisper.

‘Charlotte who?’

Silence.

Her name could wait, Amy thought happily. Everything could wait now.

But Joss kept talking, assessing, concerned for the extent of damage to the young mother now that the baby had been delivered safely.

‘Charlotte, you’ve had a head injury. I need to ask you a couple of questions, just so I’m sure you’re not confused.’

She understood. Her eyes were still taking in her baby, soaking in the perfection of her tiny daughter, but she was listening to Joss.

‘Do you know what the date is today?’

‘Um…’ She thought about it. ‘Friday. Is it the twenty-fifth?’

‘It sure is. Do you know who won the football grand final last week?’

That was easy. A trace of a smile appeared, and the girl shed years with it.

‘The Bombers,’ she said, and there was an attempt at flippancy. ‘Hooray.’

‘Hooray?’ She was a brave girl. Amy grinned but Joss gave a theatrical groan.

‘Oh, great. It’s just my luck to bring another Bombers fan into the world.’ Then he smiled and Amy, watching from the sidelines, thought, Wow! What a smile.

‘And your surname?’

But that had been enough. The woman gave a tiny shake of her head and let her eyes close.

Joss nodded. He was satisfied. ‘OK, Charlotte.’ He laid a fleeting hand on the woman’s cheek. ‘We’ll take some X-rays just to make sure there’s no damage, then we’ll let you and your daughter sleep.’

‘So is anyone going to tell me what the set-up is here?’

With the young mother tucked up in a private room, her baby by her side and no fewer than two self-declared intensive-care nurses on watch by her side, there was time for Amy and Joss to catch their breath.

‘What would you like to know?’ Amy was bone weary. She felt like she’d run a marathon. She hauled her white coat from her shoulders, tossed it aside and turned to unfasten the strings of Joss’s theatre gear. They’d only had the one theatre gown, so the rest of their makeshift team had had to make do with white coats.

But making do with white coats was the last thing on Joss’s mind. ‘Tell me how I got a theatre staff,’ he said. ‘It was a miracle.’

‘No more than us finding a doctor. That was the miracle. Of all the people to run into…’

‘Yeah, it was her lucky day.’ He gave a rueful grin and Amy smiled back. He had his back to her while she undid his ties and she was catching his smile in the mirror. He had the loveliest smile, she thought. Wide and white and sort of…chuckly. Nice.

In fact the whole package looked nice.

And as for Joss…

He stooped and hauled off the cloth slippers from over his shoes and then rose, watching while Amy did the same. Underneath her medical uniform Amy Freye was some parcel.

She was tall, maybe five-ten or so. Her tanned skin was flawless. Her grey eyes were calm and serene, set in a lovely face. Her hair was braided in a lovely long rope and he suddenly had an almost irresistable urge to…

Hey. What was going on here?

Get things back to a professional footing.

‘What’s someone with your skills doing in a place like this?’ he asked lightly, and then watched in surprise as her face shuttered closed. Hell, he hadn’t meant to pry. He only wanted to know. ‘I mean… I assumed with your skills…’

‘I’d be better off in a city hospital? Just lucky I wasn’t,’ she retorted.

‘We were lucky,’ he said seriously. ‘We definitely were. If you hadn’t been here we would have lost the baby.’

‘You don’t think Marie could have given the anaesthetic?’

‘Now, that is something I don’t understand.’

‘Marie?’

‘And her friends. Yes.’

She smiled then, and there were lights behind her grey eyes that were almost magnetic in their appeal. Her smile made a man sort of want to smile back. ‘You like my team?’

‘It’s…different.’

She laughed, a lovely low chuckle. ‘Different is right. An hour ago I was staring into space thinking, How on earth am I going to cope? I needed an emergency team, and I had no one. I thought, This place has no one but retirees. But retirees are people, too, and the health profession’s huge. So I said hands up those with medical skills and suddenly I had an ambulance driver, two orderlies and three trained nurses. I’ve even got a doctor in residence, but he’s ninety-eight and thinks he’s Charles the First so we were holding him in reserve.’

She was fantastic. He grinned at her in delight.

This felt great, he thought suddenly. He’d forgotten medicine could feel like this. Back in Sydney he was part of a huge, impersonal team. His skills made him a troubleshooter, which meant that he was called in when other doctors needed help. He saw little of patients before they were on the operating table.

His staff were hand-picked, cool and clinically professional. But here…

They’d saved a life-what a team!

‘I wouldn’t ask it of these people every day,’ Amy told him, unaware of the route his thoughts were taking. ‘Marie’s had three heart pills this morning to hold her angina at bay. Very few of my people are up to independent living but in an emergency they shine through. And even though Marie’s heart is thumping away like a sledgehammer, there’s no way she’s going for a quiet lie-down now. She’s needed, and if she dies being needed, she won’t begrudge it at all.’

It was great. The whole set-up was great, but something was still worrying him. ‘Where are the rest of your trained staff?’

That set her back. ‘What trained staff?’

‘This is a nursing home. I assume you have more skilled nurses than yourself.’

‘I have two other women with nursing qualifications. Mary and Sue-Ellen. They do a shift apiece. Eight hours each. The three of us are the entire nursing population of Iluka.’

He frowned, thinking it through and finding it unsatisfactory. ‘You need more…’

‘No. Only eight of our beds are deemed nursing-home beds. The rest are hostel, so as long as we have one trained nurse on duty we’re OK.’

‘And in emergencies?’

‘I can’t call the others in. It means I don’t have anyone for tonight.’

‘What about holidays?’

‘I do sixteen hours if either of the others are on holidays,’ she said, with what was an attempt at lightness. ‘It keeps me off the streets.’

She was kidding! ‘That’s crazy. The whole set-up’s impossible.’

‘You try attracting medical staff to Iluka.’ She gave a weary smile. ‘You try attracting anyone under the age of sixty to Iluka. Both my nurses are in their fifties and are here because their husbands have retired. Kitty, my receptionist, moved here to be with her failing mother, my cleaning and kitchen staff are well past retirement age, and there’s no one else.’

‘The town is a nursing home all by itself.’

‘As you say.’ She shrugged, and there was a pain behind her eyes that he didn’t understand. ‘But we manage. Look at today. Weren’t my oldies wonderful?’

‘Wonderful.’ But his mind was on her worries, not on what had just happened.

‘So the two looking after the baby…’

‘Marie and Thelma, and they’re in their element. Both are trained nurses with years of experience. Thelma has early Alzheimer’s but she was matron of a Sydney hospital until she retired and there are some things that are almost instinctive. Marie’s with her, and her experience is in a bush nursing hospital. She’s physically frail but mentally alert so together they’ll care for the mother and baby as no one else could. And I’m here if they need me.’

Joss looked across at her calm grey eyes. ‘I’m here if they need me.’ It was said as a matter of course.

How often was she needed?

What was her story?

‘Don’t look so worried.’ Her smile was meant to be reassuring. ‘If I didn’t think they’d manage-and love every moment of it-I’d be in there, helping. I’m only a buzz away.’ Her smile faded as his look of concern deepened. ‘What’s worrying you? Charlotte’s showing no sign of brain damage. The baby looks great. All we need to do is find out who she is.’

‘Now, that’s something else I don’t understand.’ His frown deepened. ‘Jeff says she’s not a Iluka resident and no one here recognises her.’

‘No.’ It had surprised Amy that she hadn’t recognised the girl. She knew everyone in Iluka.

When she’d thought about it she’d even figured out where Joss fitted in. David and Daisy Braden had been speaking of nothing but their wonderful surgeon-son’s visit for weeks. The whole town had known his exact arrival time, what Daisy was going to cook for him every night, where David intended to take him fishing and…

‘What?’ Joss asked, and Amy’s lovely smile caused a dimple to appear right on the corner of her mouth.

It made him need to struggle hard to concentrate on what she was saying.

‘Sorry. I was just thinking we should set the town onto finding out about our mystery mother. They told me all about you.’

‘Did they?’ He was disconcerted. He was trying really hard not to look at the dimple.

The observations that were happening were mutual. He looked nice when he was disconcerted, Amy decided.

Nice.

There was that word again but it described him absolutely. The more she saw of him the more she liked what she saw. Joss was taller than she was by a couple of inches. He had deep brown hair, curly, a bit sun-bleached and casually styled. His skin was bronzed and he had smiling green eyes.

And his clothes… He’d hauled off his sweater before they’d gone into Theatre but she’d been too rushed to notice, and then he’d put on a theatre gown. Now she was seeing his clothes for the first time.

They were…unexpected, to say the least. He was wearing faded, hip-hugging jeans and a bright white T-shirt with a black motif. The motif said:

‘You’ve been a bad, bad girl. Go straight to my room.’

She blinked and blinked again. Then she grinned. This wasn’t her standard image of a successful young surgeon. It was a rude, crude T-shirt. It shouldn’t make her lips twitch.

‘What?’ he demanded, and her smile widened.

‘I was thinking I shouldn’t be in the same room as you-with that on.’ She motioned to his T-shirt.

Damn. He’d forgotten he was wearing it. His father had given it to him for his birthday… Good old Dad, still trying to get his son moving in the wife department…

Fat chance.

But Amy had moved on. ‘I need to talk to Jeff,’ she said, and crossed to the door.

Joss frowned. ‘I need to find him, too. He’s looking after my dog. Or did one of your residents take him?’

‘Lionel has him.’ Her eyes creased into the smile he was starting to recognise. ‘I saw him. Actually, I’ve heard about him, too. I thought he was much larger than he really is.’

‘Have you been talking to my stepmother?’

Amy assumed an air of innocence. ‘I might have been.’

He sighed. ‘According to Daisy, he’s the size of an elephant. That’s because Bertram takes exception to anyone else sitting on my knee-and her dratted Peke decided it would grace me with its favours.’

‘Lucky you.’

‘As you say.’ He shook off the light-headedness he was feeling. Was it the crash? Or…was it just the way she made him feel? Like he ought to get the conversation back to medicine-fast.

‘Sergeant Packer and I could find no sign of identification at all in the mother’s truck. But he is able to run a plate check. We’re hoping we can find out who she is that way.’

She nodded. ‘And I guess we need to fully examine the baby.’

‘I’ll do that now.’

‘Thank you.’

Joss nodded, aware that he was retreating. He’d come out of his shell a little-a very little-but he didn’t want to stay out.

He had to leave.

‘I’m going to have to figure out how I can get away from this place,’ he said.

Her brows rose at that. ‘You’re leaving?’

‘I was. Until my car was totalled.’

‘Your father said you were here for two weeks.’

‘Yeah, well…’

‘The honeymoon couple were a bit much for you, were they?’ Her eyes danced in sympathy, demanding that he smile in return.

‘You know my father and Daisy?’

‘I certainly do.’ She grinned. ‘Until she met your father, Daisy had her name down here as a potential resident.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Right.

‘They’re very happy,’ she said-and waited.

And out it came. ‘They’re always happy.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘My father’s been married four times.’ It was impossible to keep the bitterness from his voice.

She thought about that. Looking at his face, she saw the layers of pain behind the bald fact.

‘Divorce?’

‘Death. Every time.’

That made it so much worse. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah.’ He gave a laugh that came out harsher than he’d intended. ‘You’d think he’d learn.’

‘That people die?’

‘Yes.’

‘You can be unlucky,’ Amy said softly. ‘Or you can be lucky. I guess your dad has had rotten luck.’

‘He keeps trying to replace…’

‘Your mother?’

He caught himself. What was he saying? He was talking as if she was really interested. As if he wanted to share…

She was a nurse. A medical colleague. He didn’t get close to medical colleagues.

He didn’t get close to anyone.

But she’d seen the expression on his face. She knew he needed to move on.

‘But you do have two weeks’ holiday, right?’ she probed. ‘Being stuck here isn’t a disaster.’

‘I’ll get out.’

‘How?’

That stymied him. ‘I guess…when it stops raining…’

‘If it stops raining.’

‘There’s no need to sound like a prophet of doom,’ he snapped. ‘It’ll rain for forty days and forty nights so collect your cats and dogs and unicorns and build a boat…’

She chuckled. ‘OK. When it stops raining. But it’ll take some time to get the bridge repaired. Maybe we can get a ferry working.’

‘I could get out by helicopter.’ But he sounded dubious and for good reason.

‘Even when it stops raining I doubt you’ll persuade one to land here unless it’s an emergency. Being weary of watching your father and his new wife cuddle each other might not fit into the category of emergency.’

‘The sea…’

‘Have you seen the harbour? There’s no way a boat’s putting to sea until this weather dies.’ She shrugged. ‘Sure, there are boats which will bring supplies when the weather backs off but until then… I’m afraid you’re stuck with us, Joss.’

He liked the way she said his name, he decided. It was sort of lilting. Different.

But he had more important things to think of than lilting voices. His own voice took on a hint of desperation. ‘I can’t go back to stay with Dad and Daisy. I’m going around the twist!’

‘That bad?’

‘They hold hands. Over the breakfast table!’

Amy choked on laughter. ‘So you’re not a romantic, Dr Braden. Well, I never. And you with that T-shirt.’

He had the grace to grin. ‘OK. Despite the T-shirt, I’m not a romantic. Is there a hotel in town?’

‘Nope.’

Sigh. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a room available here.’

‘You don’t suppose your father would be mortally offended if you stayed in a nursing home rather than with him?’

He would. Damn.

But she was thinking for him. ‘What excuse did you give-when you left so suddenly?’

‘That I had to prepare a talk for a conference. It was worrying me so I thought I’d get back early to Sydney to do some preparation.’ Then, at her look, Joss gave an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s the truth. I do.’

‘I believe you.’ Another chuckle. ‘Though thousands wouldn’t. But you’ve solved your own problem.’

‘I have?’

She hesitated, and then said slowly, as if she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing but wanted to anyway, ‘If you need privacy then maybe you can stay at my place. It’s a great isolated spot for writing conference material.’

‘Don’t you live here?’

‘Are you kidding?’ She smiled, and he thought suddenly she shed years when she smiled. She really was extraordinarily lovely. ‘Give me a break. I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m not quite ready to live in a retirement home full time.’

Twenty-eight… What was a twenty-eight-year-old incredibly skilled theatre nurse doing in a place like Iluka?

Caring for a husband? For parents? Unconsciously he found his eyes drifting to the third finger of her left hand. Which was tucked in the folds of her dress. Damn.

‘Um…so where do you live?’

‘Millionaire’s Row.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Didn’t your father show you round the town?’

‘Yes…’ He thought back and then his eyes widened. ‘Don’t tell me you live in one of those.’

There could be no mistaking his meaning. Amy chuckled again and shrugged. ‘Of course. I live in the biggest and the most ostentatious mansion of them all, and I do so all on my lonesome. I have nine spare bedrooms and three whole spas you can choose from. You can have one and your dog another. You can tell your father that you need to be alone to write-and you can be. You can sit and write conference notes to your heart’s content and we need never see each other. If that’s what you want.’

Of course it was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? But…that smile…

Damn, there was so much here that he didn’t understand.

‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘I have heaps to do and you have a baby and a dog to check, and maybe you need to see Sergeant Packer about your car-or what’s left of it. Lunch is at twelve and you’re very welcome to eat with us. I’m off at two. If you can keep yourself amused until then, I’ll take you home.’

‘You make me sound like a stray puppy,’ he complained, and her smile widened.

‘That’s how you sound.’

‘Hey…’

Her grey eyes twinkled. ‘I know. Nurse subordination to doctors has never been my strong point. Dreadful, isn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?’

But Joss was sure. He definitely didn’t want to spend any more time with his father and Daisy.

And the more he saw of Amy Freye, the more he thought a few days in the same house wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Was he mad? What on earth was he thinking?

‘Um…no, I won’t reconsider,’ he told her, and she laughed. It was as if she knew what he was thinking, and the feeling was distinctly disconcerting.

‘Until two o’clock,’ she told him-and left him to make of her what he would.