To the Doctor: A Daughter

CHAPTER FIVE

‘YOU have to be kidding.’ Donna was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.

‘Why should I be kidding?’ Gemma’s tone was flat and lifeless, which was exactly how she felt. Nate was using her. Of course. Why on earth had she expected anything else?

‘Gemma, she’ll probably sleep,’ Nate told her, reasonableness personified. ‘And you’re going to be here anyway.’

‘I want to go and sit by Cady.’

‘Cady will be asleep. But, of course, you can go into the hospital. Mia will be only through the door and if there are any problems with patients you can wheel her through to kids’ ward.’

She glowered. ‘I might want to go for a walk.’

‘Then wheel her through to the hospital and take your phone. The staff will call you if she wakes.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

She stood and faced them. OK. She was about to be a totally unreasonable human being but it had to be done. She could see her time here stretching into the future. Doctor, Cady’s mother and Mia’s mum by default.

‘I told you, Nate-’

‘Gemma, you’re being irrational.’

‘No. I’m not. I’m keeping myself sane. I told you-I can’t afford to get any more attached to Mia. She’s your daughter, Nate. If you want to go out then you take her with you.’

‘I’m not taking any baby anywhere,’ Donna said flatly.

‘It’s cold outside.’ Nate was struggling to be reasonable. ‘She’ll catch a chill.’

Gemma looked at him in disbelief. ‘Oh, how medically sound is that? Catch a chill… What’s going to happen? Are all those little bugs labelled “chill virus” just hovering round in the night air waiting to strike? That’s nonsense, Nate Ethan, and you know it.’

He backed off a bit but persisted. ‘She could get cold.’

‘Yeah. Leave her naked in the night air and she’ll catch hypothermia. Bundle her up in her baby capsule with only her nose poking out, take a change of nappy and a couple of bottles, and she won’t know the difference from staying here all night.’

He glowered, and she glowered right back. Force meeting force. ‘Gemma, it would be much easier to leave her here, and you know it.’

‘Easier for who?’

‘For me,’ he said, and he suddenly stopped glowering and grinned.

Damn, he just had to smile at her. The great Labrador-puppyish grin had the capacity to take her breath away. That was the way he always got what he wanted, she decided-but he wasn’t getting it now.

Fiona had wheedled what she’d wanted by smiling just like that. Fiona and Nate… They were a pair in more ways than one, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She was through with being manipulated.

‘No,’ she said flatly, and backed against the sink. She was holding her empty plate before her like a shield, as if he was likely to broach her defence by sheer emotional force. Which was entirely possible.

‘Gemma…’

‘No!’

‘You really mean it?’

‘I really mean it. If you go out then you take your daughter with you.’

Accepting finally the impossibility of working on Gemma, Nate turned to Donna.

‘I’m not-’ Donna started.

‘Love…’

‘No.’

‘If we don’t take her I’ll have to stay home.’

Donna hesitated. She really wanted Nate, Gemma could see. But she didn’t want attachments. Well, why should she? Gemma asked herself, thinking of Cady sleeping peacefully just the other side of the wall. She knew more than most that attachments hurt.

‘If we take her tonight then you’ll want to take her everywhere,’ Donna was saying. ‘She’s not going to change her mind.’

At least Donna understood, Gemma decided. At least Donna could see it.

‘Just for tonight…’

‘No.’ Donna’s voice was suddenly just like Gemma’s. Implacable. ‘Kids don’t interest me, Nate. Hell, we’d be stuck. I mean, having a kid in the back seat…’

It would cramp her style, Gemma thought, not without sympathy. But her twinge of sympathy wasn’t enough to let her relent.

‘Gemma…’ Nate had turned to her again.

‘No!’

‘Hell!’ Nate closed his eyes. ‘Gemma, this is just plain unreasonable.’

‘Ring the discrimination board,’ she said flatly. ‘They’ll tell you how reasonable it is to expect a work colleague to look after your children.’

‘I don’t-’

‘You do. That’s what this is. Coercion. Do you want me as a doctor or do you want me as a babysitter?’

‘As a doctor, of course.’

‘Then look after your own kid.’

‘We’re giving you your keep for nothing…’

That was all she needed! Her eyes flashed fury. ‘Then I’ll move into the motel tonight.’ She slammed the plate into the sink and stalked to the door. ‘Thanks for the bed last night. Send me the bill for accommodation when you bill me for Cady’s medical expenses.’

‘Gemma, don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Goodbye, Nate,’ she said, and walked out the door, slamming it behind her. Before the pair of them could see the tears of frustrated rage welling in her eyes.

‘Gemma?’

‘Go away. I’ll be out of here in five minutes.’ She was shoving her hairbrush into her handbag. She had nothing else to pack, she thought bitterly, which made stalking out in style a whole lot easier.

Hopefully the motel would have a vacant room. Otherwise she’d sleep in the car, and as soon as Cady was well enough to travel she’d bundle him up and take him back to Sydney.

The thought was immeasurably bleak and those damned tears threatened to fall.

‘Gemma…’ The door of her bedroom swung open and Nate was there. Nate with his face wary-as if he expected the hairbrush in her hand to come whizzing across the room at him.

‘What?’ She was so angry she was almost speechless.

‘Gemma, I didn’t mean-’

‘You did mean.’

Hell!

He stared across at her, baffled in the face of her fury. She had two burning patches of colour on her cheeks, giving life to her otherwise too-pale face, and her eyes were shining. With unshed tears?

Damn, he’d made her cry. All at once he felt like a king-sized rat.

‘Gemma, I’m sorry.’

‘There’s no need to apologise. You’re right. I owe you heaps. But I won’t pay it off by taking over your responsibilities. By taking on your baby. Just add my board to Cady’s bill, charge us for what we owe you and be done with it.’

‘We won’t be billing for Cady.’

‘Of course you will. Why wouldn’t you?’

‘Because you’re a colleague. We don’t charge colleagues.’

‘Colleagues don’t babysit. Unless they offer.’

‘You’re right,’ he said gravely, watching her face.

Would she still walk? He’d messed it up, he thought. Hell, he’d nearly had another doctor for this place and he’d messed it up by pushing too hard, too fast.

But looking at her face…

The void that was threatened was more than the thought of losing a potential partner, he thought, but how much more? He didn’t know. He couldn’t really figure out what he was feeling right at this minute-except that he didn’t want her to go so badly that he’d sent Donna away.

And Donna wouldn’t return. She was furious. Babies weren’t her scene.

There’d be other Donnas, he thought. Women weren’t a problem. He hadn’t wanted a long-term relationship with Donna.

He didn’t want a long-term relationship with anyone.

But he did want another doctor in this practice. Graham couldn’t keep working for much longer and the workload was crazy. Gemma could well be the answer.

Which was why he was standing right here, apologising. It had nothing to do with the look of blind misery on her face. Nothing at all. It was the sensible, practical thing to do.

As was crossing the room in two strides and taking her shoulders in his hands. Forcing her chin up so her tear-drenched eyes met his.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not crying.’ She gave a desperate sniff. ‘I never cry. I must have hay fever or something.’

‘Of course. I can give you some pills for hay fever.’ But he felt in his pocket and brought out something that was far more useful. ‘Meanwhile, how about a handkerchief?’

‘Thank you.’ She took it and blew-hard. It was a sound never heard from the likes of Donna or Fiona. It was un-feminine, loud and almost defiant in its misery.

And it touched him as nothing else could.

‘Better?’ He smiled down at her and she glared back through unshed tears.

‘Yes. No. I told you, I have hay fever and hay fever doesn’t cure itself with one nose blow.’

‘Of course it doesn’t. But if I upset you-on top of your hay fever…’

‘You have no power to upset me.’

‘No. But if I did then I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t have to be sorry. You’re going out, remember. Just take your lady and your baby and go.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Donna won’t take the baby?’

Donna certainly wouldn’t. ‘Um…no.’

‘Well, don’t expect me to apologise because your love life has been interrupted. It’s not my fault. Mia is your daughter and she has nothing to do with me.’

‘I know that.’

‘So I’m leaving.’

‘Gemma, I want you to stay. I really, really want you to stay.’

There was silence while she took that on board. Silence, silence and more silence.

‘I don’t want…’ she started finally, but her voice was unsure and he shook his head. Once more his hands came out to grasp her shoulders. Damn, she was so thin. There was nothing of her. She’d have to stay so Mrs McCurdle could build her up. Make her curvy…

She’d look good curvy.

She looked good now.

‘You do want,’ he said, his tone gentling. ‘You want very much to stay. From your perspective this place has everything going for it-except me. Except a doctor who’s ready to face his responsibilities.’

‘Yes, but-’

‘But if I’m prepared to try then will you give us a try? Will you give me another chance, Gemma?’

She sniffed and tried to glare but it didn’t quite come off. ‘I’m not looking after Mia.’

‘I’m not asking you to.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’

She stared up into his eyes. She doesn’t believe me, Nate thought, and then decided that she had the right to have doubts. He had doubts himself.

‘I should go. I’m crazy to stay.’

‘No. You’re sensible.’

‘There’s not a single thing sensible about it.’

‘You want me to list all the very sensible reasons why you should stay?’

‘No.’ Gemma backed away from him and her scowl returned. ‘You could talk your way out of an iron lung.’

‘I bet I couldn’t.’

‘I bet you could. There’s nothing I wouldn’t put past you.’

‘No.’ That was enough. It was time he called a halt. ‘Gemma, what have I ever done to you to make you distrust me?’

‘You made my sister pregnant.’

But Nate wasn’t buying into that one. ‘Gemma, if your sister wanted to get pregnant then she was going to get pregnant, whether it was with me or with someone else. You’re right in thinking I was a fool to let myself be used, but she’d decided to self-destruct anyway. She used me just as she used you. You’ve been more deeply hurt than I have but I won’t add to that hurt. For what it’s worth, you can trust me.’

Now, why had he said that? Why had he suddenly made the conversation so deadly serious?

It was the way she was looking, he thought-as if the bottom had dropped out of her world. And why?

It was because he’d offered her a way out, he thought bitterly. He’d offered her a life here as a country doctor and a future for herself and her nephew-and then he’d hauled it away again with one stupid, senseless act. Assuming she’d look after Mia.

‘I won’t try to palm the baby off on you again,’

‘The baby…’ she repeated, and she winced.

He thought it through and heard where she was coming from. Maybe it did sound a bit harsh. The baby… He tried again. ‘Mia.’

‘No.’ She fixed him with a look. ‘No. She’s not “the baby”. She’s not Mia. She’s your daughter. Say it, Nate.’

And he tried. ‘My daughter.’ Hell. It was harder to say it than he would have thought possible. My daughter. It sounded really, really strange.

‘Right. Your daughter.’

OK, he’d got over that hurdle. Now the next. ‘You wouldn’t want to unpack your bag and stay?’

‘What? Take my hairbrush out of my handbag?’

‘That’s the one.’ He frowned. She couldn’t keep wearing the one pair of jeans for ever. ‘We really need to do something about your wardrobe. How about a shopping trip tomorrow?’

‘Thanks but I don’t need it. I rang a friend in Sydney before I went to sleep this morning. Her apartment’s next to mine at Sydney Central. She agreed to gather a few things together and she’ll put a suitcase on the train today.’

‘Then that’s another reason why you can’t leave,’ he said triumphantly. ‘Your clothes will pass you as you speed up the highway-and we’ll be stuck here with clothes for a complete doctor but no doctor to put them on.’

‘Don’t push your luck.’

‘No. Right.’ He ventured a lopsided grin. He was in complete agreement. A wise man knew when to shut up. ‘So now what? I’m not going out and neither are you. How about a game of Scrabble?’

‘Scrabble? Instead of a pre-wedding party?’

‘I think maybe going to the pre-wedding party was a bad idea.’

She eyed him doubtfully. Did he mean it? ‘You know, you could take Mia with you.’

‘It wouldn’t be the same,’ he told her, not without a tinge of regret. ‘I’d arrive with the…with my daughter and my nappy bag and my bottle of milk instead of a bottle of wine and Donna would stalk in a hundred yards behind and bad-mouth me for the rest of the evening. And the gossip would be astonishing.’

‘So you’d prefer Scrabble?’

‘I’m a whizz at Scrabble,’ he said modestly-but he didn’t look the least bit modest. ‘I always win.’

Gemma stared up at him for a long moment and Nate gazed back. There it was again-that lurking twinkle that had the capacity to make her heart do handstands. But…he was staying home. He was trying.

Finally she let herself relax. Just a fraction. ‘I’m not bad myself.’

‘That sounds like a challenge.’ His twinkle became a grin. ‘And I’m a man who always meets a challenge. So what about it, Dr Campbell? Do you want to play?’

Did she want to play?

Play. It was a word that hadn’t been in her vocabulary for a very long time.

But he was smiling down at her and his gorgeous eyes were filled with lurking laughter. And more. They held a hint of caring. She stared up at him. The future of the medical practice of the town hung on this very moment and Nate found he was holding his breath. Would she?

And then, suddenly, she was smiling back at him and it was as if the sun had come out. More. It was a wonderful, wonderful smile.

‘OK, Dr Ethan. Bring out your Scrabble board. I’m about to let you know exactly who’s boss around here.’

It was a very silly game of Scrabble.

‘Piffle!’

‘Piffle’s a word.’ Nate looked wounded to the core that she should suggest otherwise. ‘How can you query piffle?’

Informality was definitely the order of the night. They were sprawled on cushions on the rug before the living room fire, Nate had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt that was almost as old as Gemma’s, and they might have been playing Scrabble for years. It felt…great, Gemma thought, almost afraid to acknowledge how great it was.

‘But if we’re speaking of piffle,’ Nate said cautiously, eyeing what she was doing with astonishment, ‘let’s look at this current offering. “Flowery”? Is “flowery” a word?’

‘Of course it is. You can say this sofa’s all flowery. Or your conversation is flowery.’

‘Hey! It is not.’

‘It might be.’

‘Flowery… Never in a million years.’

‘Well, think of Mrs McCurdle talking about her plans for the spring fête… Definitely flowery.’

“‘Floury” I might allow, like floury hands when you’re making scones.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t have a U. And if I put “flowery” on the end of your “bull” then “bull” becomes “bully”-which is definitely a word-and “y” is on the double word score. That means I get double scores for both words. With an “o” on a double letter that gives me twenty plus thirty-four-plus a bonus of fifty for using all seven letters. A hundred and four. Wow!’ She beamed her satisfaction.

And her beam had him fascinated. She sort of lit up from within.

But there were important issues to concentrate on here. Like winning Scrabble. A man had his pride after all. ‘And it’s exactly because it’s a hundred-and-four-point word that I won’t allow it.’

‘No?’

‘No!’

Gemma let herself look woebegone-cocker-spaniel style. ‘Not even because you feel sorry for me?’

‘Don’t you do the sympathy thing on me. Nothing gets in the way of me and winning a game of Scrabble.’

‘Not even brute force?’ Laughing, she raised a cushion-and Nate cowered in mock fear.

But then the phone rang. Damn. For some reason it really irritated him, and it wasn’t just that he was still in the lead. Reluctantly he rose to answer it while Gemma calmly put down her letters. Flowery… She grinned and added a hundred and four points to her score, which meant she was winning by a mile, but she was listening to what Nate was saying all the while.

And his voice was suddenly serious. ‘Right, bring her straight in.’

‘Trouble?’ she asked as he replaced the receiver. From where she sat he looked big and competent and…nice, she thought. Though it wasn’t nice in the sense that Fiona would have thought nice. Fiona would have only seen his body, which was certainly nice enough. Or maybe that was an understatement. But the rest of him-the Nate inside-was pretty darned nice, too.

‘I need to go.’

Why did her heart lurch a little? It had been a long time since she’d felt like this, she thought. Warm, contented and full of delicious laughter. He warmed her from the toes up and she hated the thought that her time with him was over. For now.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘An asthmatic. Milly Jefferson. She’s five years old and tight as hell. We play a balancing act keeping her at home.’

‘Let me help.’

‘You don’t need to.’

‘I want to.’ She smiled at him with that smile he was only just getting to know. And like. ‘I’m on call tonight and we agreed I’d take over medically while you looked after your baby.’

‘But my baby’s asleep.’ There. He’d said it. My baby. Just like that.

‘Then let’s go and play doctors,’ she said serenely. She pulled herself to her feet and stood waiting. ‘Together.’

They did more than play doctors. Their medicine was needed in earnest.

As Nate had said, Milly was as tight as hell. Her parents rushed her into Casualty, their faces desperate with fear.

For good reason. She’d gone past the point where bronchodilators were effective. She’d gone past the point where salbutamol administration was even possible. She lay limp and unresponsive in her father’s arms and Gemma took one look and thought, We’ve lost her.

But Nate was taking her from her parents, laying her on the examination couch and putting the oxygen mask on her face almost in one fluid movement.

Maybe it was too late for the oxygen mask. His fingers were on her pulse. The little girl’s chest was still-the fight for breath seemed over.

‘I need to intubate…’

Gemma was before him. The nurse on duty hadn’t arrived yet-she must have been caught up elsewhere in the hospital-but Gemma had been in the emergency department before when she’d brought Cady in. She knew what was required and where to find it. By the time Nate had checked the child’s airway the crash cart was by his side and an intubation tube was being placed in his hand.

There was no time for muscle relaxants-and no need. The child was past the point of fighting.

Nate lifted the tube. Then, on the point of intubation, he paused and motioned to Gemma. ‘You.’

She got it in one. She was the anaesthetist. Intubating a child was tricky. Nate might well be able to do this-in fact, he had probably done it many times over his years as a country doctor-but if there was a skilled anaesthetist on hand then why not use her?

So he backed off and prepared an adrenalin injection while Gemma swiftly, expertly slid the tube down the child’s throat.

Milly didn’t even gag. That was how far she’d gone.

Her mother held her face in her hands, sobbing blindly. She was buckling at the knees and her husband moved to support her.

But the adrenalin injection slid home and the child’s chest heaved in one last convulsive attempt to get air.

Gemma had the bag in place, breathing for her. And the child suddenly found the strength to fight for herself.

Wonderful. The tube was in place. The bag could work, the oxygen could flow and the child could breathe.

She was still that awful colour, though.

‘I need muscle relaxant,’ Gemma ordered, switching back into doctor mode as if she’d never paused. ‘And a sedative. As soon as she recovers she’ll fight the tube.’

She looked at Nate. Silently he placed what she needed in her hands and watched as she located a vein in the little girl’s hand.

Intravenous drips in children were notoriously difficult but Gemma didn’t hesitate. She inserted the drip with no more difficulty than Nate would have experienced had it had been an adult.

‘Great.’

And with the drip set up and the child’s breathing being supported, they had time to take stock. And breathe themselves.

‘She’ll make it,’ Nate said, and his voice was a trace unsteady. He’d been as scared as she was, Gemma thought, watching him, and then she thought, He cares about his patients. He’s not just a womaniser. He’s a really fine country practitioner.

And he’d just proved that he wasn’t a walking ego either. He’d handed over the intubation to her because he believed her skills were greater than his. It had been a huge vote of confidence in a doctor he didn’t know.

‘I knew you’d be good,’ he said in an undertone, and Gemma felt the colour rise in her face. Compliments like that didn’t come her way every day of the week-compliments from the heart.

‘Intubation and drips are what I do.’

‘You’re great.’

‘Yeah? As an anaesthetist maybe, but as a country doctor? You say that after I fail to diagnose a case of chicken-pox. This is the first time you’ve seen me work and it’s just lucky it was something I’m skilled at.’

‘Lucky for Milly…’

‘Mmm.’

They stood looking down at the little girl. She was still battling to breathe and she’d need to stay intubated until they were sure her condition was stabilised. Even then there’d be many more of these episodes in her life, Gemma knew-and then she let herself think about Cady. At least diabetes wasn’t life-threatening. At least she knew where she was with Cady.

‘He’ll be fine, too,’ Nate said softly, and Gemma raised her head in startled enquiry. What was it with this man? She hated that he could read her mind.

She was a private person. She’d learned the hard way to keep herself to herself and this man’s ability to get past the surface had her thoroughly unnerved.

Work. Think about work. Hadn’t that always been the best defence? ‘We’d best take her though to Children’s Ward. Or do you want to keep her in Intensive Care?’

‘I have Tom Saunders in Intensive Care with angina so I think we’ll take her through to kids’ ward. I’ll ring for an additional night nurse so we can do one on one while the tube’s in.’ He looked down at the little girl on the bed and frowned, and his frown wasn’t just as a result of complications of the night. He was looking into the future of a child whose condition was increasingly life-threatening. ‘This is the fourth acute episode this year. And if we hadn’t been close…’

‘But you were.’

‘I could have been out.’

‘And I would have coped.’

He looked at her and he seemed dazed. Like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. ‘I guess you would have. There are three doctors in this place now. Not two. It’s going to take some getting used to.’

‘It is.’

‘If you stay on…we could do enough surgery to keep you in training, but would you miss doing anaesthetics full time?’

She thought about it.

‘Not while there’s drama like tonight.’ The sedative was starting to take effect now and the child’s breathing was becoming relaxed, deeper and more even. She thought, We’ve just saved her life. It was a good feeling. A great feeling!

As long as they could keep her alive.

‘What sort of long-term therapies are you trying?’ she asked, and Nate shook his head.

‘She’s on steroids and bronchodilators as a matter of course. I daren’t increase the dosage.’

It was a hard call, Gemma knew. Long-term steroid use had its problems, a major one at this age being that it tended to stunt growth. Milly’s parents weren’t exactly huge. She’d need every inch of growth she could get.

So move sideways.

‘Can Milly swim?’

That caught their attention and suddenly Gemma had them all staring at her. Milly’s parents seemed like farmers. They were still dressed for the nightly milking, in stained jeans and work shirts. Their faces were haggard with shock and they held onto each other like they were drowning.

‘I… Swim?’ Her father was a gruff voiced man in his forties. ‘No. Why should she swim? She’s only five.’

‘It’d be the best thing for her.’ She smiled at all of them, Nate included, trying to lessen the tension. ‘Exercise builds lung capacity-and swimming’s the best form of exercise asthmatics can do.’

‘But…she’s only five years old.’

‘I can teach her.’

‘You…’ Nate sounded stunned.

‘You have an indoor swimming pool,’ she said serenely. ‘I checked it out this morning when I was exploring and it’s wonderful. And I thought what a waste-a swimming pool that’s hardly used.’

‘I use it.’

‘And I imagine Graham does, too. Which means it gets-what? An hour’s use a day?’

‘Sometimes less,’ he conceded, and she grinned.

‘Well… That means we have twenty-three hours of available pool time, and me a trained swimming teacher and lifeguard.’ She twinkled up at him. ‘Teaching swimming was the way I paid my way through university.’

‘I see.’ But he didn’t.

‘If I’m here for two weeks I could get Milly started. If we give her a few days to get over the worst of this episode I could give her a week’s intensive lessons. I bet I could get her swimming before I leave.’ If she left. She was starting to think… Maybe. Maybe this could work.

‘You’d really do that?’

‘I would.’ Gemma’s eyes met Nate’s, direct and slightly challenging. ‘The community here is providing the hospital that takes care of Cady and I intend to put as much into the community as I take out.’

‘You’ll teach our Milly to swim?’ Milly’s mother was breathless, clearly finding it hard to take herself away from the drama of the last few minutes and project herself into an unknown future. But she must. A future was what she desperately needed to believe in.

‘If it’s OK with Dr Ethan.’

‘It’s more than OK,’ Nate declared. ‘It’s fantastic.’

‘Then we have a plan.’ Gemma smiled happily at Milly’s parents and then she looked back at Nate. ‘I’ll take Milly through to kids’ ward and stay with her until I’m sure she’s stable. You ring for the extra nurse and then go back through to the house.’

‘But-’

‘Your daughter’s home alone.’

Home alone. His daughter. Right. He’d forgotten.

From where they stood they’d hear her yell if she woke, he thought, but Gemma was right. His responsibility was to his daughter.

And Gemma’s was to Milly.

The thought was so novel he was having trouble taking it in. But Gemma was calmly watching, waiting for him to go-so she could take over his responsibilities.

‘I’ll go, then.’

‘You do that, Dr Ethan,’ Gemma said calmly. ‘I’ll contact you if you’re needed.’

It seemed that he’d been dismissed.