A Doctor A Nurse: A Little Miracle
Carol Marinelli
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Title Page
A Doctor A Nurse: A Little Miracle
Excerpt
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be honest, hating the words she knew she’d have to say if she was ever going to let anyone in. ‘I can’t have children, Luke.’
And she waited. For what, she didn’t know—disappointment, perhaps?
‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said, ‘for the pain that must have caused you.’
Molly gulped. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘Mind?’ Luke frowned at her question. ‘I mind because I love you—I mind because it’s something you clearly want. But you’re asking if I mind like it’s some sticking point in a contract. I love you!’ Luke continued, and as he said it he stared right into her heart, peeled off that last little piece of shell around it with his eyes. ‘All of you. Even that bit of you that can’t have kids yet somehow manages to love working with them… and especially that bit of you that would consider loving mine?’
There was a very big question mark at the end of it.
‘I love you too…’ Molly answered. ‘All three of you!’
Carol Marinelli recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation, and after chewing her pen for a moment Carol put down the truth—‘writing’. The third question asked—‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But—given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open—I’m sure you can guess the real answer!
For Marilyn, Jo, Delia and Kathryn—
This dedication is for you!
Carol xxx
CHAPTER ONE
‘HI, MOLLY!’
Head down, bottom up in the IV drawer certainly wasn’t the way Molly had envisaged meeting Luke again.
Years ago, she’d sworn that if their paths should ever cross again she’d be thin, thin, thin, and wearing some strappy little black number, with her wild curly brown hair for once all sleek and straightened, sipping champagne—at a party, perhaps, with a gorgeous, doting man on her arm, laughing together at some intimate joke…. Oh, and she’d frown, just a tiny little frown as, for a second or two, she tried to place him…
‘Oh, hi, Luke!’
Blushing, pulling down her top to cover her less-than-skinny bottom as she stood, Molly managed not one of the above aims.
She’d heard he was back in Melbourne—had heard the terrible news about his wife, and had sort of wondered if he’d come back to Melbourne Central—but really her mind had been too full of other things to dwell on it.
‘How are you, Molly?’ His voice was as deep as ever and he looked the same—sort of.
Still taller than most, still blonder than most, those green eyes still gorgeous and that voice still incredibly crisp—only he looked older.
Not fat, balding, beer-gut older.
Just…her chocolate-brown eyes scrutinised his face for a second before she answered…tired, Molly almost decided, then changed her mind. Sad, perhaps, but that didn’t quite fit either.
‘I’m well, thanks.’ So much for some sparkling, witty reply! ‘And you?’
‘Not bad.’
Of all the stupid questions to ask. Molly could have kicked herself, but instead she took a deep breath and tried to repeat the words she’d offered in the card she’d sent him six months ago.
‘I was so sorry to hear…’ Her voice faltered. It was easier to write it than say it. On second thoughts, even writing it hadn’t been that easy—it had taken five cards and about a week of drafts to come up with her rather paltry offering.
Dear Luke,
I heard the terrible news about Amanda at work.
I am so sorry for your loss.
So sorry for the twins’ loss, too.
Am thinking of you all.
Molly (Hampton née Jones, Children’s Ward at Melbourne Central)
‘How are you all coping?’ she settled for instead.
‘Getting there—slowly.’ Luke shrugged. ‘It’s good to be back in Melbourne, having my family here and everything.’
‘And how are the twins?’
‘Getting there, too,’ Luke gave another tight shrug, ‘though, very slowly. Anyway, enough about me—how are you doing, Molly Hampton? Belated congratulations, by the way.’
‘Extremely belated…’ Molly took a deep breath, always horribly awkward at this bit, and she was almost saved from saying it as around the same time she spoke his eyes dragged down to her name badge. ‘It’s actually Molly Jones again.’
‘Ouch.’ He gave a tiny wince. ‘Since when?’
‘Since a couple of weeks ago. We broke up last year, but the divorce just came through. I figured the time was right to change my name back.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Any kids?’
‘None.’
‘Well, that’s good.’ Luke smiled, unwittingly turning the knife.
‘It is…’ Molly fished for her mask, that smiling mask she wore quite often. ‘It makes things a lot less complicated.’
Only it didn’t.
The fact that there were no children was the reason she was minus a wedding ring.
Not that he needed to know.
Not that he’d understand.
‘Well, I’m very sorry,’ Luke concluded, because he’d gone to private school, because somehow he always remembered his manners, ‘for all that you’ve been through.’
‘Let’s both stop saying sorry, huh?’ Molly suggested, and Luke smiled again.
Smiled because it was Molly.
Smiled because somehow, in a matter of seconds, she’d waved the barriers away.
‘So how are you—really?’ Luke probed, moving past the niceties and getting to the point.
‘Getting there,’ Molly answered, then her smile widened, ‘Well, I’ve read every self-help book in the library and I just did a quiz in a magazine and apparently I’m “a woman in control” so I’d say I am just about there! So what are you doing now—registrar, consultant…?’
‘Heavens, no.’ Luke shook his head. ‘There’s a registrar position coming up here that I’ve applied for—I’m just filling in to cover annual leave as a resident for now—and they’ve lumbered me with a month of nights.’ He must have seen her frown. Five years ago it would have made sense—five years ago Luke had been coming to the end of his paediatric rotation; five years ago he would have been starting to apply for a registrar’s position—but now? It didn’t make sense, and Luke filled in the silence with an explanation. ‘With the twins and everything, I had a crazy idea of being a GP—well, that was the plan. I started doing some shifts at a local walk-in, walk-out clinic to see if I’d like it and, well, the money and the hours were good.’
Since when had Luke cared about the mon
ey or the hours? Luke Williams had lived and breathed paediatrics—would have done it for nothing in Molly’s opinion. Not that he wanted her opinion, she reminded herself—not that he wanted her. Luke had made that stunningly clear five years ago.
Five years almost to the day, in fact.
When he’d walked into the café and after a few choice words had walked out of her life.
Walked out on them as he’d run back to Amanda.
‘Are you ready to check the IVs, Molly?’ her colleague Anne Marie called out. ‘Rita wants to start handover.’
‘Coming.’
‘So you’re doing a stint of nights, too?’ Luke asked as they both headed down to the cots area.
‘I do permanent nights now. There was an ACN position and I decided to give it a go.’
‘You’re an associate charge nurse?’ She could hear the surprise in his voice and didn’t blame him—the Molly Jones of five years ago couldn’t have cared less about promotions and the like, and Saturday nights had been for dancing! ‘You’ve done well—you really are a woman in control!’
‘Thanks. Well, it’s good to see you,’ Molly said. ‘I’d better go—I want to check all the IVs before handover. No doubt I’ll see you soon.’
‘No doubt.’
Molly always checked the IVs before handover, hated them bleeping and going off during it—hated the day staff leaving and then finding out there was a query with an order or rate and having to ring them at home. And it made handover a lot easier if she had at least glimpsed the patients. It was just something she did and usually very quickly—only not tonight.
Tonight the IV round took for ever, Molly having to check and recheck everything, reeling, just reeling, at having seen Luke again. She’d wondered how she’d feel if she saw him again. When she’d heard that he’d moved back, Molly had wondered if, after all these years, after all that had happened, he’d have any effect on her—had convinced herself almost that the intense feelings she’d had for him all those years ago had been nothing more than a crush.
Some crush!
Her mind whirred back to that dangerous place.
When life had been just about perfect.
When for three months, three glorious and passion-’d held him—and been held by him.
Had lain in his arms and been kissed.
Had kissed him back without reservation—safe in the knowledge, that this wonderful, breathtaking man was as into her as she was into him.
Had given every little piece of herself, because she’d known he was worth it.
‘Did you not sleep today?’ Anne Marie’s Scottish accent was, Molly was sure, as broad as it had been the on the day she’d landed in Australia twenty years ago!
‘I had a great sleep.’
‘She’s miles away!’ Anne Marie winked at Bernadette, a twelve-year-old who’d been on the children’s ward for three weeks now with osteomyelitis—a particularly nasty bone disease, which in this case affected Bernadette’s femur. Despite rigorous treatment that had required not just IV antibiotics but surgical intervention too, it was a long slow process to get her better, and the young girl was going to be on the ward for quite a while yet. ‘Molly’s off in a dream world of her own,’ Anne Marie carried on, but not even Anne Marie’s good-natured jesting could raise a smile from Bernadette tonight.
Still, her mind wasn’t on Luke or anything other than work when they came to cot four. Rita, the charge nurse for the day, was exchanging a frown with Molly that didn’t bode well, while talking reassuringly to the baby’s mother. ‘I’m going to ask Dr Williams to come and have another look at Declan. Amy…’ Rita turned to one of the day staff ‘…could you stay with Declan while I give handover? Give us a call if you’re concerned.’
‘I’m not happy with that little one,’ Rita continued once she’d spoken to Luke and they were in handover. ‘He’s going to be taking up a lot of your night. Declan Edwards, eight weeks, born at thirty-six weeks gestation so a touch prem, was admitted at lunchtime with bronchiolitis and he was doing well till a little while ago—IV fluids, oxygen, minimal handling—but his O2 sats have started to drop. I called Tom, the resident, and he had another look at him an hour or so ago and we increased the oxygen rate, but he’s still struggling. I’m glad Luke’s just come on, actually…’
Handover on a children’s ward was always long and detailed, with not just the children but their families to discuss and endless reams of tiny information that might be relevant at two in the morning when a two-year-old was crying out for his purple bear or, as in tonight’s case, a normally happy twelve-year-old whose mood had suddenly changed.
‘Bernadette’s been pretty low this evening,’ Rita said as they came to their last patient at handover, ‘which is to be expected, given the length of time she’s been here, but she was fine right up until lunchtime. She’s had lots of visitors, though. She might just be having a quiet night.’
‘No, I noticed she seemed pretty flat when I checked the drips,’ Molly agreed.
‘All the children in her bay have been discharged so maybe she’s feeling a bit lonely. I’ve told her that we’ll soon fill up, and Mum spoke to her before she went home, but she says she’s OK, just tired. I don’t want to nag her. Everyone’s entitled to an off day!’
‘It’s just not like her, though, is it?’ Anne Marie said. ‘She’s such a bubbly, happy wee thing.’
‘We’ll keep an eye on her.’ Molly didn’t bother to write it down, neither did Anne Marie. Both knew their patient well enough not to need reminding.
‘Well, I hope you have a good night,’ Rita said, handing over the keys to Molly, ‘though I think Declan’s going to keep you busy. Still, it’s good that Luke’s on—I can’t believe he’s just a resident! You remember Luke…’ Rita trailed off, obviously having just remembered that Molly would remember Luke Williams rather well. But even though she didn’t elaborate, that was all it took for Anne Marie to pounce the second Molly had allocated the staff and was pulling the drug trolley out.
‘So!’
‘So, what?’ Molly blushed.
‘That dishy doctor you were talking to before handover—why would you remember him?’
‘Because he used to work here.’ Molly shrugged. ‘Before your time.’
‘Before Richard’s time?’ Anne Marie asked perceptively, barring Molly’s access to the door. ‘When you were young free and single, perhaps?’
‘Perhaps!’ Molly said tightly, pushing forward, deciding that if Anne Marie didn’t move, she’d just run her over with the drug trolley, but Anne Marie stood back, smirking as Molly bulldozed past. ‘Hey, Molly.’ Anne Marie tapped her shoulder. ‘You still are!’
‘Are what?’ Molly frowned. ‘Am what?’
‘Young, free and single.’
‘Wrong…’ Molly gave wry smile, strangely close to tears all of a sudden. ‘I’m older, wiser and very newly divorced. Believe me, Luke Williams is absolutely the last thing I need right now!’
Though it was good to have him on duty tonight.
Good, because a poor excuse for a boyfriend he might have once been but he was an excellent doctor.
Young Declan had Molly suitably on edge and even though Anne Marie was looking after him, the drug trolley was quickly locked and put away, when Anne Marie called Molly over to say that even during handover his condition had deteriorated. His rapid respiration and heart-rate, combined with nasal flaring, indicating he was struggling, despite the oxygen tent he was in.
‘Where’s his mum?’ Luke asked as Molly came in with a head box which would deliver a higher concentration of oxygen to the infant as Anne Marie spoke on the phone.
‘She’s in the parents’ room, ringing Declan’s dad. I told her to have a coffee and that you’d come and talk to her soon.’
‘Where the hell’s Doug?’ Luke whistled through his teeth as he urged his consultant to suddenly appear. ‘I rang him half an hour ago—he should be here by now.’
‘Do you want
me to page the anaesthetist?’
‘I’ve paged him.’ Anne Marie gave a tight smile. ‘Twice. He’s stuck down in Emergency and we’re waiting for the second one to finish up in theatre.’
And whoever thought night shift was about sitting at the desk and guzzling chocolate had never done it.
Had never worked night after night with skeleton staff and patients that were just as sick at night as during the day, only without the resources to match it. With Molly and Anne Marie tied up with Declan, the ward was being watched by Louanna, a division two nurse, and Debbie the Grad. Most of the senior medical staff had long since gone home and the ones that were here at the hospital were clearly tied up elsewhere.
There was a thin line between a sick baby and a really sick one, and as Luke picked up one floppy, mottled leg, Molly knew Declan was crossing it.
‘Ring ICU,’ Luke said.
‘There isn’t a cot,’ Molly said, because she’d already checked. ‘There will be in an hour or so.’
‘Get them on the phone for me.’
Which she did.
And Luke explained in no uncertain terms to a unit that was being run ragged that unless they cleared a space soon, they’d be running to answer a crash call.
‘Making enemies, Luke?’ Doug Evans, wearing shorts and T-shirt and hauled away from wherever he’d been, looked nothing like the paediatric consultant he was. He was an extremely nice doctor and a very diligent one, too, and everyone, except Declan, breathed a bit more easily as soon as he arrived.
He examined the little babe gently as Luke gave his boss the background.
‘I just want some blood gases and then we’d better get him over to ICU. Thanks…’ he glanced over to Luke ‘…for calling me in.’
‘Always happy to see you, Doug!’ Luke gave a tight smile. ‘Molly, can you come and talk to the mum with me?’
And the dad!
Having raced along the corridor, Mr Edwards burst into the ward, his eyes shocked when he saw his son, especially as at that moment Doug happened to be sticking in a needle to do a quick set of blood gases.
‘What’s that? What’s going on?’
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