The Army Doc's Christmas Angel

by Annie O'Neil

  Ugg. Me surgeon. Me have no feelings. Ugg.

  Naomi tucked herself behind one of the junior doctors so she could hide her smile as she pictured Finn wielding a wooden club while wearing a caveman’s leopardskin ensemble.

  She could still see Adao but was just out of that steel-gray eyeline of Finn’s. Meeting his piercing gaze was too unnerving when all she really wanted to do was focus on the little boy.

  Perhaps Finn was every bit as upset by Adao’s case as she was and this whole Cro-Magnon act was just that...an act. He definitely wasn’t the touchy-feely type.

  She gave her head a quick shake, her plaits shifting from shoulder to shoulder as she did so, looking up only to catch Finn glaring at her before he rattled off the facts.

  Adao had been in a field when his playmate had stepped on an anti-personnel mine. The mine had instantly exploded. She pressed her eyes closed tightly as he continued. She knew, more than most, how easily landmines could go off. The rebels in her own country had taken particular pleasure in littering them throughout the small vegetable patches most families had behind their homes. Two-for-ones, they called them. The blasts knocked out the women and the food supply in one cruel blast. Each morning she and her sister had gone out to the vegetable patch with a long stick, poking and prodding any upturned earth...hoping...praying that today they would be safe.

  “Am I boring you, Miss Collins?”

  “Sorry.” Naomi snapped to attention, horrified to see all the eyes in the room were on her. “No. Not at all.”

  “Then can you please indulge me and the rest of the team with what you would see as the best solution for the tissue damage Adao has sustained?” Finn’s eyes were bright with challenge.

  If only he knew. She hadn’t been blocking out his words, she’d been trying to block out her own memories.

  She pressed her heels into the floor and looked him straight back in the eye. “Well, as you know, I am a physio, not a surgeon, but my understanding is that free tissue transfer can aid with repairing extensive soft tissue defects if the limb has endured serial debridement.”

  Finn nodded. He wanted her to continue.

  Murmurs of curiosity rippled through the team as they cleared a little space around her.

  “After a series of pre-operative diagnoses—’

  “Which diagnosis? Be specific.”

  He wanted specifics? Fine. He could have specifics.

  She rattled off the list of tests she knew Adao would have to go through prior to surgery—all of which were geared toward finding just how much of his arm they could save while providing his body with optimum chances of healing. She concluded with the overall goal, “The greater the blood flow, the better the healing.”

  Finn nodded. “So we’re looking at measuring his blood flow. What else?” He scanned the room.”

  “Oxygen tension,” said a nurse.

  “Good. What else?”

  “If the pressure is zero, no healing will occur,” jumped in one of the surgical interns. “Ideally, we’re looking for the pressure to read higher than forty mils.”

  “Excellent.” Finn scanned the room. “What else?”

  Naomi’s eyes flicked to Adao’s. The pain and fear she saw in them as the medical terminology flew across the room pounded the air out of her chest. A fierce, primal need to do everything she could for this little boy seized every cell in her body, giving her the extra jolt of courage to cut in again.

  Finn had been through a trauma of some sort. Surely he had some compassion for this little boy.

  Eyes locked with Finn’s, she suddenly felt as though they were two prey animals, each wondering who would be the first to pounce. “What’s most important for Adao is getting him to a place where he can begin gentle physio—’

  “Yes. Fine.” Finn cut her off. “We’re not there, yet.”

  “But...” Wasn’t giving Adao something to hope for every bit as helpful as doing a skin fluorescence study to measure his microcirculation? He was a little boy! A terrified little boy!

  “But nothing. We’ve got the theatre booked in a few hours’ time, Miss Collins. He’s got to be as strong as possible going into surgery and time’s awasting.”

  Finn gave the back of his tablet a few swift raps with his knuckles and carried on talking his team through the finer points of the surgery, fastidiously ignoring Naomi’s shocked expression.

  How could he have done that? Interrupting her was one thing, but making that noise?

  He didn’t even notice how Adao had started at the sound, but she had.

  The sharp rat-a-tat-tat had the same effect on her nerves as it obviously did on Adao’s.

  To them it wasn’t knuckles on plastic.

  It was the sound of gunfire.

  * * *

  Finn felt Naomi’s presence up in the viewing gallery before he confirmed it with a quick sidelong glance.

  Her fingers were in prayer position up at that full mouth of hers. A line furrowed between her brows as he meticulously worked his way through the initial phase of the operation before he began shaping what remained of Adao’s arm in preparation for a prosthetic device.

  What was it with her and this kid? It wasn’t as if the hospital hadn’t had amputees before. It was, after all, his specialty.

  He blanked the gallery viewing room and returned his focus to Adao’s small form.

  “Skin temperature’s slightly different.” He nodded to the nurse by the instrument tray. He really didn’t want to have to take off more than he had to, but he knew better than most that providing a solid foundation for the prosthesis was crucial.

  There’d been no way to save the elbow joint. A layperson could’ve figured that out. But he had been hoping for an elbow disarticulation rather than the more blunt approach of a proximal amputation. By employing a fastidious millimeter by millimeter approach, he prepared Adao’s arm for separation at the joint, thereby providing a solid platform for his prosthetic device. He’d read about some electric elbow prostheses that could potentially set the boy up for a relatively normal life. He might not become a pianist, but...

  With any luck, he’d be ready for some gentle physiotherapy in a handful of days.

  An image of Naomi massaging Adao’s shoulder with her slender fingers blinded him for an instant. Blinded him because it wasn’t Adao he was picturing receiving her sympathetic care. It was him.

  It may have been a millisecond but it was a millisecond too long.

  “Clear the gallery!”

  His growl of frustration sent everyone from the gallery flying. If there was one thing that held true in Hope Children’s Hospital it was that the surgeon got what the surgeon wanted when it came to offering a child the best care possible.

  Pop music?

  No problem.

  A favorite scrubs cap?

  Same again.

  A gallery free of invested onlookers?

  That was fine, too. As long as everything came out good in the end.

  Muscles, connective tissue, skin all played a role in creating the foundation of what would be Adao’s arm from now on.

  Sometimes he thought he got the easy part and the physio was actually the one who took the brunt of the patient’s pain. Thank God his own physiotherapist had been unfazed by blue language because he had painted that therapy gym the color of a sky heading toward the blackest of midnights for his first few sessions. If by “few” he meant six months. Anyone and everyone who’d crossed his path—and that included family—had been soundly pushed away. The only way he’d survived those dark days had been with grim determination.

  Phantom limb pain.

  A poor-fitting prosthesis.

  Infection.

  A second surgery.

  He’d had them all.

  And he hadn’t wanted anyone who claimed to love him within ea
rshot. If ever he’d felt like a wounded animal—made of little else other than rage and fear—it had been then.

  It was what had driven him to retrain as a pediatric surgeon after he’d finally got out of rehab and had pushed his past as far away as he could. No one—especially children—should have to go through what he had. And under his watch they wouldn’t.

  Which was why he did the hard part—the part that required a methodical, emotionless approach—and positive, forward-thinking people like Naomi did the aftercare.

  * * *

  Two or three back-achingly painful hours later he stood back from the surgery table, knowing he had done his best.

  “Good work, everyone.” He pulled off his surgical cap and threw it in the laundry bin by the swinging theatre doors. “Make sure I’m paged when he wakes up, yeah? One of you stay with him at all times. I don’t want the little guy on his own. Not tonight.”

  His eyes shifted up to the empty gallery.

  Idiot.

  He should’ve let her stay.

  His gut told him she was the one Adao should be seeing as he blinked his eyes open when he woke from the anesthetic.

  His head told him to just butt out and carry on as always. No attachments. No guilt. He was already dragging around enough of the latter, thank you very much, and the last thing he was going to do was add a leggy physio to the list of people he’d wronged.

  That list was already full up.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NAOMI BURIED HER face in the dog’s curly coat and gave him a hug. Much to her delight, he sat back on his haunches and put his paws on her shoulders as if giving her a proper hug.

  “He’s gorgeous!” She looked up at his handler... Alana, was it?...and opted to ask the surgeon beside her instead. “What’s his name, Marco?”

  “Doodle,” Marco Ricci answered, as if it was patently obvious that the golden-brown labradoodle should be called Doodle. The surgeon gave the pooch’s head a quick scrub then wished Alana well.

  The pair of them watched as Doodle and his trainer made their way along and out of the hospital corridor.

  “Alice thinks he’s brilliant. Would use him for all her patients if she could. Whether they needed them or not,” Marco said, as they disappeared round the corner.

  “Wow.” High praise indeed, coming from Alice Baxter, one of the most driven, dedicated surgeons she’d met at Hope Hospital. Then again, having recently fallen in love with Marco, it was little wonder Alice was loving life and seeing the positive side of everything.

  Unlike Finn Morgan...the Caveman of Doom.

  Naomi shook the thought away—along with the image of Finn back in his caveman togs—and pulled out the small notebook she always carried with her. “That sounds amazing. I think I know someone who would really benefit from a therapy dog session.”

  Finn, for one.

  Might help the man grow a heart.

  Not that she was still smarting from being kicked out of the surgery. Or was acutely aware that she was the reason it happened. Flashes of connection didn’t strike like lightning then just fade away. They burnt.

  “Who’s it for?” Marco asked. His tone was friendly. Curious.

  Unlike Finn, who would’ve flung the question at her combatively.

  Urgh! Stop thinking about Finn!

  “Adao. You know, the boy in from Kambela for an arm amputation.”

  “Yes. Of course. Yesterday, wasn’t it? I heard the operation went well.”

  Naomi gave her best neutral nod. “That’s what I hear.”

  “Sounds like we all heard and none of us saw. Rumor has it the Beastie Man of Orthopedics kicked everyone out of the observation gallery.” He laughed as an idea struck him. “You sure you aren’t booking the therapy dog for him?”

  “Positive.” The more space between Mr. Finn Morgan and her, the better. She’d popped into Adao’s room a couple of times after checking the coast was clear. The first time he’d been asleep. The second she had given his shoulders a gentle massage, eyes glued to the door in case she needed to make a swift exit. Official physio wasn’t meant to start until tomorrow, but when she’d drawn up enough courage to go to Finn’s office and check if that was still the plan, he’d already gone for the night.

  The deflation she’d felt at not finding him there had shocked her. It wasn’t as if she’d been actually looking forward to seeing him.

  Well.

  No one liked conflict.

  Besides, the man was clearly battling demons on his own. She dealt with hers by putting on an extra-cheery façade and pretending she didn’t have a past and he... Well, he growled at people like a grumpy grizzly. So to each his own. Who was she to judge?

  “If you’re after booking some time with Doodle and Alana, the woman you’re after is...” Marco rocked back on his heels and did the air guitar version of a drumroll. “Evie Cooper! The source of all wisdom at Hope Hospital.”

  Naomi smiled. Evie. Of course.

  “I’ll go hunt her down.”

  “Two guesses as to where you’ll find her.”

  “NICU or PICU?” Naomi smiled. Evie was not only the resident elf, she was the hospital’s resident baby whisperer. The whole staff had swelled with pride when word had gone out she was going to fulfil a lifelong dream of finishing her nursing degree.

  “Or wherever Mr. Walker might happen to be.” Marco smiled then glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which, there is a certain blond surgeon who’s no doubt wondering where I am. Good luck with the therapy dog. Hopefully he’ll be the secret weapon you were hoping for.”

  She gave him a wave and headed for the stairwell, jogging up the stairs to see if she could find Evie before she headed off.

  Everyone’s schedules had gone absolutely haywire with the arrival of the holiday season. No one was waiting for the first of December to get their holiday groove on. It was as if the opening gala at the hospital had unleashed an entire year’s worth of magic fairy dust. Half the hospital seemed to be falling in love and decorating Christmas trees or piling nurses’ stations with gingerbread men while cross-checking diaries that drinks dates, department dinners and Secret Santas were all accounted for.

  And the other half?

  Her own evening diary was as pristine as a snow-covered field. Not that she minded. Much.

  The truth was, she had only ever dated men with whom she’d known she had no future. They had tended to be serious, more interested in science than sex. Which was fine with her.

  Being with someone...being happy with someone...physical with someone...it didn’t seem fair. Not when everyone she’d loved had had their lives cut so short.

  On the flipside, she saw just how unfair life was every day at work and, for the most part, her young patients just got on with it. They accepted that life threw grenades at all sorts of people. There was no rhyme or reason to it. That was just the way it was. So they chose to focus on the positive.

  She did on the outside. But inside? It felt as though she was frozen. And in order to survive she needed to stay that way.

  When she pushed through to the NICU reception area there was scarcely a soul about.

  She looked at her watch. It was after seven. It explained why Finn hadn’t been in his office. Not that she’d seen him wandering round the hospital after hours, as she had a tendency to do. What sort of life did he lead after hours if he wasn’t part of the “meet for a drink” set? Was he hacking piles of wood to bits with a huge, hand-honed axe?

  Or needlepointing tapestries of intricate flower patterns to help him with the delicate art of surgery at which he so clearly excelled?

  Pah! Yeah, right.

  “Can I help you?” The nurse manager, Janine, looked up from her computer screen where she was updating some charts.

  “I was just looking for Evie. I wanted to see if I could get some co
ntact details for Doodle.” She laughed and corrected herself. “Alana, his handler, I mean.”

  “Evie’s gone for the night, I’m afraid.”

  Naomi must have looked downcast at the news because Janine quickly added, “You know, a bunch of the nurses have headed down to the White Hart. If you’re looking for something to do...”

  Naomi pretended to consider the offer. Maybe it would be a good way to distract her from her thoughts. “It’s just off the King’s Parade, right?”

  “That’s the one! Go on,” Janine urged. “They’re a friendly group. They’d love to have you join them. I think the city’s even turned on the Christmas lights so it’ll be a lovely walk.” She peered over the edge of the nurses’ station at Naomi’s “uniform” of trainers and athletic wear. “Or cycle? Or run?”

  “Walk sounds nice.” Naomi smiled. They had turned on the lights. She actually lived nearby and had heard all of the oohs and ahhs as the lights had been switched on, followed by a good hour of excited chatter and laughter.

  It would do her good. Even if she just went to see the lights. Give her a reminder of life outside the hospital. She looked down at her trainers. Not really going-out gear, but...why not give it a go? Who knew, maybe she’d take a new route and discover something else about Cambridge to tell Adao about when they began their proper treatment the next day.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later Naomi was lost. With the medieval twists and turns of the city center and all the twinkling lights, she’d allowed her thoughts to drift away and had lost track of where she was.

  She could hear laughter and the sound of a ball game being played nearby. A group of children were obviously playing footie, with someone teasing and cajoling them from the spirited yelps and guffaws traveling round the corner. A sports center, maybe? A small green?

  She made a promise to herself to ask the first person she laid eyes on. What she didn’t expect was to discover the laughing, fun-loving man powering along the floodlit football pitch with a child hanging off each of his well-built arms was Finn Morgan.

  She froze, unable to reconcile the dedicated curmudgeon she knew from the hospital with this bright-eyed, chuckling human climbing frame! He looked positively alight with joy.