How much time had passed during what she now felt to be a dream sequence of some kind?
Surely no more than seconds, yet that bump Sophie felt was definitely the wheels touching down on a runway, and the braking of the plane was forcing her against her seat belt. She pulled her hand away from Gib, turning her face so he wouldn’t see her embarrassment.
‘Sorry about that, folks!’ the pilot said cheerily when, with the plane now stationary, he came back into the cabin to open the door for them. ‘Storm season—we get to expect a few bumpy rides.’
Sophie unclipped her seat belt and stood up, grateful to be able to stretch—eager to get out of the plane, eager to get away from Gib—but as she reached the top of the steps she saw the ambulance pulled up as close as it could get, one of the ambos already opening the rear door.
‘Let them bring the babies in,’ Gib said quietly. ‘We’ll stabilise them once they’re on board.’
The ambulanceman had pulled a stretcher out, the wheeled supports dropping to the ground. On it sat a man, a sheet bundled around him.
‘I’ve got them all,’ he said. ‘The nurse at the hospital said this was the best way to keep them warm.’
The ambulanceman stood behind the man as he negotiated the steps into the plane then helped him sit down. It was only then Sophie realised he was cradling all three babies against his skin—kangaroo care—but although it was practised in most hospitals if the baby’s condition allowed, she’d never seen a man with three babies held firmly against his chest.
Eager hands reached out to relieve him of his burdens but, like any new father, he was reluctant to let go.
‘That one’s Kristie,’ he said, as Sue took the first baby and settled her in the incubator. ‘She came first.’
Sophie took the next one, murmuring hello to little Carly, settling her, at Gib’s behest, beside her sister in the crib.
‘And this is Angus.’ Fatherly pride shone in the man’s eyes and reverberated in his voice as he handed his precious son to Gib. ‘We know we can’t travel to Brisbane with you, but just as soon as the nurse says Helen—that’s my wife—can travel, we’ll be on our way by road.’
Relieved of the babies, he now stood up, buttoning his shirt, the cotton blanket that had been wrapped around his chest left forgotten on the ground. He was too anxious to see what was happening. He watched as Gib slid a catheter into the stub of Angus’s umbilical cord so they had a port for fluid or drugs, and Sophie did the same for Carly and Kristie then attached monitors to the babies’ chests. Sue counted respirations, tiny tubes close to hand in case one or all of then needed intubation.
‘You’ll call them by their names?’ the father said anxiously, as Gib fastened small-size identity bracelets onto the babies’ skinny legs.
‘We will,’ Sophie assured him, ‘and we’ll take special care of them. You get back to Helen—she’ll be fretting, and anxious to know how they travelled. And drive safely—these little people need you both.’
The man touched his children again, one big, calloused forefinger pressing against each forehead as if in benediction. Then he said a hoarsely uttered goodbye to each in turn—by name—and Sophie had to swallow hard to remove the lump in her throat.
‘I wonder why the names were so important to him,’ Sue asked, when the babies were settled and the plane once again in the air.
‘Maybe because there were three of them,’ Gib suggested. ‘He didn’t want us getting them muddled.’
‘It seemed more than that,’ Sophie said. ‘He had a bit of an accent. Maybe when he came from his home country he had to change his name.’
Speculation over names, then over the babies’ status, kept them occupied for the much smoother ride back to Brisbane, Sophie relaxing enough to think she might end up enjoying plane travel if she had to do it often. Though it was unlikely she’d ever be travelling with Gib again—or with his unusual method of distraction.
She pushed away the thought, then forgot the interlude altogether for by the time they reached the hospital little Angus was suffering bradycardia, his heart rate dropping down to seventy.
The might of science took over and the little boy was X-rayed and scanned, but no cardiac abnormalities, apart from PDA—a fairly normal condition for preemies—were found, and though he seemed to be having periods of apnoea when he stopped breathing, and apnoea could cause bradycardia, it didn’t seem likely this would have caused his heart rate to slow so dramatically.
‘He was last born—could he have had some oxygen deprivation during his birth?’ Sue asked Gib, as the three of them, reluctant to leave their charges until they knew they were safe, stood around Angus’s crib in the NICU.
‘That could cause other problems, mainly developmental ones, both physical and mental, but it shouldn’t be slowing his heart rate now.’
Gib put his hand through the port as he spoke and gently massaged the tiny, underdeveloped chest.
‘Come on, little guy,’ he said. ‘We promised your dad we’d look after you.’
‘Come on, Angus,’ Sophie corrected, her eyes flicking between the baby and the monitor screen, back and forth, willing something to happen that might change the baby’s status.
His respiratory rate was good—fifty breaths a minute—so why was his heart so reluctant to beat? Heart problems, heart anomalies, even PDA, usually resulted in a faster heart rate as the heart speeded up its action in an attempt to right the imbalance the condition caused.
‘Increase his oxygen,’ Gib said to Sue when Angus’s oximeter reading showed he wasn’t getting enough oxygen into his blood.
Sophie glanced towards his sisters, spooned together in another isolette.
‘Should we put him in with them?’ she asked Gib, who shook his head.
‘We tried him in with Carly—or was it Kristie?’
‘Maybe the father was a twin and always called the wrong name,’ Sophie told him. ‘So now he’s determined to get it right. It was Carly, but we didn’t try him in with both of them. After all, the three of them have shared a small womb-sized space for the last nine months.’
Gib studied her for a minute, and she knew it wasn’t personal—he was simply weighing up her idea.
‘We can try it,’ he said, and the nurse who’d been appointed to tend Angus lifted him carefully in her hands.
Both hands!
Sophie went ahead of her, shifting the other two babies slightly so Angus would fit between them.
The nurse set him down, then checked the leads were still hooked up to the monitor.
‘Well, will you look at that?’
It was the nurse who pointed to the screen, but they could all see the improvement, Angus’s heart beats picking up to eighty beats a minute in no time at all.
‘We can’t consider it a miracle and not keep a close eye on him,’ Gib warned. ‘Especially when the three are separated for feeds or treatment.’
He left the room, returning ten minutes later to find Sue and Sophie still hovering over the crib.
‘Sue’s on duty tonight, but you’re not,’ he reminded Sophie. ‘Not for another…’ he checked his watch ‘…four hours, so if you want to get some sleep before you start, I’ll run you home.’
Sue looked a question at her, and Sophie explained, ‘We live together,’ then heard the words and hurried to explain. ‘In a flat—I live in a separate flat, Thomas and I.’
As she and Sue had only ever exchanged work-related words, this explanation probably left Sue even more confused.
Or even more certain Sophie and Gib were having an affair?
Sophie was still squirming over her faux pas when Sue spoke again.
‘Ah, Thomas!’ she said. ‘We’ve all been wondering if there was a man in your life. Was he from up here? Did you move from Sydney to be near him? What does he do?’
Sophie was about to explain exactly who Thomas was—or at least explain he was a child—when Gib forestalled her.
‘If you start answering Sue’s questions, you’
ll be here all night. Believe me, she won’t be happy until she knows every little detail of your private life, and once Sue knows, the world will know.’
‘Only the hospital world,’ Sue protested, but her smile suggested she wasn’t the least bit offended by Gib’s words.
‘Well, too bad, because Sophie and I are going home—me to Aunt Etty and Sophie to her Thomas, so make what you want of that.’
Gib took Sophie’s elbow and steered her away from the triplets’ crib.
‘The entire neonatal staff are at one with Aunt Etty, and are always trying to fix me up with a date, or match me up with someone. You mentioning Thomas was brilliant. It threw Sue off completely.’
‘But I was going to explain,’ Sophie told him, moving away from him so his touch wasn’t distracting her. ‘It doesn’t feel right, letting her think—’
‘Does it worry you what people think?’ Gib asked, stopping by his car and opening the door for her.
She looked into his face, unreadable in the shadowy light, and replied honestly.
‘Not much. I mean, I’d hate for people to think I was a snob, or above myself, but I’m a fairly private person, not because I want to hide things but because I find it hard to talk about myself. I was brought up—’
What had happened to finding it hard to talk about herself? she wondered, as she stopped the conversation just in time and slid into the car seat.
‘You were brought up…?’ he queried as they exited the car-park.
She studied his profile, wondering if he’d persist if she didn’t answer. She guessed he wouldn’t because he appeared to be just as private about his personal affairs as she was. The information he’d disclosed earlier—about his marriage—had sounded dry and dusty, as though it had been tucked away deep inside him for a very long time.
‘Weren’t we all?’ she said lightly, and saw him smile.
But driving home with him was a mistake. The car enclosed them in a capsule of privacy, the cool air-conditioning, the leather smell of the seats, the river flowing by all contributing to the sensual…discomfort that built within Sophie’s body. Try as she may to think of the babies, her mind was fixated on Gib’s touch, his finger on her lips, her lips capturing it…
‘You’re far too young and attractive to have shut yourself away from life,’ he said, as he turned the car off the main road towards his house. ‘And suggesting you live here was probably a mistake.’
He pulled into the drive and Sophie turned to stare at him, although the trees allowed little moonlight to filter through, so she couldn’t see him clearly in the shadowy darkness.
‘You want us to move out?’
‘No!’
The word snapped as abruptly as a slap towards her and she sat back in her seat, wondering just what he might be getting at.
‘But it’s wrong for you. You might feel awkward bringing home a date—a man. I’ve made it hard for you.’
Sophie shook her head. She knew she should let it go—should get out of the car, go into her flat and hope Gib had got rid of whatever bee he had in his bonnet by the time she saw him again.
But this man had held her in a sexual thrall—there was no other word for it—less than four hours ago, and now he was telling her to get lost.
Not that she wanted him, of course. She didn’t want any man in her life—at least not until she’d sorted things out for Thomas. And even then she’d have to be extremely careful that any man she might choose to see would be right for Thomas as well as for her.
She turned towards him, took a deep breath and hoped her voice wouldn’t shake as she demanded some answers.
‘Just what exactly are you saying, Gib? Is this to do with the pretend kiss? Are you afraid I might have read something into what happened there on the plane and am now going to mark you down as my future Mr Right? As if you haven’t made it perfectly clear that you’re still in love with your wife! I mean, if a woman can’t get the point from the wedding ring you’re still wearing four years after her death, she’d have to be pretty dim. The woman, I mean.’
She saw Gib move, lifting his hand off the steering-wheel, but she was on a roll and not going to be deflected by a raised hand.
‘Anyway, in case you’re worried about any predatory instincts I might have, let me assure you that a man is the last thing I need in my life at the moment. My one and only concern right now is Thomas, and his security, well-being and happiness.’
She’d have added ‘So, there’ but was aware she was already sounding like a snooty adolescent so bit it back, fumbling for the door release so she could get out of the car and put distance between herself and this man and the way he made her feel.
‘I took off the ring,’ he said, voice as mild as milk. Then he slid his arm across her shoulders and drew her towards him. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for a permanent involvement in my life. What I said—about you living here—was more to do with me than with you. If you had another man in your life, maybe I’d stop wanting to kiss you. Stop wanting to hold you like this and tangle my hands in your hair and press my lips against yours, sinking into your sweet softness.’
He had drawn her so close she could feel the words puffing against her skin, as potent as caresses, warming her body with a wanting she’d never felt before.
‘Are you going to stop talking and kiss me?’ she asked, her throat so tight the words barely made it out. ‘Or is this more pretend?’
‘I can’t pretend with you,’ he said, so harshly she should have drawn away, but instead the roughness excited her even more and she gave in to the hot fire of his lips against hers and the heated dance of their tongues.
‘Thanks a bunch,’ Albert greeted Sophie when she walked into the ICU after not nearly enough sleep. ‘Three more babies, one needing watching to make sure his heart keeps beating.’
‘Anything to stop you being bored,’ Sophie told him. ‘Have the parents arrived yet?’
Albert smiled at her.
‘Not yet, although I could probably tell you exactly where they are on the road. Helen, the mum, phones every ten minutes to see how the babies are doing.’
‘I think being separated from your babies almost as soon as they are born must be the worst possible thing,’ Sophie said, crossing to where the three were snuggled together in their crib and looking down at them. ‘Content—they look content, don’t they? Not worried, like so many of our babies look.’
‘Do you think they somehow know they’ve hit the world too early, that they have that worried look?’ Albert said, joining her beside the crib. ‘With these three, all in together, they mightn’t have realised yet that things have changed.’
‘A more nonsensical conversation I have yet to hear.’
Sophie turned to the source of the remark, and found Gib had been smiling as he’d made it. Heat flashed through her as memories of the previous evening’s kisses scorched her lips and set her heart racing, although the way they’d parted after it—silently, each to their own door—had left her as confused as she’d been shaken.
But Gib was smiling, and she smiled bravely back, then heard Albert whistle under his breath.
Annoyed with herself for revealing even a hint of her feelings, she moved away, heading for Mackenzie’s crib, pausing to talk to Maria before she checked the monitors and read through the details of Mackenzie’s night.
‘She’s doing OK, isn’t she,’ Maria said, making it more a statement than a question.
‘Very OK at the moment,’ Sophie agreed, seeing the latest measurement of the baby’s tummy and realising it hadn’t changed for thirty-six hours.
‘So can I start giving her breast milk again?’ Maria asked. ‘When she was born, everyone said that was best, and now she’s not getting it. What about all the things it’s supposed to help, like her immunity and stuff?’
‘It will still help when she gets back on it. I’ll talk to Gib and see what he thinks. When we start to feed her again, it will have to be a tiny amount, then
we’ll gradually increase it.’
‘That means my milk will keep going into the freezer,’ Maria said, shaking her head as if that was a disaster.
‘It keeps well that way,’ Sophie assured her.
‘But it loses the immunity stuff. I read that in the papers you gave us.’
Some days there was too much information and other days not enough, Sophie thought, though she hastened to assure Maria that the frozen milk would be kept for emergencies and Mackenzie would be given fresh milk as soon as her intestine was able to tolerate food.
‘Dr Fisher to A and E. Dr Fisher to A and E.’
The call was so unexpected it took Sophie a moment to register she was Dr Fisher, then a squeezing of her heart—had Thomas had an accident?—before she remembered she was on call for emergencies this week.
‘Trauma room two.’ The triage nurse directed her to where she was needed, into a room already packed with people fighting to keep alive the victim of a road accident.
‘You the neonatologist?’ a man barked at her, and Sophie nodded.
‘Hang around. She’s pregnant but we’ve not had time to measure fundal height so don’t know how far along, but we may have to take the baby. Scans show the foetus is all right. The woman suffered severe head injuries but little damage to the rest of her body. You’ll be ready if we need you?’
Again Sophie nodded, having seen the emergency humidicrib outside the door of the room.
‘We’re losing her,’ someone yelled, and Sophie was forgotten as the team fought to save the woman’s life, people yelling orders, while one man pumped her chest, counting all the time, keeping blood flowing through the woman’s body—through the placenta to her unborn child.
‘It’s no good. Look at the monitor—no brain activity at all.’
‘But we’ve got foetal heartbeat. Keep the oxygen going, keep her heart pumping for the baby. Where’s that damn obstetrician?’
‘You called?’
A small woman clad in pale blue scrubs far too big for her pushed into the throng.
‘I was delivering twins when the call came—newborn babies aren’t the kind of things you can drop immediately.’
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