As they embraced, Matthew glanced at Anita. Her eyes were on James and Beth. Love for them blazed from her face.
And then she turned that look on him.
It surrounded and engulfed him, as if the very atoms of his body vibrated with warmth and passion. Without hesitation, he knew this was how God intended it to be between a man and his wife. He felt a whisper, soft as a breath across his skin, that Anita was the woman for him. That he should propose to her, as soon as he could.
The insane idea shook him to the core. He should move away, put some distance between them. That was the logical, sensible thing to do. Instead, he stood staring at her.
Her eyes darkened, and her lips parted as she gazed up at him for a long unguarded moment. Everything in him yearned for her, pulsing with the need to lean nearer, close the gap separating them, take her in his arms, kiss her. Like calling to like. Something pulled him closer, closer—
“Please, would you all come forward to complete the marriage register.”
The chaplain’s voice broke the bond drawing them toward each other. Their connection snapped with an almost physical jolt. Anita’s carefully blanked expression masked whatever she felt, but hot colour flushed her cheeks. She stepped back.
Common sense told him he wanted space between them too. Keeping his distance was wise. He couldn’t afford to be swayed by emotion into making a mistake that would bind him for life.
His parents’ disastrous marriage gave him an example of that. Marriage needed to be based on more than mere emotion. But a tiny whisper in the vicinity of his heart told him walking away from her would be the biggest mistake he could make.
Faint wariness showed in her eyes as she glanced at him after signing the register, making sure their fingers didn’t touch as she handed him the pen.
She flitted away quickly, and he didn’t have an opportunity to get near her. Whirling around the room, handing out teacups and sandwiches and wedding cake, playing with Daisy, talking to people, Anita was always in motion. And always away from him.
Pretending a coolness he didn’t feel, he refused to pursue her. He’d never chased a woman in his life, and he didn’t intend to start now. Perhaps he’d misinterpreted what he saw on her face. Perhaps he’d misheard his inner whisper.
He knew he hadn’t. He just didn’t know whether he could trust it.
James’s father, Jack, also kept his distance from Portia, though a couple of times Matthew saw her gaze following her husband across the room, probably when she thought Jack wouldn’t notice.
Matthew approached her bedside to check on her. The colour had faded from her face, leaving her tired and wan. She’d done little more than nibble on her slice of wedding cake. Though she appeared every bit as ill as she was, she still smiled.
“It’s over. I’m so grateful to see them married. This should have happened years ago, except other people, including me, interfered. God’s will has been done at last. Thank you for your help with this, Matthew.” She slumped wearily against the pillows.
“Time you went back to your room to rest, I think.” He glanced at the nurses, standing by the food table chatting and eating. “I can call the nurses over.”
“Not yet. Just a little longer. I want to store up all the memories I can.”
Anita came to the other side of Portia’s bed, carrying a squirming Daisy. “She’s getting a little fractious. Way past her naptime, and way too much excitement for one little girl. I’ll take her out into the courtyard where it’s quieter.”
She pointed through the glass doors on one side of the chapel, leading into a small garden. Though she smiled warmly at Portia, her gaze studiously avoided his. He couldn’t help watching as she walked out the door and lowered Daisy to the ground. Her womanly grace drew his eyes.
When he looked back at Portia, a knowing gleam widened her smile. Thankfully, she was wise enough not to say anything.
His lips twisted. “Thank you,” he said, guessing she’d realise what for.
She laughed and shook her head.
Then she threw a startled glance past him, snugging her bed jacket tighter around her neck. “Jack.”
Portia’s estranged husband stood beside him, one hand clutching the bed railing.
Matthew made an excuse and walked away, hoping they’d talk. He crossed the room to ask the nurses to leave Portia a little longer, until she’d finished speaking to Jack.
He’d barely finished a sentence when a frantic shout rang out from the garden. He rushed to the door, meeting Anita as she ran into the chapel with Daisy in her arms.
“Help her, Matthew. It’s another bee sting.”
Wide terrified eyes stared up at him. Red wheals blotched the child’s pallid face. Her breath rasped through swollen lips.
“It’s anaphylaxis.” Turning to the nurses, he rapped out an order. “Get me a paediatric EpiPen, now.”
Chapter 15
Please, Lord, help! Don’t let Daisy die!
The desperate prayer echoed over and over in Anita’s mind. Guilt twisted her gut.
She should have been more careful. If she’d been paying attention to Daisy instead of watching Matthew through the window, this wouldn’t have happened.
He took over, grabbing Daisy from her arms to lay her on the bed. With each laboured breath, a heart-breaking wheeze filled the chapel. Swelling around her eyes and mouth left her sweet little face almost unrecognisable.
Helpless and useless, Anita held her own breath, clutched Portia’s hand, and kept praying.
A nurse ran into the room with a small box in her hand. Matthew glanced at it, ripped it open, snapped a blue cap from the tube it contained, and thumped the tube against Daisy’s thigh.
Anita cringed at the force. But his gentle voice soothed her as he rubbed the spot afterwards, murmuring, “I’m sorry for the ouch. This will make you feel better, Daisy.”
Matthew looked up, his gaze steady and reassuring as he reached out a hand to touch hers. Comfort and encouragement flowed from him. “Don’t worry. She’ll be okay. I gave her adrenaline. Hear that? Her breathing has improved already.”
It had. The horrible rasping wheeze quieted as she breathed easier.
“Thank you,” Anita whispered, not trusting her broken voice to say more. Her heart swelled with gratitude. If this had happened in their garden at home and not here in the hospital…?
She couldn’t let herself think about what the outcome might have been. Her legs wobbled. Reminding herself to breathe, she leaned against the bed.
“We’ll need to take her to Accident and Emergency for observation and further treatment. It’s probably quicker if I carry her there.” He gathered Daisy into his strong clasp. “Please let them know we’re on our way,” he told the nurse. “Tell them it’s a two-year-old with a first episode of anaphylaxis.”
She nodded and held out the torn medication box. “I wrote down the time of administration.”
Anita took it from her. “Thanks.”
No time to wish Beth and James a happy honeymoon or tell Portia she’d be back later to let her know how things went. Matthew rushed out the door. She hurried to keep up with his fast stride through a maze of hospital corridors.
Fear beat like a drum with each footstep. She trusted Matthew and she trusted God, but Daisy had nearly died and wasn’t fully recovered yet. Her breath still rasped a little.
How would she manage alone at home if this happened again?
Matthew pushed through a set of red doors labelled Staff Only, and they were in the children’s Accident and Emergency department. A nurse hurried across to them.
“You can’t come in this way. Parents have to use the front entrance.”
Anita half-expected to be told to go out to the waiting room and fill in the required forms in triplicate first, but she’d forgotten the Matthew factor.
“I’m Dr Matthew Coalbrooke,” he stated crisply. “A nurse from the oncology ward should have phoned ahead. This is Daisy Kiernan, a visitor
. Age two, normally well. Anaphylactic reaction to a bee sting five minutes ago. No previous episodes. I administered adrenaline 150 micrograms IM.”
Anita handed her the torn medication box, observing the way her hand shook as if it was someone else’s.
The nurse glanced at the packet, then stared at Matthew. “Coalbrooke? As in the Coalbrooke Trust?”
He nodded.
Instead of insisting they follow the rules, the nurse brought them straight to an empty cubicle. Anita had no idea what the equipment lining the walls did, but she hoped they wouldn’t need to use it. The echo of children crying and whimpering in other bays wasn’t reassuring.
Matthew laid Daisy on the trolley. The nurse whisked a clear plastic mask over Daisy’s face, and then applied a clip to her big toe and a cuff to her arm, firing questions and filling in a form as she did. The machines began beeping and emitting other noises.
Daisy’s little face crumpled, threatening tears, and she tugged at the mask.
“It’s oxygen. She needs to leave it on.” The nurse tightened the elastic straps holding the mask in place.
Anita collapsed into a chair beside the trolley and clasped Daisy’s hands, so she’d leave the mask where it was. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. The nurse will help make you all better.”
“Are you her mother?” the nurse asked.
Anita shook her head. “I’m her aunt. I have temporary parental responsibility. Her mother’s in hospital.” She named the hospital, and the nurse’s eyes widened.
“I see.” She turned to Matthew, her lingering gaze bordering on unprofessional. “So you aren’t the father, either?”
Anita’s cheeks heated. “No. He’s not. Daisy’s father isn’t involved.”
Before the nurse asked, she rushed into offering details like Daisy’s date of birth, address, and GP’s name—all the things a mother would know. As she did, she bundled her foolish daydreams about them being a family back into her heart and slammed the door on them. Matthew would return to Africa, and Jen would get well enough to care for Daisy.
The nurse jotted down all the details and charted the numbers blinking on the machines. “I’ll be back in a minute. I just need to find you a doctor.” She winked at Matthew. “I mean, one who still works here and can sign a hospital medication order for me.”
Anita peered uncertainly across to Matthew. “I have no idea if those numbers are good or bad.”
“They’re not too bad.” He took a moment to explain each one. His face softened as he touched Daisy’s face. “The main thing is that this little one looks better.”
“She does.” Sweet thanksgiving warmed Anita.
He glanced at his watch, and his brows pulled together in a frown. “I don’t want to leave you, but I have an important meeting arranged with the Mission Trust lawyers, one I can’t cancel. I’ll need to go soon. Will you be okay?”
Everything in her cried out no. She needed him here. He understood the hospital, all the things that frightened and bewildered her. And if the meeting went as he wanted, then surely he’d return to Africa.
Her heart ripped a little.
She pasted on a smile and forced her voice to stay steady and unconcerned. “You saved Daisy’s life—that’s enough for one day.” That part, she meant. “I’ll be fine. I hope the meeting gets you the solutions you want with the Trust.”
The second part, she didn’t mean quite so much. Though she wished it was true, for his sake. Her hand trembled on Daisy’s leg. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“They’ll want to keep Daisy here at least six hours,” he explained. “It’s routine. They’ll almost certainly start a drip, that’s a little needle in her arm to give her fluid, and administer some more medicine through it. Once her condition stabilises, they’ll move her to a quieter observation area.”
“Thank you.” His explanation did help make it all less worrying. She smiled, willing her face not to wobble too much.
His forehead creased, and his eyes warmed with what could have been concern. As if he truly didn’t want to leave them. “Have you got any pound coins with you? You’ll need them for the self-service machines if you want a cup of tea or a diet cola.” A grin tweaked his lips. “Or even a chocolate bar.”
So her liking for comfort food hadn’t escaped him. “I left my bag in Portia’s room. I’ll get by without. Till I get home, anyway.”
“I’d rather you could buy yourself a drink or something to eat if you wanted.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an assortment of change. “Here. I’ll be back when I can.”
More small thoughtfulness to add to the list. She accepted the coins, warm in her hand from his body heat.
Instead of walking out through the cartoon character patterned curtains at the end of the cubicle, he came around her side of the bed. “Stay strong and courageous.” His warm voice told her he was sure she would.
“I’ll try.” She raised her head to smile up at him, and he dropped a kiss on her forehead.
Then he was gone. Trembling, she slumped, her head resting on the bed next to Daisy, her hand pressed against the place his lips touched. Hoping against all common sense that the kiss meant something more than just friendship.
She recalled the rest of the verse. “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
Please help me to trust You, Lord. I’m not feeling too courageous, and right now, I’m not feeling You here with me, either.
The curtains swept back, and a white-coated young woman hurried into the cubicle. “I’m Dr Kulkarni,” she said. “I need to start a drip on this little lady.”
The next twenty minutes weren’t pleasant for either Daisy or Anita. The doctor put a needle into Daisy’s arm, strapped it in place, and took some blood samples. Once she attached a machine holding a bag of IV fluids to the needle, she injected several medications into the tubing, explaining they would stop the allergic reaction but might make her sleepy.
Thankfully, Daisy dozed off. Anita wished she could too, wrung out by the struggle to hold Daisy, and the stress of seeing her so upset. But between her worry for Daisy, the noise from the other cubicles, and her confused emotions for Matthew, rest eluded her.
She didn’t seem to be doing a very good job of temporary motherhood.
Lowering her head to the bed, she tried to pray, hoping to find comfort from trusting in God’s presence with her, instead of wishing Matthew would come back. He’d be returning to Africa soon. She mustn’t let herself depend on him.
A nurse came in every fifteen minutes to check the drip and the numbers on the monitor, without waking Daisy. After an hour, the nurse recorded the monitor readings, checked her chart, and cheerfully announced, “She’s doing well. We can move her to the observation ward.”
Once they settled in the new ward, the next thing she knew was Daisy’s excited voice waking her.
“Maffoo! Maffoo!”
Bleary-eyed, disoriented, and startled, she looked around. Daisy sat up against the bed railing, reaching out to Matthew. A rush of warm emotion washed over Anita, followed by the thought that she’d fallen asleep facedown on the trolley.
Her hands raised to smooth her hair, and she ran her fingers under her eyes to remove any mascara smudges. No doubt she’d made things worse.
Anyhow, looking a mess didn’t matter. Matthew didn’t think about her that way. He was only being kind. If she kept reminding herself that, it wouldn’t hurt so much when he went away.
He glanced up from Daisy’s chart and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought I’d tiptoed in quietly.”
“Mum and I joke that Daisy must have bionic ears. When we don’t want her to hear us, that is.”
He hooked the chart back on the end of the cot.
Daisy bounced excitedly. “Maffoo, up. Maffoo, up.”
“She wants a cuddle.” Daisy wasn’t the only one in need of a cuddle, but she could
n’t say that.
He dropped the cot side, checked the tubing for Daisy’s drip, and lifted her in his arms. She snuggled in like she belonged there.
“Hello, Miss Daisy,” he said. “You look much better than you did three hours ago.”
“Has it been that long?” Anita glanced at the clock on the wall “After seven. I must have slept longer than I thought.”
“My meeting ran longer than I expected, too.”
“Did it go the way you wanted?” For his sake, she hoped it had. But she couldn’t avoid the selfish wish that he’d be staying in England, instead.
He shrugged. His face bore an expression she couldn’t quite decode. “Yes and no.”
“Bagpuss,” Daisy said from her perch against his chest.
“Bagpuss?” he asked.
“It’s her current favourite toy. A big, pink stripey cat. He was a character in an old children’s TV show. You must have seen it.”
He shook his head. “My grandfather didn’t allow television. Did I miss much?”
She smiled. “Not really. Bagpuss used to be mine, but I gave him to Daisy.”
Though it hurt to see him dragged around by one paw, she’d done the right thing giving Bagpuss to Daisy. She scanned the room, but couldn’t see him.
“Bagpuss!” Daisy’s voice raised as she repeated her request.
Anita stood and stretched her stiff muscles. “He must still be in the chapel. Would you mind staying with Daisy while I go get him? I can let Portia know she’s okay, and grab my handbag, too.”
“Of course. Take as long as you need.”
His warm smile tugged at her heart. He’d make such a marvellous father. If only he didn’t have those Victorian ideas about marrying a suitable woman, solely to have an heir. She’d been a fool to fall in love with him, because she wouldn’t settle for anything less than love in return.
Careful to avoid touching him, she came around the cot to kiss Daisy. “I’ll go get Bagpuss, sweetheart. Matthew will stay with you.”
“’Kay.” Nestled snugly in his arms, Daisy wouldn’t care how long she was gone.
Anita popped into Portia’s room first, to pick up her handbag and let her know Daisy was doing fine.
Teapots & Tiaras: A sweet and clean Christian romance in London and Cambridge (Love In Store Book 5) Page 13