by Fiona Lowe
He hauled his gaze from the sweet swing of her hips and strode towards the elevators that would take him to Outpatients and, thankfully, to back-to-back patient appointments that would keep him completely occupied for the next three hours. His mind would be full of his patients’ problems and there’d be no time or room to think about anything else.
Not Anna. Not the fact he’d missed an easy shot at the bin, and definitely not about huge, hazel eyes in a smiling, round face that had held concern for him.
Concern that scared the hell out of him.
Chloe was working yet another afternoon shift. Thursdays on Ward Six were always frantic because it was one of two elective surgery operating days. Granted, any day could be busy because emergencies happened randomly, but the pace of the ward always picked up on Wednesday afternoons, starting with the paperwork and history taking connected with admitting a new patient. Twenty-four hours later the ward was in full swing and handovers were done at the end of the bed because no one could be spared off the floor.
Chloe had always thought the most sensible staffing roster would be if Keri and Kate split up the day between them so that the unit manager and her second-in-command covered sixteen of the busiest twenty-four hours between them. But ideas and real life didn’t always collide. Keri took her daughter to mini-musicians class on Thursday afternoons and Kate’s boys played basketball. It appeared that neither of these events could happen on different days, which meant on most Thursdays, just as the ward reached its zenith of activity, Keri and Kate departed, leaving Chloe in charge. Today was no exception and Chloe had moved puppy school to Fridays.
When she was in charge, she arrived thirty minutes earlier than her allotted start time so she could get a handle on the ward before her staff arrived. Today she was here even earlier, but instead of taking the lift up to Ward Six, she pressed the ‘LG’ button and got out at the operating theatre suite. Pulling on scrubs, shoe covers and a hair cover, she made her way to the viewing area outside Theatre Three.
The small gallery was almost full of medical students and interns but She spied a seat in the far corner at the front. No one had taken it as it involved eight people standing up to allow access. She had no qualms at all making them stand up because she refused to stand on her tippy-toes at the back. She wanted a front-row seat to watch Luke performing this rather unusual operation.
The theatre was full of staff, including two operating teams along with two scout nurses. Richard, close to graduating as a plastic surgeon, was leading the team that was harvesting the toe and Luke was in charge of the attachment team, bringing tiny nerves and arteries together and repairing tendons so the toe could function as a thumb.
‘Why isn’t he using the big toe?’ one of the medical students wondered out loud.
‘Balance,’ she replied, and all eyes turned to her, filled with surprise that a nurse had the answer.
They didn’t know she’d spent a rapt hour yesterday listening to Luke telling her about how Ethan Popovic had lost a finger in a sheet-metal factory accident and how he was going to transplant one of his toes to his hand.
They also had no clue that she’d had the privilege of hearing him explain the specialised angiograms of the patient’s left hand and right foot, which showed the blood and nerve supply to both areas. He’d pointed out how he’d mapped the transplant and he explained the need to structure the bone of the toe to fit its new function as a thumb.
Throughout the explanations he’d been the surgeon, she’d been the nurse and they’d spent a companionable time together. She’d been fascinated and enthralled, but mostly she’d been relaxed because talking about work with Luke was safe. Very safe. And she needed safe with him because anything else was murky, unclear and completely unsettling.
‘The patient’s only twenty-five,’ she explained to the crowd, ‘and he’s into extreme sports. If he’d lost his big toe it would impact on his ability to return to rock climbing. This way he has a chance, but using the second toe actually makes the surgery more complicated.’
‘Cool.’ The student was impressed.
A screen in the room allowed for close-up views of the surgery but as this wasn’t a specific teaching operation there were no microphones and the volume had been switched off. It was hard to read expressions on theatre staff as their faces were covered by masks, so Chloe used their body language to gauge the tone of the theatre and to see how everyone was faring at the five-hour mark of a possible seven-hour operation.
The scout and scrub nurses—the litmus test of tensions in the operating theatre—were doing their usual visual code and eyes were shining, which was a good sign. Richard had stepped back, his role in the surgery over, and his forehead was clear of any frown marks. Luke’s shoulders were square but not overly tense, and his long, tapered fingers moved surely and easily, almost underplaying the difficulty of the delicate and minute work they were doing.
A sense of awe and wonder flowed through her at his talent. His skill was out and out amazing and a flash of something flared inside her. She realised she was proud of him. She wanted to turn around and say to those around her, Be really impressed. You’re seeing something truly special. She smiled to herself. Maybe she was finally getting a hang of this friendship thing after all.
Luke glanced up from the surgical field for a moment, staring out towards the window, his eyes bright green behind wide, clear protective glasses. Leaving her arm close to her side, she flicked up her hand in a low wave—a private and supportive acknowledgment that she was there. There for him. As a friend.
She waited for the flash of recognition to spark in his eyes so she could imagine his endearing smile hidden behind his mask. Granted, he didn’t smile a lot but when he did it lit up his face and she could glimpse the man he’d once been—happy and content.
His stare continued, only it was vacant and unresponsive. She tried not to give in to the chill of disappointment that settled like a lead brick in her belly.
He’s concentrating, that’s all.
She wanted to believe that but there was something about his gaze that troubled her.
He did this when you were at his house. He swayed.
Oh, God. Her breath froze in her lungs, her hands tensed in her lap and she wanted to dive through the glass that separated them and grab him.
A second later Luke blinked, his eyes frantically flicking left and right, up and down, as if he was confirming where he was and what he was doing. He gave a curt nod to the scrub nurse, who immediately wiped his brow with a gauze swab, and then his fingers started moving again, returning to making minuscule stitches.
Chloe blew out the breath she’d been holding and glanced around. No one else seemed to have noticed the moment when time had stood still. There’d been no ripple of concern from the theatre staff either—no widened eyes, no frowns, and neither of the scout nurses had moved quickly, yet she was certain she hadn’t imagined that empty look, as if Luke had vanished for a moment.
You’re overthinking it.
You need to talk to him.
Her watch beeped, reminding her it was time to head up to the ward. Most of her didn’t want to move but she had to make sure everything was ready for when their patient arrived back from Recovery. Apologising to the others, she sidled out, her legs brushing theirs, and made her way straight up to the ward.
‘How’s it going down there?’ Keri asked the moment she arrived.
‘Good, I think. The patient’s probably ninety minutes away.’
Keri nodded. ‘We’ve delayed Mrs Luciano’s pre-med.’
‘Luke’s doing another operation today?’ Chloe couldn’t believe that he would do that on the back of such challenging surgery.
‘He’s got another two. They’re quick and easy carpal tunnels but even so, you’re going to be busy tonight.’
‘Always am on Thursdays.’ Chloe smiled.
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. Kate’s pregnant and—’
Pregnant. Ch
loe’s blood seemed to whoosh to her feet as she tried not to let her own regrets and pain swamp her.
Keri laughed at her expression. ‘I know. It’s a huge surprise, especially as Phil had a vasectomy.’
Not just pregnant but unplanned too.
More than a decade may have passed since she’d been pregnant but loss and regret lingered, waiting to rush back in and remind her that she would never experience pregnancy again—planned or unplanned.
She forced the muscles of her face to pull her mouth into a smile. It was like moving concrete. ‘Kate’s pregnant? How great is that?’
‘Well, it is now she’s got her head around it,’ Keri said prosaically. ‘At first she was pretty cut up about it because they only wanted two and a third means a bigger car and extending the house.’
‘I can see that,’ Chloe said faintly, not believing her words for a moment. So many people took pregnancy for granted and it was only those who couldn’t conceive who realised there was nothing ordinary or everyday about it at all.
‘Anyway…’ Keri got back on track ‘…I want you to apply to be second-in-charge when Kate’s on maternity leave. You’re an asset to the ward and you’re doing the job a lot of the time anyway. You deserve to have the formal position, which will look good on your résumé, and I’m imagining that the extra money won’t hurt either.’
‘That’s very true.’ Chloe wanted to squeal and high-five, but she kept her excitement in check.
Keri smiled. ‘It’s an advertised position so you have to apply and jump through the hoops. However, I’ll be giving you a glowing reference.’
‘Thanks, Keri, I appreciate your faith in me.’
The unit nurse manager checked her watch. ‘We’d better start handover or I’ll be late for Tahlia’s music.’ She started walking down the corridor to the patient’s room.
‘Maddie phoned in sick so I’ve organised an agency nurse to cover her patients. Mr Morgan’s IV needs resiting and as you’ve got the knack with his dodgy veins, we’ve waited for you. His dressing is now twice daily and you might need to pacify his wife because she’s worried that…’
And we’re on. Chloe started writing notes and strategising the shift, all other thoughts pushed firmly out of her mind.
The shift was ticking along nicely. The patients had been fed and many were being entertained by visitors, which gave the nurses a little hiatus from answering buzzers and left them free to get on with other jobs.
‘Who’s in charge?’
Chloe jumped as she recognised the furious strains of Luke’s voice blasting into the air from further down the ward. ‘Then go and find her. Please.’ Luke’s steely tone turned the pleasantry into a lethal weapon.
At the yell, the student nurse Chloe was supervising while she undertook Mr Morgan’s dressing dropped the tweezers onto his belly, breaking the sterilization.
‘Someone’s not happy,’ the jovial man said with typical Australian understatement.
‘Apparently not.’ Chloe wanted to rush out of the room and find out what on earth was going on but first she said, ‘Emily, you need to de-glove, get new tweezers and glove up again. You’re right to do that without me, aren’t you?’
The student nodded, her eyes wide as the sound of Luke’s fury slid under doors, boomed around curtains and filled every space.
‘Good.’ Chloe mustered her best professional voice, given the inexcusable yelling that was raging around them. ‘Excuse me, Mr Morgan, I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Take your time, love,’ Mr Morgan said with a wink. ‘I thought it was only the neurosurgeons who were the volatile ones.’
She hurried out into the corridor to find the agency nurse, Jean, speed-walking towards her.
‘Chloe, the plastic surgery consultant wants to talk to you. I don’t know what the problem is but he’s seriously cross.’ Jean touched her arm. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’
Jean didn’t look convinced. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded, despite the thread of anxiety that was building inside her. She found Luke pacing back and forth outside the nurses’ station. Anger beamed off him but underneath it all she saw shadows of exhaustion. She bit her lip. She’d never seen him this wound up before. What was going on with him?
‘Luke,’ she said firmly, ‘I believe you wish to speak to me.’
He spun around—an unrecognisable six-foot-four-inch tower of fury—with eyes blazing and every tendon bulging. ‘You bet I do. What the hell sort of a shoddy—?’
She held up her hand like a stop sign. ‘Let’s go into the treatment room first, shall we?’ She walked towards the room, giving him no other choice than to follow.
His long, firm strides quickly overtook her smaller ones. ‘Fine,’ he ground out of a mouth so taut it must have hurt to speak, ‘but telling you in private won’t change the fact you’ve stuffed up royally.’
His fury buffeted her and Chloe closed the door behind them, leaning against it for a brief moment to gather her reserves. She didn’t recognise this Luke and she didn’t like him. ‘What’s upset you so much that you’ve broken protocol by yelling on my ward?’
His arms flew out in front of him, gesticulating widely. ‘I’ve broken protocol? Now, that’s rich.’
‘The problem, Luke?’ she prompted quietly, trying to direct his anger to the cause and bypass the personal attack.
‘The problem is…’ his voice rose in derision ‘…that right now I’m supposed to be operating on Mrs Lewin-ski, but instead of fasting I’ve just walked into the ward to find her scarfing chocolates.’
Chloe felt herself frown. ‘Are you sure?’
His black curls bounced with resentment. ‘I’m not blind, Chloe. Of course I’m sure.’
She’d inadvertently confused him. ‘Sorry, I meant are you sure Mrs L. is on the list? I don’t recall seeing her name.’
His shoulders squared to right angles. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’
She swallowed a sigh, wondering where the reasonable man whose company she’d enjoyed so much had gone. ‘No,’ she said, keeping her voice steady despite her hammering heart. ‘I’m dealing with facts.’
She pulled the printed theatre list out of her pocket and scanned it. ‘Her name’s not here.’
‘Let me look at that.’ He jerked the paper out of her fingers so fast that a corner ripped.
‘A “please” would have sufficed,’ she muttered, fast losing patience with his rudeness.
Luke didn’t respond. He was too busy staring wild-eyed and disbelievingly at the list. ‘You’ve obviously got the wrong version.’
Pointing to the date and time at the bottom, she said, ‘This was updated at three. I’ve taken every phone call since then and there haven’t been any calls from you or Theatre, making changes.’
She rested her hand on his arm for a moment, thinking about how he’d stared at her through the glass but hadn’t actually seen her. ‘You’ve been so preoccupied with the Popovic case, perhaps you thought you’d told us to add Mrs L. to the list but in actual fact you forgot to make the call.’
He threw her hand off his arm with a jerk. ‘Don’t patronise me.’
‘I’m not.’ Her fraying patience snapped. ‘I’m trying to find a reason why you’re behaving so obnoxiously. You do realise that you are?’
Stormy seas didn’t come close to matching the swirl of emotions in his eyes. ‘I’m trying to do my job.’
‘This isn’t the way to do it.’ She met his gaze and took the hit of his wrath. ‘Everyone here tells me how understanding and accommodating you were before…’ Oh, God, why did I just go there?
His eyes narrowed to taunting slits of green. ‘Go on. Say it.’
As every part of him turned rigid, she realised that if she’d thought his body had been tight with tension before, she’d been way off the mark. He was strung so taut he might shatter. Sympathy diluted her infuriation with him. ‘Luke, I didn’t�
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‘Yes, you did.’ His gaze—like the sights of a loaded gun—pinned her to the wall. ‘You wanted to say, before my wife died. Or, to be more precise, before I killed her.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Her words shot out of her mouth as every part of her rejected what he’d said. She knew innately he was wrong. Oh, so very wrong. ‘You didn’t kill Anna.’
He shuddered and dragged his hands through his hair, curls tangling with his fingers like tropical vines. ‘Oh, yes, I did. I drove my beautiful wife, the only woman I’ve ever loved, into the path of an oncoming car.’
His grief and guilt hit her like a tsunami, catching her up in its massive grasp and rolling her over and over before flinging her, winded, onto the shore. She didn’t think—she just moved instinctively. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she tilted his head down, angling it so he couldn’t look anywhere but at her.
Luke felt the warmth of her fingers on his face and recognised the entreaty in her eyes but none of it was enough to change a damn thing. God, he’d just gone ballistic and been insufferable with Chloe, and accused everyone of doing the wrong thing when he’d been the one firmly at fault. How could he have been so adamant that he’d put Mrs Lewinski on the list when he’d never made the call?
You are seriously losing your mind.
What if you lose your cool with Amber? What if you tear into her like this?
The thought choked him and he dug his thumbs into his temples, trying to deaden the daily throb that had become a part of him. Anna had been dead for over a year but his life was still spiralling out of control, with grief firmly in the driver’s seat. Driving him. He hated it and yet no matter what he tried, he lacked power over it. Six months ago Steph had suggested he see a grief counsellor and, desperate to do something, he’d gone. Once. He’d left angry when she’d told him that time would heal. Over a year had passed and time had done squat.
‘Luke.’ Chloe’s voice implored in the unruffled and reasonable tone he’d come to associate with her. ‘Listen to me. Anna’s death was an accident. A car accident.’
He shook his head but her hands held him so tightly it barely moved. ‘It was an accident I caused. I drifted onto the wrong side of the road and the gendarmes said I must have fallen asleep at the wheel.’