Hers For One Night Only?

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Can I go with her?’ Frank asked. ‘Can I watch? I won’t get in the way. I just want to see what they’re doing.’

  ‘I’ll go and find out.’

  Bridgette walked into the resuscitation area, where the baby would be stabilised as much as possible before being moved to NICU. Even though she had seen premature babies, now and for evermore the sight of something so small and so fragile and so completely tiny took her breath away. Bridgette loved big, fat babies, little scrawny ones too, but a scrap like this made her heart flutter in silent panic.

  ‘She’s a little fighter.’ Kelly came over. ‘We’re going to move her up in a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Dad wants to know if he can come and watch. He’s promised not to get in the way. He just wants to see what’s happening.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Dominic called over. ‘I’ll talk to him as soon as I can.’

  ‘Tell him to stay with his wife for now,’ Kelly suggested. ‘I’ll come and fetch him when Dominic is ready to talk to him.’

  Kelly was as good as her word, and by the time Carla had been moved to Recovery, Kelly appeared, holding some new photos of their tiny daughter, which she handed to Mum and explained a little of what was going on. ‘The doctors are still with her, but Dominic said if I bring Frank up he’ll try to come out to speak with him. He’ll come down and talk to you a bit later.’

  It was a busy morning. Carla spent a long time in Recovery before being transferred back to the maternity unit, but even there she still required very close observation as her vital signs would take a while to stabilise after the birth. Carla was still very sick and of course wanted more information about her baby, whom they’d named Francesca. Frank had seen her very briefly and was now back with his wife and clearly a little impatient about the lack of news.

  ‘Mary from daycare is on the phone for you.’ Nandita, the ward clerk, popped a head around the door and handed Bridgette the phone.

  ‘Nothing to worry about at all’ came Mary’s reassuring voice as Bridgette stepped out into the corridor. ‘I’m just about to head off for lunch and I thought I’d let you know how well he’s gone today. He’s found a stack of bricks, which amused him for most of the morning.’

  ‘Thanks so much for letting me know.’

  ‘He’s heading for an afternoon nap now. Anyway, you can get on with your day without fretting about him.’ Bridgette felt a wave of guilt when she realised she hadn’t even had time to worry about Harry and how he was doing on his first day at crèche and a wave of sadness too when she found out that, no, neither had Courtney rung to find out.

  ‘Hi, Carla.’ She gave the phone to Nandita, and as she walked back into her patient’s room she heard Dominic’s voice. If he had looked tired that morning then he looked exhausted now. ‘Hi, Frank.’ He shook the other man’s hand. ‘Sorry that it’s taken so long to come and speak with you. I’ve been very busy with your daughter and another child who was delivered yesterday. I wanted to take the time to have a proper talk with you both.’ He sat down next to the bed. ‘Carla, you’ll remember I spoke with you yesterday.’ He didn’t bog them down with too much detail. Apparently yesterday he had explained the risks of such a premature delivery and he didn’t terrify them all over again. He told them their daughter’s condition was extremely serious, but there was some good news. ‘She seems a little further on than first estimated. I’d put her well into twenty-five weeks, which, though it’s just a few days’ difference, actually increases the survival rates quite dramatically. She’s got size on her side too,’ Dominic explained. ‘Even though she’s tiny, she is a little bit bigger than we would expect at twenty-five weeks, and she’s had the benefit of the steroids we gave yesterday. She’s a vigorous little thing, and she’s doing absolutely as well as can be expected.’

  ‘When can I see her?’ Carla asked.

  ‘I spoke to Dr Hudson before I came down, and as much as we know you want to see your daughter, you’re not well enough at the moment.’

  ‘What if…?’ Poor Carla didn’t even want to voice it, so Dominic did.

  ‘If her condition deteriorates, we’ll sort something out and do our best to get you up there.’ He glanced over at Bridgette and so too did Carla.

  ‘Of course we will,’ she said.

  ‘But right now the best you can do for your baby is to rest and get well yourself.’ He answered a few more questions and then turned to Frank. ‘You should be able to see her for a little while now. I’ve told them to expect you.’

  ‘I’ll get Nandita to walk you up,’ Bridgette offered.

  ‘Lunch?’ Rita suggested as Bridgette walked over to speak with Nandita. ‘Emma will take over from you.’

  It was a late lunch, and as Bridgette hadn’t had a coffee break, it was a sheer relief to slip off her shoes and just relax for a few moments. Well, at least it was until Dominic came in and sat on the couch opposite and unwrapped a roll. He gave her a brief nod but did not make any attempt at conversation, instead choosing to read a newspaper. It was Bridgette who tried to tackle the uncomfortable silence.

  ‘I thought you were in Sydney.’

  ‘It didn’t work out.’ He carried on reading the paper for a moment and then finally elaborated a touch. ‘The professor I would be working under was taken ill and has gone on long-term sick leave—I didn’t really care for his replacement, so I’m just waiting till something I want comes up, or the professor returns. I’m here for a few more weeks.’

  He sounded very austere, such a contrast to the easy conversations they had once shared. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t even read his paper, just sat and ate his roll.

  Couldn’t he have done that on NICU or on the paed ward? Bridgette thought, stirring her yoghurt. If he was going to sit there all silent and brooding, couldn’t he do it somewhere else? Surely it was already awkward enough?

  For Dominic, in that moment, it wasn’t awkward, not in the least. He was too busy concentrating on not closing his eyes. Fatigue seeped through him. He’d had maybe six hours’ sleep the entire weekend and he just wanted to go home and crash. Thank goodness for Rita, who had noticed his pallor and given him a spare cold patient lunch and suggested that he take five minutes before he saw the baby he had come down to examine, as well as speaking with Frank and Carla. Rebecca, his intern, came in. Bridgette recognised her from that morning, and then a couple of other colleagues too, which should have broken the tension, but instead Dominic ignored everyone and made no attempt to join in with the chitchat.

  And later, he didn’t look up when she had no choice but to sit and join him at the nurses’ station to write up her notes before going home.

  He told, rather than asked, Rebecca to take some further bloods on a baby born over the weekend, and then when one of the midwives asked if he’d mind taking a look at some drug orders, holding out the prescription chart to him, he didn’t take it. Rather rudely, Bridgette thought, he didn’t even look up.

  ‘Is it a patient of mine?’

  ‘No, it’s a new delivery.’

  He just carried on writing his own notes. ‘Then you need to ring the doctor on call.’

  The midwife rolled her eyes and left them to it, and the silence simmered uncomfortably between them, or at least it was uncomfortable for Bridgette.

  ‘I’m sorry this is awkward.’ She tried to broach it, to go ahead and say what was surely on both their minds, to somehow ease the tension, because the Dominic she had seen today was nothing like the man she had met, and she certainly didn’t want to cause any problems at work. ‘Had I known you were still working here, I wouldn’t have…’ Her voice trailed off—it seemed rather stupid to say that she’d never have taken the job, that she wouldn’t have come back to the unit she loved. But had she known he would be here for a little while more, there might have been a delay in her return—with Jasmine being away she w
as completely out of the loop as to what was going on at work.

  ‘Awkward?’ Dominic frowned as he carried on writing. ‘Why would it be awkward?’ And then he shook his head. ‘Are you referring to…?’ He looked over and waited till her skin was burning, till there was no question that, yes, she was referring to that night. ‘Bridgette, it was months ago.’ She swallowed, because it was actually just a few weeks; she’d counted them. ‘We shared one night together.’ How easily he dismissed it, relegated it, reduced it to a long-ago event that had meant nothing—something so trivial that it didn’t even merit a moment’s reflection. Except she was quite sure that wasn’t true.

  ‘Thanks for the e-mail,’ she said, to prove it had been more than that, that he had come back to her door, had later that night sent her a photo, yet he frowned as if trying to place it and then he had the nerve to give a wry laugh.

  ‘Oh, that!’

  ‘You got my e-mail address?’

  ‘On some stupid group one from Vince and…’ He gave a shrug, clearly couldn’t remember Jasmine’s name. ‘Just clearing out my inbox, Bridgette.’ She felt like a stalker, some mad, obsessed woman, and he clearly must be thinking the same. ‘It was one night—hardly something to base your career path on. Don’t give it another thought. There really is no problem.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And as for awkward, it’s not in the least. This is how I am at work.’ And then he corrected himself. ‘This is how I am—ask anyone.’ He gave a very thin smile. ‘I’m not exactly known for small talk. It has nothing to do with what took place. It really is forgotten.’

  And over the next few days he proved his point. She saw that Dr Dominic Mansfield was cool and distant with everyone. He was mainly polite, sometimes dismissive, and just never particularly friendly. There was an autonomous air to him that wasn’t, Bridgette realised, solely reserved for her. Not that she should mind—nothing had shifted her heart. She was still way too raw to contemplate a relationship. And the patients, or rather their parents, didn’t seem to mind the directness of his words in the least. In fact, as Bridgette wheeled Carla up later in the week for a visit with her newborn, Carla admitted it was Dr Mansfield’s opinion she sought the most about her daughter.

  ‘I don’t want a doctor who tries to spare my feelings,’ Carla said as they waited for the lift. ‘He tells it like it is, which Frank and I appreciate.

  ‘Mind you…’ she smiled as Bridgette wheeled her in ‘…he’s not exactly chatty. Gorgeous to look at he may be, but you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a lift with him.’ Whether she agreed or not, Bridgette smiled back, pleased to see her patient’s humour returning, along with colour to her cheeks. It really had been a hellish ride for Carla. It had been four days until she had been well enough to see her baby, and there was still, for Francesca, a long road ahead.

  ‘Carla.’ Dominic gave a nod to the patient as Bridgette wheeled her over.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Carla asked, anxious to see him standing by Francesca’s incubator.

  ‘She’s had a good morning, by all reports,’ Dominic said. ‘I’m just checking in.’

  He gave Bridgette the briefest nod of acknowledgement then moved on to the next incubator. He wasn’t, she now realised, being rude or dismissive towards her.It was the way Dominic was to everyone.

  It hurt more than she had time to allocate to it. Her days were so busy, and more and more Courtney was asking her to have Harry. It was hard trying to achieve some sort of routine and work full-time with a toddler—a toddler who worryingly didn’t toddle very much, one who seemed far happier to sit with his building blocks, happier in his own world than hers. But sometimes at night, when all she should do was close her eyes and get some much-needed sleep, it was then that Bridgette’s mind wandered. It was on those occasions that she realised not so much what she’d lost but more what she’d been privy to that night.

  A side to Dominic that was rare indeed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘HARRY!’ Bridgette gave him a wide smile but Harry didn’t look up. He was engrossed with the pile of bricks in front of him. ‘How has he been today?’ Bridgette asked.

  ‘Busy building!’ Mary answered. ‘He loves his bricks.’

  Bridgette saw her own fingers clench around the pen as she signed Harry out for the day, saw the white of her knuckles as her brain tightened just a fraction, wondering if Mary’s comment was friendly chatter or a more professional observation. She was being paranoid, Bridgette told herself, seeing problems where there were surely none, but as she picked up Harry she wished, and not for the first time, that Harry was just a little bit more pleased to see her, a little more receptive.

  There couldn’t be something wrong with him. It wasn’t just for selfish reasons that she panicked at the thought—it was Courtney’s reaction that troubled Bridgette, or rather Courtney’s lack of reaction towards her son. Her sister wasn’t exactly coping now, let alone if her son had special needs.

  Special needs.

  It was the first time that she had actually said it, even if only in her mind, and instantly she shoved it aside because there was just so much to deal with at the moment. She had so many things to contend with, without adding the unthinkable to the pile. But she had to approach it.

  ‘How do you think he’s doing?’ she asked Mary.

  ‘Grand.’ She beamed. ‘Mind, he does have a bit of a temper—’ she tickled him under the chin ‘—if one of the other littlies knocks over his bricks.’

  ‘What about his talking?’ Bridgette looked at Mary, who just smiled at Harry.

  ‘He’s not much of a talker,’ Mary said, ‘but, then, he’s just been here a couple of weeks and is still settling in so maybe he’s a bit shy. If you’re concerned, though…’ Mary was lovely, but she told Bridgette what she already knew, that maybe his mum should take him to his GP if she was worried that he wasn’t reaching his milestones.

  ‘How is Mum?’ Mary asked, because, despite Courtney collecting him a couple of times, it mainly fell to Bridgette.

  ‘She’s okay,’ Bridgette answered. ‘Though I’ll be bringing Harry in for the next couple of days. She’s got some job interviews lined up in Bendigo and is staying there with friends for a few nights.’

  ‘Bendigo!’ Mary’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s a good few hours away.’

  ‘Well, it’s early days,’ Bridgette said, ‘but it’s good that she’s looking for work.’

  Bridgette had mixed feelings. Yes, she wanted her sister to get a job and to make a fresh start, but the thought of her, or rather Harry, so far away had Bridgette in a spin. She was doing her best not to dwell on it as she left the crèche.

  ‘Excuse me!’ She heard the irritation in the man’s voice as she, a woman who wasn’t looking where she was going, collided with him as she walked out of the daycare centre. And then Dominic looked down, saw who he was talking to, saw who she was holding, and she was quite sure that he frowned as he gazed into Harry’s eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same sludgy grey as hers, and though he quickly moved his features to impassive and gave her a very brief nod, she could feel the tension. They walked down a long corridor, Bridgette several steps behind him. As he headed out through the ambulance bay and turned left, it was clear they were both heading for the car park.

  She should have managed to avoid him, given that she now walked incredibly slowly, but one of the security guards halted him and they spoke for a moment. No matter how Bridgette dawdled, no matter how hard she tried not to catch up, the security guard gave him a cheery farewell at the very second Bridgette walked past and, like it or not, for a moment or two there was no choice but to fall in step alongside him.

  ‘Is that why you had to dash off?’

  It was the first time he acknowledged he even recalled the details of that night, that morning, the slice of time when things had
felt more than right.

  ‘I should have explained…’ She really didn’t know what to say, what could she say. ‘I didn’t know how…’ She still didn’t. Should she plead, ‘I’m his aunt. He’s not my responsibility’? Harry was, he was solid in her arms—and whether Harry understood her words or not, he certainly did not need to be present as she defended her reasons for not telling this man of his existence. Instead she walked to her car that, unlike his, which lit up like a Christmas tree the second he approached, needed keys. Bridgette had to scrabble in her bag for them, with Harry, who was becoming increasingly heavy, but she was too nervous to put him down in the middle of a car park. He was, she realised, just too precious to let go.

  As Dominic’s sleek silver car slid past her, she deliberately did not look up, did not want to remember the night he’d driven her to heaven then returned her home again.

  She was very close to crying, and that Harry did not need, but finally she found her keys and unlocked the car, opening the windows to let it cool down before she put Harry in.

  ‘Here we go.’ The car still felt like a sauna but she strapped Harry in, climbed into the seat and looked in the rear-vision mirror at his wispy curls and serious grey eyes. She gave him a very nice smile. ‘You’re ruining my love life, Harry!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘WOW!’ Bridgette walked into the delivery room, where Maria was pacing. ‘I turn my back for five minutes…’ She smiled at Maria, who had progressed rapidly in the past half hour.

  ‘I was worried you wouldn’t make it back,’ Maria said.

  ‘I’m sorry I had to dash off.’ Harry had been a touch grizzly this morning when she’d dropped him off and had, half an hour ago, thrown the most spectacular temper tantrum, bad enough for Mary to call her on the ward and for Bridgette to take an early coffee break.

  ‘I know what it’s like,’ Maria said. ‘I’ve got three of my own.’

  ‘Four soon,’ Bridgette said, and Maria smiled.