She swung her legs from the trolley and reached for her bag. Somewhere in the depths of this giant tote bag should be her watch—she’d slipped it off earlier when her wrist had felt uncomfortable. She rummaged around inside the bag—lipstick, phone, receipts, purse, umbrella, spare undies, fold-up flat shoes, pens, pens and more pens. Ten minutes later she gave up. She pulled the cuff from her arm, the ripping Velcro echoing around the quiet emergency department. Where had everyone gone?
As her bare feet hit the cold linoleum floor her head swam a little. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Judging from how her stomach felt, it must have been hours. A little gust of cold air struck her back. Blast! She still had on her hospital gown. It fastened down her back and currently felt like fresh-air fortnight back there; thank goodness she had respectable undies on. She grasped the back of her gown in her hands and stuck her head out between the curtains, glancing one way, then the other, out into the eerie silence, before heading towards the nurses’ station. It was deserted and according to the white board on the wall she was the only patient currently in the E.R. No wonder it was so quiet around here.
Then the thought struck her. Of course there were no other patients—the President and the First Family were in this hospital. She’d only got in here by default. Fainting at the police cordon could do that for you.
A packet of half-eaten cookies sat on the desk. She looked around again. Still no people. Well, if someone wanted to leave an open packet of cookies unguarded they could take the consequences. She flopped down into one of the nearby chairs and grabbed a cookie, oblivious to the crumbs falling down the front of her hospital gown, and closed her eyes. Bliss.
‘Do you always steal the staff food?’
Amy’s eyes shot open and she spluttered, which turned into a cough as part of a cookie lodged in her throat.
Lincoln looked amused as he went around behind her and gave her two hard slaps on the back.
She coughed the piece of cookie back up, catching it in her hand before depositing it in the trash can. She held her hands up. ‘Guilty.’
She looked around the darkened corridors. ‘Where did you spring from? I never even heard you. This place is like a scene from a bad slasher movie.’
Lincoln laughed, looking at the deserted corridors. He pointed to a door down the hallway. ‘I came from the staffroom, where the current E.R. staff are watching reruns of the baby announcement. Don’t think they’ve ever had it so quiet. And you…’ he pointed at her ‘…are apparently resting peacefully with a still-borderline blood pressure and signs of pre-eclampsia.’
Amy rolled her eyes. She lifted her leg and stuck it on the nearby chair, prodding around her ankle and then further up her shin. ‘I think the oedema is getting worse.’
Lincoln bent his head towards her leg under the dimmed lights. He was so close she could feel his breath on her skin. He ran his hand up and down her leg.
Wow! A physical examination wasn’t supposed to feel like that. It wasn’t supposed to make your skin prickle and your blood heat. Thank goodness she’d shaved her legs, or the hairs would currently be standing on end!
But what about him? How was he feeling right now? Did he know the effect he was having on her? Lincoln had always had a wicked sense of humour—was he teasing her? Knowing that her insides had currently turned to mush?
‘Any oedema around your abdomen?’
His voice broke through her thoughts. So much for illicit daydreams. She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders. ‘To be honest, I didn’t really look when I woke up. I was too busy in the hunt for food.’
‘Do you want me to get you something to eat?’
‘Can you? This place looks as if it’s closed down for the night.’
‘Aha.’ He put a finger to his lips. ‘I might only have been here for two days but I prioritised. I made sure I’m best friends with the canteen staff. What do you want?’
Pictures of barbecue chicken breasts, fresh green salads and French fries swam in front of her eyes. Closely followed by images of scrambled eggs and sausages. It was amazing the weird cravings that pregnancy gave you—even in the middle of the night. She sighed. ‘To be honest, Linc, I’ll take whatever I can get.’
He stretched out his hand towards her in the dim light. She hesitated, just for a second. Was this a doctor-patient thing? No. It wasn’t. David Fairgreaves was her doctor. Linc was her friend. Her good friend. A friend she was going to have to persuade to take care of her baby.
She reached up towards his hand. ‘You’re going to have to heave, Linc, I don’t think I can get out this chair.’
He enclosed her hand with both of his and gave her a gentle tug from the low-seated chair. The momentum caught her unawares and she took a few steps forward, her hands coming automatically upwards and resting on his hard chest.
And she stopped.
Both hands were resting on his firm muscle, his face just a few inches from hers. In the dim light she could see his dark-blue-rimmed eyes pulling her in. See his perfect skin, with a light stubble on his chin. Before she knew it, her fingers had moved upwards and touched his shadowed jaw. This was how her dream started. A smile broke across his face, his hand moved across her back and she felt two fingers resting lightly at the base of her spine, between the gap in her patient gown. Would he kiss her?
When was the last time she’d felt like this? When was the last time she’d wanted a man to kiss her? To feel his touch on her skin? Her lips tingled, aching to feel his pressing against them. Her tongue ran along them, desperate to give them some moisture and invite him in.
‘I don’t know if I’m dressed appropriately for the staff canteen,’ she whispered.
He looked downwards. His eyes following the gentle swell on one side of her breast. Her breath caught in her throat. Would he look to the other side? Would his face register disgust or displeasure?
Neither. His eyes stayed fixed on one side. As if there was nothing wrong. As if the gap on the other side was the most natural thing in the world. Something lurched inside her and she almost jerked in recognition of what it was. Acceptance. This was her. This was her body shape now. And there was no need to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Her skin flushed. For the first time in a long time she felt like a woman again. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice husky. ‘From where I’m standing, you look just fine.’
I’m dreaming. This isn’t really happening. I’m still lying on that hospital gurney, waiting for the BP cuff to go off again.
Light spilled across them. The door from the staffroom opened. A person still facing inside and laughing at the jokes stood with their foot jammed in the door, sending bright white light spilling down the corridor towards them.
Lincoln stepped backwards. For a second he looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, before he regained his composure and cleared his throat.
‘The canteen,’ he said. ‘I was going to take you to the canteen.’ It was almost as if he was saying the words out loud to remind himself what he was supposed to be doing.
His hands fell back to his waist and he gave her a nod in the other direction. ‘The canteen’s this way, Goldilocks. Let’s see what we can get you to eat.’
He took a few long strides ahead of her, making short work of the corridor and pushing open the swing door at the other end and holding it open for her.
‘I think Goldilocks was a blonde, not a redhead,’ she murmured as she followed him, still grasping self-consciously at her gown.
‘But look how much trouble she got into for the search for food,’ he replied promptly, sending another smile across her face. The easy banter between them was returning as quickly as it had left. Linc was obviously relaxing again. And she was glad. That was when she liked him best.
They stepped into the canteen, which was bat
hed in the usual bright hospital lights. Amy squirmed, looking around at the deserted tables and chairs. ‘Are you sure we can get something to eat?’
Lincoln nodded, smiling at her again as though his moment of discomfort had passed. ‘Sure we can. They’ve got to feed the nightshift, remember?’ He ducked behind the counter and into the kitchen beyond. Amy could hear the happy chattering inside and looked at the empty canteen around her. Even this was strange. She was used to sitting in hospital canteens in her uniform, not in a patient gown. On past occasions when she’d had her surgery and treatments she’d never even made it down to the hospital canteens. At that point food had been the last thing on her mind. A few minutes later Lincoln came out, clutching a tray with a teapot and cups.
‘Food will be out in a minute,’ he said as he set the tray down on the nearest table. Amy gave him a smile. ‘I didn’t know you were a tea drinker.’ She lifted the cups from the tray.
He wrinkled his forehead. ‘Generally I’m not. But I didn’t want to come out here with a double-shot coffee when you probably aren’t drinking it right now.’
His eyes rested on her extended abdomen and she nodded knowingly. ‘It’s been a slow, hard fight to stop the addiction to the double shots we used to drink.’
His face broke into that easy grin again. The grin he’d given her when it had just been the two of them, standing in the dim E.R. He lifted the lid of the teapot and gave the water a little stir.
The door clanged open behind them and a little grey-haired lady appeared with a plate in either hand. The delicious aroma of food swept around them and Amy’s stomach responded by rumbling loudly.
‘Oh, wow!’ she said as the plate was set before her. ‘Thank you so much.’ She beamed. The steam was rising from the freshly made pancakes on the plate, with a pile of sausages and scrambled eggs on the side. ‘You must have read my mind,’ she said accusingly at Lincoln. ‘I was dreaming about these earlier.’ Better than telling him what else she’d dreamed about. She picked up the pepper pot and sprinkled pepper over her scrambled eggs. ‘I am so-o-o hungry.’
He sat for a few seconds, watching her. The way her hair fell over her eyes, one delicious auburn curl just begging to be tucked behind her ear. Sitting like this, her extended abdomen was tucked under the table. For a few seconds he could actually forget she was pregnant. Forget she was here, looking for his help because she was afraid she was about to have a premature baby. He could forget the questions spinning in his head about the pregnancy, the conception, the father. All the things he wanted to ask her about. Right now, the clock was spinning backwards in his head. Back to those six precious months when she’d been his Amy. Back when they’d been in the first flush of heat and passion. When they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. When stifling hot long days had turned into even hotter and longer nights.
The pale green colour of the hospital gown reminded him of the scrubs they’d worn on the boat. A colour that seemed to reflect the darker green of her eyes, drawing his attention to them from the first second he’d seen her.
Damn! He could kick himself. Was there something else he could have done to find her? Why hadn’t he insisted on getting her phone number?
The last six years could have been entirely different.
She leaned back in her chair with a contented and relaxed look on her face, her extended abdomen becoming visible again and jolting him back to the here and now. ‘Oh, wow, Linc. I don’t know who made those pancakes but we should wrap her up, steal her and take her home with us.’
Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright. Had she just said that out loud? Oh, no! ‘I didn’t mean… I mean I wasn’t suggesting…’ She couldn’t find the words, her brain was scrambled at her ridiculous faux pas. Fatigue and irritability had definitely got the better of her. It didn’t help that Linc was sitting staring at her with his fork poised frozen just outside his mouth. But he didn’t look shocked. He didn’t look upset. He looked…amused.
‘Relax, Amy,’ he said in a teasing tone. ‘Don’t get wound up. I know what you meant and we certainly don’t want your blood pressure getting any higher.’ The gleam in his eyes spoke a thousand words that he wasn’t saying out loud.
And then he couldn’t stay silent any longer. The frustration from earlier in the day came bubbling to the surface and he wanted to hear the words coming from her lips—not read them in her medical records. ‘Why didn’t you come back? You left for a two-week holiday and never came back. What happened?’
The question jolted her back to reality. No pleasantries. No niceties. What had happened to playboy, sexy Linc? This was right at the heart of the matter.
And she’d known at some point he’d ask her. And she’d practised what she would say in her head. Words that she’d rehearsed a hundred times in the cab on the way here. Words that just seemed to stick in her throat.
‘Well?’ He was still staring at her. With those big dark blue eyes. She’d seen eyes like that on a model advertising aftershave once. Everyone had commented on them. But that guy’s eyes weren’t a patch on Linc’s. That guy didn’t have a dark blue rim encircling his bright blue iris. Something that pulled you right in and didn’t let go. Her hand ran down his arm and her fingers intertwined with his. She needed to do this. She needed something familiar. Something to give her strength right now. It didn’t matter if he had a wife outside. They were friends. Or they had been friends. And right now she needed her friend’s support.
She needed to make him understand why she hadn’t come back to the boat. And she already knew how he’d respond—he’d want to know why she hadn’t told him at the time. But those were all questions she could field. She needed his skills right now, and his expertise for her baby.
‘I was sick, Linc. I couldn’t come back.’ The words were faint, almost whispered, and his head jerked upwards from its focus on their intertwined fingers.
This was where he could make it easy on her and tell her he’d read her notes. But he didn’t want to, he wanted to hear her say the words. ‘What do you mean, you were sick?’
She shook her head, a watery sheen across her eyes. She gave his hand a little squeeze. Why did she have to tell him here? In this hospital canteen in the middle of the night? Why couldn’t they be sitting somewhere in private, looking out over that wonderful cove?
She took a deep breath. ‘I had breast cancer.’ There, she’d said it. The words that no one liked to say out loud. The words that people normally whispered around about her.
His face didn’t change. And she almost wished she hadn’t told him. But she had to. She had to make him understand why this baby was so important to her. Why this baby was her only chance.
Then he did it. The one thing he used to do all the time. He rubbed his thumb lightly along the palm of her hand. The softest of touches. The most delicate of touches. Like he’d used to do when they’d had a stressful day on the boat. When there had been too many patients and not enough staff. When they hadn’t been able to treat everyone they’d wanted to. When patients had got really sick, and some had even died.
His face was serious now. And in amongst all this madness—the press pack outside, the security staff everywhere, him looking after the First Daughter—she knew she had made the right decision. Linc was one of the good guys. He would help her. She could feel it.
He cleared his throat. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
She sighed. ‘How could I tell you that, Linc? I went home for a holiday. I had the first proper shower in months and felt a lump under my breast. And I’d no idea how long it had been there. Two days later I had a fine-needle biopsy that told me I had cancer.’ Her finger reached up and twiddled one of her long red strands of hair, her other hand still intertwined with his. ‘I’d only known you six months. You were on a boat on the Amazon, thousands of miles away. How could I phone and tel
l you I had cancer and needed treatment?’ She flung her arms in the air in an act of exasperation. ‘Let’s face it, Linc, I was your yearly summer fling.’
He winced at the harshness of her words. So she had heard about his reputation. He’d always hoped no one had mentioned that fact that each year he’d had an affair with a colleague on the boat. He wanted to shout out, Of course you should have told me! But he understood the futility of the answer. Amy was right. They had only known each other a few months. And life on the Amazon was all-consuming—you lived in each other’s pockets and had very little time off. Everything was about the work and the people. Lots of medics had relationships on the Amazon boats, but when they got back to normal life the relationships tended to fall apart as they found they had nothing in common any more. What would he have done if she’d told him? Left the boat? Gone to find her? Would she even have wanted him there?
His anger from earlier felt misplaced. If the shoe had been on the other foot and he was one who had been sick, would he have told Amy?
He wasn’t sure and he hated to admit that. Would he really have wanted to put that responsibility onto her? He would have hated it if she’d felt obliged to help him out of an innate sense of duty, especially when he didn’t know how she felt about him.
His lips tightened and he gave her hand another squeeze. ‘So what happened, Amy?’ Although he couldn’t help it, his eyes went automatically to her breasts. The professional in him knew better than that. But the personal element kept distracting him. He’d had his hands all over those beautiful breasts. And as for the pink rosy nipples…
He saw her shift uncomfortably, her hands rising to her chest. ‘I had a mastectomy on one side.’ The words were simple, but they masked how they made her feel. What would Linc think of her body shape now if he could see it? The two of them had danced naked around his little cabin and the memories of that now could make her cry. She could never do that now. Never feel that confident in her body.
West Wing to Maternity Wing! Page 5