Safe in His Hands

by Amy Ruttan

  Dr. Spicer grinned. “We want to offer you a position here in Iqaluit. We want you to head up a world-class neonatal unit. Right now we’re currently flying cases like Mrs. Tikivik to Ottawa or Toronto because se don’t have the facilities or surgical capabilities, but our board of directors is planning to change that. We want to provide a service like that for our community.”

  Quinn scrubbed his hand over his face. “Do you think the territory will fund an endeavor like this?”

  Dr. nodded. “I think so and I know the communities will rally for federal support, too. We need physicians with the know-how up here. We need to provide a more extensive neonatal facility for our patients and we want you to spearhead it.”

  “I don’t know, Dr. Spicer.” Quinn, for some unknown reason, couldn’t come flat out and turn Dr. Spicer down and he couldn’t think of an excuse.

  So what was holding him back from accepting?

  The position his father had left for him in Toronto? No. He didn’t care about becoming Chief of Surgery. Not really.

  Dr. Spicer looked crestfallen, but smiled nonetheless. “Understandable, but the board is willing to do whatever it takes to get you, Dr. Devlyn.”

  “Let me think on it.”

  “Of course, take all the time you need, Quinn. The offer doesn’t have a termination date.”

  “Very generous of you.”

  Dr. Spicer opened the consult-room door and Quinn exited, Dr. Spicer shaking his hand as he was leaving.

  Why didn’t I just say no? Why didn’t I say yes?

  Quinn couldn’t figure it out. He couldn’t think straight and his mind was a bit too full at the moment. All the expectations were weighing heavily on his shoulders. And then there was Charlotte.

  Beautiful, wonderful, loving Charlotte, who’d let him back inside her protective walls, or so he’d thought.

  “Hey, Quinn!”

  Quinn glanced over his shoulder to see Dr. Patterson, the OB/GYN on Mentlana’s case, approaching. He was dressed in street clothes, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Carlisle.” Quinn greeted him, as Dr. Patterson approached. “I thought you’d gone home.”

  “I’m on my way.” Dr. Patterson looked him over from head to toe. “You look like roadkill.”

  “I feel like it.”

  Carlisle clapped him on the back. “You need a stiff drink.”

  “I do, but didn’t know where I’d be able to find one.”

  “I know just the place if you care to join me.”

  “I would.” Quinn relaxed. “Lead the way.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THREE DAYS AGO, when she had last been in Cape Recluse, her life had changed because a month ago she’d lost her head and had made love with Quinn. She hadn’t believed the over-the-counter pregnancy test she’d used and had Rosie draw some blood.

  The blood test confirmed it as well.

  She was pregnant. And shocked because they’d used protection. The condom must’ve failed, because there was no denying it. She was already a month gone.

  It thrilled and terrified her to her very core.

  She wanted a family. She wanted to be a mother, but being pregnant scared her witless. What if she lost this one? It would be too much to bear.

  Charlotte stuffed some clothes in her duffel bag, trying not to think about having to leave again, especially leaving Quinn again. She tried to distance herself from Quinn, to keep her walls secure, but to no avail.

  She thought about him constantly. Her heart once more belonged to him, but she wasn’t sure how she could tell him that. As well as tell him that she was pregnant again. The last time she’d told him they were expecting it hadn’t gone well at all.

  An hour ago a text had come in and she’d picked up her phone. Quinn had got her text about needing to speak with him, but he had been held up at the hospital.

  She was tempted to text him and tell him why she needed to speak to him, but a text wasn’t going to cut it. She needed to tell him face-to-face, even though she was afraid to risk her heart again.

  Charlotte wondered if he suspected her condition. He’d been so distracted and aloof in the skills lab today and she’d been having extreme morning sickness. She could barely keep anything down and it was beginning to show in her pallor.

  No, he couldn’t know. She’d only just found out herself and he hadn’t noticed last time she’d been pregnant.

  Perhaps he was regretting his decision to allow her to assist.

  Yesterday, when she had messed up and inserted that test shunt too roughly, causing the laparoscope to go deeper, thus killing the fetus, he’d come up behind her and placed his hands over hers, guiding her through another run. His gentle, firm touch was so sure and steady.

  Don’t be a coward.

  Charlotte had to see him, couldn’t go to Cape Recluse without telling him. She left her packing and was about to go track Quinn down when there was a knock at her door. Charlotte opened it and there he was, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Quinn?” Charlotte was surprised to see him. He looked a bit disheveled and there was a strong odor of beer. “Are you drunk? Where did you find alcohol?”

  “Dr. Patterson is a member of the local legion.”

  Charlotte stepped to the side and allowed him into the room before shutting the door. “You shouldn’t be drinking. Mentlana might go into distress any time now.”

  Quinn shook his head. “First of all, I’m not drunk. I only had pop. Someone spilled their beer on me.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. The last thing a surgeon of your caliber needs to be doing is drinking.”

  Quinn snorted. “My caliber indeed,” he mumbled, as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “What’s wrong? You were acting very strangely in the lab today.”

  He ignored her question. “Secondly, you don’t need me. You’re perfectly capable of doing the surgery on your own.”

  Charlotte paled. “What’re you talking about? I’m just a GP—you’re the surgeon. You’ve done this countless times. You know the call to make and when to make it. I’m just here to assist.”

  “You’re not just an assistant, Charlotte. You’re going to take point on Mentlana’s baby.”

  “You are drunk.” Charlotte snorted.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then why am I suddenly taking point?”

  “My hand spasmed. I don’t want to risk that happening during surgery. You have to take over. I know you can do it.”

  The room spun. She felt dizzy. She sat down next to him on the bed. Take point? She was a general surgeon, not a specialist.

  “I can’t take point, Quinn.”

  “I’ve already talked to Dr. Patterson. He’ll vouch for your ability and be overseeing you every step of the way.”

  Dread coursed down her spine. “And where will you be?” she asked cautiously.

  “I don’t know, Charlotte. Where will I be?”

  The blood drained from her face. “What do you mean?” Though she knew.

  “You know what I mean.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Charlotte, I can’t stay here.”

  Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat and it felt like a great weight was pressing on her chest, stopping her from breathing. He was doing it again. He was finding some excuse and running away.

  “What about Mentlana?”

  Quinn cursed under his breath. “I just told you, you and Carlisle Patterson can handle it. I can’t.”

  “I think you can.”

  He looked up at her, angry. “Dammit, Charlotte, my hand spasmed. If you let me near Mentlana and her baby, I might kill them.”

  She was opening her mouth to say something when her phone began to ring. She answered it
. “Dr. James speaking.”

  “Doc Charley, it’s George. I’m at the airport and we’re transporting Mentlana to the hospital. She’s gone into preterm labor.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Charlotte snapped her phone shut. Her stomach lurched and she came precariously close to losing her lunch. There was so much more she wanted to say to Quinn, but she didn’t have time to deal with him and his brooding.

  Mentlana needed her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “What does it matter to you? You’re heading back to Toronto to wallow.” She tried to push past him but he grabbed her arm and spun her round.

  “Charlotte, I won’t risk her baby. If I do the surgery on Mentlana and she or her baby dies, you’ll loathe me.”

  “You care how I would feel about you?”

  Quinn’s face relaxed. “Of course, I do. I don’t want to kill the baby. I’m afraid. My hand...it clenched so hard today.”

  Charlotte touched his face. “You won’t. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “If I’m handling the fetus... Oh, God, I don’t even want to think about it.” He tried to move away, but she gripped him by the shoulders.

  “You can do this. I’ll help you.”

  She held her breath, waiting for his response. Quinn nodded. “All right. And you’re right. I can.”

  “Good. Now, we have to head to the hospital. That was George on the phone and Mentlana has gone into preterm labor.”

  Quinn nodded again. “I’ll grab a coffee in the cafeteria. Hopefully the on-call obstetrician is smart enough to try and stop the contractions. Let’s go.”

  Charlotte grabbed her purse, ready to face whatever fate had to throw at them.

  * * *

  Charlotte was reading Mentlana’s chart while Mentlana was napping. The obstetrician on call had been able to stop the contractions, so they had that going for them: the less stress on the baby the better, and a contracting uterus wasn’t particularly helpful to a fetus with a CCAM.

  Genen had been absolutely frantic until they’d got everything under control, then he’d crashed and was sleeping on a nearby cot while Lorna knitted in the corner. The clicking of Lorna’s knitting needles mixing with the beeps and hums of the monitors in the dim room was oddly soothing to Charlotte.

  She’d been on her feet for almost twenty-four hours since Mentlana had arrived. George had gone back up to Cape Recluse as they needed someone with some medical experience there.

  “How’s it looking, Doc?” Lorna whispered.

  “She’s stable. Dr. Devlyn is going to do a portable sonogram soon. He’s just gone to get the machine. And then we’ll assess what needs to be done.”

  Lorna nodded slowly. “How about you take a rest? You’re in your first trimester and with your history of the previous miscarriage you need to take it easy.”

  Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

  Lorna shrugged but didn’t look up from her knitting. “I’ve been a midwife longer than you’ve been alive, Charlotte James. I know when a woman is expecting.” Lorna glanced up at her. “I’m thrilled for you, by the way.”

  “Thank you. I have to admit I’m nervous.”

  “You have every right to be, but I’m sure everything will be okay.”

  “No one can be certain of that.” Charlotte sighed. “I mean, there are so many variables, so many things that could go wrong.”

  Like car accidents. Look at Quinn—he’d had a terrible one that had damaged his surgical hand and only his hand. What were the odds on that?

  “Yes, that’s true,” Lorna admitted. “But if you worry about the what-ifs, you’ll make yourself sick. You’re a physician. You’re looking at statistics of what can go wrong all the time. But look at the number of births that go right. What happened to you was a tragedy, Charlotte, but it wasn’t anything you did that caused you to lose your baby.”

  Charlotte nodded. “You’re right.”

  “I know it.” Lorna went back to knitting, a smug smile plastered across her face. “Your baby will be healthy, as will you, Doc Charley.”

  “What?” Mentlana asked groggily. “Who’s pregnant?”

  Charlotte pulled a rolling stool up beside Mentlana. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like a beached whale, of course.” Mentlana winced. “Now, who’s pregnant? Dish the dirt. I may be drugged up with who knows what, but I know I heard Lorna and you talking about a pregnancy.” Mentlana’s eyes widened and Charlotte didn’t need to tell her anything. Her friend had figured it out. “You’re pregnant.”

  “Yes. It’s me.”

  “Oh, my God, that’s wonderful, Charley.” Mentlana paused. “It’s Devlyn’s, right?”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Who else’s would it be?”

  “Does he know?”

  “No.” Charlotte’s cheeks flushed. “I want to tell him but...”

  “You’re afraid,” Mentlana offered.

  Charlotte nodded. “Terrified. The last time didn’t end well. He wasn’t thrilled about the prospect, either.”

  “You need to tell him. He has the right to know.” Mentlana reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “And if he wants no part of it, you’ll have a baby. You’d make an excellent mother.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Thank you.”

  Mentlana grinned. “I’m so happy for you.” She rubbed her belly. “You know, I always wonder about that phrase about God only giving you what you can handle. I wondered about the purpose of making me and my child so sick and putting us through this torment, but I think I know why, now.”

  “Mentlana, I wouldn’t wish that kind of fate on anyone.”

  Her friend smiled. “‘Oh, ye of little faith.’”

  “How are we this morning?” Quinn asked as he pushed a portable sonogram into the room. Genen roused from his slumber with a groan. “Sorry, Genen,” Quinn apologized, realizing he’d woken him up.

  “It’s okay, Doc.” Genen yawned.

  Quinn set up the machine but he squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder as he passed. “You okay? You need your rest. You look beat.”

  “I’ll rest after I know how Mentlana’s baby is doing.” Charlotte saw Mentlana’s pointed look, but Charlotte kept her mouth shut as Dr. Richards walked into the room, followed by Dr. Patterson.

  “Genen, Mentlana, this is Dr. Richards, a pediatric specialist, and Dr. Patterson, the head of obstetrics. They’ll be helping us with your baby.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Genen said quietly, taking a seat beside his wife.

  “I’ll just do a quick sonogram to see how the baby’s CCAM is progressing.”

  “Sure thing,” Mentlana agreed, but Charlotte could tell by the waver in her voice that she was nervous. It was the first sign of apprehension Mentlana had expressed in a long time. Even when they’d wheeled her into the hospital yesterday she had been pretty upbeat. Nothing seemed to faze Mentlana Tikivik.

  Charlotte admired Mentlana’s bravery. She reached out and brushed Mentlana’s hair back from her forehead, but when she looked up she saw a strange expression—a cold, calculating look—pass over Dr. Richards’s face, like she was trying to find some fault with her.

  The sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the darkened room and Charlotte forgot about Dr. Richards and watched the baby on the screen. The lesion was growing and soon hydrops would start. Mentlana could develop mirror syndrome. If that happened, the baby’s chance of survival greatly diminished.

  Charlotte’s stomach twisted and she resisted the urge to give in to the morning sickness. Please, don’t let me throw up now. The last thing she needed was Dr. Richards poking her nose into why she was vomiting during a routine sonogram.

  “There we go,” Quinn announced. “All done.” He
wiped off Mentlana’s swollen belly and then sent Charlotte a quick look which conveyed his concern, one she understood all too well.

  “Well, Doc Devlyn?” Genen asked, his voice tight with barely contained worry.

  “We’re going to discuss the next steps, but I’m pleased your contractions have stopped now, Mentlana. That’s very good.”

  Mentlana nodded and gripped Genen’s hand. “Thank you, Doctors.”

  Quinn escorted Dr. Patterson and Dr. Richards out of the room. Charlotte kissed Mentlana’s forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can with some news. Just relax, take it easy, bug the nurses for anything you want....”

  Mentlana chuckled. “Okay.”

  Charlotte left the room and pulled a cracker out of her pocket. She had a sleeve of them in her lab coat. Her morning sickness was turning into all-day sickness. She had to get a consult with Dr. Patterson soon and get some Diclectin to keep her vomiting at bay.

  When she approached the meeting room she could hear raised voices. It was never a good sign when surgeons disagreed.

  “Dr. James shouldn’t be allowed to do the surgery.”

  Charlotte paused, hearing Dr. Richards’s voice over the din. Her heart skipped a beat and then sank to the soles of her feet. Her first instinct was to back away, but Mentlana was her patient and Quinn needed her. She wasn’t going to be bullied by the other surgeons. With a deep breath she pushed open the door. The arguing stopped immediately

  Dr. Richards’s lips were pursed in a tight thin line as their gazes locked.

  “Dr. Richards.” Charlotte nodded curtly. “I understand you have some problem about my involvement in this case.”

  “Dr. James, it’s nothing,” Quinn said, trying to soothe the tension in the room.

  “I would love to hear everyone’s opinions, Dr. Devlyn.” Charlotte took a seat across from Dr. Richards. “Every surgeon’s input is invaluable, especially when it involves Mentlana Tikivik.”

  It was a good move to pump up a young surgeon’s ego. Surgeons could be silly and petty creatures that way. It was like her mother’s old saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar. Or Anernerk’s saying of always treating your children with respect because they’ll replace you one day, and from the way it sounded, Dr. Richards was trying to replace her in the surgical suite.