The Surgeon’s Gift
Page 15
Kimbi was in the right place.
‘We’re going to grab a coffee.’ Bill, one of the paramedics tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Take your time, Rachael.’
So she did. She fussed about the little girl and saw her into bed, gave her handover to the nurse who knew more than her anyway and then it was time to say goodbye. She wasn’t Hugh, she didn’t have a big place in this little girl’s life, so this was the hard part, saying goodbye to a patient that touched you more than most, remembering you were just the nurse.
‘Sister …’ Jelai caught up with her in the corridor, Kimbi’s mum following anxiously behind. ‘Kimbi’s mother wishes you to pass something on.’
Rachael nodded, and because Kimbi wasn’t there she matched their sombre faces and didn’t pretend to smile.
‘Dr Connell, when he told us, he kept saying sorry.’
‘He was upset.’ Rachael’s voice was a croak.
‘We know. He has been more than a doctor, he is a very special friend.’ She turned and spoke to Kimbi’s mother and Rachael’s heart went out to the woman as she heard her tired voice, watched the tears she hadn’t cried in front of her daughter course down her cheeks. ‘She says she has memories now, good ones, thanks to Dr Connell. He has nothing to be sorry for. Will you tell him that, please?’
‘Of course.’
The ambulance ride back was subdued. the paramedics seemed to know she wasn’t in the mood for a chat and Rachael sat in the back, glad of the darkened windows, looking out on a world that couldn’t look in. As the back doors opened when they arrived at their own hospital, she accepted a hand and stepped down, blinking in the late afternoon sun. Standing in the ambulance bay, she watched as the world carried right on.
‘How was she?’
Rachael had known Hugh would be waiting, had half expected to see him. ‘She’s in the right place,’ Rachael said softly, her hand instinctively reaching for his arm.
‘What I said before …’
‘I deserved. Well, not really.’ Rachael gave a slow smile. ‘But given the circumstances.’
He was smiling now, but it was a glassy smile that she knew meant there had been tears. ‘You always have to have the last word.’
‘Always.’ Fishing in her pocket, she pulled out her appointment card and ripped it up. ‘The mole stays.’
‘You do what’s right for you.’
‘I will,’ she agreed. ‘And it’s staying. Today kind of puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?’
She had said the wrong thing! Watching in horror, she saw his beautifully strong face crumple, saw the chasm of his pain.
‘Hugh, this isn’t your fault.’
‘I know,’ he rasped, ‘but all I’ve put her through, all that pain, and for what? So that she looks the part, fits in. She’s been to hell and back. That kid’s had twelve operations and now this, all in the name of charity!’
‘There’s something they wanted me to tell you.’
His eyes narrowed and Rachael shook her head. ‘Not here.’
They went inside, into the emergency department, and she pushed open a door, flicking the ‘Engaged’ sign on the interview-room door she sat down.
‘This bit’s from me,’ she warned. ‘Not her mother. If Kimbi hadn’t been here, hadn’t been having an operation, her leukaemia would have gone undiagnosed. Even if it had been picked up, what chance would she have had?’ Her jumbled thoughts, which had taken shape in the ambulance, came together now. ‘Here she’s got some of the best medical brains in the world, a legion of skilled staff that will do their best for her.’ She paused, struggling with a lump in her throat, with the sharp sting of a tear, which she blinked rapidly away. This was about Hugh, not her.
‘Her mother wants to thank you.’ She ignored his low, cynical rasp and carried on. ‘For giving her good memories. You say it was for nothing. Well, that little girl got to eat and to dance and to go to school, and those are the things Kimbi and her mum will remember, not the pain of the surgery.’
Her words seemed to reach him, seemed to comfort him, and as he looked up he held his breath. Coursing down Rachael’s cheeks were tears, real tears, and there was nothing subtle about them. His first instinct was to rush over, to put his arms around her, to beg her to stop, to quieten her. But a deeper instinct told him to wait.
‘Memories matter,’ she said, her voice dissolving to a strangled whisper as her buried grief came surging forth. ‘I’d give anything for just one.’
Rachael screamed, an awful guttural scream that seemed to go on for ever. But because it was the emergency department, because tragedy darkened these doors every single day, no one popped their head in to see what the problem was, no one really noticed.
Except Hugh.
He held her and he rocked her and he held her some more as she cried for all she had lost. And when she thought she’d never stop, when the tears that racked her just kept on coming, he held her some more, his own tears blending with hers, and they cried together. For all she had been through, for all she had lost, and for all Amy could have, should have, would have been.
And later, much later, when a whole box of tissues lay in a crumpled heap, Rachael did what Hugh had predicted, what she had thought she never would.
She stopped.
And Hugh was still there.
‘Better?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You will be,’ he promised. ‘Because I’m going to make sure of it. We’re going to get through this, Rachael, together.’
‘I do feel better,’ she gulped, taking the cup of water he had poured from the cooler, embarrassed and shy and utterly unable to meet his eyes. ‘I must look a sight.’
‘Terrible, actually.’ He stood there for a moment just looking at her, love blazing from his eyes. ‘But you’re beautiful to me. Rachael, I can’t do this for you. If I could, I’d take your pain. Forget halving it, sharing it, I’d take it all. But I can’t.’
‘I know.’
‘You need to talk to someone, someone who’s been through it, someone who understands.’
‘I know,’ she said again. ‘And I will. I’ve got a number, I’ll ring them tomorrow.’
‘Today,’ he said firmly. ‘Today’s Amy’s birthday and you’re going to mark it with something. And I’ll be waiting right outside the door.’ He smiled. ‘Or in the car again if that’s how you want it. But I’ll be there, waiting.’
The tissues were finished and she fished in her bag for a handkerchief, nodding her thanks when Hugh handed her one. ‘That’s two you owe me.’
Rachael nodded. ‘I owe you an apology as well.’
‘You don’t.’ Hugh sighed. ‘Let’s just wipe the slate clean, huh? Let’s just start again.’
‘It’s not that easy.’ She swallowed. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you.’ She was fiddling with the water cup, anything rather than look at him. ‘I think I might have made things a bit difficult for you with your colleagues.’
‘If you’re about to confess your little confrontation with Enid—’ she missed the humour behind his dry voice ‘—then don’t worry about it. She’s already told the whole hospital.’
‘Enid?’ swollen reddened eyes looked up for the first time. ‘Who’s Enid?’
‘My receptionist.’
‘She doesn’t look like an Enid.’
‘She doesn’t, does she?’ Hugh said with a smile. ‘Neither does she look like a happily married mother of three on the wrong side of forty. A fine testimony to my surgical skills, I like to think.’
‘Another thing I got wrong,’ Rachael mumbled, scuffing the worn carpet with her foot.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. You gave Enid the impression we were very much involved, so much so that if I’m not mistaken there’s a brown envelope going around with our names on it right now.’
‘A brown envelope?’ Rachael gasped, ‘but they’re for babies and weddings and engagements and things. I only said we were involved.’
‘Oh, I’m ready,’ Rachael sighed. ‘I hate to sound narcissistic, but Connell sounds so much better than Holroyd.’
EPILOGUE
EVERY birth is special.
Every child is precious.
But if the theatre staff were a bit more tense, if the midwives a bit more efficient this morning, no one was apologising. This baby was extra-special and everyone who had read Rachael’s notes knew it.
‘Can you feel anything?’ Dr Carmody was testing to see if the epidural had taken effect, making sure her abdomen was completely numb before he started the Caesarean section.
Rachael shook her head, lying back on the green pillow as Hugh rested his cheek against hers.
‘Ready to meet this baby of yours?’
She couldn’t speak but Hugh answered for her. ‘We’re ready.’ His hand tightened on hers and she closed her eyes.
‘We’re taking the foetal monitor off now, Rachael.’ Everything had been explained to her carefully, just as she’d asked. Long conversations with her obstetrician where he had gently suggested a Caesarean section, the safest option given her previous birth, and Rachael had agreed as long as every tiny detail was relayed to her, a small attempt to stay in control as she faced the scariest time of her life.
But suddenly she didn’t want to hear Dr Carmody, didn’t want to know the details. The only thing that mattered, the only sound Rachael wanted to hear was the sound of her baby’s cries.
‘Don’t tell me any more,’ Rachael said to the gentle eyes above the mask. ‘I’ve changed my mind, I just want you to do it.’
She closed her eyes then held Hugh’s hand tightly. She blocked out all the sounds that whirred around, waiting for just one. She felt a tugging and she felt Hugh move beside her, heard the wonder in his voice as he begged her to look.
‘Rachael.’
The green screen that covered her abdomen was moving, a tiny angry, indignant face blinking, screwing up its little eyes as a wail filled the room.
‘One angry baby.’ Dr Carmody smiled, delivering the slippery bundle into the shaking arms of its mother. ‘One happy mum,’ he added, and the whole theatre tearoom would later hear that there had definitely been a tear in those eyes as Dr Carmody had clipped the cord.
‘It’s a boy.’ Rachael was crying and laughing as the midwife rubbed him vigorously with a towel, skilfully wrapping the taut bundle of flesh into a swaddle and tucking them both in. ‘He’s OK?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Is he all right?’
‘He’s perfect,’ the midwife said, then, because Rachael really needed to hear it, she said it again. ‘He’s just perfect.’
Rachael held him, cuddled him, loved him, not even letting him go when they stitched her up, just gazed at her new baby, her head resting by Hugh’s as they marvelled at this most wonderful gift.
‘The cord bank has been,’ Dr Carmody said as he worked diligently on, ‘they passed on their thanks. Not many people donate the umbilical cord unfortunately. What made you think of it?’
Rachael looked up for the first time. ‘We’ve got a friend, Kimbi,’ she explained. ‘She’s got leukaemia but she’s doing really well—she’s actually in remission now.’ She felt Hugh’s arm tighten around her as she spoke. ‘It was research that’s gone into cord blood that ended up saving her.’ She looked down at her new infant, her baby soft and safe in her arms, his little pink face nudging her breasts, and she thought her heart might burst with happiness. ‘It’s sort of our gift, our way of saying thank you. If that makes sense.’
‘It makes perfect sense.’
It was the best day of her life. The room was filled with blue balloons, blue cards and arrangement after arrangement of blue, white and lilac flowers. Helen arrived, looking stunning as she did these days, crying unashamedly when she held the newborn. And when the last visitor had gone, when Hugh had kissed her goodnight, she lay back on the cool, crisp sheets, Harry’s Perspex crib pushed up close beside her bed.
Leaning over, she gave her son a goodnight kiss on his soft warm cheek then kissed him once more for Hugh. And finally, with tears filling her eyes, she kissed him again.
For Amy.
‘Room for one more in the bed?’
Hugh was back, a bottle of champagne in one hand, a pair of theatre blues in the other.
‘It’s past visiting time.’ Wiping her cheeks quickly, she pulled up the sheet. ‘The midwives won’t like it.’
‘It was the midwives that suggested it.’ He filled two glasses and handed one to her. ‘They know a thing or three, those women. They said you might need a bit of a cuddle.’
She was about to say no, to push away the glass and remind him she was breastfeeding, but something in his eyes stopped her. Something told Rachael he needed this just as much as she did, that it wasn’t the time to shut him out. ‘The midwives were right,’ she said softly.
The champagne was delicious, cold and icy and extremely well earned. ‘Make sure no one comes in.’ She watched as Hugh pulled off his clothes and with lightning speed changed into his blues and then climbed on the bed beside her.
‘You look like you’re settling in for the long haul,’ Rachael murmured, her eyes heavy with sleep. ‘Just how long did the midwives say you could stay for?’
‘All night,’ he whispered, pulling her into his arms. ‘And the same again tomorrow. You’re right, darling.’ His arms wrapped tightly around her as she moulded herself to his body, placing the softest, gentlest kiss on her lips before resting her back on the pillow. ‘I’m here for the long haul, and there’s no place on earth I’d rather be.
‘We’re a family.’
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2003. This edition 2013.
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Carol Marinelli 2013
ebook ISBN: 978-1-472-01218-0
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