Bachelor Dad, Girl Next Door. Sharon Archer
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stress symptoms? A gnawing ache settled in his chest for the pain she’d been through. He could only begin to imagine the difficulty of losing someone the way she had. So brutal and sudden.
He and Allie had had time with Sue-Ellen. Poignant time for words of love, reassurances, promises. Heartbreaking but enriching moments to cling to in the days, weeks, years that followed her death.
Terri hadn’t had that. She’d had no chance to say goodbye before her husband had been snatched away.
He needed to be mindful of that, sensitive to her needs, and be ready to offer counselling, in a professional capacity, if she needed it. As hospital director, the welfare of his staff was paramount. He was feeling the natural concern of a doctor for a colleague. Plus Terri wasn’t just a colleague, but the sister of a friend. The least he could do was offer support to Ryan O’Connor’s sister. Yes, that was more like it. He just needed to apply a bit of sound reasoning.
Through the loosely screening shrubbery, he saw the lights of the cottage come on. Almost as though the intensity of his musings had woken Terri.
He snorted out a small breath. How hopelessly fanciful. So much for the power of common sense.
A few minutes later, she walked across to the hospital in the moonlight. The ends of a stethoscope looped around her neck dangled darkly on her pale T-shirt. She seemed to look up at his window. A queer shaft of excitement made him draw a quick breath before he could block it.
One tiny glance from her and his heart was flopping around in his chest like a freshly caught flounder. He shook his head in disgust.
Terri was obviously the doctor on call tonight.
As his system settled, he watched her disappear through the back door of the hospital and then reappear in the glass-walled corridor. By angling his head, he could follow her progress until she turned the corner leading to Accident and Emergency.
He should go back to bed and yet something held him at the window. A moment later, slow revolutions of light—blue, red, blue, red—began flickering off walls and gutters, signalling the arrival of an emergency vehicle on the other side of the building.
He straightened and, moving quietly, walked back through to the main house to find a T-shirt.
Since sleep was so elusive tonight, he might as well spend the time working with his new colleague. Pro-pinquity in a hospital setting would be the best cure for this inconvenient fascination. Baggy, unflattering clothing, surgical caps, masks, booties. That should take the edge off her appeal quick smart. For his sanity, he needed to start the therapy now. Familiarity bred contempt—he had to believe it.
Anticipation quickened his pace as he retraced her footsteps along the silent hospital corridor.
No sign of any staff in the casualty waiting room. The ambulance was gone. He skirted the main desk and entered the treatment area.
A pale-faced woman sat in an open cubicle clutching a bowl, her eyes closed and head tilted back to rest against the wall.
The nurse attending the woman turned and frowned.
‘I’m sorry, sir, you must stay in the waiting room and ring the bell if you need to see the doctor.’ She yanked the curtain of the cubicle closed as she came towards him.
‘Is Dr Mitchell around?’
‘Yes, but you must—’
‘I’m Luke Daniels. The new director. And you are?’
‘Oh, Dr Daniels.’ The line of her mouth thinned even further. ‘I’m Dianne Mills, one of the nurses. Terri’s busy with an urgent case at the moment.’
‘I’m here to help. Where is she?’
‘I’ll take you through to her.’ The woman’s subtle unfriend-liness seemed to say that his assistance wasn’t required or particularly welcome.
Luke smiled grimly as he grabbed a gown from the shelf and followed her. Maybe she was right. Judging by the praise heaped on her by his parents, Terri was a very competent doctor. She’d recognised the signs of his father’s myocardial infarct even though Will Daniels had insisted it was just indigestion. What had the stubborn old cuss been thinking? A call to the cardiologist had confirmed that Terri’s prompt actions had minimised damage to the cardiac muscle. Tests had shown life-threatening partial occlusions in several other vessels and his father had been whisked in for triple bypass surgery.
‘What’s the urgent case?’ he asked as he tugged the gown over his clothes.
‘An unconscious teen brought in by two friends. The girls couldn’t wake her when they got her home. We’ve got food poisoning cases coming in as well. I was just about to call for back-up.’ She sent him a speculative look.
‘I’ll cover.’ He smiled. ‘We can reassess later with Dr Mitchell if necessary.’
Dianne nodded. Her brief response wasn’t encouraging. Perhaps he needed to work on his people skills.
They were still a distance from a closed curtain when Luke heard a young woman’s clipped voice say, ‘I thought she should sleep it off.’
‘But I s-said we should b-bring her here,’ added a second, shakier female voice. ‘Even th-though it’s, like, two o’clock in the morning.’
‘You’ve made the right decision for your cousin.’ Terri’s even husky tones sent a light shiver over his skin. Sudden doubt needled at the belief that familiarity with her would help him. He swallowed.
‘Are you sure she hasn’t take anything? Drugs?’ Terri asked.
‘Um, sh-she—’
‘No, of course not,’ said the aggressive voice of the first girl. ‘Never.’
Luke stepped through the gap in the curtain and took in the situation with a sweeping glance.
Two young women in their late teens stood to one side of a gurney. Dressed to the nines in their party clothes, heavy make-up smudged beneath their eyes and an array of coloured streaks adorned their heads. He caught the tail end of the ferocious glare the taller of the two girls used to browbeat her friend.
Terri’s eyes lifted to his briefly in a moment of intense silent communication. It was obvious she didn’t believe the girls’ denial. Her eyes slid away and she moved to the head of the gurney where she bent over the patient, laryngoscope in hand.
‘Temperature up another half-degree to forty-one point five, Terri,’ said a nurse as she pulled up the patient’s skimpy knitted top and placed the diaphragm of her stethoscope on the pale skin.
‘Thanks, Nina.’ Terri glanced up. ‘Dianne, could you get us some ice packs, stat.’
‘On my way.’ Dianne slipped out of the curtained cubicle.
Keeping an eye on the activity at the gurney, Luke crossed to the teens. ‘I’m Dr Luke Daniels,’ he said calmly. ‘You’re on your way home from a party?’
‘A rave.’ The taller girl gave him a superior look. She was busily chewing gum and her eyes had the dilated pupils of someone who’d taken some sort of substance. ‘Over at Portland.’
‘Apical pulse one forty. BP seventy over forty. Sats seventy per cent.’ Folding her stethoscope, the nurse turned away to collect a monitor from the side of the room.
Luke turned his attention to the other teen. ‘Was your friend able to walk out of the rave on her own?’
‘We—we kind of, um, had to h-help her.’
‘Was she talking to you then?’
‘N-no.’
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Terri slide in the endotracheal tube.
‘Airway in. Ready for the ventilator, Nina.’ She straightened, moving aside so the nurse could attach the unit.
Stepping