Midwives On Call: Stealing The Surgeon's Heart. Marion Lennox
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damage that could be done if Ciro didn’t follow through could be very detrimental—trust was a very important factor with this type of patient. ‘He said that he’d come and see how I was getting on, that I just had to grin and bear it while I was on the medical ward, and that once they transferred me to the adolescent unit it would be better, that I’d be among people who understood. I know that I’m going to be here for ages. The doctor on this morning told me to forget about the concert.’
‘You’re not well enough to dance at the moment.’
‘I know,’ Alyssa admitted. ‘It’s not just the concert, though. If I’d danced well there was a good chance I’d have been given a scholarship…’ Her tiny voice wobbled. Her eyes screwed closed, Alyssa went on bravely, ‘Mum’s going to be so disappointed.’
There was nothing Harriet could say without crossing the line. In a single sentence Alyssa had summed up the complexity of her problems, the pressures, real or imagined, that had brought her to this point, the complex dynamics that fed this insidious disease. And there was so much Harriet wanted to say, so much she wanted to do. She wanted to delve deeper, to help unravel the complex puzzle, to untangle the knots that clouded Alyssa’s fragile mind, but a half-hour gossip on the edge of her bed wouldn’t suffice. Alyssa didn’t need an emergency nurse with empathy, she needed skilled specialist care, and Harriet knew that she must not complicate matters, must not, no matter how much she might want to, say anything that might jeopardise Alyssa’s treatment.
Knew that she wasn’t qualified to help.
‘Oh, come on, Alyssa.’ The nurse was back, frowning down at the plate. ‘You haven’t even tried. You know what this means, don’t you?’
And Harriet had to bite her tongue, knew it wasn’t her place to argue, so instead she took the tiny frail hand in hers as the plate was finally removed, stroked the translucent skin as the nurse set up the kangaroo pump, attaching a large bag of supplement to Alyssa’s NG tube and setting the dose before walking away. Harriet watched as with every whir of the motor a tear slid down Alyssa’s fragile cheeks, knowing, if not understanding, the torture Alyssa felt was being inflicted on her.
‘Dr Delgato’s right,’ Harriet said finally, gently squeezing Alyssa’s hand. ‘Once you’re moved to the adolescent unit you’ll be in the right place, you’ll be getting the help you need. Things will sort themselves out.’
‘Will they?’
Terrified eyes held Harriet’s and even if she wasn’t entirely qualified to answer, surely common sense could prevail.
‘With a bit of give and take,’ she responded finally. ‘From both sides.’
‘HOPEFULLY this is adequate.’
Turning the key in the door, Ciro pushed it open and stood aside as Harriet gingerly stepped inside her new home.
Ciro had duly picked her up from the surgical ward as arranged when his shift had ended. Harriet had rolled her eyes at the raised eyebrows from more than a few of her colleagues as Ciro had waited patiently for her to be given her discharge letter and say goodbye to the nurses that had treated her.
Drew had barely tried and had spectacularly failed yet again. He had packed a pair of white linen shorts Harriet had been hoping to slim into and a lilac halter neck that was definitely meant for days when one was feeling good about themselves, as opposed to the day you were being discharged from hospital, not to mention the trendy espadrilles that needed slender legs—and those were the wearable bits! A fluorescent pink bikini and a pair of jeans more suited to Alyssa were a couple of other choice items Drew had thoughtlessly tossed in, but at least finally she had her handbag and purse back.
Declining Ciro’s suggestion of a wheelchair, she had instead limped along a corridor that she normally raced down, acutely aware of her pale legs that shouldn’t be seen in white shorts and her straight red hair that had suffered some sort of major collapse under the hospital’s version of shampoo. By the time she’d reached Ciro’s very impressive, very new black car Harriet had been more than ready to sink into the cream leather and close her eyes for the journey ahead.
Until he climbed into the driver’s seat.
Until the scent that had reached her nostrils on their one and only shift together had assailed her again. Until his hand had brushed her bare leg as he’d let out the handbrake.
Out of the relatively safe confines of the hospital, stripped bare of the safety of her uniform, suddenly she had felt exposed and vulnerable and she’d spent the entire journey in a state of nervousness, trying and failing to make small talk. But as they’d driven along the beach road, Ciro had gestured to the apartments set high and proud on a large rock that jutted into the ocean and Harriet’s breath had caught in her throat. She had scarcely been able to believe this was going to be her home for the foreseeable future.
Adequate didn’t come close to describing the massive, sun-drenched apartment that greeted her tired eyes, everything in the huge lounge geared towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that took in the endlessly divine sight of the Pacific Ocean. Waves eternally rolled in, the roar silenced by the closed doors. But, as everyone who stepped in surely must, Harriet walked straight across the polished jarrah floorboards to the balcony, hardly noticing the tasteful occasional furniture. She flicked open the catch, slid the windows open and stepped out onto the huge balcony. In a clever architectural feat, instead of facing out onto the ocean, the architect had angled the building, and as Harriet stepped out onto the balcony she could see exactly why—whichever way she turned the views were divine. Facing outwards, she could see the length of the beach, watch the joggers pounding along, yet if she turned around it was as if she were sitting adrift in the water, watching the pounding waves roll in towards her.
‘It’s divine,’ Harriet breathed. ‘It’s the most amazing view!’
‘I haven’t turned on my television since I moved in,’ Ciro admitted. ‘I’ll just go and get your case from the car.’
‘Thank you.’ Harriet smiled and as Ciro went to go she said it again. ‘I really mean that, Ciro. Thank you so much for doing all this for me.’
‘It really is no big deal,’ Ciro said modestly. ‘I knew that the apartment was vacant and that you needed somewhere to live. Of course, I may live to regret it.’ He smiled at her frown. ‘You might revel so much in your new-found freedom that you take to throwing wild parties every night.’ He pointed to the ceiling. ‘I’m in the apartment above you.’
‘I doubt that I’ll be throwing too many wild parties, at least not on week nights,’ Harriet said.
Suddenly the amazing view dimmed a notch. Turning to face him, Harriet had to squint to bring his features into focus, the harsh morning sun behind him rendering his features unreadable as she voiced an apology that had bubbled for a couple of days now.
‘I was very dismissive of you in the hospital.’
‘Dismissive?’
‘When you told me you’d just come out of a relationship,’ Harriet explained. ‘I was feeling incredibly sorry for myself and to imply that you couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through just because you weren’t married…’
‘And didn’t have surgery that day!’ Ciro teased. ‘Or find my lover in bed with someone else!’
‘You were trying to be nice and I was very rude, and for that I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it,’ Ciro said easily.
Only Harriet couldn’t.
Suddenly the details that she had waved away mattered now. Suddenly, for reasons she didn’t even want to fathom, Harriet wanted to know about Ciro’s past, wanted to know if there was someone in his present…
‘You