The Monticello Baby Miracles

Harriet gave a nervous laugh and ducked farther into the confines of her office.

No bets on that one. Matteo knew himself enough to know he’d wanted to be close to Harriet, had wanted to touch her. Just a couple of hours wandering around the hospital together and he’d felt a connection he rarely felt. Something genuine. Something real. Not the confident, rule-setting guy who flew to conferences to show his wares in exchange for shiny new clinics. The Matteo whose heart was every bit as much a part of the Casitas as Harriet’s was with St. Nick’s. The part that was searching for...enough and having no idea where to find it.

“I guess I’ll see you at the hall?” She shifted from foot to foot, not unlike a skittish colt.

“Yes, perfect.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wodge of papers he’d folded and refolded into ever-decreasing squares. “I’ve got all of the details here. What do you call it? The bumph?”

Harriet smiled, a little dimple he hadn’t noticed before appearing in her cheek. It made her appear pretty and vulnerable all at once, bringing out a protectiveness in him he hadn’t felt for a woman in a long, long time.

“Yes. The bumph. Well done. You’re going to have to teach me Argentinian lingo—”

“Spanish? No problem. Dinner afterwards?”

“Uh...I don’t know about that.”

“Of course you do. Come to dinner with me after the lectures and we can toast your public speaking success.”

“I’m not so sure—”

“Sister, can you come?” A nurse knocked and stuck her head in the door, her face looking strained with worry. “It’s Cora.”

“Is she seizing?” Harriet scooted round him and was in the corridor in an instant.

“SFS. She says she tastes pickles and has the seasick feeling. She won’t move until you come.”

Matteo didn’t even stop to think. He followed Harriet to the play area the nurse indicated. A simple focal seizure could quickly lead to another much more dramatic attack. Grand mal seizures weren’t uncommon.

“Does she usually have a stage two?”

“Yes.” Harriet kept up the quick pace. “Childhood absence. Unresponsive to voice, automatisms. Eyelid flickering and some lip smacking,” she explained.

“So nothing violent?” Matteo matched her stride for stride.

“No.” She shook away her own answer. “She’s had one tonic-clonic, but overall she’s been responding well to meds.”

“Sodium valproate?”

“In combination with lamotrigine. It seems to work well for her. We wanted to steer clear of phenobarbital and phenytoin.”

“Adverse affects on cognitive development?”

Harriet nodded. They’d both clearly read the same studies.

Harriet headed towards a skinny little redhead standing in the center of the play area.

“Hey there, Cora.” Harriet’s tone was soft as she gently lowered herself to the girl’s eye level. Matteo nodded approvingly at how Harriet moved—careful not to give the girl any rapid movements to take in. If she was already feeling unwell, too much commotion could make her feel worse. “What do you say we get you to your bed?”

“I don’t feel well.” Cora’s gaze remained static on the wall.

“I know, sweetheart. That’s why I’m here. Shall we get you to your bed?”

“I’m too dizzy.”

“How about I put my hands on your eyes for a bit and you think of your bed?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Harriet shifted behind Cora. “I’m going to do it now, Cora. All right?”

“Okay.” The girl’s voice was tiny and frightened. The more stressed she became, the more likely another seizure was.

“Matteo.” Harriet’s voice was a near whisper. “Could you grab that chair, please?” She nodded towards a well-worn wing chair with high sides and a deep seat.

“Absolutely.”

Harriet moved to the side, fingers still covering Cora’s eyes, as Matteo brought the chair round—aiming it at a portion of the wall that contained a single horizontal line. When Cora felt well enough to focus her eyes on something, that line could help. Another one of Harriet’s touches? He wouldn’t be surprised.

“All right, sweetheart. Ready to sit down? We’ve got Christopher here.”

Matteo shot her a questioning look. Christopher?

Harriet nodded at the chair. Apparently it was called Christopher.

His instinct was to laugh but common sense caught up with him as they each took hold of one of Cora’s arms and guided her into the chair. The girl was feeling panicked, needed her eyes closed, and required reassurance all at once. If she knew she was going to settle back into Christopher, it would be reassuring. Simple. Clever. He was pretty certain he knew who had thought up the idea and couldn’t stop a big ‘Aha!” smile from forming as they tucked Cora into the chair along with a couple of throw pillows so she’d feel extra cozy and safe.

A few minutes later, Cora was feeling much better and asked Harriet to take her to her room for a rest.

After she’d been tucked into her bed, they each took a side of the door frame to lean on and watch her for a bit, with Harriet making a few notes in Cora’s chart. When she’d finished, Harriet looked across at Matteo, their eyes meeting with a look of mutual understanding. She was much more than an academic. He’d been quick off the mark to slot her into a “books and flowcharts only” file and, while the incident hadn’t been an extreme one, she’d shown swift and effective responses to the girl’s plight.

He’d need to be a bit more generous in the Doctor Knows Best department. Be open to her input.

A little zip of anticipation surged through him at the idea of Harriet at Casita Verde. There could be more advantages to her visit than he’d thought. A clinic at the casita—a proper one—so that they wouldn’t have to send the children away to hospital would be a godsend. It near enough gave him physical pain each time they had to sign a child over to the state but their resources were stretched beyond reason. Perhaps with Harriet on their side...

Would she wear that form-hugging nurse’s uniform? he wondered. Then stopped himself. Re-dressing Harriet Monticello was not the route to getting funding. Not the way to stay focused.

He shook his head to clear it as Harriet slipped the chart onto a hook just inside Cora’s door. “I’m off to see a couple more of the kids. Did you want to come?”

It didn’t sound like an invitation and he needed to get his head straight.

“I think I’ll leave you to it. Make sure I’m at my best tonight.” He was about to give her a wink and a smile, but thought better of it. He was no Casanova, and this was a business trip...

He cleared his throat a bit too pointedly. ¡Qué quilombo! Wasn’t he the one who liked keeping things professional?

He tipped his head towards Cora’s room as they walked away. “Has she been here long? She seems to rely on you.”

“Only a couple of months. She’d been in foster-care, but the parents... The parents weren’t up to it.” Her lips tightened before she quickly shook off any judgment she’d been going to make.

More kudos to her. He was judgmental as hell when it came to backing out on a commitment like that. Better not to make one at all. That’s what he did. The only commitments he made were professional. It made life much easier.

Harriet pointed to a large, colorful chart with names and times on it. “The children know the shifts and have one person of their choice to call on when they’re feeling anxious. She hasn’t chosen yet, so I’m the interim ‘go to’ girl.”

“Is this part of your staffing thing?” How about sounding a bit more patronizing? He could’ve kicked himself.

“It’s part of being consistent with the children. Something, as you well know, most of these kids haven’t had.” She swept away a lock of blonde hair before continuing. “Cora, like a lot of the residents here, had been in a foster home. Well, several foster homes, and she also has minor ADHD that kicks up a notch with each change. The more anxious it makes her, the worse her epilepsy becomes, and the worse her epilepsy becomes—”

“The harder it is to place her,” Matteo finished for her. It was the same drill where he came from. The worse the medical condition, the less likely it was they’d find adoptive parents, let alone foster parents. Who wanted to open their wallets, let alone their hearts, to a child with so many hurdles to leap?

“Got it in one!” She smiled up at him, another one of those hits of connection pinging him straight in the chest. Practical, emotional and as committed as they got. This woman was a medical triple threat.

“It looks like we might have more in common than I thought.” Matteo gave her a rueful smile. “Professionally speaking, of course.”

Her smiled disappeared in an instant.

Why had he said that?

He knew exactly why he’d said it. To keep his emotions where he liked them. All tucked up in his very own...er... Christopher. But taking away that smile of hers? A bad move.

“Of course. Well, then...” Harriet’s voice became clipped. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish seeing the pa—the children and then get home to work on my lecture. I don’t want to be letting you down tonight. Professionally speaking, of course.”

Touché.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.