Their Double Baby Gift

‘You haven’t angered me.’

Brooke blinked. ‘You’re my boss?’

‘I’m Clinical Lead, yes.’

‘Right...’

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. The department had obviously gone through some changes she didn’t know about. Why hadn’t Kelly let her know? She’d mentioned they’d got some new eye candy in charge, but hadn’t mentioned who he was. Why not?

‘Well, I’m sorry I’m late.’

‘Why don’t you get changed and meet me in my office in ten minutes? There are a few new protocols you need to be aware of, and then I’ll assign you your duties.’

‘Sure.’ She nodded and smiled as he marched off towards his office.

Her new boss.

Jen’s husband.

She looked upwards, as if to heaven, and muttered, ‘You had to throw me one last curveball, huh?’

She shook her head in disbelief and pictured Jen grinning down at her.

* * *

Her first patient was a guy in his forties. When she called his name in the waiting room he stood up, one hand supporting the other. His triage card said ‘Query fracture left wrist’.

Matt had assigned her to Minors. She’d gone to the changing room, got into a pair of dark blue scrubs. When she’d gone to put her own clothes into her locker she’d done a double-take, noticing that Jen’s locker was just as she’d left it. No one had cleared it out yet. Seeing it there, with her friend’s name still on it, plastered with pictures of Hollywood heartthrobs, had made her heart miss a beat. In a way she was glad that no one had rushed to empty it. It meant that Jen had been valued. Loved.

Brooke had scooped her long brown hair up into a messy bun and set off to see Matt.

He’d looked every inch an army officer, seated behind his desk with his straight back in his neat office, everything perfectly positioned and aligned. He’d clasped his hands on the desk in front of him and run her through the new burns protocols and triage assessments.

Sitting there, looking at him, she’d wondered if the reason he held himself so formally in check was because he might fall apart if he relaxed. He seemed very stiff and distant now he was working—nothing like his relaxed, friendly, affable wife, who’d thought nothing of draping her arms around the shoulders of friends, who’d positively warmed everyone with her wide smile and closeness.

And then he’d said, ‘When you’ve dealt with each of your patients I’d like you to run your results past me before you discharge anyone.’

Run her results past him?

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve asked you to.’

‘You don’t trust my judgement? I’ve been a doctor for many years. I know what I’m doing.’

‘But I’ve never worked with you before, and though I’m sure you have a stellar reputation, Dr Bailey, I’d like to make sure that my department is operating at its optimum level.’

So...the sympathetic father persona had disappeared the second he’d clocked on. He was all business, and Brooke had felt slighted that she wasn’t being trusted to treat a patient by herself, but would have to check in with Matt.

‘Fine—Major.’

She escorted her first patient through to a vacant cubicle and got him to sit down whilst she pulled out a new file. ‘So, do you want to tell me what happened?’

‘Nothing happened. That’s why I can’t understand why my wrist hurts so much!’

Brooke frowned. ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning? When did the pain start?’

‘I went to bed last night and my wrist was fine, but in the night I got woken suddenly by this intense pain in it—like lightning, it was. I sat up immediately and rubbed at it, and took some painkillers, but it was ages before I could get back to sleep. When I woke up it still hurt, and I noticed this bruising to the side of it.’

Brooke peered at his wrist. There was some bruising to it—like a dark cloud. Not much, though. ‘Have you had a fall recently?’

‘Not really. I was crouched down loading the washing machine the other day and I lost my balance slightly, put out my hands to stop myself from falling, but that’s all. It wasn’t a fall, as such.’

She examined his wrist and checked his range of motion. He could bend it and move it around without causing any extra pain. But he said he felt a constant burning sensation in the centre. She touched his fingers, asked if he could feel the sensation, if he had any numbness or tingling. He reported some tingling in his ring and little fingers. Capillary refill was good, and there didn’t seem to be any occlusion of the blood vessels.

‘I think, Mr Goodman, that you may have carpal tunnel syndrome. The pain waking you in the night is a classic symptom. But I’m going to send you for an X-ray just in case you’ve got a small fracture in one of the wrist bones, because carpal tunnel wouldn’t cause this bruising.’

‘Oh, right. Okay...’

‘Do you need any more painkillers whilst you wait?’

‘No, I can cope.’

She scribbled her findings onto his notes and then filled out a small slip of paper. ‘Right, would you like to come with me?’

Brooke walked him to the main corridor and pointed out a red line on the floor.

‘Follow that. It’ll take you to a new waiting area in Radiology. Hand in the form, they’ll take an X-ray or two, and then come back to the main waiting room. I’ll call you in when we’ve got the result.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Mr Goodman headed off.

Brooke headed over to the doctors’ station to transfer her notes to the computer. Her friend Kelly was there too.

‘Welcome back! Finally got here, then?’

‘Yeah... Hey, why didn’t you tell me that our new boss was Jen’s husband?’

Kelly smiled. ‘Because I knew how guilty you felt about not calling in on him, and I thought that if you knew he was going to be your boss then you would just fret for weeks about starting work and today was going to be hard enough for you! How is Morgan? Did she settle into the crèche okay?’

‘She screamed her head off, which caused me to get upset, and that allowed our kind new Major to take great pleasure in letting me know I’d sprung a leak.’ She patted her chest and raised an eyebrow at her friend.

Kelly laughed. ‘Pads are in now, though, right?’

Brooke smiled. ‘Pads are most definitely in. They might be the most unsexy thing a woman ever has to wear, but they don’t half make your boobs look good.’

She pushed out her chest to emphasise their impressive size to her friend, unaware that at that moment Matt had come up right behind her.

He cleared his throat and Brooke instantly hunched over and spun in her chair to smile at him, cheeks flaming. ‘Hi.’

There was a ghost of a smile on his face. ‘How’s everything going, Dr Bailey?’

‘Erm...yeah...good, I think.’

She could hear Kelly sniggering behind her and made a mental note to kick her under the table later. How many more times would she get to embarrass herself in front of him? So far she’d cried, leaked milk everywhere, worn poo-stained clothes and thrust her breasts out on show like an amateur glamour model. What must he think of her?

‘How are things with you?’ she asked awkwardly, trying to fill the silence.

He smiled, and she briefly wondered why he didn’t do that more often. It transformed his face completely. He was a good-looking guy, but holding that stern, stoic I-am-not-amused pose did nothing for him. But smiling? Genuinely smiling? He could compete with the best of those heartthrobs stuck on Jen’s locker.

‘I’m good, thank you.’

‘That’s great.’ She smiled back, wondering what to say, what to do.

Why was this so awkward? She didn’t normally have difficulty getting on with colleagues or superiors. Why was talking to him so different?

In her scrubs pocket, her phone trilled. Not wanting to check her phone with him standing there, she continued to grin at him, waiting for him to say or do something.

‘Kelly, I’d like a quick word, if I may, when you’re free?’

Kelly nodded. ‘I’ll be five minutes.’

‘I’ll be in my office.’ And Matt turned on a dime and headed off.

Brooke let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Then she turned to Kelly. ‘Wow. Way to go, Brooke. How come he calls you by your first name but calls me Dr Bailey?’

Kelly grinned. ‘Probably because of my stellar good looks and beauty and because he wants to get in my pants.’

Brooke gaped. ‘What?’

Her friend laughed. ‘I’m kidding! We’ve been working together for weeks now—he knows me more than you. This is your first day. He’s just being polite. He hasn’t met you properly over a packet of chocolate biscuits and a good mug of tea in the staff room yet.’

‘And he has you?’

In her mind she could still see him striding away. Tall. Straight-backed. Determined. A man on a mission. He didn’t seem the type to bond over a chocolate biscuit. Not with normal civilians, anyway. She wondered what he was like with his patients. Warm and fuzzy?

I don’t think so.

‘Absolutely. You don’t know the man until you’ve shared your deep and darkest secrets over a good brew.’

She sighed. ‘He doesn’t seem the type to do that. He seems quite standoffish to me. At least on duty, anyway.’

‘It’s hard for him.’

Brooke looked at her friend sharply. ‘It’s hard for us all.’

‘He’s stepped into his wife’s shoes. Taken her post. And he knows that we all knew her, that we all lost her, and most of all I think he’s frightened of you.’

‘Me? Why?’

‘You were her best friend. Everyone here knows how close you two got. And when Jen did get a call from him, from the deepest darkest jungle that Costa Rica could offer, and got to tell him about her day...she talked about you.’

‘She did?’

‘Of course she did. Jen loved you very much. She loved us all, but you the most. And he knows that of all the people in the world, you had a special place in his wife’s heart. Apart from him, you were the one who comforted her, who gave her a soft place to fall when he could not. Who looked after her as she carried his child.’ Kelly smiled. ‘You’re different to the rest of us mere mortals. He doesn’t know how to be with you yet.’

‘He doesn’t have to be afraid of me. We both loved her.’ All the sweet things Kelly had said had caused a lump to appear in her throat.

‘He’ll call you, Brooke. When he’s ready.’

‘He’s keeping me at a distance on purpose?’

Kelly nodded, then grinned. ‘Perhaps he needs to.’

Brooke gave her friend a questioning look. She was being ridiculous! She was no threat to anyone. Never had been, never would be. Men didn’t need to worry about her. They never had. Not her father, not Eric, not anyone.

Major Matt Galloway was the least likely man she would want to get too close to. He was abrupt and controlling and...and...

And she’d sworn never to have another man control her ever again. Not after the way Eric had become. That had been bad.

‘Do you need to wear make-up?’

‘Why have you put on perfume?’

‘I really don’t think you should wear that dress.’

‘Cover up more.’

‘Were you flirting with that guy?’

She shuddered just thinking about him.

No. Brooke was never going to get involved with another man again. They were too much trouble. Look at Eric! Look at her father! Every man there had ever been in her life had let her down. Walked away when she needed them the most.

It had made her self-sufficient. Taught her that she could stand on her own two feet. Getting pregnant with Morgan and becoming a single mother had taught her that she could do anything, but most of all it had shown her that she didn’t need anyone else.

And most definitely—most importantly—she knew that she did not need, or want, the approval or attention of her new boss Major Matt Galloway.

‘Well, he has nothing to fear from me. My heart most definitely has a “Do Not Enter” sign.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘DO YOU BELIEVE in broken hearts, Doc?’

Major Matt Galloway peered at his patient. She was seventy-nine, with fluffy white hair, and sat huddled in her wheelchair, as if life had beaten her down gradually, day after day. Pale, with dark circles under her eyes, she looked as if she needed a damned long sleep.

Yes, he did believe you could have a broken heart. Physically, there were lots of ways a heart could fail. But literally...? He saw people give up on life after the death of a loved one—die within days, hours or even minutes of a husband, wife or child. He’d thought it might happen to him once, but his body had stubbornly refused to give up. His logical mind had overpowered his heart and told it to suck it up, because he had a job to do. He had to be a father. And his principles had refused to let him leave someone behind who needed him.

‘I do,’ he said, but he was not keen to discuss his personal feelings with this patient. At work, he liked to remain professional. ‘It says here on your chart that you have non-specific chest pain. Your ECG was normal, as was your BP. Why don’t you tell me what you’re feeling and when it started?’

His patient rubbed at her chest. ‘I lost my Alfred three weeks ago. Cancer. After the funeral my chest began to hurt—up here.’ She rubbed at a spot just above her sternum. ‘It won’t go away.’

‘And if you had to rate the pain between zero and ten, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, what would you score it at?’

‘A good seven.’

‘Does it hurt more when you breathe in? When you take deep breaths?’

‘Sometimes. And when I twist in my chair, reach for something, sometimes it can be like someone is stabbing me with a hot pick.’

It sounded skeletal or muscular to Matt. But they’d taken bloods and he wanted to see what they said before he made a diagnosis. ‘I’d like to examine you, if I may?’

She smiled at him good-naturedly. ‘Normally I wouldn’t mind if a good-looking man wanted to see more of me, but would you mind if you got a lady doctor to do it?’

He smiled back, not offended at all. ‘I’ll just get someone. Give me two minutes.’

He closed the curtain of the cubicle behind him and went looking for a spare doctor. They all looked incredibly busy, hurrying here and there. The only person he could see who was apparently doing nothing, standing by the triage board, checking her mobile phone, was Dr Bailey.

He’d known today was the day. That she would be returning after maternity leave. He’d known that today they would finally get to meet and his stomach had been a jumbled mess in anticipation. He’d heard so much about her—and not just from Jen. Apparently Dr Bailey was a wonderfully warm doctor—kind, caring, well-liked and respected in the department. But Jen had also said that Bailey was the loneliest person she had ever met. It was why she had befriended her. She’d said that this doctor gave so much of herself to others, including her patients, but always seemed somehow to be so alone. Afraid to reach out and depend on others.

He’d not known how to interpret that. Matt had never been alone. Raised in a large family of brothers, he had left them to study medicine, then enlisted. He’d had an army family. A whole platoon! And he’d had Jen, and then the news that there would be a little one coming along.

He’d never been alone until now. Oh, his brothers were always on the phone, and he sometimes heard from old comrades-in-arms, but Jen’s death had isolated him. It was as if her death had quarantined him from others. As if he was contagious. There’d been plenty of visitors to bring him food, and to offer to help with Lily, but something was different. He felt tainted. As if people were afraid to get too close to him in case something happened to them too. Or maybe it was a vibe that he was giving off, making people feel that they couldn’t get too close?

Jen had adored Dr Bailey. Loved her. He’d lost count of the amount of times his wife had laughed down the phone saying, ‘Oh, you’ll never guess what Brooke said today...’

He’d not expected the leaking, poo-stained, crying woman he’d met this morning to be the Dr Brooke Bailey. Nor for her to have awoken in him a protective streak when he’d heard her crying at the crèche. He’d empathised with her pain. Remembered how it had felt for him to leave Lily with a relative stranger.

The sound of her heartbroken sobs had tugged at his heartstrings and made his gut lurch. And that had been before he’d even known who she actually was! And that brief moment when she’d leaned against him, into him, enveloping him in her perfume as he’d guided her out through the crèche door, had made him yearn to wrap his arms around her.

And then he’d remembered she was a stranger. Someone he didn’t even know. Whom he’d probably never meet again.

Until he’d found out who she was.

Now he would have to work with her, keeping her at a safe distance while knowing that the two of them shared a bond—their love for a woman now gone.

He knew Brooke Bailey had been the most important person in his wife’s life—after him and Lily—and he’d been keen to meet this woman whom he’d felt sure would be intelligent, warm and sociable, just like his wife. A together person. Someone with whom he could also build a bond. No, he’d definitely not expected the woman he’d met this morning. Emotionally wrought and no doubt sleep-deprived too, if Lily’s current behaviour was anything to go by.

‘Dr Bailey?’

He saw her guiltily drop her mobile phone back into her scrubs pocket and look up, her cheeks colouring with a most beautiful shade of rose.

‘Major! Sorry, I was just checking everything was okay at the crèche.’

He could understand that. The first few days he had left his daughter there he had done the same thing. Lily was the most precious thing in the world to him, and to hand her over to strangers had been difficult. It was easier for him now. He’d been doing it for over a month. Not so Dr Bailey. He had to make allowances.

‘And is it?’

She nodded, seeming surprised that he had even asked.

‘A patient has requested a female doctor for an examination. Are you free?’

‘Yes. I was just looking for you, actually. You wanted me to report in before I discharged my patients.’

He could hear the reluctant tone in her voice but he dismissed it. It wasn’t a personal thing he’d done, just because she’d been away from work for a while. He’d asked it of all his staff. He needed to know how the people who were on his team worked.

‘Okay. I’ll take a look at your findings once we’ve dealt with Mrs Merchant.’

He led her over to his patient’s cubicle and, once inside, explained her symptoms and the results of her tests so far. Then he stepped back. ‘I’ll step outside.’ And closed the curtain behind him, listening as Dr Bailey conducted her examination. He heard her ask to listen to the patient’s chest, heard her check the range of movement and finally warning Mrs Merchant that she was about to press on the front of her chest...

‘Ow! That hurts!’ His patient cried out.

‘Here?’

‘Yes! Dear Lordy—what do you think is causing that?’

Dr Bailey let Mrs Merchant fasten her clothing again and invited Matt back in.

Matt nodded to let her know he’d heard what had happened and to deliver the diagnosis. ‘I think you may have costochondritis.’

‘What’s that when it’s at home?’

‘It’s an inflammation of the cartilage that joins your ribs to your breastbone. It’s a very painful condition.’

‘I know it is. I can feel it!’

‘We’ll just check your bloods first, but I think we can safely say we need to get you on some anti-inflammatories. I’ll be back in a moment.’

They left Mrs Merchant and headed over to the doctors’ station. Dr Bailey handed him her notes from the guy with carpal tunnel syndrome. He’d also got a non-displaced break in his scaphoid, the small bone at the base of his thumb, and she’d given him a splint to wear and prescribed painkillers in case it got worse. Simple enough. Direct, effective, and she hadn’t wasted resources on tests that he hadn’t needed. Exactly what he’d wanted to see.

‘That’s excellent. You can discharge him.’ He handed back the file, expecting her to walk away from him and get on with her work, but she lingered, as if wanting to ask him something. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes...’ She looked around her, lowering her voice. ‘Jen’s locker.’

He straightened, felt his chin lifting. He was defensive because he hadn’t got around to sorting it out yet. He’d felt that by doing so he would finally be wiping away the existence of his wife here. Seeing it still there each morning was reassuring. He could almost pretend that she was about to walk in through the door at any moment.

‘Yes?’

‘If you need someone to help sort it...when you feel ready... I’d like to offer to help.’

Jen’s locker.

It was one last tiny island of his wife. Coming back home to the house from Costa Rica had been bad enough. There had been a whole houseful of her possessions to sort through. At first he’d not wanted to get rid of anything, thinking that Lily would want to know all about her mother when she got older. But seeing his wife’s clothes draped over radiators and the shower rail in the bathroom had got too much, and he’d conducted a vast cleaning frenzy, taking bags of her stuff to local charity shops but keeping small things like jewellery, the odd knick-knack that Jen had loved, just in case Lily wanted them when she grew up.

Items that were precious—her wedding ring, her engagement ring, a clay pot she’d once tried to make at a pottery class. The pot had gone drastically wrong, and looked as if a four-year-old had tried to make it, but it didn’t matter that it was ugly and misshapen. His wife’s hands had made it—her fingers had deftly tried to mould the clay—and he’d been unable to throw it out. He knew that one day Lily would hold it in her hands and imagine her mother’s fingers in the same places.

There were still photos of Jen at the house. He’d not made a clean sweep and erased her completely. She was still there. Her paint choices on the walls. Her silly magnets on the fridge. Her perfume in the bathroom.

Getting rid of her things had been painful, and when he’d come to work at the London Grace he’d forgotten that she would have a locker here. That was going to be very difficult. Touching the things she’d used and worn every day. Things that were as familiar to her as they would be new to him.

He knew he had to do it. At some point. It had been there too long already and everyone else had been too polite to mention it. Not that Dr Bailey was being impolite. Just concerned. And he understood that. She was right. It was maudlin to think that keeping a dead woman’s locker undisturbed somehow kept her alive.

‘Yes. I’ll...get round to it later today.’

Her mouth dropped open. ‘Oh! I didn’t mean to force you to do it straight away. I—’

‘It’s fine. I should have done it a long time ago.’

‘I’ll help, if you need it.’

‘I should be fine doing it myself. Thank you, Dr Bailey.’

He hadn’t meant to be so dismissive of her. She was only offering to help him do a task he’d been shirking for too long now. But the tone in his voice had risen because she’d reminded him that he was afraid to tackle it on his own. Worried about what he might find in there. Something uniquely personal, perhaps. Some keepsake that would strike another blow to his heart when it was already so weakened.

She nodded, blushing at his tone, and though he liked the way the soft rosy colour in her cheeks somehow made her eyes sparkle that little bit more, he felt guilty as she walked away with that look of hurt in her eyes.

Had he meant to be so acerbic? Could he not have reined that in? After all, he’d become a master at doing that lately. Putting a tight leash on his emotions. It was easier, after all, to pretend that things didn’t hurt. When you were on your own it was easier, anyway.

He briefly wondered who was there for Dr Bailey. Surely she wasn’t as alone as his wife had made out? For a start, there had to be a father to her baby. Where was he? Jen had mentioned he was some low-life who had adhered to the adage Treat them mean, keep them keen. Though, thank the Lord, Dr Bailey had had enough self-respect to walk away from someone like that!