The Consultant's New-Found Family

Days like these, he thought maybe he was doing an OK job of being a single parent. That Beth was coping fine without having a mum.

And then the guilt would press down on him. Squash him flat. If he’d taken proper care of Vanessa in the first place…

Guilt that was doubly compounded by the X-rated dreams he’d had for the last week or so. Dreams about a certain SHO with an elfin face, mischievous blue eyes, straightforward manner and infectious smile. Dreams he had no right to have.

He certainly shouldn’t have felt possessive when the coastguard crew had been discussing the new air ambulance doctor who’d attended the incident where a kid had got stuck in a hole when the tide had been on its way in, and how gorgeous she was. He shouldn’t have wanted to snarl at them to leave her alone because she was already spoken for—by him. Because she wasn’t. Lisa Richardson was a free spirit, someone who owed him nothing. Someone he couldn’t expect to give up her single lifestyle and take on his commitments.

‘Daddy?’

‘Coming, sweetheart.’ He managed to focus on his daughter until the classroom door opened, she kissed him goodbye and followed her schoolfriends inside. And then he stomped back to their cottage.

Why couldn’t he get Lisa Richardson out of his head?

This was the first time in two years that any woman other than Vanessa had haunted his dreams. The first time in two years that he’d felt that pull of attraction. The first time in two years that he’d been aware of someone walking into a room even when his back was turned to the door.

But he couldn’t let himself act on it. Couldn’t take that risk again. It wasn’t just his heart in danger: it was Beth’s. And Lisa’s, too, when he turned out to be Mr Wrong and let her down.

He blitzed the house, hoping that the action of scrubbing things clean again would scrub all thoughts of Lisa from his head. They’d worked together for a month, now, and although he thought she was a fine doctor—soothing the patients without being patronising, then treating them efficiently and effectively—she was completely wrong for him.

Number one, she worked in the same department, and inter-departmental relationships were always bad news for the rest of the team.

Number two, she could be engaged or even married, as far as he knew.

Ha. Who was he trying to kid? Ben had already mentioned that Lisa was available. And that she’d turned Jack Harrowven and Mark down when they’d asked her out. And he really shouldn’t have been quite so pleased about that.

Number three…Oh, come on. Surely he could think of a third reason. He should be able to think of a dozen reasons why seeing Lisa would be a bad idea. Between Beth, work and the coastguard, there wasn’t any room for a relationship in his life.

And it was completely irrelevant that he saw Lisa at work and sometimes when he was volunteering. On her last duty on the air ambulance, he’d actually worked with her: he’d helped her strap a casualty into a stretcher and checked her line before she’d been winched up from his lifeboat.

He scrubbed harder at the limescale in the shower. He was not going to think about Lisa Richardson. Or speculate how soft her skin might be. Or wonder how it would feel to have that beautiful mouth tracking down his body…

But it didn’t work. He just couldn’t get her out of his head. So he was still in a bad mood by the time he started his shift.

A mood that worsened by mid-afternoon, when he was called to see a patient who’d been in a car accident and was complaining of abdominal pain. A patient who was six months pregnant: just like Vanessa had been when she’d died.

Part of him was tempted to give the case to someone else, someone who could cope with this sort of situation without any memories to cloud their judgement. But then his training kicked in. He was a senior doctor in the department. This was his job. He had to keep his emotions separate. Memories and sentiment had no place in an emergency department. He had to focus on the people who needed him. His patients.

He walked into the cubicle. ‘Mrs Patterson?’

The woman on the bed was shaking uncontrollably. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand. ‘I’m Joel Mortimer, the registrar in the department. Can you tell me what happened?’

‘I was in traffic. In a queue, waiting for someone to turn right. And someone rammed straight into the back of me.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘And now—now I can’t feel my baby moving. And my stomach hurts. And I’m wet—between…’ She shuddered. ‘Between my legs,’ she whispered. ‘But it’s too early. My waters can’t have broken yet. They just can’t.’

‘Try not to worry too much until I’ve examined you,’ Joel said gently. ‘Babies are pretty hardy, and they’re fairly well cushioned inside you. Does it hurt anywhere else?’ He was half expecting her to describe whiplash injuries.

‘No, just my stomach.’

Could be panic. But if her stomach had hit the steering-wheel and the wetness was blood…

Joel had a bad feeling about this. At the handover the paramedics had mentioned impact against the steering-wheel: not hard enough to trigger the airbag, but clearly hard enough to have hurt Mrs Patterson. He had a nasty feeling this could be a placental abruption—and a bad tear could be an emergency for the mother as well as the baby.

‘I’m going to examine you, if that’s all right with you, and meanwhile I’ll get a portable scanner brought in so we can take a look at the baby and see what’s going on.’ And, please, please, it would be just panic that was making her unable to feel the foetal movements. He’d do an ultrasound and the baby would be visible on screen, kicking away as if nothing had ever happened.

‘Don’t let me lose my baby,’ Mrs Patterson begged. ‘Please, don’t.’

If it was a major abruption, there might not be much choice. Not at twenty-six weeks. Very pre-term babies could survive in Special Care, but often it took months and months of heartache and worry, and the babies were often left with long-term problems. His heart ached for her. ‘We’ll do our best for you,’ Joel promised. ‘I’m going to order that scanner. I’ll be back in three minutes, tops. Start counting the seconds—I want you to take a big breath in while you say “one second” in your head, and then a big breath out while you say “one second”. Can you do that for me?’ He knew from experience that counting breaths would help to calm her, and concentrating on a simple task would help to distract her from her panic.

She nodded, and began to take deeper, longer breaths.

‘That’s perfect,’ Joel said with an encouraging smile. He was gone for just long enough to ask one of the staff nurses to get him a scanner, page the maternity registrar and order four units of O-negative blood as a matter of urgency, and then went straight back to Mrs Patterson.

‘I’m going to examine you now,’ he said gently. ‘Just tell me if anything’s uncomfortable or if you need me to stop. Don’t worry about being embarrassed or feeling silly—I’m here to look after you, and how you’re feeling is the most important thing right now.’

But he wasn’t happy with what he saw. Mrs Patterson had a small vaginal bleed—the blood was dark red and clotted—but she was starting to look slightly shocky, out of proportion to the amount of blood she’d lost. Her blood pressure was low, too. All the signs were pointing to a placental abruption—the impact from the car accident could have caused part of the placenta to tear away from the wall of the uterus. In cases of minor placental abruptions, the patient could often go home to rest and the tear would repair itself over the next few days. But with a major placental abruption, it could mean an immediate Caesarean section in an attempt to save the mother’s life as well as that of the baby.

Joel had a really bad feeling about this one.

Particularly when he couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat either.

Maybe the baby was lying awkwardly and that was why he couldn’t pick up the heartbeat. But he’d feel a hell of a lot better when the portable ultrasound scanner arrived and he could see what was going on. Not to mention having the obstetric specialist on hand.

‘Is my baby all right?’ Mrs Patterson asked, her voice rasping and shuddery with fear.

He didn’t want to panic her. But he didn’t want to lie either. ‘Try not to worry,’ he said softly. ‘I’m going to chase that scanner.’

To his relief, Jack Harrowven, the senior registrar from the maternity unit, was already walking into the department. Joel took him to one side and gave him a quick rundown on the case. ‘I think it’s an abruption. A big one. We’re waiting for the portable scanner, but I can’t hear the baby’s heartbeat.’

‘Oh, hell,’ Jack said. ‘Doesn’t sound good.’

‘It might be the way the baby’s lying,’ Joel said.

Jack shook his head. ‘If the mum can’t feel movement either, that’s not a good sign.’

Joel took a deep breath, showed Jack to Mrs Patterson’s cubicle and introduced him to the patient. The scanner arrived at the same time.

‘Please. Don’t let my baby die,’ Mrs Patterson begged again.

‘We’ll do our best,’ Jack said. ‘Can you pull your top up a little bit for me? I’m going to put some gel on your stomach, and then we’ll see what’s happening.’

‘Mrs Patterson, I’ve been called to see another patient,’ Joel said, ‘but I’m leaving you in the best possible hands. Jack’s the best obstetrician I know.’ He smiled at her. ‘He delivered my daughter.’

Though as he left he glanced at the screen. And what he saw told him that even an obstetrician as good as Jack wouldn’t be able to do much.

Ah, hell. He knew all about how bad it felt to lose a baby at six months’ gestation. Vanessa hadn’t survived the accident. And neither had Beth’s little brother: at twenty-four weeks, he’d been just too tiny.

Life, he thought savagely, really sucked sometimes.

‘You all right?’ Lisa asked when he almost walked straight into her in the corridor.

‘Fine,’ he lied, his voice clipped.

‘You don’t look it. Bad case?’ Without waiting for an answer, she added, ‘Why don’t you take five minutes, have a coffee or something?’

Because he needed to keep busy. If he took five minutes, right now, he’d remember far too much. Feel the pain rolling over him yet again. Get sucked back into the dark days. He couldn’t afford that to happen. Not here, not now, not ever. He gritted his teeth. ‘Thank you, Dr Richardson, but I take orders from my consultant, not my SHO.’

Her eyes widened with hurt. ‘But I wasn’t ordering you. It was just a suggestion because you look a bit…well…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘I’m perfectly fine, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have patients to see.’ He brushed her aside and strode off, aware that he was behaving appallingly but unable to stop himself. Right now he was way, way too close to the edge.

Later that afternoon, the news filtered through the department that Mrs Patterson had lost her baby. As soon as Lisa realised that Mrs Patterson had been Joel’s patient, she could guess why Joel had looked so rattled. And why he’d bitten her head off. Cases where babies or children didn’t make it were always hard, but even more so for doctors and nurses who had children of their own—and that was intensified for single parents. Lisa didn’t know the details of Joel’s wife’s accident, but if it had been in a car this had probably reminded him of it.

She hated to think of him sitting in his office, dealing with paperwork and just hurting. Being buffeted by memories. She’d been there often enough. Every time she had to attend a traffic accident with the air ambulance, or dealt with the fallout in Resus, the memory knifed through her for an instant before she pushed it away, reminded herself that she was a professional and dealt with the case. It must be just as tough for Joel. Tougher, really, because it had only been a couple of years ago; she’d had twelve years to get used to her own loss.

On impulse, when her shift finished, she went over to his office and knocked on his door.

‘Yes?’

His tone was still slightly curt, but she ignored it and walked in. Closed the door behind her.

He looked at her, not smiling. ‘What can I do for you, Dr Richardson?’

He’d still got that barrier up between them, then. Until this afternoon he’d called her by her first name. They had been a team. Well, she wasn’t going to let him put her off now. When she had moments like these, she really needed other people around her. Someone to pull her back from the fear. ‘I wondered if you’d like a coffee or anything, Joel.’ She deliberately used his first name.

‘No, thanks. I’m catching up with my paperwork.’

And the look he gave her said very clearly that she was holding him up. ‘When you’ve finished, then. Maybe we can go for a drink or something.’ And maybe he’d talk to her. Talking had always helped her in the past.

He frowned. ‘A drink? Lisa, you need to understand I’m not in the market for a relationship.’

He thought she was asking him out? She scoffed. ‘Actually, I wasn’t asking you for a relationship. I was asking you out as a colleague who can see you’ve had a rough day—the kind of day when it might help to talk to someone who understands. I meant a drink, as in coffee or something. Nothing else.’

‘Oh.’ He didn’t apologise, though colour slashed across his cheekbones so clearly he knew he was in the wrong. ‘Sorry, I need to be somewhere.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Like now.’

Of course. His little girl. She should have thought. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have held you up. Goodnight.’

Lisa had closed the door behind her before Joel had a chance to say anything. He groaned and covered his face with his hands. He’d been a first-class bastard, snapping at her and leaping to conclusions—stupid conclusions. Of course she hadn’t been asking him out. She’d just seen him as a colleague who’d had a rough day and wanted to make him feel better. He’d been projecting his own thoughts onto her—his own ridiculous desire for a relationship with her.

And he’d overreacted. Big time. Had pushed her away as hard as he could, because there was something about Lisa Richardson that made him really want her. And he wasn’t in a position to offer her any sort of relationship.

Ah, hell. He’d apologise tomorrow. Explain that the case had brought back memories for him and he shouldn’t have taken it out on her.

Though wild horses wouldn’t drag from him the fact that he’d pushed her away for another reason—to keep temptation at bay.

He saved the file he’d been working on and shut down the computer, then headed for Hannah’s to pick up Beth. She fell asleep in the car, as she always did when he was on a late shift; he carried her to bed, tucked her in, and stood watching her for a moment. Sometimes she looked so like Vanessa when she was sleeping that it hurt.

But he’d never let his daughter down the way he’d let his wife down. She’d come first in his life. Always.

The next morning, he dropped Beth at Hannah’s, then made a swift detour into the hospital shop on his way to the department. Flowers? No. Too ostentatious. And it might give the wrong message. He wanted something that said sorry in a colleague-like fashion.

Every medic he knew loved chocolate. So it was a pretty safe bet.

He bought the nicest box the shop had, then headed for his office, grabbed a sticky note from his desk and scribbled her a quick note. Sorry. Bad day yesterday. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Cheers, Joel.

Yep. That would do. It sounded like a note from a colleague, not a lover.

Lover.

Nope, he had to push that word right out of his head. He wasn’t going to be Lisa’s lover. No matter how much his body wanted him to.

He went swiftly to the restroom. Her locker was—of course—locked. Great. He knew she was never late for her shift—that meant she had to be on a late shift. He’d try to catch her just before she started, then. With a sigh he returned to his office, shoved the chocolates in a drawer, then went out to see the night staff for the handover to his shift.

Facing Joel was something Lisa really didn’t want to do. She’d spent most of the previous night feeling hideously embarrassed. He’d actually thought she’d been asking him out on a date. That she fancied him.

The worst thing about it was, he was right. She did fancy him. She just wasn’t going to do anything about it. Because she had a feeling that, if she let him, Joel Mortimer could be very, very important in her life. And she wasn’t going to make her mother’s mistakes. Wasn’t going to love someone so much that the world stopped without them.

She’d just changed her shoes and locked her locker door when Joel strode into the restroom, his hands behind his back. He looked like one of the consultants you saw on TV dramas, ordering a junior doctor, ‘Walk with me,’ so he could explain some esoteric procedure or other. Cool and distant and clever.

‘Morning,’ he said.

‘Morning,’ she replied coolly.

‘Lisa—look, I owe you an apology. I was incredibly rude to you yesterday. You were being kind, a good colleague, and I…’ He grimaced. ‘Well, I shouldn’t take out my personal problems on my team.’

Oh, lord. Just when she’d been prepared to be an ice queen, he said something to melt her. The more so because he was so obviously sincere.

He coughed. ‘Um—this is by way of an apology.’ He drew his hands from behind his back and handed her a large brown paper bag.

She peered inside, and smiled. ‘You didn’t need to do that, Joel—but thank you. Apology accepted. And if you’re going to give me chocolates every time you have a bad day, I could be tempted to send every male geriatric who walks into the department your way.’

He laughed, clearly remembering that he’d told her elderly male patients loathed him. ‘Just you try it. I’ll make you deal with the really gory stuff.’

‘I can do gory.’ She’d attended enough accidents with the air ambulance in the past. She smiled. ‘But I could do with learning a few of those bad jokes of yours for the next time I get a nine-year-old who needs distracting.’

‘Done.’

Lord, he was gorgeous when he smiled. That slight quirk to his mouth, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the way his eyes turned almost pure gold. It made her want to reach out, touch his face. Run her thumb along his lower lip.

What would it be like to slide her fingers through those black, glossy curls and draw his head down to hers? Would his face be smooth, or would there be the faintest hint of stubble grazing against her fingertips as she stroked his skin? How would it feel when he kissed her—when his mouth brushed against hers, exploring, teasing, inciting, demanding a response?

It would be so easy to find out. All she’d have to do would be to slide her hand behind his neck and draw his face down to hers, brush her mouth against his and—

No. He’d made it clear they were just colleagues. She needed to get herself back under control. Like now. ‘I’d, er, better show my face at Reception. Thanks again for the chocolates.’

‘Pleasure.’

And she escaped before she did something really stupid.

Like kissing him.

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