‘Trouble?’ she asked as he replaced the receiver. From where she sat he looked big and competent and…nice, she thought. Though it wasn’t nice in the sense that Fiona would have thought nice. Fiona would have only seen his body, which was certainly nice enough. Or maybe that was an understatement. But the rest of him-the Nate inside-was pretty darned nice, too.
‘I need to go.’
Why did her heart lurch a little? It had been a long time since she’d felt like this, she thought. Warm, contented and full of delicious laughter. He warmed her from the toes up and she hated the thought that her time with him was over. For now.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘An asthmatic. Milly Jefferson. She’s five years old and tight as hell. We play a balancing act keeping her at home.’
‘Let me help.’
‘You don’t need to.’
‘I want to.’ She smiled at him with that smile he was only just getting to know. And like. ‘I’m on call tonight and we agreed I’d take over medically while you looked after your baby.’
‘But my baby’s asleep.’ There. He’d said it. My baby. Just like that.
‘Then let’s go and play doctors,’ she said serenely. She pulled herself to her feet and stood waiting. ‘Together.’
They did more than play doctors. Their medicine was needed in earnest.
As Nate had said, Milly was as tight as hell. Her parents rushed her into Casualty, their faces desperate with fear.
For good reason. She’d gone past the point where bronchodilators were effective. She’d gone past the point where salbutamol administration was even possible. She lay limp and unresponsive in her father’s arms and Gemma took one look and thought, We’ve lost her.
But Nate was taking her from her parents, laying her on the examination couch and putting the oxygen mask on her face almost in one fluid movement.
Maybe it was too late for the oxygen mask. His fingers were on her pulse. The little girl’s chest was still-the fight for breath seemed over.
‘I need to intubate…’
Gemma was before him. The nurse on duty hadn’t arrived yet-she must have been caught up elsewhere in the hospital-but Gemma had been in the emergency department before when she’d brought Cady in. She knew what was required and where to find it. By the time Nate had checked the child’s airway the crash cart was by his side and an intubation tube was being placed in his hand.
There was no time for muscle relaxants-and no need. The child was past the point of fighting.
Nate lifted the tube. Then, on the point of intubation, he paused and motioned to Gemma. ‘You.’
She got it in one. She was the anaesthetist. Intubating a child was tricky. Nate might well be able to do this-in fact, he had probably done it many times over his years as a country doctor-but if there was a skilled anaesthetist on hand then why not use her?
So he backed off and prepared an adrenalin injection while Gemma swiftly, expertly slid the tube down the child’s throat.
Milly didn’t even gag. That was how far she’d gone.
Her mother held her face in her hands, sobbing blindly. She was buckling at the knees and her husband moved to support her.
But the adrenalin injection slid home and the child’s chest heaved in one last convulsive attempt to get air.
Gemma had the bag in place, breathing for her. And the child suddenly found the strength to fight for herself.
Wonderful. The tube was in place. The bag could work, the oxygen could flow and the child could breathe.
She was still that awful colour, though.
‘I need muscle relaxant,’ Gemma ordered, switching back into doctor mode as if she’d never paused. ‘And a sedative. As soon as she recovers she’ll fight the tube.’
She looked at Nate. Silently he placed what she needed in her hands and watched as she located a vein in the little girl’s hand.
Intravenous drips in children were notoriously difficult but Gemma didn’t hesitate. She inserted the drip with no more difficulty than Nate would have experienced had it had been an adult.
‘Great.’
And with the drip set up and the child’s breathing being supported, they had time to take stock. And breathe themselves.
‘She’ll make it,’ Nate said, and his voice was a trace unsteady. He’d been as scared as she was, Gemma thought, watching him, and then she thought, He cares about his patients. He’s not just a womaniser. He’s a really fine country practitioner.
And he’d just proved that he wasn’t a walking ego either. He’d handed over the intubation to her because he believed her skills were greater than his. It had been a huge vote of confidence in a doctor he didn’t know.
‘I knew you’d be good,’ he said in an undertone, and Gemma felt the colour rise in her face. Compliments like that didn’t come her way every day of the week-compliments from the heart.
‘Intubation and drips are what I do.’
‘You’re great.’
‘Yeah? As an anaesthetist maybe, but as a country doctor? You say that after I fail to diagnose a case of chicken-pox. This is the first time you’ve seen me work and it’s just lucky it was something I’m skilled at.’
‘Lucky for Milly…’
‘Mmm.’
They stood looking down at the little girl. She was still battling to breathe and she’d need to stay intubated until they were sure her condition was stabilised. Even then there’d be many more of these episodes in her life, Gemma knew-and then she let herself think about Cady. At least diabetes wasn’t life-threatening. At least she knew where she was with Cady.
‘He’ll be fine, too,’ Nate said softly, and Gemma raised her head in startled enquiry. What was it with this man? She hated that he could read her mind.
She was a private person. She’d learned the hard way to keep herself to herself and this man’s ability to get past the surface had her thoroughly unnerved.
Work. Think about work. Hadn’t that always been the best defence? ‘We’d best take her though to Children’s Ward. Or do you want to keep her in Intensive Care?’
‘I have Tom Saunders in Intensive Care with angina so I think we’ll take her through to kids’ ward. I’ll ring for an additional night nurse so we can do one on one while the tube’s in.’ He looked down at the little girl on the bed and frowned, and his frown wasn’t just as a result of complications of the night. He was looking into the future of a child whose condition was increasingly life-threatening. ‘This is the fourth acute episode this year. And if we hadn’t been close…’
‘But you were.’
‘I could have been out.’
‘And I would have coped.’
He looked at her and he seemed dazed. Like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. ‘I guess you would have. There are three doctors in this place now. Not two. It’s going to take some getting used to.’
‘It is.’
‘If you stay on…we could do enough surgery to keep you in training, but would you miss doing anaesthetics full time?’
She thought about it.
‘Not while there’s drama like tonight.’ The sedative was starting to take effect now and the child’s breathing was becoming relaxed, deeper and more even. She thought, We’ve just saved her life. It was a good feeling. A great feeling!
