The Pregnant Midwife. Fiona McArthur
about babies was they had no ulterior motives. They struggled to survive by sheer tiny heart and determination and the skill of their carers, and you could trust them. Not like women.
As he entered the huge teaching hospital, his thoughts kept drifting back to that last scene of Jim with his arm around Kirsten. Hunter couldn’t believe that Kirsten was here at MIRA and, knowing his luck, no doubt would show up in his NICU. And as before, she’d be blatantly in his face. The hell of it was, he couldn’t deny he was still attracted to her.
Nearly six months ago, he’d begun to let her close, until that episode with Jack Cosgrove. Painfully, but almost with relief, his heart had hardened implacably as if pleased to justify that distance. Having been a cuckolded husband once before, Hunter had vowed to stay immune to the power of a woman. But Kirsten had burst into his black-and-white world like a comet and had showered him with so many bright moments and such a zest for life he’d been blasted out of his usual comfort zone. Thank God and good sense he hadn’t slept with her. Fantasies of her in his arms were bad enough, without having to contend with real memories.
After the truth had come out, such had been his bitter disappointment at his own stupidity he’d found he could barely speak to the woman and it had become untenable for him to continue working there, though he’d cited other reasons for heading back to Sydney.
Hunter stabbed the elevator button with more force than necessary and he spared a glare at the female orderly who warily shifted a few paces away from him. The last thing he would allow was distraction during neonatal transfers at MIRA. His passion for his work as his tiny patients struggled for life was what had helped him through Portia’s deceit. And it would get him through Kirsten’s return, he thought as the elevator doors opened. Getting out at his floor, he strode through the swing doors that led towards the neonatal intensive care unit. And he wouldn’t be distracted in his unit either.
Kirsten had mapped her life out twelve years ago when her mother had died a year after her father. She’d decided she would be self-sufficient, travel and live the adventurous life she’d read about to escape a fifteen-year-old’s reality of her parents’ deaths. Until she’d begun, to her surprise, to imagine settling down with Hunter.
Thanks to Hunter Morgan and his icy lectures, she remembered why she didn’t need any man, why she was determined to stay focussed on the two-bedroom flat she’d transferred her attention to. All she needed was a home to return to occasionally and the world was an adventure. The extra income for a casual night duty once a week in the NICU would help pay extra off her mortgage and maybe she’d even be able to start saving for her next overseas holiday.
Her interview at NICU was brief and she was swiftly accepted as a casual RN to start immediately. Gloria Westerland, the nursing unit manager of the NICU, introduced her to the other staff.
Hunter, her nemesis, just had to keep popping back into her life. Because she was prepared this time, Kirsten was pleased her reaction didn’t register on her face. When Gloria paused at the crib where Hunter examined one of his tiny patients, he barely looked up.
‘This is Kirsten Wilson, Hunter. She’s a very experienced NICU nurse and will be working Saturday nights here.’
He grunted. ‘We’ve met. Burning the candle at both ends as usual, Kirsten?’ He nodded briefly and then went back to work without waiting for an answer. Kirsten stared at a point somewhere over his left shoulder and didn’t say anything. She was thankful when the NUM moved on.
‘Despite his lack of warmth in this instance…’ Gloria glanced curiously at the tall paediatrician and then turned back to Kirsten ‘…Hunter is a real asset to the unit. He’s kind, brilliant with the babies and contactable any time, day or night, for the five days of the fortnight we have him, and I guess you know he works at MIRA for the other five days.’ Gloria gazed back to where Hunter leaned over the infant. ‘And he’s not bad to look at.’
Kirsten couldn’t help a glance over her shoulder. His face was chiselled into stern lines as he concentrated and she missed the brilliance of his smile. He’d been able to warm her across the room when he’d smiled at her, and it wasn’t only her that was affected. Gloria’s understatement drew an answering smile from Kirsten. Not bad to look at indeed. ‘We met in Dubai, but we’ve agreed to disagree. I’m not worried.’
Gloria nodded. ‘That explains it. So you’re sure you might want some extra shifts, apart from MIRA?’
‘I’m sure.’ Kirsten glanced at her watch. ‘I start at MIRA on Monday and I’ve just bought the sweetest unit overlooking Randwick Racecourse. The occasional night shift would work perfectly for me.’
‘Well, I’m happy.’ Gloria sagged with relief. ‘The weekends are always the hardest to fill with experienced staff.’ They shook hands. ‘We’ll see you Saturday night, then. When you have more time, I’d love to hear about your experiences overseas.’
Kirsten rolled her eyes comically. ‘Have I got some stories to tell you.’ The two women laughed and shook hands, and Kirsten tried not to notice that Hunter was watching her from across the room. She hadn’t mentioned to Gloria that she also hoped that on night duty she’d be able to avoid contact with Hunter Morgan more easily.
For her heart’s sake, that was a must.
KIRSTEN’S first shift as a night neonatal nurse started off quietly, if you could call the beep of two dozen heart monitors and the hiss of several ventilators breathing for tiny infants quiet. It was strange but good to be back in an Australian hospital and she glanced around at her workmates. In Dubai, the eclectic mix of nationalities was always fun but she had missed the twangy accent and dry wit of the Australians.
Kirsten was rostered to start at MIRA headquarters on Monday morning, but for tonight it would be good to have a chance to see what had changed on the home front. Around midnight, though, her leisurely check was cut short.
Twenty-eight-week twin girls were rushed in from the delivery suite with very little warning, and Kirsten was actually happy to see Hunter follow them in.
Kirsten took over the care of one child, Kinny Baker, and her coworker, Patricia, took the other sister, Carla. Weighing in at just eight hundred and fifty and nine hundred grams respectively, Kirsten spared a brief thought for the long road the girls and their parents had ahead of them as the tiny infants were placed in the humidicribs to keep warm.
Hunter had already intubated the girls in the delivery suite within a few minutes of birth and the babies had been hand-ventilated with tiny resuscitation bags by delivery-suite staff until they could be transferred to the nursery and connected to the ventilators. Kirsten attached Kinny’s three leads to the heart monitor and clipped the pulse oximeter to her tiny foot to check peripheral oxygen saturation. The capillary oxygen saturation in an infant, or sats, was a good indication of how the respiratory system was coping.
Silently, Hunter appeared beside Kirsten and she could feel the warmth from his body beside her as he attended an initial physical examination while Kirsten was establishing baseline observations.
‘Hello, little one,’ he murmured to Kinny as he moved to listen to her heart and lungs. Then he examined her tiny body for any abnormalities. Kirsten checked the endotracheal tube was secure now she was hooked up to the ventilator.
She tried to ignore the seeping heat that burned into her hip from his nearness and her chest ached with unwilling sadness. She watched Hunter deftly insert a tiny intravenous cannula into Kinny’s arm and together they splinted the little girl’s tiny forearm to safeguard the line. They’d done this for so many infants in the past. Tonight it was all achieved without speaking.
Kirsten found she could still anticipate Hunter’s treatment plan and the thought brought a pang to be shrugged off as she considered what they’d achieved. Airway was secure, breathing was controlled via the ventilator and circulation didn’t seem to be a problem. Kinny looked