Medical Romance November 2016 Books 1-6. Kate Hardy
about children who were victims of accidents that threatened to shred his composure. These weren’t neat put-the-child-to-sleep-in-a-controlled-setting cases. These were painful, awful situations that wrung him out emotionally.
Needing to come home from the Sudan to maintain his certification couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d desperately needed a rest; the abject poverty and suffering he’d seen had taken their toll on him.
And yet here he was, his second day on the job, feeling as if he’d been thrown right back onto the front lines.
Mentally and emotionally.
Annabelle helped him get the girl ready to move to the radiology section, glancing at him as she did. She touched the youngster every chance she got, probably as a way to reassure her. He’d noticed her doing the same thing with Baby Hope.
Those tiny gestures of compassion struck at something deep inside him.
Strands of hair stuck to a face moist with perspiration, and yet Annabelle was totally oblivious to everything except her patient.
Just then, as if she sensed him looking at her, her head came up. Their gazes tangled for several long seconds. Then they were right back at it. Annabelle was evidently willing to set any animosity aside for the benefit of their young patient.
The CT scan confirmed his suspicion. The force of the little girl striking the seat in front of her had fractured her sternum, putting pressure on her heart and lungs. A half-hour turned into an hour, which turned into five as they continued to work the case.
It had to be way past time for Annabelle’s shift to end, but she didn’t flinch as they struggled to stabilise the girl.
Sarah. He’d finally learned her name. And unlike Baby Hope’s mum, or even his own parents—who’d been more angry than concerned when he’d been injured in a bike crash—Sarah’s mum and dad were frantic, desperate for any shred of news.
Annabelle came in from her fifth trip to see them. ‘I told them they could come see her in a few minutes.’
‘Good.’ Sarah was already more comfortable. They’d given her some pain medication, and although she was still on a ventilator they’d be able to wean her off in the next day or two, depending on how much more swelling she had. ‘Why don’t you take a break? Get off your feet for a few minutes.’
‘Sarah needs me. I’ll rest when she does.’
‘Have you eaten today?’
This time she smiled, although the edges of her mouth were lined with exhaustion as she repeated the same thought. ‘I’ll eat when you do.’
If she thought he was calling her weak, she was wrong. She was anything but. Of course, he already knew that. He’d watched Annabelle go to hell and back in her effort to have a child. She was as stubborn as they came. It was one of the things he’d loved most about her, and yet it was ultimately that very thing that had driven them apart.
‘Is that a dinner invitation?’ He cocked a brow at her.
Her smile faded. ‘Of course not. I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant.’ His jaw stiffened. ‘I was joking.’
‘Of course.’ Annabelle began collecting some of the discarded treatment items, not looking at him. It was then he realised how harsh his voice had been. It reminded him of the time he’d finally had enough of the procedures and the heartache. He’d been harsh then too. Very harsh, if he looked back on it now.
Max moved in closer, lifting a hand to touch her arm, then deciding better of it.
‘I’m sorry for snapping at you. I would say chalk it up to exhaustion, but that’s no excuse.’ He could envision this scene repeating itself ad nauseam unless he put a stop to it. ‘Maybe we really should grab a bite when we’re done here. We can figure out how we’re going to work together for the next several months without constantly being at each other’s throats.’
She glanced up at him. ‘I think we can manage to bump into each other now and then without having a meltdown.’
This time the sharpness was on her side.
‘I know we can.’ He took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I’m trying to figure out how to make this easier on both of us, since I assume neither one of us is going to resign.’
It wasn’t just because of his contract. He’d known for a long time that this day was coming. When he’d have to face his past and decide how to move forward. Maybe that time was now. He could go on putting it off, as he had over the past three years, but this wasn’t Africa where he could just immerse himself in work and not have to see her day after day. They were looking at months of working together. At least.
‘I love my post.’ The sharpness in her voice had given way to a slight tremor. Did she think he was going to cause trouble for her or ask her to leave?
‘I know you do. And I don’t want to make you miserable by being here.’ This time, he touched her gloved hand. Just for a second. ‘Will it really be so very hard, Anna?’
‘No. It’s just that I never expected to...’
‘You never expected to see me again.’
‘No. Honestly I didn’t.’
‘But we both knew we would eventually have to finalise things. We can’t live in limbo for ever.’ This wasn’t the direction he’d wanted to go with this discussion. But now that he was here, he had to see it through.
‘You’re right.’ She glanced down at the items in her hand and then went over to throw them in the rubbish bin. Then she moved over to the exam table and pushed the little girl’s hair out of her face. The tenderness in her eyes made his stomach contract. She would have made such a wonderful mum. It was a shame that biology—and fate—kept her from being one. No power known to medical science had seemed able to work out what the problem was. Or how to fix it.
What he hadn’t expected was for her to shove him out of her life the second she realised he was serious about not trying again. That bitter pill had taken ages to go down. But it finally had. And when it did, he realised his parents had taught him a valuable lesson. Keeping his heart to himself really was the better way.
When she looked up at him again, all hints of tenderness were gone, replaced by a resolute determination. ‘You’re right. We can’t live in limbo. So this time the invitation is real. If you don’t have plans, I think we should have dinner. And decide where to go from here.’
Suddenly that discussion didn’t look quite as attractive as it had moments earlier. But since he’d been the one to suggest sitting down and talking things over, he couldn’t very well refuse. ‘Okay, once Sarah’s parents have had their visit, we’ll head out.’
A half-hour later, Max had scrawled the last of his instructions in Sarah’s chart and set it in the holder outside her door. The girl’s parents were still sitting by her bedside. He’d sent Annabelle on ahead to get her things.
As he stretched his back a couple of vertebrae popped, relieving the tension that had been building along his spine. He was dog tired. Maybe having dinner with Annabelle wasn’t such a good idea. The discussion should probably wait until they were both rested.
Except there’d never seemed to be a right time to approach their unfinished business. So they had to make time.
He went to the men’s changing room and washed his hands and then bent down to splash his face. Blotting it dry with a paper towel from the dispenser, he caught a glance at his reflection.
Dark hair, still cut short from his time overseas, was just starting to grey at the temples. Where had the years gone?
One minute he’d been a happily married man, and the next he’d been on the brink of divorce and living like a nomad, going from place to place but never really settling down. Maybe he should have