The Doctor's Baby Bombshell. Jennifer Taylor
easy forging a way through the bushes when he was so hampered but it was impossible to walk alongside him and assist in any way.
‘This is so frustrating,’ she grumbled as she trotted along at his heels. ‘I should be helping you instead of acting like a spare part!’
‘Your turn will come,’ he told her and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could hear the smile in his voice.
‘Why do I get the feeling that my turn might not be all that pleasant?’ she demanded. ‘Exactly what do you have in mind?’
‘Ah, that would be telling. And there is no way that I want to scare you off. I need you, Zoë Frost, and I don’t intend to let you get away from me!’
Ben grimaced, hoping Zoë wouldn’t take his comment the wrong way. He breathed a sigh of relief when she laughed. He really mustn’t go looking for hidden meanings, he told himself as they rejoined the main path, and definitely not allow himself to wonder if Zoë was looking for them too. Zoë wasn’t his girlfriend any longer. She wasn’t going to be a part of his life either. Once today was over, he probably wouldn’t see her again.
The thought caused a funny sensation in the pit of his stomach but Ben ignored it. They had reached the stile and he waited while Zoë scrambled over to the other side then passed the child across to her.
‘It’s OK, I’ve got her,’ she told him when he went to take the little girl back and he nodded. It didn’t matter to him if she preferred to struggle rather than accept his help. He knew how independent she was and if it made her feel better, who was he to object?
Unlocking the car, he hunkered down and slid the driver’s seat forward as far as it would go. There was a tiny bench seat in the back—so small that he used it merely to stow his coat. However, it would be needed for a different purpose today. ‘Can you climb into the back? I know it’s going to be a tight squeeze but I want to lay her on the front seat. I can lower the back to make it more comfortable for her if you could hunch up.’
Zoë shot a wry glance into the back of the car. ‘So this is what you meant about my turn. I’m going to have to perform some contortions, am I?’
Ben grinned. ‘It’s either you or me, and I honestly don’t think I can get in there. I’d need a shoehorn to fit into that minuscule space!’
‘Either that or a bucket of grease,’ she retorted, handing him the child before doubling up and scrambling into the back of the car. Ben had a tantalising glimpse of her shapely bottom then she was in, wriggling herself into the corner to allow for the passenger seat to be reclined.
He drove the enticing image from his head as he gently laid the little girl on the passenger seat and adjusted the back until she was lying almost flat. He fastened the seat belt across her then handed Zoë his mobile phone.
‘Can you call the emergency services and tell them what’s happened? No doubt there’s some frantic parents looking for this little one and the sooner they know she’s been found, the better.’ He closed the door and strode round to the driver’s side, grunting as he squeezed behind the steering-wheel. ‘I only hope I can change gear with my knees tucked under my chin.’
‘We can always trade places,’ Zoë suggested sweetly and he chuckled.
‘No way! I could do myself permanent damage if I got in there.’
He pulled out of the lay-by, leaving Zoë to inform everyone about what had happened. He could hear her talking on the phone, her voice sounding cool and crisp as she relayed the information. She had a lot more confidence than she’d had two years ago, he realised. Although she’d always been very self- assured in her dealings with her patients, she’d been more reticent when it had come to speaking to people in authority. Obviously, the time she’d spent in Paris had brought about changes in her attitude as well as in her appearance and Ben couldn’t help wondering if it was all down to Zoë herself or to other forces.
Had Zoë met someone there, a man who had shown her how to dress to make the most of herself, taught her to feel as confident as she was beautiful? The idea didn’t sit easily with him even though it had nothing to do with him if it turned out to be true. Zoë didn’t need him as her mentor or her lover.
The child’s name was Megan Turner. She was four years old and had been visiting her grandparents who had a farm in the area when she had wandered off. Her parents met them at the hospital, overjoyed that she had been found. Ben explained his suspicions that Megan was suffering from hypothermia but he didn’t waste time. It was more important that Megan receive the appropriate treatment.
‘I don’t think she’s bad enough to warrant controlled warming but can you alert PICU just in case?’ he instructed as he shouldered open the doors to Resus. He placed Megan on a bed then glanced at the two nurses and junior doctor who had followed him in. ‘Can you take her temperature, Abby—use a rectal thermometer, please. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with. Jo, I want you to fill the bath with warm water and, Adam, I want you to monitor her breathing and pulse rate. Any fluctuation— and I do mean any—I want to be informed immediately.’
Everyone nodded and set to work. Zoë watched them, enjoying the way they all seemed to know exactly what was expected of them. It was typical of Ben to make his instructions crystal clear. He hated mistakes being made and did everything possible to avoid them. She’d learned such a lot from him when they had worked together…
And learned even more when they were away from work, a small voice whispered inside her head.
‘Want to give me a hand?’
Zoë started when Ben turned to her, feeling the colour rush up her face as she prayed that he didn’t have any inkling about what she’d been thinking. ‘Of course. What do you want me to do?’
‘Check her response to both noise and light.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She hasn’t opened her eyes or spoken since we found her but I don’t think she’s unconscious, just exhausted and very frightened. I want to do the absolute minimum to guarantee her well-being rather than rush in with all guns blazing.’
Zoë nodded, understanding why he preferred that approach. Although the dramatic scenes that were the staple of so many medical soap operas made excellent viewing, a patient’s needs were better served if treatment was kept as minimal as possible. She took a penlight out of its holder and gently peeled back the little girl’s eyelids while she shone the light into her eyes. There was an immediate response and she glanced at Ben.
‘Both eyes reacting positively to light.’
‘Good.’
Ben’s tone was abstracted as he bent over the child, but Zoë didn’t doubt that he had taken her findings on board. She replaced the light in its holder and picked up a pair of plastic forceps which she rapped on the metal bedframe. Little Megan visibly jumped, confirming Ben’s suspicions that she wasn’t comatose. It was an encouraging finding and Zoë felt her spirits lift.
‘Her temperature is 35C, Ben,’ one of the nurses called and Ben nodded.
‘That means she’s borderline and that, hopefully, we’ve caught her in time. We’ll go straight to the warm bath and get her temperature up that way. Let’s get these clothes off her but leave the hat on.’
Ben immediately set to and helped as the nurses began stripping off the child’s clothes. Although most consultants shied away from such menial tasks, Ben never flinched when it came to practicalities. If a job needed doing, he was willing to do it himself and didn’t expect everyone to dance attendance on him. Zoë had always admired him for that and discovered that she still admired him for it now, although he possessed so many positive attributes it was hard to pick out one from all the others.
The thought was disquieting bearing in mind that she had no intention of searching out things to admire about him. She followed as Ben picked up little Megan and carried her to the bath. He placed her carefully in the warm water, making sure the whole of her body was immersed apart from her head.