Loe raamatut: «The Baby They Longed For»

CHAPTER TWO
Three years later

‘WE’RE VERY GLAD to welcome you to the staff. Six months is great. Have you seen enough of the hospital? Terrific set-up, isn’t it? Let’s show you to the doctors’ residence and get you settled.’

Noah had looked at this place on the internet and liked what he’d seen. Now, in reality, the hospital met his expectations and more. It was small but it seemed excellent.

Currawong Bay was two hours’ drive from Sydney, tucked between mountains and sea on New South Wales’ south coast. It was a hazardous drive to the next major medical centre, or a fast helicopter flight if weather conditions permitted, so the hospital was geared to independence. For the last few weeks that independence had been compromised. They’d been lacking a surgeon.

Luckily the role of temporary surgeon was a job Noah needed. It was six months before his court case could be heard. Until then he had no access to his daughter.

No. Seven-year-old Sophie was not his daughter, he told himself, for what must surely be the thousandth time. She was the daughter of his ex-wife and he had no legal claim.

But how could he stop caring for a child he’d loved since she was a toddler? He couldn’t, which was why he’d needed to leave Sydney. He needed a busy, hands-on workload to keep him sane.

‘There’s only one other occupant in our doctors’ house.’ Henry, the hospital’s middle-aged administrator, was bluff and genial. ‘But the house is good. Because of our isolation we’re often dependent on locums, and this helps attract them. The place is set up to give privacy. It’s right on site. You can share the living rooms, or stick to your own rooms if you wish to be by yourself.’

‘Who’s living there now?’ He hadn’t planned on sharing at all. The advertisement had said self-contained quarters. How did that fit?

‘Our obstetrician.’ Henry seemed oblivious to his qualms. ‘She’s been here for almost three years now and because of the nature of her work the doctors’ house is a good fit. Hopefully she’ll be home now. Come through and I’ll introduce you.’

But then Henry’s phone rang. He took the call, glancing out at the gorgeous day outside. When the call ended he sighed but the sigh didn’t sound too unhappy. ‘Sorry, Noah, but there’s been a hitch. One of my golfing mates forgot his anniversary tonight, so tee off has been brought forward.’

It was Saturday afternoon. The bay was a glistening sheet of sapphire, the golf course lying enticingly in the distance. This had to be one of the most beautiful places for a hospital in the world. Henry’s choice was obvious.

‘If you head down the veranda and across the walkway, third door on your left, you’ll find everything you need,’ he said hurriedly. ‘You’re expected. Introduce yourself and make yourself at home. Settle in, explore the bay, do what you want until we start throwing work at you on Monday. By the way, do you play golf? No? Shame. Gotta go, though. Welcome to Currawong.’

He was gone and Noah was left to his own devices.

Which suited him fine.

He walked out to the veranda and took a few moments to soak in the view. This was a good decision, he thought. A busy country hospital in a beautiful place. All types of surgery. A great place to live until the courts came down on his side.

Please...

Meanwhile he had a housemate.

That wasn’t great. He’d prefer to be by himself. He needed to get his head sorted.

To prepare himself for losing Sophie?

He walked slowly along the veranda, taking time to appreciate the wicker armchairs set out for recuperating patients to sit in the sun and admire the view to the beach beyond. The doctors’ accommodation was linked to the hospital by a breezeway, a separate house, simple, wooden, with wide French windows opening to the sea.

A window at the far end was open, the curtains wafting out in the breeze.

He reached the door, raised his hand to knock and then paused.

A moan... Stifled. Coming from the window at the end.

Was his housemate ill?

Knocking and demanding entrance if she was vomiting didn’t seem such a great idea.

The glass doors led to what looked like a living room. No one was inside. He tried the door and found it unlocked.

The house was old-fashioned, furnished for comfort rather than style, with high ceilings, worn wooden floors and faded rugs. The living room was full of overstuffed furniture, big, comfortable, homey.

A vase of crimson poppies sat on the sideboard. They still had a band around their stems, looking like whoever had put them in the vase hadn’t had the energy to let them free. He looked around, liking what he saw—and then there was another groan.

Uh-oh. This wasn’t a gastro-type groan. He’d been a doctor long enough to differentiate.

This was pain. Sharp pain.

And even as he thought it, the door opened. A woman stood framed in the doorway, slight, mousy-brown hair, heavy glasses, wearing a faded nightgown.

Clutching her stomach.

‘Who—?’ She stopped at what was obviously her bedroom door and seemed to gather strength. ‘Who...?’

‘I’m Noah McPherson.’ He frowned with concern. She was bending with pain, and while he watched, one hand went from her stomach to her shoulder. ‘Surgeon.’

‘Surgeon,’ she gasped. And then she paused and tried to focus. ‘Oh, hell... Noah?’

And he got it. He’d worked with her. He’d watched her as a jilted bride. She’d slapped him, hard.

‘Addie,’ he said blankly.

But she was no longer listening. She was clutching her side, focussing inward. ‘Noah...’ She struggled to find words. ‘Oh, help. Noah, I don’t want... Of all the people... But I think I need...’ Her knees seemed to buckle and she dropped to a crouch.

And any confusion he was feeling faded in the face of medical need. He stooped before her, pushing the tangle of curls back from her eyes. ‘What’s happening? Addie, tell me.’

‘I think... No, I know that I’m pregnant,’ she gasped, struggling to breathe. ‘Test...positive. Ten weeks. I haven’t had an ultrasound yet but now...pain like you wouldn’t believe. My shoulder hurts. And... I’ve started... I’ve started to bleed. I’ve had...endometriosis. It’s a risk and these are classic symptoms. I think my pregnancy’s ectopic. I want her so much. Oh, Noah, I’m losing my baby.’

* * *

His brief tour of the hospital with Henry had been enough for him to find the right people, fast, and without exception Currawong Bay’s nursing staff were appalled.

No one seemed to have guessed Addie was pregnant. From the orderly who came running to help him get her across to the hospital, to the nurses, even to the hospital cook who appeared from the kitchen because she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, they were horrified.

Noah was horrified himself, but he had to put his dismay on the backburner. The hospital used the town’s family doctors as backup. They could care for their own patients when they were in hospital, but it seemed none had specific surgical training.

If this was indeed an ectopic pregnancy, then this was his call.

‘I need...a scan,’ Addie breathed as they wheeled her along the veranda.

‘I’m onto it,’ he told her. He touched her face, lightly, in an attempt at reassurance. ‘Addie, let me do the worrying. You know I’m a surgeon. I might not know as much as you do about pregnancy complications but I know enough to cope with this. Trust me?’

‘I... Yes.’ And she caught his hand. For a moment he thought it was to push it away but instead it turned into a death grip as more pain hit. ‘I don’t...have a choice.’

She didn’t. It was, indeed, an ectopic pregnancy.

A scan showed an embryo growing in the right fallopian tube rather than the womb. Such pregnancies were doomed from the start, and internal bleeding was now threatening her life.

He didn’t have to explain it to Addie. She watched the screen with him, her face racked with distress. Pain relief was kicking in. The nurses were prepped, the theatre was ready but they were waiting for the anaesthetist. Apparently he was on his way, pulled from his son’s football game.

‘I wanted this baby so much,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Noah... I have endometriosis. Scarring. If the other tube’s damaged...’

She’d know the odds. Rupture meant an increased risk of future infertility, and if she already suffered from endometriosis the odds were even worse. It was a hard call, treating a doctor, Noah thought. It was impossible to reassure her when she knew the facts.

She’d also know that he was a second-best doctor right now. What she needed was a specialist obstetrician, and the hospital had only one. Addie.

But if Noah hadn’t decided to come a couple of days early there wouldn’t be any surgeon within an hour’s reach. For the first time Noah was hit with the drama of country medical practice. Him or no one.

‘Please...’ Addie was weeping in her distress. Once more her hand caught his. ‘I know I’ve lost my baby but I can’t...please, I can’t be infertile.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ he said gently. ‘Addie, you know I can make no promises.’ He was administering pre-meds, willing the unknown anaesthetist to hurry.

‘You can repair the tube.’ Her voice was blurred from the drugs and pain and shock. ‘You must. Please.’

He knew he couldn’t. So must she if she was thinking straight. If they’d caught things before the rupture then maybe but now...

‘Addie, you know...’

‘I do,’ she whispered. ‘But please... I’m sorry I slapped you.’

And that made him smile. Of all things to be thinking... ‘If I’d been you that day, I might have slapped me, too.’

‘It should have been Gav.’ She took a deep breath, fighting for strength, but there was still spirit. ‘To let me get to the church... Toe rags, both of you.’

‘We were indeed toe rags,’ he said gravely. ‘Addie, is there anyone we should be contacting? You need some support. Your mum?’ He hesitated. ‘The baby’s father?’

‘No.’ It was a harsh snap.

He wanted to stop but he had to know. Addie was suffering internal bleeding. Where the hell was the anaesthetist? If they didn’t get in soon... ‘Addie, we need next of kin at least.’

‘Next of kin’s this baby.’

‘Addie...’

‘There’s no one,’ she snapped. ‘Mum died three years ago. Gav’s mother doesn’t speak to me, and Gav’s long gone. And this baby’s father is a number from a sperm bank. So if I die on the operating table feel free to donate everything to the local cats’ home. But, oh, Noah...’ Her voice shattered on a sob and her grip on his hand tightened. He was no friend but he knew her from the past and it seemed that right now he was all she had.

‘You will... The tubes... You will try.’

‘I will.’

‘Despite the slap.’

‘Maybe even a little because of the slap,’ he said ruefully. ‘You were treated appallingly that day.’

And then he looked up as a redheaded beanpole burst through the door.

‘Hey,’ the beanpole said, heading for Noah and holding out his hand in greeting. ‘You’ll be our new surgeon. Noah? I’m Cliff Brooks, anaesthetist.’ He grasped Noah’s hand and then turned his attention to the patient. And stilled in shock. ‘What the...? Addie!’

‘It’s ectopic,’ Addie said weakly. ‘I’m... I was... Oh, Cliff, it’s ectopic.’

‘Bugger,’ Cliff said, and then added a couple more expletives for good measure. ‘We didn’t even know... I’m so sorry, love.’ He then proceeded to be entirely unprofessional by stooping and giving Addie a hug.

‘Hell, Ad, this is the pits but don’t worry. I’ll be watching our new surgeon every step of the way. Let’s get you into Theatre and get things cleared. And if you want to be pregnant... This’ll just be a blip. Maryanne had two miscarriages before she had Michael, and now we have four boys. Hiccups are what happens when you start a family. Don’t cry, love, don’t cry.’

So he hugged and Noah turned away and headed for the sinks. He felt like he’d felt on Addie’s wedding day. Helpless. And...he had no right to comfort her, so why did it seem so wrong that it wasn’t him who did the hugging?

* * *

An ectopic pregnancy was always a grief. Growing in the fallopian tubes instead of in the womb, there was no chance a baby could survive. Someday someone might figure a way such a pregnancy could be transplanted to the womb, Noah thought, but that day was a long way off.

By the time of the rupture, the embryo was lifeless. The pressure was on to save the mother. Preserving fertility had to come second. When a woman had a complete family and there was no need to try and make future pregnancies viable, the surgery was much simpler but now... Noah was calling on skills he barely had.

Cliff was good. Noah had checked out the credentials of his anaesthetist before taking on the job, but he’d never worked with him. The fact that he was personally involved could have been a worry, but from the moment he’d released Addie from the hug Cliff had turned pure professional.

‘You focus on your end. Leave everything else to me,’ Cliff growled, and at least Noah could stop thinking about blood pressure, about the logistics of keeping a haemorrhaging patient alive, and focus purely on the technical.

Except he couldn’t quite, because this was Addie.

Separation of personal to professional...how hard was that? He’d glanced at Cliff as Addie had slipped under, and he’d seen grimness in the man’s expression. He wasn’t the only one caught in personal distress for the woman they were operating on.

But why did he feel like this?

In truth he’d only had a working relationship, with Gavin as well as Addie. He’d been Gavin’s boss but he’d been surprised to be asked to be best man. Gavin had obviously kept his life compartmentalised. Work, home and stuff-that-no-one-was-to-know-about. Until after the wedding fiasco when the hospital grapevine had practically exploded.

Addie had kept to herself, too, but where Gavin’s lesser-known compartment had turned out to be spectacular, Addie’s seemed anything but. The grapevine said that she worked and she looked after her mother. At the hospital she and Noah had occasionally operated or consulted together, but he’d thought her quiet, almost mousy. Technically skilled. Conscientious. Nothing special.

He’d operated on colleagues before, men and women he’d known far better than this. So now...why was it so hard to block out the thought of Addie’s distress, the sight of her face, bleached by fear and shock?

He had to block it out. Her life depended on it.

The first part of the surgery was straightforward. An incision, finding the source of the bleeding, removing the unviable pregnancy. There was inflammation around it, and bleeding from the rupture.

‘Possible to do a salpingotomy?’ Cliff queried as Noah cleared and tried to see what he was left with.

Salpingotomy was the removal of the damaged embryo and then microscopic repair and preservation of the fallopian tube. He looked at the damage under his hands and shook his head. Such microscopic surgery took real obstetric skill, skills he wasn’t sure he possessed. There wasn’t time to transfer her to Sydney for a specialist obstetric surgeon to take over, but even if there had been...

‘Not possible,’ he growled. ‘There’s too much damage to preserve it.’ It had to be a salpingectomy, the complete removal of the tube. ‘Future fertility rates aren’t so different,’ he muttered, talking to himself rather than to Cliff.

Cliff gave him a searching look and then nodded and went back to his monitors.

There was the sound of a sob from somewhere behind him—from one of the nurses.

So Addie was loved? She’d been working in this hospital for three years. A small hospital where people had come to know her.

He worked on, but as he did he was increasingly aware of the tension around him.

‘We didn’t even know she was pregnant,’ the theatre nurse, Heidi, a woman in her fifties, muttered as he completed the removal of the damaged tube. ‘There’s never been a hint of a guy. She’s been going back and forth to Sydney but only ever overnight. She never takes holidays. We thought...’ She swallowed, biting back what she thought. ‘The other tube?’

‘Looks good,’ he muttered, and felt a ripple of relief through the theatre.

‘It’s still awful.’ Heidi was still looking distressed. ‘Chances of successful pregnancy after...’

‘It’s better than death,’ Cliff said roughly. ‘The chances aren’t zero. Leave it, Heidi. We all need to be positive, for Addie’s sake.’

Noah was closing, carefully ensuring everything that could be done was done. If he’d been able to preserve the tube Addie would be facing constant monitoring over the next few weeks, to ensure there was no further growth in the tube, but at least now it was straightforward.

She’d recover. She’d get on with life.

Just as she had after the wedding, he thought. Just as she had after being humiliated to the socks, standing jilted at a church with everyone she loved around her.

Everyone she loved?

Who loved Addie?

It was none of his business, he told himself. Addie was now a recovering patient. His patient. He needed to invoke professional detachment.

Like that was going to happen.

Cliff was reversing the anaesthetic. Heidi was leaning over Addie, ready to reassure her the minute she came around. A couple of other nurses stood in the background, looking distressed and concerned.

These were her people now. They were...all she had?