Christmas at Jimmie's Children's Unit (11 page)

And standing close didn’t mean interest—wasn’t he, Angus, standing close to Clare?

Not comfortably close, he had to admit that, although the crush now gathering around the buffet made it hard to move apart.

‘Well, I’m taking my supper up on the roof,’ Kate announced.

‘Up on the roof? Isn’t it off limits? Isn’t that where the helicopter landing pad is?’

Kate smiled at him—more gut reaction.

‘You haven’t had the guided tour of the hospital, have you?’ she said. ‘There are two towers, linked on the odd-numbered floors with walkways. The helipad is on the top of the other tower. At the top of this tower, there’s a wonderful roof garden, thanks to a television gardening show that did makeovers. Someone suggested that as the new buildings had taken up most of the grounds which once surrounded Jimmie’s, we should have a garden on a roof. It’s wonderful.’

She included all of them in her smile this time. ‘Why don’t we all go up?’

Was she mad, going up onto the roof with Angus? Even with the others present wasn’t there a danger inherent in being out in the moonlight with him? Wandering a shadowy garden with Angus?

Although Clare seemed to have Angus firmly in hand, Kate reminded herself, to stop the mental questioning of her sanity.

‘Won’t it be windy up there?’ Clare objected. ‘It’ll blow your hair.’

Kate shrugged. Clare had just offered her the perfect excuse to avoid the combination of moonlight, shadows and Angus, but she was too twitchy to stay here, making polite conversations with colleagues while the most beautiful woman in the hospital flirted with Angus. At least on the roof she might not notice Clare flirting!

‘I’d like to see the roof garden.’ Angus, who’d been putting two small appetisers on his plate, turned back to them to make this statement.

‘Well, I’ll keep an eye on Clare while you’re gone,’ Oliver said, far too heartily, some false note ringing in the words. But Kate had no time to be thinking about Oliver and heartiness or false notes, for it seemed as if she and Angus were headed for the roof garden, his hand clasped on her elbow as if to ensure she didn’t escape.

There’d be other people up there
, she reminded herself,
and you’ve got a plate full of food to eat, so it isn’t as if you’ll have time for kisses, not that he’d be wanting to kiss you if he’d come with Clare.

Muddled thoughts popped in and out of her mind as they walked to the elevators, but once on the roof Kate realised her assumption that other people would be about was wrong. It was obviously too early for people to be slipping away from the party.

She chose a stone seat out of the wind—Clare had been right—and began to eat while Angus deposited his plate beside her, then prowled away, obviously intent on exploring this secret wonder.

‘It’s wonderful,’ he declared, returning as she finished the last of the food she’d chosen and was eyeing off his meagre selection.

‘It is,’ she agreed, but looking at Angus, hearing the enthusiasm in his voice, she felt a pain so deep she could barely breathe.

He stood there in the moonlight, tall and strong, his accent making magic of his words—prosaic words like soil and ferns and watering systems—and she knew that it
was love. Oh, people would argue that love didn’t happen like this—in such a short time—but attraction, no matter how strong, couldn’t cause pain as intense as she was feeling.

Her mind was battling this new revelation, but she knew sitting like a statue while it assimilated it was going to look odd, so she moved, picking up Angus’s plate and helping herself to his appetisers.

‘Do help yourself,’ he said as she popped the second one in her mouth. ‘I ate earlier.’

She looked up at him, stricken by her behaviour.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’ll go down and get you some more.’

She stood so hurriedly she almost stumbled into him, and though she was sure he’d only put his hand on her shoulder to steady her, somehow she found herself in his arms, the plate she was still holding squashed between them.

‘And waste this moonlight?’

He bent his head towards her and she could feel his lips—feel the kiss—before his mouth met hers.

‘Angus, we can’t!’ she wailed, and heard the anguish in her voice.

He must have heard it, too, for he straightened.

‘No, you’re right. It’s a work function and it’s far too early for people to be returning to it looking rumpled and well-kissed.’

That hadn’t been what she’d meant but it had stopped the kiss, which was a good thing.

Yeah?

Of course it was a good thing!

The two parts of her brain were arguing again, but as Angus had taken the plate from her hands, put it with the other one and was striding towards the elevators, she had little alternative but to follow.

Striding?

He was angry?

With her, for stopping the kiss?

Well, he’s the one that actually stopped it
and
rationalised it!

Angus pressed the button, then felt a surge of fury that the doors didn’t immediately open.

Fury!

What was wrong with him, striding off like that?

Feeling anger?

And with whom, himself or Kate?

Not Kate—it wasn’t her fault he felt this almost uncontrollable urge to kiss her whenever she was within a yard of him.

Nor was she to blame that she had enough sense to pull back from the kiss!

She’d joined him by the elevator, not speaking, just standing there—within the dangerous one-yard zone but not by much.

The anger dissolved as quickly as it had surfaced, leaving him feeling confused and—

No, it couldn’t be vulnerable.

He didn’t do vulnerable.

‘How did Hamish’s mother die?’

Darn the woman! Had she sensed something? Slid inside him and ferreted out doors he’d slammed shut years ago? Somehow eased one open?

Yet might it not be time?

Around them a cool breeze rustled the leaves of the ferns and palms on the rooftop, and the scent of some sweet-smelling flower perfumed the air.

‘Could we go and sit awhile?’ he suggested, just as the elevator arrived and the doors opened.

Kate turned towards him, concern causing a small frown on her smooth forehead.

‘You don’t have to answer that question,’ she said. ‘In fact, it was rude and intrusive of me to have asked it, but as Hamish regards me as a friend, I thought—well, I wouldn’t want to say the wrong thing to him.’

The inner tension that had eased when Kate asked the question tightened again. She was asking for Hamish, not out of concern for the boy’s father.

The elevator doors had closed so he turned away, back towards the stone seat on which she’d been sitting earlier. He set down the plates on the end so she could sit beside him.

If she followed.

She did, although caution or regret was making her drag her steps.

‘It’s best you know,’ he agreed when she slid onto the seat, close enough to touch, but not close enough for him to feel her body’s warmth.

Angus looked straight ahead to where, between the branches and leaves, he caught glimpses of light in highrise towers in the city. He’d told the story often enough, not regularly but from time to time, to explain to a colleague usually.

Kate was a colleague. Think that way!

‘Jenna’s pregnancy was unremarkable—she was well throughout, and her labour was hard but not overly prolonged. She was a doctor, like myself, so one
would think if she’d had any preliminary signs of deep vein thrombosis—pains in her calves, tenderness on touching—she would have said, but she was blissfully happy, keeping Hamish close, showing him off to relatives and friends.’

His voice was flat, all emotion ironed out of it by the strength of his will, but Kate knew he must be reliving that pain, and slid closer, reaching out to take his hand in hers and hold it tightly.

He didn’t resist but nor did his fingers respond to hers, simply lying limp in her hand as he continued.

‘You’d know that DVT is often a forerunner to a pulmonary embolism, and Jenna knew that, as well, but if she was feeling breathless or had any other symptoms she didn’t say. I wasn’t there when she collapsed. I’d taken Hamish out to show some of my colleagues. They started anticoagulation therapy but she was dead within thirty minutes. Ridiculous that it can take such a short time for a young, healthy woman to die.’

Kate clung tightly to his hand. What could she say? What was there so say?

I’m sorry? A useless platitude, no matter how sincere the words!

She let the moment pass in silence, offering nothing more than whatever comfort he might derive from her clasp on his hand, then knew she had to probe again, because the pain this man was carrying was like an abscess that needed to be lanced.

‘You can’t possibly blame yourself,’ she said, guessing this was how his thinking went. ‘She must have wanted a child as much as you did, and what are the chances of a post-partum death by pulmonary embolism—very small, I would guess. Less than ten per cent?’

He stood, retrieving his hand in the action, and walked away, not towards the elevator this time, but towards the railing on the side of the roof garden that looked out over the suburbs towards the sea.

Unwilling to let him get away with silence, Kate followed him, coming to stand beside him, not touching him, but close enough for him to feel her presence.

‘The mind is a strange thing, Kate,’ he finally said, his voice deep and harsh. ‘You’d think the scientist in me could rationalise what happened, using the figures I know by heart. Once she collapsed, there was nothing anyone could have done to save Jenna. It was just one of those occurrences that pop up to remind medical people they are not gods. But the emotional part of me cannot accept that.’

He turned towards her and put his hands on her shoulders.

‘So, you see, sweet Kate, that although logically I know it wasn’t my fault, emotionally I feel I was to blame. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have been pregnant. And yes, I know it was something we both wanted—a child—but I could never go through that again, never put a woman at risk that way, never have another child.’

He wasn’t saying he could never love again…

It was a strange thought to bob into Kate’s head, especially as Angus was drawing her close and she knew full well there’d be no stopping this kiss. But bob into her head it did, to lie there like a tiny seed, while her body responded to the touch of Angus’s mouth, to the taste of Angus on her tongue. She slid her arms around him, holding him tight, kissing him with a passion she’d never felt before, knowing in a hazy kind of way that
there was no pity in it, but sympathy at least, until the kiss became so fervid her mind went blank and she gave in to the longings of her body.

V
OICES
broke them apart—voices that told them others had come up to enjoy the cool breeze and beautiful views of the roof garden, or maybe to steal a kiss in shadows.

Angus looked at Kate, but her head was bent, so he smoothed the ruffled hair as best he could, thinking at the time how much better he liked her wayward curls, although the beauty of this shining curtain had taken his breath away earlier.

Who was he kidding? It was Kate herself who stole his breath.

She looked up at him now and he could see she’d been quietly renewing her lipstick, although the pale pink colour did little to hide the fullness of well-kissed lips.

‘I think I’ll go straight home,’ she said. ‘No-one will think anything of it—I rarely stay long at these occasions, and I’ve seen the person I came to see.’

Which obviously wasn’t me, Angus realised, then chided himself for feeling put out. She saw him all the time at work; she didn’t need to make a special effort. And she’d been kissing him, not some other man. She was here with him—

She was here with him!

The realisation released a lot of the tension that had built up again after the kiss.

‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said, his body already stirring in response to this brilliant idea.

Green witch eyes studied him intently.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

‘Forgetting something?’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘Or someone?’ Kate clarified, but obviously Angus still didn’t get it.

‘You came with Clare,’ Kate reminded him. ‘Surely you should see her home.’

‘Oh, but it wasn’t that kind of coming with,’ Angus stuttered, and Kate almost laughed, almost but not quite. It wasn’t really a night to be amused by seeing the usually oh-so-together Angus all confused.

‘Whatever kind of coming with it was,’ she told him, ‘you should at least see that she’s okay to get home. Besides, as I’ve told you before, I’m quite capable of seeing myself home.’

She was, but as she plodded up the street, a heaviness she rarely felt descended on her spirit. Angus had been honest with her from the start—no more children in his life—but the attraction between them, the attraction she knew he felt, had swayed her into thinking maybe something could come of a relationship between them.

Swayed her into thinking maybe he’d change his mind.

But now she knew how he felt, she had to cross that, admittedly remote, possibility right out of contention.

And why was she thinking of relationships of any kind with Angus when all they’d done so far was kiss?

Honesty propelled the answer: because she wanted there to be more than kisses—she wanted a relationship. And now that she knew she loved him, the need was not just for an affair kind of relationship but one that might possibly have a future.

With no babies?

Get real, Armstrong, you’re so far ahead of the play here you’re out of the field. There is no relationship! Get that into your thick head and get on with your life.

He caught up with her as she turned into her gate.

‘Oliver is taking Clare home,’ he panted, ‘which I think is what she wanted all along.’

‘So?’ Kate demanded, angry with her body for responding to his arrival and angry with him for disrupting her when she’d only just got things sorted in her head, and had her wayward impulses back under control.

‘So, I can see you home,’ he said, less puffed now so he could smile as he spoke and it was the smile that was Kate’s undoing.

Not that she could let him see it.

‘I am home,’ she pointed out.

‘But I can see you to the door,’ he whispered, the words zapping along her nerves like electric currents.

He hooked his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, kicking the gate open and walking her up the short path to the shadowed porch.

If he kisses me, I’m gone.

It was Kate’s last rational thought. They’d no sooner reached the porch than Angus’s lips captured hers and she was swept into the maelstrom of delight just kissing Angus caused. Swept into eddying currents of desire so deep and swift she knew there was no escape.

She eased one hand out of his grasp and dug in her pocket for a key, wordlessly unlocking the door and walking in, still in his embrace, his lips now seeking other places to kiss—her temple, just below her ear and the little hollow at the base of her neck.

Every kiss provided its own erotic thrill, each different, yet building and building the desire that was already flooding through her body.

‘Bedroom, I think?’ he whispered, the huskiness of his voice sending shivers down her spine, weakening the muscles in her legs.

He lifted her then, carrying her as easily as he carried Hamish, up the stairs and turning as if by instinct towards her bedroom at the front of the house.

She closed her eyes and tried not to think of the clothes scattered around on every surface, the skirt she’d worn to work probably on the floor, the sexy black dress cast aside on a chair. As long as they didn’t turn on a light—

And
why
was she thinking about the disarray in her bedroom at a time like this?

She knew full well—it was to save her thinking about the consequences of what was about to happen. She was about to make love with Angus, and though the aftermath of that action might break her heart, she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

Especially now Angus was kissing her again, only this time his hand was underneath her singlet, underneath her bra, touching her breast, feeling for her nipple. And pressed against her was the evidence of his desire, hard and strong, moving only slightly against her body but exciting her with the subtle movement.

She eased his shirt out of his trousers and slid her hands onto the skin on his back, feeling the silky smoothness of it, pressing her fingers into flat muscle mass and hard ribs, learning Angus through touch.

But her fingers couldn’t possibly be exciting him as much as his were exciting her, for now he was cupping her breast and she could feel it grow heavy, her nipple peaking with desire, his tweaking on it sending fiery messages directly down to the sensitive nub between her thighs.

‘Can we dispense with clothes?’ she murmured against his chin, hoping she sounded less desperate than she felt.

‘No sooner said than done,’ he responded, and somehow, with hands flailing and feet moving, they stripped each other off, then came together again, skin to skin, less frantic now, savouring this moment of meeting properly, revelling in the togetherness of naked bodies.

‘I grabbed some protection before I left the hospital,’ Angus muttered, bending to retrieve his trousers and digging into a pocket before dropping a handful of foilwrapped condoms on the bedside table.

‘That many? What are you, the Scottish stud?’ Kate teased, although the teasing was hiding her silly disappointment. Was she mad? She might want a baby but not an accidental pregnancy, especially with Angus, so why disappointment?

‘You’ll see,’ Angus was saying as he lifted her again and tossed her lightly onto the bed, following her down so his body lay full-length beside her, on his side so he could lean towards her, touch her, kiss her, tease her with his tongue and fingers, and with words too, soft words that questioned and suggested. Their exploration of each
other became a voyage of discovery until the teasing brought Kate to the very edge of orgasm and she cried out to have him deep inside her so satisfaction could be shared.

They’d used two condoms, Kate remembered that much as movement on the bed disturbed her exhausted sleep. She reached out for Angus but he was already up, dressing in the darkness.

‘You’re going?’

She hoped she’d sounded less desperate, less disappointed, than she felt! He sat down on the bed, and leaned over her, kissing her gently on the lips.

‘I must, sweet Kate, for all I’d love to stay. But Hamish, knowing it’s Saturday, will be bouncing into my bed at the crack of dawn which, in this upside-down country seems to be about 5:00 a.m.’

‘Later now we’re on summer time,’ Kate corrected, although this totally unnecessary piece of information was nothing more than an attempt to mask the hurt she felt. Rationally she knew Angus had to get home to his son—of course he couldn’t spend the night with her.

He pulled on his shoes, then bent to kiss her again, offering, as he stood, yet another piece of explanation.

‘He’ll be on a high because I’m taking him to the zoo to see the wombats.’

Kate waited, but the invitation she longed to hear didn’t come, so she slid out of bed, pulled on a robe, fortunately slung over the bedpost nearby, and caught up with him at the door.

‘There’s a deadlock,’ she explained, trying to sound as practical and matter-of-fact as he had. ‘I’ll lock the door behind you.’

She followed him down the steps, willing the idea of inviting her to the zoo with them to occur to him, but as he dropped a second goodbye kiss on her lips at the door she realised just how compartmentalised Angus’s life must be. Okay, so she’d caught a glimpse inside one compartment tonight—the one labelled Jenna—but the Angus and Hamish boxes were still locked against her.

And probably always would be!

The realisation saddened her, but at least she knew where she stood and now it was up to her to decide where she wanted to fit into his life. Would she be happy to be in her own box? One marked Kate for Sex? Well, maybe he wasn’t
that
crass! Maybe it was just marked Kate!

But, loving him as she did, could she handle it? She had no idea, and standing in the dark hallway wasn’t going to supply one, so she went back to bed and curled up on the side where the scent of his body still lingered, memories of their lovemaking carrying her back to sleep.

She’d been right about the compartmentalisation of Angus’s life, she realised when, after escaping to a friend’s place in the Blue Mountains for the weekend to avoid him—and to think—she was back in the company of the professional Angus.

Was it easy for him, or did he want to lean into her when they were close, as she did to him? Did he want to touch her lightly as they passed, brush his fingers against her arm or back, as her fingers ached to do to him?

There was no sign that he did, but then, life at work had been hectic and there’d been little time for social
interaction of any kind. Early in the week it was fairly standard chaos, except that two theatre nurses were off with summer colds and the team was working with theatre staff they didn’t know, which always made things go a little less smoothly.

And even when she had no patients to check, Kate stayed at work later than she needed to, still uncertain in her mind—though not her heart—just where she wanted to fit in Angus’s ordered life. She was determined to avoid accidental contact with him until she’d worked it out.

If
she worked it out!

If she was right that he compartmentalised his life, could she accept that?

Or was she wrong about his attitude?

Although he’d have had to shut off part of himself after his wife died…

Her heart hoped she was wrong, but on top of the lack of an invitation to join him and Hamish at the zoo, Angus’s behaviour at work, professional to the nth degree, told her she was right. Okay, so she didn’t want a cuddle in the linen closet or a quick kiss in the procedures’ room, but some acknowledgement of what had happened between them—a touch, a wink, an offer of a shared coffee break—would have made her feel less insecure.

The week went from bad to worse on Thursday, when they had a baby transferred into Jimmie’s with hypoplastic left heart syndrome, a bad congenital defect where the left ventricle which pumped blood into the aorta, thence all through the body, was virtually missing. Kate first met the baby, Karl Sutcliffe, when she was called
in to do the anaesthesia for the investigative procedures. He was such a chubby wee infant it was hard to believe he had a severe abnormality in his heart.

‘Have you been involved in many cases of HLHS?’ Angus asked, and knowing he liked to have people talking as he worked, she responded.

‘Only one Norwood,’ she said, naming the first operation that was usually performed on newborns with the problem, ‘but I’ve been involved with a few who’ve had the bidirectional shunt inserted at six months and one little girl who had a Fontan at eighteen months.’

‘That’s the trickiest of the three,’ Angus said, carrying on the conversation, although Kate knew ninety-nine point nine per cent of his attention was on this patient. ‘Connecting the superior and inferior vena cava veins to the pulmonary artery can be very tricky, especially as the lungs have to be strong enough to adapt to the change.’

‘Well, Phil did that one, and it went beautifully. I saw the little girl a couple of weeks ago when she was in for a check-up and she looked great.’

‘Are we talking about Lucy Welsh?’ Angus asked, glancing up at Kate, the dark eyes causing tremors she shouldn’t feel at work.

‘That’s her,’ Kate responded, trying to focus solely on work. ‘Is she seeing you now?’

Angus nodded. ‘That’s right and she’s doing really well.’ There was a pause before he added, ‘Okay, we’re all done here.’

Something in his voice made Kate look more closely at him.

‘And?’ she probed.

He nodded to the technician who’d been handling the equipment, asked for a number of specific prints, then, as Kate checked the baby’s blood gases, he sighed and answered.

‘It’s worse than the X-rays, ECG and echo showed. There’s no ventricle at all, and the aorta is compromised, as well.’

‘You can’t operate?’

Kate hoped she sounded more professional than she felt, but hearing news like this always shocked her. Without an operation this baby would die.

‘I’ll talk to Alex, show him what I’ve found, but I doubt it.’

He sounded tired and more than ever Kate longed to touch him, even a light touch on his shoulder, but Angus was in work mode and every movement he made, every glance he gave her, told her this.

Angus saw Kate flinch and longed to reach out and touch her—nothing more than a reassuring brush of his fingers—but this was work and he knew from experience he had to keep his work life separated from his personal life.