THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT... (8 page)

As if this situation wasn’t already bad enough.

Now she was making him think about things he’d spent the last six years pushing away.

He grabbed some paper towels and dried his face. Breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. The flare was reducing. He didn’t feel the urge to hit a wall any more. He was trying to think reasonable, rational thoughts.

But Callie Turner was still there. Wondering what she’d just witnessed.

He turned to face her. “Try walking in Violet’s shoes for a while, Callie. Her brother’s reputation is in the doghouse and she’s just about to start her residency at the DPA. You know how important that is so why would you do anything to spoil it?”

She took a deep breath. He’d looked so angry a second ago.

But no wonder. She’d said something completely unforgiveable. She’d more or less accused him of being responsible for the smallpox outbreak. And he obviously wasn’t.

Callum had already told her how difficult this would be for Sawyer. He was the one person here with more experience than her. Whether she liked it or not, she needed him. The last thing she should be doing was insulting him.

And more to the point, he was right. She hadn’t told anyone about Isabel. She couldn’t have dealt with the reaction that she’d been in a car crash that had killed her sister—a sister who would have given anything to work at the DPA. She hadn’t let anyone in on her secret. Why should Violet?

She was telling herself to be reasonable and rational.

But something was skewing her thought processes. He had a sister. And it had caught her unawares.

It seemed ridiculous. Half the world had a sister. But most of the time she was prepared. She was ready. This time she hadn’t been.

It didn’t help that Violet Connelly was one of the sweetest people she knew. Not unlike Isabel. The fist squeezed around her heart even tighter.

She met his gaze. His face was flushed; he was still holding back his anger.

She’d kept her family secret too. She hadn’t done anything to spoil her job at the DPA. She hadn’t gone to her interview and said,
Well, actually, this was my sister Isabel’s dream and since I was driving the car that killed her I feel I owe it to her
.

She took a deep breath, “I guess I wouldn’t do anything to spoil it,” she murmured.

He moved closer to her, the edges of his hair now wet around his face. “Our mum got remarried when I was a teenager. Violet was still quite young—she changed her name to our stepfather’s. I didn’t.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “What? You mean you were a rebellious teenager, Sawyer?” Anything to lighten the mood, anything to ease the tension in the room that was still bubbling away in her stomach. Anything to release the squeezing around her heart.

He nodded slowly. Then something else jarred into her mind.

“Does Evan Hunter know Violet’s your sister?” She’d spoken to him numerous times on the phone today. “It was Evan that wanted you checked out.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know that. Evan and I go way back. I haven’t had a chance to phone Violet yet. I meant to, I just got caught up in everything. She’s texted me and called me. She must have heard my name mentioned at the DPA. I need to fill her in on the details.”

“You mean she didn’t know you were here?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. Why on earth would his sister not know where was?

He hesitated and for a second looked kind of sheepish. For a man with a reputation as a bad boy it almost didn’t fit.

“I kind of dropped off the radar.”

No. She didn’t get this. She didn’t get this at all.

“What do you mean? I know you didn’t tell anyone at the DPA where you were—in a way, I almost kind of get that. But your sister? Your own sister, Matt?”

Her voice was raised. She couldn’t help it. He had a sister. He had options. Options she didn’t have.

How on earth could he do that? How long had he been off the radar? Six years?

Six years of no contact? It was unthinkable.

Her voice was shaking. “How could you do that, Matt? You have a sister who clearly loves you. She must have been frantic with worry. She’s still frantic with worry. Why would you do that to her? Why would you put her through that?”

There it was again. That action. The one he always did when he was thinking of an answer. He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

She stepped right up to him. “Really? How? How is it not as bad as it sounds? Explain to me, Matt.”

She was mad. She could never have done that. Never have cut Isabel out of her life for six years. It was unthinkable.

Nearly as unthinkable as being responsible for her own sister’s death.

“I texted her. Not often. Just every now and then to let her know I was safe.”

“And that was supposed to be good enough?”

He flung his hands up in frustration and shouted, “You don’t know, Callie. You don’t know anything. That was as much as I could manage. I needed time. I needed space. I didn’t want anything familiar around me. I wanted to get my head straight.”

“For six years?” She was shouting back.

His lips tightened. She knew there were tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She couldn’t help it. What a waste. He’d dared to risk his relationship with his sister.

A relationship she’d give anything to have again. It made her hate him.

“Not everything in life is part of a plan, Callie. Maybe if you get some life experience, you’ll find that out.”

She felt as if he’d just punched her in the ribs.

He couldn’t be more wrong if he’d tried.

But, right now, in the middle of the night, she was hardly going to fill in the blanks to a man she hardly knew.

It was time to get some perspective. He had no idea how much those words had hurt. And she’d no intention of telling him.

Distance. That’s what she needed.

Being in an enclosed space with Matt Sawyer was doing weird things to her. Being in an enforced quarantine for up to eighteen days would plain drive her crazy.

“Sawyer!”

The shout came from down the corridor, followed by the sound of thudding feet. They both sprang to the door at once, yanking it open and spilling out into the hallway.

“What is it?”

The nurse was red faced, gasping for breath. “There you are. I need help. Jack’s struggling to breathe—he needs to be intubated. The spots must be causing his airway to swell.” She glanced from one to the other. “Tell me we’ve got a pediatrician who can do this?”

Their eyes met.

They didn’t have pediatric intensive care facilities. They were an ER—not a PICU. Their options were limited.

Sawyer grabbed a gown and a mask. “I’ll do it.” He started to run down the corridor before she could ask any questions. “Get me a portable ventilator,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Her head flooded with thoughts. What did the plan say? Were there algorithms for intubating smallpox patients? Were there risks attached to ventilating this child and possibly allowing the spread of disease?

There was no time to think. There was only time to act.

Sawyer had already sprung into action.

And for once she agreed.

CHAPTER FIVE

E
VERYTHING
 
HAPPENED
 
IN
 
a blur. A portable ventilator seemed to appear out of thin air.

The fear that had been hanging around everyone, crystallizing in the air, was pushed to one side.

Jack’s stats were poor, his lips tinged with blue, but his face was red with the strain of struggling for breath.

Intubating a child was never easy. Particularly a child who was panicking. Sawyer was at the bedside in a flash. “Give me some sedation.”

The nurse next to him nodded, pulled up the agreed dose and handed him the syringe.

Sawyer leant over Jack. The panic flaring behind the little boy’s eyes was obvious. Sawyer tapped his arm at the point where Jack’s cannula was sited. “I know you’re having trouble, little man. But I’m going to help you sort that out. I’m going to give you something to make you a little sleepy then put a tube down your throat to help you breathe. It will make things much better.”

On a normal day he would have given a child some time to ask questions. Then again, on a normal day he wouldn’t be doing this. He administered the drug quickly, waiting for Jack’s muscles to relax.

A few seconds later his little body sagged and the whole team moved seamlessly. Sawyer positioned himself at the head of the bed. “Give me a straight-blade laryngoscope and the smallest ET tube you’ve got.”

Callie pulled the light closer, trying to aid him as he slid the tube into place. It didn’t help that it was the middle of the night and there was no natural light. It would be tricky to intubate a partially blocked airway, not something that she would ever wish to attempt. It had been a long time since she’d been in an emergency situation like this. DPA callouts usually involved febrile kids and adults and lots of sick bowls and emergency commodes.

On occasion, people got really sick and died. But Callie didn’t usually get involved in that side of things. She was usually left to consider the big picture—the spread of disease.

Watching a little kid struggle for breath was something else entirely.

She gave a sigh of relief as Sawyer slid the tube into place and attached the ventilator. There was a murmur between him and nurse standing at the bedside as they set the machine. Callie frowned. Who was she? She didn’t recognize her.

In fact, she didn’t recognize half the people in this room. Was this what happened in the case of a medical emergency? Isolation procedures were ignored?

She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to rationalize her thoughts. Isolation procedures weren’t being ignored. Everyone in here had the regulation disposable gowns, masks and gloves in place. But there was a whole host of new people in this room—not just the restricted one or two.

One of the residents was talking in a low voice to the parents, trying to calm them. Another nurse was standing next to the half-pulled curtain next to Ben. She was leaning over him, obviously trying to distract him from the events surrounding him, telling him a long-winded version of the latest kids’ movie.

Another guy came through the door. “You wanted a pediatrician? You’ve got one.”

Callie’s head shot up. “Where on earth did you come from?”

She couldn’t see his face properly behind his fitted mask but his eyes flitted over to her and then instantly away. His priority was obviously the child, not the surrounding bureaucracy. “Upstairs,” he said, as he walked over to the bed and started to fire questions at Sawyer, who turned to face him.

“Wish you’d got here five minutes ago,” he said.

Callie was incredulous. “
Upstairs?
What do you mean, upstairs? This unit is closed. There’s no one going out and no one coming in.” Her hands were on her hips.

She was watching her whole world disintegrate around her. The first rule of quarantine: no one in, no one out. “Which door did you come through? Who let you through? Didn’t you realize there was a quarantine in force down here? Do you know you’ve put yourself at risk by walking into this room?”

She was shouting. She couldn’t help it. Next she would have infected people running down the streets and the media crucifying the DPA for not handling the outbreak appropriately. Evan Hunter would be on the phone telling her she was a failure.

“Callie.” It was Sawyer. He was right in front of her, his pale green eyes visible above the mask. “Calm down. We put out a call for a pediatrician. We can’t handle these kids ourselves.”

“You did what?” She couldn’t believe it. This was the problem with delegating. Mistakes got made. People did things they shouldn’t. People did things that put others at risk. “Who gave you the right to do that?”

“I did.” Sawyer’s voice was calm but firm. “Decisions like this get made all the time. I’m in charge of the clinical care of these patients. And, as much as I don’t like to admit it, this is getting beyond my level of expertise.” He nodded towards the pediatrician. “Dan’s great. We discussed the risks a little earlier. He knows he’ll need to be vaccinated.”

“It’s much more than that!” She exploded. She couldn’t help it. “Once he’s vaccinated he may be able to look after these children but it’ll put him out of commission for the general hospital for nearly a month. There’s no way a doctor exposed to the smallpox virus through vaccination can be near anyone who is immuno-compromised. “Did you even think about that, Sawyer? Did you even consider it? And it’s not just him. Who are all these people?” Her hand swept around the room. “They’ll all need to be vaccinated too!”

“Stop it.” She could sense his gritted teeth beneath the mask. He leaned closer, “You’re making a scene and, quite frankly, it’s not helping. Do you really think you’re telling me anything I don’t know or haven’t already discussed with Dan? Do you really think these people don’t already know the risks attached to coming into this room?”

She could feel the tiny hairs stand up at the back of her neck—and not in a good way. But he wasn’t finished. “The difference between you and me, Callie, is that I know when I’m beaten. I know when to look for other options—options not in the plan. It’s time you learned some new skills. Not everything in life is down in black and white.”

He turned and walked away from her, leaving her stunned. She watched the second hand tick around on the clock on the wall in front of her. Less than twenty minutes ago she’d almost been in a compromising position with him.

Then, in the blink of an eye, everything had changed.

He made her want to cry. He made her want to scream. He was truly and utterly driving her crazy. The tears had automatically pooled at the corners of her eyes.

And it wasn’t just the fact he behaved like an insubordinate teenager. It wasn’t just that standing near to him made her hair stand on end or that sometimes there was wisdom in his words, even though they weren’t in the plan.

It was the fact that in the midst of all that she just didn’t know what she thought of him. She didn’t know how to
feel
around him.

She was focused. She was precise. She followed the plan. Most of the time she’d helped develop the plan. And back in Atlanta these had seemed smart, comprehensive plans. Back in Atlanta they had seemed to cover every eventuality.

But they didn’t cover the Sawyer element.

Not at all. They didn’t cover the get-under-your-skin clause.

A smell drifted past her nostrils. What was that? She glanced at her watch—it was nearly five in the morning. Where had the time gone?

“Pizza,” came the shout from down the corridor. She walked quickly along the hallway. She had to get out of there. She didn’t have any pediatric skills and Dan clearly had things under control.

She also needed a chance to regroup.

Twenty pizza boxes were being descended on from every angle. It was like a plague of locusts. Someone was reading the tops of the boxes, shouting out what was in each one. “Hawaiian. Ham and cheese. Vegetarian.” Arms appeared from everywhere, grabbing at the outstretched boxes. “Tuna and pineapple? Who on earth ordered that?”

A smile broke over her face. Alison had taken her responsibilities very seriously earlier when Callie had asked her to organize food for the patients and staff.

She’d asked what Callie’s favorites were and so far she’d magicked up banana and toffee muffins and her favorite pizza. She pushed her way to the front. “That’s mine.” She held out her hand for the box.

The guy behind the desk wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Take it,” he said as he moved on to the one underneath.

She smiled and drifted off with her pizza box. She’d learned early on as a junior doctor that ordering takeout was a whole new skill. Order something simple that everyone liked and you would never see it. Sweet and sour chicken, pepperoni pizza, chicken tikka masala, all would disappear in a blink of an eye. Order something a little out the ordinary and no one would touch it with a bargepole.

Tuna and pineapple pizza was an acquired taste. Isabel had sworn by spinach and anchovies. Even the thought sent a horrible tremor down her spine and made a smile dance across her face.

Sometimes the memories were good. Sometimes the memories were fun.

The typical teenage fights over clothes and boys had almost been blotted from her mind. The competition between them in medical school continued to hover around her. Isabel always had to be first to see their exam results. To see if she’d beaten Callie. But it had been a pretty even split. Both of them had excelled in different areas. Callie in planning, anatomy and biochemistry and Isabel in epidemiology, diagnostics and patient care. If things had gone to plan, they could have been a dynamite team.

Callie leaned back in her chair, her appetite leaving her abruptly. It always happened like this.

She was fine, she was focused. Then it would hit her again—what she’d lost. Just tumbling out of nowhere, like a granite rock permanently pressing on her chest.

The grief counselor had told her she’d get over it. It would just take time. But every year—particularly if there was an event that Isabel had especially enjoyed—it just seemed to shadow her all the more.

She turned her head to the right. The pile of paperwork about the type C containment building. The place that was currently having power issues. Would Isabel really have handled all this better? Would Isabel have been better organized than she was?

Would she handle Sawyer better than she was?

Her leg started to itch again and her hand automatically went to her scrub trousers and started scratching. She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have time to be morose. She had a containment facility to sort out and there was no time like the present. Why should city hall officials get to sleep when she couldn’t? She took a bite of her pizza and lifted the phone.

* * *

The children were as settled as they could be. The parents had been calmed, and in the end Dan had decided to give Ben some sedation too. Nothing about this situation was ideal and the little guy had become hysterical when he’d realized there was a machine breathing for his brother.

Sawyer breathed a sigh of relief. His too-big scrub trousers seemed to have given up trying to stay in place, partly due to the missing elastic at the waist and partly due to being weighed down by the phone in his pocket.

What time was it in Atlanta? He looked at his watch and tried to count it out. But what did it matter? Violet had been trying to phone him for hours. Whether he liked it or not, it was time to call her back.

He lifted his hand. Then pressed it down again on the desk.

He couldn’t remember the last time his hand had shaken like that.

Come on. This was easy. It was one phone call.

So, how come the voices in his head had to will him on?

He took another breath and lifted his hand again, trying to ignore the shake. His fingers slipped and he missed the buttons.

Darn it. What kind of a fool was he?

Three-year-old kids could dial a phone—why couldn’t he?

Concentrate. Get this over with. It would only be a few minutes out of his life.

The first time would be the worst. Once he’d done it, the heavy weight pressing on his chest might finally lift and let him breathe again.

Stop thinking about it, you moron—just dial!

He pressed the buttons on the phone, praying it might automatically jump to voicemail.

He didn’t even hear the first ring. “DPA. Can I help you?”

“Violet Connelly, please.”

There was a few moments’ silence as the call was connected. He resisted the huge temptation to hang up and hide.

Hang up and go and find a beer.

“Violet Connelly.”

He could almost picture her in his mind, doing ten things at once with the phone perched between her shoulder and her ear. Even at this time in the morning she’d be multi-tasking.

“Hello?”

Patience had never been her strong suit.

“Hey, Violet.” His voice cracked.

There was a loud crash. All he could imagine was that her chair had just landed on the floor. “Sawyer? Sawyer?”

He cringed, guilt flooding through him. The concern and anxiety in her voice was crystal clear. He should have texted her hours ago. Why hadn’t he? Ten seconds. That’s all it would have taken.

Scrub that. He should have phoned her six years ago. Not just send the odd random text from an occasional phone.

“Yeah, it’s Sawyer.”

Some not very ladylike words spilled down the phone. The concern had quickly been replaced by anger. “‘Hey, Violet’? Is that the best you can do? Six years, Matt.
Six years!
”

“I know. I’m sorry but—”

“You’re sorry?
You’re sorry?
You’ve got to be joking. I’ve been trying to phone you for hours.
Hours
. You logged that call here hours ago, Matt. You must have known I would hear about it straight away. I’ve been trying to contact you ever since. I’ve been frantic.”

“Violet, please—”

“Please? Please?” It was obvious she wasn’t going to let him speak. Six years of worry and pent-up frustration were erupting all over him. “How do you think I feel? How do think it felt to know that after six years you phone the DPA and ask to speak to Callum Ferguson?
Callum Ferguson?
You must have known I would be here. You must have known the news would spread like wildfire. I don’t care that it’s about a smallpox outbreak. I don’t care that it’s the scariest outbreak we’ve ever dealt with. I want you to stop for five minutes and think about what that felt like for me.”