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She wanted her mum. Anyone. No one.
Not Noah.
‘It’s okay.’
‘I’m very sure it’s not,’ he said gently. ‘I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. Can I sit down?’
‘I... Of course.’ What else was there to say?
He sat on the chair the nurse had just vacated. For a moment she thought he was intending to reach out and take her hand and she hauled it under the covers pre-emptively. She saw him wince.
‘I need to talk to you as your doctor,’ he told her. ‘That’s all. Can you stand it?’
‘Of...of course I can.’
He nodded, gravely. ‘There’s not a lot of good news but there is some. Addie...your baby... You know it was tragic chance that she started developing in the fallopian tube.’
‘She?’ she whispered. Her baby...
‘That’s an assumption,’ he said gravely. ‘I thought you said her. Am I right?’
‘I did...think of her as a girl,’ she said grudgingly, and her hands felt the dressing again. ‘I... I know it’s dumb but I was already thinking... Rose for my grandmother? But that’s crazy.’
‘It’s not crazy at all,’ he said gently. ‘Rose. That’s who she was. She was real, a baby who sadly started growing where she had no chance of survival.’
She could hardly speak. She. Her baby. He’d even said her name, a name that she’d almost felt silly for dreaming of. And for some reason it helped. For the last few weeks, filled with wonder and anticipation, she’d been talking to the tiny bump she could scarcely feel. And, yes, she knew she was a girl. At some primeval level...
Or was that because she had so little knowledge of boys? Her family had always been women. Well, two women, herself and her mum.
So many emotions... She wasn’t thinking straight. The anaesthetic was still making its effects felt. She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
‘Addie...’
‘Mmm...’ She wanted to be left alone, in her cocoon of grief. Life felt...barren. She wanted... She wanted...
‘Addie, let’s talk practicalities,’ Noah said, strongly now, and regardless of what she wanted he reached out and took her hand. He held it strongly, a warm, firm hold, the reassurance of one human being touching another. She didn’t want it but, oh...she needed it. She should pull away but she didn’t. Practicalities? Something solid?
Something solid like Noah, she thought, and his hand...helped.
‘We might be able to preserve your embryo for burial if that’s what you wish,’ Noah told her. ‘It’ll need to go to Pathology but after that... There might be something. If you wish.’
‘I...’ It was something. Something to hold to. The remnants of her dream? A place to mourn? ‘I do wish.’
‘Then I’ll try to make it happen. No promises but I’ll do my best. For now, though, Addie, can we talk through the results of the surgery? Or do you want to leave it until later?’
‘Now.’ It was scarcely a whisper. How hard was this?
‘Then I need to tell you that I had to remove the entire tube,’ he told her, in that gentle but professional voice that was somehow what she needed. ‘It was ruptured, and even if I’d managed to suture it, chances are there’d be microscopic embryonic tissue I couldn’t remove, tissue that might cause even more problems in the future. So that’s grim news. But, Addie, I checked the other tube and it’s perfect. Perfect, Addie.’
‘It doesn’t mean...’ She stopped. Her words had been a whisper and they faded out, but he knew what she’d been about to say.
‘It doesn’t mean future pregnancies are assured,’ he finished for her. ‘We both know that. But it does mean future pregnancies are possible. More than possible. You need to give yourself a couple of months to let your body heal, and let yourself heal, too, but then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t try again.’
He saw her face close in pain. This was one of the hardest conversations...talking about a future pregnancy when she’d barely started her grieving over this one. But this was his job, laying out the facts. The facts needed to be implanted, to be there when she needed them.
‘You’re an obstetrician,’ he said gently. ‘You know the odds better than I do, but for now you don’t need to think of them. Put them away for later. For now, just focus on you, on what you need, and on your grief for your tiny daughter.’
‘You sound like you think she was real?’
‘Isn’t she real, Addie? Your Rose?’
He watched her face. This was the hardest part, he thought.
He remembered past lectures, dry as dust, the technicalities of surgical removal of ectopic pregnancies. But he’d sat in the lectures and looked at the diagrams of the baby developing in the fallopian tubes and he’d thought...it involved a death. A loss. A grief. No matter what happened to cause the end of a pregnancy, there must still be grief. He’d understood it then, he’d had it enforced later from harsh, brutal experience and now, watching Addie’s face, he knew it even more strongly.
‘She was...my daughter,’ she whispered. ‘For such a short time.’
‘And she was loved,’ he said gently. ‘And she’ll always be a part of you. But for now...’ The look of strain on her face was almost unbearable. ‘You need to sleep. Do what your body tells you, Addie. The nurse will be coming back. If you need anything more, I’m within calling distance.’
‘I... I know,’ she muttered. ‘Oh, Noah... I slapped you.’
‘You’re welcome to slap me again if it helps,’ he told her, and smiled. ‘Anything you want, just not as long as it stops you sleeping.’ And then he paused. Someone had knocked on the ward door. A head poked around, Henry, the hospital administrator, his face puckered in concern. Things must be pretty bad to haul him from his golf, Noah thought, but as he surged into the room he remembered the distress on the faces of the theatre staff and he knew that Addie was indeed loved.
It made him feel better—sort of—but it also made him feel...bleak.
Why? He wasn’t sure. But Henry was stooping to give Addie a careful kiss and the feeling of bleakness intensified.
‘I’ll leave you to Henry,’ he managed. ‘No more than five minutes, though, Henry, and the nurse needs to return before you leave. Addie needs to sleep.’
‘She needs to sleep for months,’ Henry said roundly. ‘We’ve been telling her and telling her. Long weekends, that’s all she’ll ever take. Cliff rang me and I was never more shocked. Yes, I know it’s hard to get staff to cover but, Addie, you now have no choice. We’re running you out of town. Dr McPherson’s shown he’s more than capable of dealing with obstetric drama and we’ll put in a call for an emergency locum to cover for you. You’re heading to Sydney or wherever you want, maybe the Gold Coast, maybe further north, the Great Barrier Reef, somewhere you can lie in the sun for a couple of months and let your body recover.’
‘A couple of months!’ Addie sounded horrified.
‘Absolutely,’ Henry told her. ‘At a quick calculation, you’re due for nine weeks’ leave, plus sick leave. So we’re not taking no for an answer. My family has an apartment overlooking the beach on the Gold Coast if you want, or you could choose an alternative. Just not here. Addie, you could almost learn to play golf in two months. There’s a life skill. But rest is paramount. Isn’t that right, Dr McPherson?’
‘You do need to rest,’ Noah concurred.
‘There. It’s all settled. No argument. The nurses are out there planning and Morvena’s already contacting locums. For the next few weeks we don’t need you.’
And then Heidi appeared in the doorway with meds and Henry turned to Heidi and started discussing the pros and cons of Gold Coast versus Great Barrier Reef and it was time for Noah to back away. From her...family?
‘Two more minutes and then sleep,’ he said warningly, and got a nod of distracted agreement from Heidi and Henry.
Addie didn’t need him any more. He was free to go.
Free.
That was what he had to get used to.
CHAPTER THREE (#ucf563f04-7168-5633-bb32-9f9c96642400)
Two months later
SHE SHOULD HAVE moved on. Maybe she should have started a new life altogether, but she’d already been there, done that, got the T-shirt.
A two-month break had changed a lot of things. But she knew she could move forward in Currawong.
During the whole time she’d been convalescing, the hospital staff, the Currawong mums she’d delivered, sometimes seemingly the whole community, had kept in touch as much as she wanted.
Currawong felt like home.
There was the hitch that Noah McPherson would still be living in the doctors’ quarters. He’d been with her during two of the worst moments in her life. His presence made her feel...vulnerable.
She’d slapped him when he’d been nothing but a messenger for Gavin’s cowardly retreat. For that she felt embarrassment and guilt.
He’d saved her life, but that also meant he’d been with her when she’d lost her baby. He’d seen her raw and exposed.
But he’d been kind. He’d also been professional and that was the way their relationship needed to go forward.
She’d written him a polite note, apologising once again for the slap and thanking him for his medical intervention.
During the last couple of months, she’d occasionally found herself thinking about him. His concern at the wedding, so harshly rewarded by her over-the-top reaction. His skill and his kindness when she’d lost her baby.
The feel of his hand...
Yeah, and that was entirely unprofessional. Professional was what she needed to be.
Moving on... The new, professional Addie.
She unlocked the door to the doctors’ quarters and tugged her crimson, sparkly wheelie suitcase inside. Tugged? Not so much. This beauty wheeled at a touch. She let it go and watched in satisfaction as it freewheeled halfway across the sitting room. Nice. Her luggage was part of her new look, her revamp, her declaration to the world that she was moving on. This community needed a dedicated obstetrician and that’s what they’d get.
Albeit a sparkly one.
She hadn’t gone completely sparkly. Just a touch. She was wearing a rainbow-coloured sun frock, cinched at the waist. She’d let her hair fly free. Her now silver-blonde hair was streaked with soft amethyst streaks. She was wearing oversized amethyst earrings and a single drop necklace, and her brand-new glasses had a hint of amethyst in their silver rims.
She checked herself in the mirror above the hallstand and was pleased to approve.
And then she saw Noah. The fly in her ointment. This place was home...but Noah? A ghost from her past?
Her intention to stay completely professional flew out the window. Memories of that appalling wedding... Memories of her loss...
He’d signed on for six months. That meant he was here for four more months.
Maybe it was time she got herself her own place to live. The convenience of being right at the hospital for obstetric emergencies had kept her here, but there were alternatives.
‘Addie...’ He was dressed in chinos and a short-sleeved shirt, with a stethoscope dangling from his side pocket. He looked vaguely rumpled, as if he’d had a long day.
Tuesday was a normal day for scheduled surgery, she remembered. He’d probably have kept that routine, and such a day was often hard for a surgeon. Schedules didn’t take into account unscheduled stuff that happened in a town like this.
‘Hi,’ she managed, trying not to think he looked tired. Or...gorgeous? How inappropriate was that?
‘Welcome back.’
‘Thank you. I’m pleased to be back.’ She sounded absurdly formal. They both did.
‘You look...well.’
So much for all the money she’d spent on her transformation. Well? But, then, what did she expect?
While she’d been convalescing she’d been in touch with a couple of friends from back in Sydney. Noah’s name had...just happened...to come up. Apparently there’d been a vitriolic end to his marriage. Was that why Noah had turned his back on his ascendant career to come to Currawong? Loss? Grief?
She thought fleetingly of Noah’s wife. Ex-wife? Even in a wheelchair Rebecca had looked stunning. In comparison, well was as good as Addie could expect.
‘I am well,’ she managed.
‘Can I give you a hand with your luggage?’
At least here was safe ground. ‘No need,’ she said airily. She walked across the room, turned the suitcase until it was facing her bedroom door and kicked it again. A little too hard and a little off course. It zoomed across the polished boards, slammed into the bookcase and a vase toppled off and smashed onto the floor.
Silence.
‘I never liked that vase anyway,’ Addie said at last, looking down at the mess of broken crockery.
‘Designer ware,’ Noah agreed. ‘Supplied by Bland R Us. I’m sure we can find something less sterile in Theatre.’
‘Maybe a bedpan with cactus planted inside...’
‘It’d have more personality,’ he agreed, and she came close to a chuckle. And then she took a deep breath. The time had come. The time was now. ‘I have a confession.’
‘A confession?’
‘I... We may have to put away...some stuff.’ She looked down at the floor rug and grimaced. ‘Like this. This has to go.’
‘I can understand the vase getting in the way of your luggage,’ he said cautiously. ‘But...the rug?’
‘I’m afraid it’ll get eaten.’
More silence. And then... ‘Uh-oh,’ Noah said.
‘I know I should have asked you.’ She was talking too fast, her tongue tripping over the words. ‘I know the lease says no pets and I thought...well, to be honest, I knew if I rang the hospital board and asked they’d say no—Morvena will have a fit!—but if I presented them with a fait accompli then they’ll have to wear it. They haven’t found anyone to replace me, have they?’
‘Locums,’ he said, frowning. ‘They’re not trying to replace you.’
‘I doubt they can.’ She said it with satisfaction. ‘The good thing about working in such a remote area is they need to put up with who they can get.’
‘Like me,’ Noah said, and Addie cast him a suspicious look. If she didn’t know better she’d think she heard laughter.
Actually, there might be laughter. Noah McPherson was way over-qualified for the job here. That Currawong Bay had his services for six months was amazing.
