MAGGIE got up from the desk and poured herself another glass of cold water from the jug in the small fridge.
‘Of course it does,’ she said, hoping the word ‘bracing’ might describe her tone but doubting it. Phil’s question had gone directly to her heart, piercing the feeble defences she’d been building up around it. ‘That’s happened with so many words these days. Take “partner”, for example. My sister is married, and she’s also a partner in a decorating firm, but when I talk about her partner, people assume I mean the man she’s living with, who is, in fact, her husband—’
‘We weren’t talking about words,’ Phil interrupted, crossing to where Maggie stood by the fridge, sipping at the cold water, which was having no effect whatsoever on either her nerves or her caffeine craving.
He took the water glass out of her hand and set it down on a table.
‘We’re talking about living together.’
He put his hands on her shoulders, resting them there, not holding her, but she knew if she moved the pressure might increase.
‘Is the father of this baby someone who’s important in your life, Maggie? Is he still around? Will he take on the responsibility of a child? Does he want to marry you? Do you want to marry him?’
Yes, yes, I don’t know, I don’t know and…
If he’d stopped after any of the earlier questions, Maggie wouldn’t have known what to answer, because she hadn’t yet thought through all the consequences of telling Phil the baby was his. But the last question was easy to answer.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to marry him.’
No need to explain she couldn’t bear the thought of forcing him into marriage—all she had to do was answer the question.
‘You could marry me,’ Phil said, and Maggie felt her knees give way, and was sure she would have dropped to the floor if Phil hadn’t grabbed her.
‘Damn,’ he said. ‘You haven’t eaten and I’m keeping you here, talking.’
He sat her down and rummaged in the cupboard, coming back with a packet of biscuits.
‘Eat a few of these then I’ll take you down to the canteen for dinner. You’ve got to start thinking about regular meals, Mags,’ he said, opening the fridge and taking out the milk.
He sniffed at it and shook his head, then, still holding the milk carton, he fixed his blue eyes on her and added, ‘And I meant what I said about marrying you. Think about it. We’re already living together, so the logistics would be simple. We work together, so we understand the stresses of each other’s job—none better. The baby will have a hands-on father, and we were great together in bed.’
Maggie felt the air around her grow suddenly colder, then heard Phil repeat the words in a slow, hoarse voice.
‘We were great together in bed!’
He stared at Maggie, disbelief and anger vying for control of his features.
Anger won.
‘Is it my baby, Maggie?’ he asked, his voice soft but no less furious for its softness. ‘It is, isn’t it? And just when were you going to share this little gem of knowledge with me? Just how long did you intend letting me believe it was someone else’s?’
Maggie felt the icy wind of his fury and though she wasn’t nearly ready for him to have found out, she found some relief in his anger because it fired hers up as well.
‘For heaven’s sake, Phil, I’ve only just found out myself. I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that a one-night stand with a colleague has ended in a pregnancy! How do you think I feel? And what would you suggest I do? Front up one day in the PICU and say, “Oh, by the way, I’m pregnant and it’s yours!” Hell, Phil, I know the kind of childhood you had, I know you have your own dreams of the way a marriage should work, and I also know that with the stupid male chivalry you carry around, the first thing you’d do when I told you would be to ask me to marry you.’
Maggie gave a mirthless laugh then added, ‘You did that anyway—even thinking it was someone else’s baby—so I was spot on, wasn’t I?’
‘This isn’t about my offer of marriage—it’s about you not telling me the baby is mine. It’s about being a biological cipher all over again—an accident of paternity. Well, that’s not going to happen.’
Maggie could feel his anger vibrating around the room, but she couldn’t find words to deflect or defuse it, so she sat and let it wash around her.
‘My child is going to know his father and know his father’s love.’
It’s about the baby, Maggie thought sadly. Only about the baby!
Phil finished speaking then heard the silence echoing back to him and realised he’d been shouting.
He glanced at Maggie, saw the way her hand curved protectively across her stomach and felt a momentary pang of compunction.
But she was wrong, not telling him.
She was also awfully pale and he remembered how she’d come close to fainting earlier.
‘Come on,’ he said, taking her by the arm and hauling her out of the chair. ‘You need to eat and this is hardly the time or place to be discussing the matter.’
He knew he’d spoken brusquely, but her pale face and the lines of strain at the corners of her mouth had made him feel angry again—and protective—and…
Husbandly?
He had no idea how that would feel, but as he hustled Maggie towards the lift, he decided he’d better find out—and soon. There was no way a child of his would be born out of wedlock.
Was that a hopelessly old-fashioned attitude?
A relic of his upbringing?
Best not to say it to Maggie!
But there was no reason why he and Maggie couldn’t make a go of marriage.
He must have spoken this thought out loud, because Maggie’s ‘Oh, please, Phil!’ had to be in response to it.
Though when she added, ‘I need food but not so badly I have to run all the way to the canteen,’ he wondered if he had said it. Maybe she’d been protesting the pace.
Which meant he’d have to say it again!
He slowed down but kept his grip on her arm, telling himself it was a supporting grip not a proprietorial one, though something very like a proprietorial feeling, where Maggie was concerned, was creeping over him.
Would it take over from the ‘race her off to bed’ feeling he usually had to deal with whenever he was around her?
They had just reached the canteen when both their pagers went off.
‘You stay here and eat,’ Phil ordered, directing Maggie towards the food counter in the nearly deserted canteen. ‘I’ll check out what’s wrong.’
‘Nonsense. It’s the PICU so it’s sure to be Cain. I’m going straight up there.’
Don’t let him die! Maggie found herself praying as they both hurried back to the lift, then felt a moment of shame because she was wishing this for Phil’s sake, not the baby’s.
But it wasn’t Cain who was the problem, but little Amy Carter, who’d received the new heart two months earlier.
‘High temp, evidence of infection. I didn’t know if you’d have to take her into Theatre so I called both of you,’ the sister in charge of the PICU told them. ‘I’ve paged the rest of the team and will ask them to be on standby just in case, but I knew you two would still be in the hospital.’
The little girl had been hooked up to the ventilator and monitors by the intensivist who’d admitted her to the unit. She was obviously very ill, and her mother was shaking with anxiety.
Phil spoke gently to the little girl as he examined her, while Maggie led Mrs Carter to a chair and sat her down.
‘She’s been through so much,’ Mrs Carter cried. ‘First, being so sick, she needed the operation and then after it—you remember how everything went wrong for her. Then just as she’s getting better, this!’
‘Has she been with any other children who might have been in contact with chickenpox?’ Phil asked, and Maggie wondered if he’d gone mad. What did chickenpox have to do with anything? The little girl was a heart transplant patient!
‘Her cousins have all got it, but I keep Amy away from other children—I mean, she’s not long out of hospital and Dr Attwood warned me about infection. I keep her in her own room whenever anyone is visiting.’
But family members would want to see her, Maggie thought, especially inquisitive children.
‘She’s got chickenpox?’ she asked aloud, and Phil nodded.
‘I think so. Poor pet! With the scar on her chest still healing, it’s hard to tell if the small marks there are the beginning of chickenpox lesions, but I’d say they are. The blood tests should be back soon.’
‘Chickenpox! It’s only chickenpox!’ Mrs Carter said, her voice so full of relief and joy Maggie didn’t want to tell her the bad news.
But Phil would have to!
‘I’m afraid it’s not all that much of a relief,’ he said gently, coming to rest against the bed in front of the sitting woman. ‘Because Amy is on so many antirejection drugs, and these drugs are designed to damp down the body’s immune system, a virus like this can take a terrible hold. I’d be lying to you if I didn’t tell you we’re in for a bad few days. But I’ll be here with her all the time, and the staff are trained to be vigilant and know how to keep her as comfortable as possible.’
He took Mrs Carter’s hands and continued, ‘We haven’t got her all this way just to lose her now, so hang in there. It’ll be a fight, but it’s a fight we can win, so don’t give up hope.’
Maggie heard the commitment and determination in his voice and knew what he was thinking—he didn’t want Amy Carter crying in his head in the years to come. Her heart ached for him, knowing just how hard he’d take it if he couldn’t save Amy, and suddenly she wondered if marrying Phil might not be a good idea. He was deserving of so much love, and she could give it to him. Even if he didn’t love her, wouldn’t her love help him in some way?
But would he let her love him?
Let her fill some of the empty places in his heart?
She watched him sitting there, talking with Mrs Carter, giving of himself without asking anything in return, then he stood up and left the room, turning back to say to Maggie, ‘You should be masked. I’m going to instigate total barrier nursing here, so the infection can’t be carried by staff from one room to the next.’
Maggie stayed a little longer then, rather than risk carrying infection into Cain’s room, she checked him on the monitors, satisfied herself he was doing well. With exhaustion from the long, long day washing over her, she left the unit and headed home. Forget food, all she wanted was to fall into bed and sleep for ever.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so pleased to see anyone in my entire life,’ she said to Annie and Alex when they, with Annie’s dog Henry, appeared at the house late on Saturday afternoon.
Minnie, banned from visiting Henry while he recovered from a series of operations, had gone berserk on seeing her friend, so the two dogs had been banished to the back yard.
Maggie gave both her human visitors a hug and invited them to come through to the kitchen.
‘Inviting you into your own house, Alex. That’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’
‘It’s your home now—of course you do the inviting. Phil not here?’
‘He’s at the hospital.’
‘Amy Carter?’
Maggie felt instant relief.
‘Then he did contact you about her,’ she said. ‘He’s so stubborn, I wondered if he would. He kept saying there wasn’t anything you could do and you both needed a break and shouldn’t be bothered.’
Alex smiled at her while Annie chuckled, and Maggie sensed the love the pair shared and felt a sharp twinge of envy.
‘He didn’t contact me but I kept in touch with him, not all the time, because the last thing I wanted was for him to think I was checking on him, but just occasionally. Hard to just cut off, you know, and after making excuses to go for a short walk so I could use my mobile, I found Annie had been doing the same, phoning Becky at the unit the moment I went out, just to see how things were going.’
The pair smiled at each other again, their love fairly buzzing in the air around them.
‘So you heard about Dr Ellis and his stories.’
As soon as she’d said it she realised they hadn’t, for both of them looked puzzled.
‘Ellis the cardiologist?’ Annie said. ‘He doesn’t do much work at Jimmie’s.’
‘Is he the one who wanted Phil to operate on the neonate?’ Alex asked, and Maggie nodded, then knew she had to explain. She didn’t want either of them walking into what could prove to be a battle, unprepared.
‘He’s been spreading stories about Phil’s refusal to do the op—making out it was incompetence on his part. I know Amy’s been terribly sick, and it’s been a struggle to get her through this setback, but in some ways it’s been good because between her and the scheduled procedures, Phil’s been too busy to be worrying about any extraneous matters.’
‘Are they affecting the unit?’ Annie asked, and Maggie smiled to herself. Just like that, Annie had slipped back into work mode.
‘The unit staff are sticking together, confident it was the right decision—but the staff working on the baby ward are finding things tough. I think probably the other staff members were already a little jealous that some staff had been singled out to care for our babies and children, so they’ve been making snide remarks. But I think the main problem is going to come from the hospital hierarchy.’
‘Where there’s also been envy of our funding and grumblings about our special treatment all along,’ Annie said. ‘But it’s nothing we can’t cope with,’ she added determinedly. ‘I’d be more worried about how it’s affecting Phil.’
Though it wasn’t phrased as a question, Maggie knew it was one, and she sighed.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘He’s been all but living at the hospital since Amy was readmitted, and when we do talk it’s about work.’
She paused then said to Alex, ‘You know him better than the rest of us, but my impression of Phil is that he keeps things bottled up inside him. He’s all the bright playboy on the outside—though there’s been precious little of that lately—but what’s going on inside is a deep, dark and probably very gloomy mystery.’
Annie, perhaps hearing a faint shadow of despair in the words, put her arm around Maggie’s shoulders and gave her a hug.
‘And I suppose you’ve just gone on being Maggie, quietly doing your job and keeping everyone focussed on work, no matter what’s going on around you.’
‘Oh, Phil’s done that, too,’ Maggie said, trying desperately to swallow the lump of misery Annie’s sympathy had brought to her throat. Self-pity, that was all it was. ‘And Rachel! Even Kurt’s been heard to speak his mind on the subject. All the team have hung tough.’
Alex had moved to the kitchen bench and was filling the kettle with water, and Annie took the opportunity of his distraction to ask another, quieter, question.
‘You and Phil?’ she whispered, and Maggie shook her head. Annie was the only person she’d told about her night with Phil, and eventually Annie—well, all the team but Annie first—would have to know about her pregnancy.
If it continued past the first trimester…
But right now there was a crisis at the hospital—two crises really, although Amy was certainly getting better so she hardly counted—and that was where everyone’s attention should be focussed.
‘Black, two sugars?’ Alex said, turning from the bench with the jar of coffee in his hand.
‘No, tea for me, thanks, Alex,’ Maggie told him, then seeing the look of disbelief on both their faces, she told them the story she’d rehearsed on Phil.
‘I bet Phil I could give up coffee,’ she said, her voice quavering slightly as she remembered the context of that conversation and the delicate stage their discussion had reached when it had all been halted by Amy’s return to hospital.
‘How do you like your tea, then?’ Alex asked, and Maggie smiled at him.
‘Black, two sugars, but weak, because to tell you the truth I hate tea. I’d just as soon drink hot water with two sugars, but people would think I was crazy so I wave the tea bag over the top of the cup.’
She was aware Annie was watching her closely and wondered if she could possibly suspect.
From giving up coffee and only drinking very weak tea?
Surely not!
‘I was going to have you two and Rod and Henry to dinner tonight to welcome you back, but even if Phil gets away from the hospital he’ll probably feel more like sleeping than being polite to guests,’ Maggie said, hoping to divert Annie’s attention—just in case she was harbouring suspicious thoughts!
‘We’re tired, too,’ Annie said, ‘but knowing Alex, he’ll be taking Phil’s place at the hospital before I’ve even unpacked our bags.’
She paused then smiled.
‘In fact, I might pop up there myself before I unpack. Just so anyone still considering whatever rumours Dr Ellis spread knows I’m around and I intend to fight back.’
Maggie felt a genuine smile spread across her face for the first time, it seemed, in weeks.
‘It’s good to have you guys back,’ she said, and knew they knew she meant it.
They sat down at the table and drank the tea and coffee Alex had made, talking now about the mountains to the west of Sydney and the wonderful time the honeymooners had had exploring them.
‘You must go up there while you’re in Sydney,’ Annie told Maggie. ‘It’s a really beautiful area.’
‘I will,’ Maggie promised, thinking a weekend away, on her own, in the mountains, might be the ideal place to think through her future.
Alex and Annie finished their coffee and departed, leaving Henry in the back yard with Minnie because they were heading not back to Annie’s house but towards the hospital. Having guessed Alex would stay up there, Maggie wasn’t at all surprised to hear Phil’s key in the front door only an hour later.
She was in the laundry, doing some hand-washing, and he came through the house to find her there.
‘The cavalry arrived just in time,’ he said, leaning against the doorjamb and watching her dunk her sweater in soapy water. ‘I doubt I’d have lasted another night without a proper sleep.’
Maggie looked at the lines lack of sleep and anxiety had drawn on his face, and her heart ached with a need to hold and comfort him.
Failing that, she could offer practicality.
‘Would you like something to eat? I shopped this morning and bought some mini ham and cheese croissants. It would only take a few minutes to heat you a couple, or would you prefer to just fall into bed?’
‘Bed, I think,’ he said, but he didn’t move and the word ‘bed’ reverberated around the room, heightening Maggie’s usual awareness of her colleague and suggesting things it shouldn’t.
She squeezed the soapy water out of the sweater and rinsed it under the tap, then emptied the bucket she’d been using and filled it with clean water, conscious all the time of Phil standing there, watching her.
Silence stretched between them—though ‘bed’ still whispered in her head—and she tried to think just where they’d been in a very awkward conversation earlier in the week before work had driven all personal matters from both their heads.
They hadn’t reached any conclusions, she knew that much, and given the sleep deprivation Phil had suffered this week, maybe he’d forgotten the conversation altogether.
Forgotten he’d guessed the one thing she hadn’t told him about the baby.
‘Sleep deprivation hasn’t killed all my brain cells,’ he said, as Maggie once again squeezed water—clean this time—from her sweater. ‘So, once I’ve slept we need to talk, Mags.’
She glanced his way and saw he looked even more tired than he had earlier, although earlier she wouldn’t have thought it possible. She set the wet sweater down on top of the washing machine and stepped towards him, then put her arms around him and gave him a hug.
‘We’ll sort it all out,’ she promised, though she wasn’t sure they could.
But right now this man needed some reassurance before he slept, and how could she deny it to him?
His arms closed around her back and he drew her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head.
‘I don’t suppose you’d like a snooze yourself,’ he asked, his husky voice and awakening body suggesting he wasn’t nearly as exhausted as she’d thought.
Before she could think of a casual way to laugh off the suggestion, he eased her away and used his fore-finger to tilt her chin so he could look into her face.
‘I wouldn’t do you justice today, but our time will come,’ he said, the words a promise she guessed he intended to keep, then he bent and kissed her on the lips and for a few minutes she forgot all the tangled threads that wove around their lives and gave in to the seduction of that embrace.