Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | His Secret Love-Child

His Secret Love-Child
Marion Lennox


Two people have entered Cal Jamieson's life - his long-lost lover and his unknown son!Cal Jamieson never gets involved. That is why he's a surgeon in isolated Crocodile Creek, and why he never wants a family - and why Gina Lopez had to leave him. Then Gina returns, with the son he didn't know he had. She's only come to tell Cal he is a father, but she is forced to stay when an abandoned baby needs all her medical skills.Can Cal face up to fatherhood? Can he risk losing Gina again? And can he persuade her to stay - this time for good?









CROCODILE CREEK: 24-HOUR RESCUE


A cutting-edge medical center.

Fully equipped for saving lives and loves!

Crocodile Creek’s state-of-the-art medical center and rescue response unit is home to a team of expertly trained medical professionals. These dedicated men and women face the challenges of life, love and medicine every day!

An abandoned baby!

The tension is mounting as a newborn baby is found in the Outback while a young girl fights for her life.

Two feuding families!

A long-held rivalry is threatening the well-being of the community. Only hospital head Charles Wetherby holds the key to this bitter battle.

A race to save lives!

Crocodile Creek’s highly skilled medical rescue team must compete with the fierce heat of the Australian Outback and the scorching power of their own emotions.

His Secret Love-Child is the first of four continuing stories from Marion Lennox, Alison Roberts, Lilian Darcy and Meredith Webber.

Join them at Crocodile Creek in Harlequin


Medical Romance


.


Dear Reader,

As many of you know, I’m from Australia, home of Truly Scary Wildlife. I write fiction, but sometimes real life is scarier.

Some months ago, an extended family camped by one of our northern rivers. During the night a crocodile entered one of the family tents and grabbed a young father. Crocs don’t mess around. Once a croc has you, there’s little you can do to fight back. When the croc started dragging the young man toward the river, he knew what his fate would be, but as he was dragged away he screamed to his wife to save the baby.

But the croc reckoned without Grandma. Grandma woke, assumed the croc had the baby, and promptly jumped on its head. Despite being savagely bitten, despite her arm being broken, she stayed where she was until someone found a gun.

Everyone lived to tell the tale.

This wonderful true story led to four of us Down Under authors thinking what a fantastic setting the harsh north of Australia would be for a story—or a bunch of stories. We thought about the men and women of the Outback Medivac services and what drama they see every day of their working lives. The idea of CROCODILE CREEK: 24-HOUR RESCUE was born.

So, what better way to start a series than with an abandoned baby and a house full of medical rescue personnel, young doctors from around the world finding excitement and passion—oh, and crocodiles?

I’ve loved writing my CROCODILE CREEK story. I hope you love reading it, and you follow us as we take you to our exciting fact-meets-fiction world.

Marion Lennox




His Secret Love-Child

Marion Lennox










CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN




CHAPTER ONE


THIS old house had seen it all.

He should find somewhere else to live, Cal decided as he sat on the back veranda and gazed out over the moonlit sea. Living in a house filled with young doctors from every corner of the world could sometimes be a riot, but sometimes it was just plain scary.

Like now. Kirsty-the-Intern and Simon-the-Cardiologist had disappeared into the sunset, protesting personal concerns so serious they needed to break their contracts. They’d left a house agog with gossip, two bereft lovers and a hospital that was desperately understaffed.

Crocodile Creek, Remote Rescue Base, for all of far north Queensland, was notoriously short of doctors at the best of times. Two doctors were away on leave, a third had somersaulted his bike last week and was still in traction, and a fourth—unbelievably—had chickenpox. The two doctors who’d left so hastily hadn’t considered that when they’d started their hot little…personal concern.

Dammit, Cal thought. Damn them. Now there was a bereft and confused Emily, and Mike, whose pride at least would be dented. Both were wonderful medics and fine friends. In such a confined household even Cal would be called on for comfort, and if there was one thing Dr Callum Jamieson disliked above all else, it was getting involved. All Cal wanted from life was to practise his medicine and commune with his beer.

And not think about Gina.

So why was he thinking of Gina now? It had been five years since he’d seen her. She should be forgotten.

She wasn’t.

It was just this emotional stuff that was making him maudlin, he thought savagely. The old bush-nursing hospital that now served as Crocodile Creek’s doctors’ residence seemed to be a constant scene for some sort of emotional drama—and dramas made him think of Gina.

Gina walking away and not looking back.

He had to stop thinking of her! Gina had been his one dumb foray into emotional attachment and he was well out of it.

Maybe he should find Mike and play some pool, he thought. That’d clear his head of unwanted memories, it’d stop him swearing at the sea and maybe it’d help Mike.

But there wasn’t time. He’d have to take another shift tonight. There might be no surgery to perform, but with the current shortage of doctors Cal could be called on to treat anything from hayfever to snake bite.

That meant he couldn’t even have another beer.

Damn Simon. Damn Kirsty, he thought savagely. Their sordid little affair was messing with his life. His friends had loved them and he didn’t want his friends to be unhappy. He wanted the Crocodile Creek doctors’ house to be as it had been until today—a fun-filled house full of life and laughter, a place to base himself without care while he practised the medicine he loved.

The door opened and Emily, of the now non-existent Simon-and-Emily partnership, was standing behind him, pale-faced and tear-stained. Emily was a highly skilled anaesthetist. He and Emily made a great operating team.

Right now Emily looked about sixteen years old.

He didn’t do emotional involvement!

But he moved on the ancient settee to let her sit beside him, and he put an arm around her and he hugged. OK, he didn’t do emotional involvement but Emily was a sweetheart.

‘Simon’s a rat,’ he told her.

‘He’s not.’ She hiccuped on a sob. ‘He’ll come back. He and Kirsty aren’t really—’

‘He and Kirsty are really,’ he told her. It wasn’t helping anything if she kept deceiving herself. ‘He really is a rat, and you can’t love a rat. Think about the life they lead down there in the sewers. Gross. Come on, Em. You can do better than that.’

‘Says you,’ she whispered. ‘You lost your lady-rat five years ago, and have you done better since Gina left? I don’t think so.’

‘Hey!’ He was so startled he almost spilled his beer. How did Em know about Gina? Then he gave an inward groan. How could she not? Everyone knew everything in this dratted house. Sometimes he thought they were even privy to his dreams.

‘We’re not talking about me,’ he said, trying to sound neutral. ‘We’re talking about you. You’re the one who needs to recover from a broken heart.’

‘Well, I’m not going to learn from you, then,’ she wailed. ‘Five years, and you’re still not over it. Charles says you’re just as much in love with Gina as you were five years ago, and for me it’s just starting. Oh, Cal, I can’t bear it.’



Gunyamurra. Three hundred miles south. A birth and then…a heartbeat?

No. It was her imagination. There was nothing.

Nothing.

Distressed beyond measure, the girl stared down at the tiny scrap of humanity that should have been her son. Maybe he could have been her son. Given another life.

How could she have hoped this child would live? She was little more than a child herself, so how could she have ever dared to dream? How could she have ever deserved something so wonderful as a baby?

Now what? Living, this child might well have made her life explode into meaning. But now…

It would all go on as before, the girl thought drearily. Somehow.

Her body ached with physical pain and desolate loss. She was weighed down, sinking already back into the thick, grey abyss of the last few months’ despair.

She put out a tentative finger and traced the contours of the lifeless face. Her baby.

She had to leave him. There was no use in her staying, and this quiet place of moss and ferns was as good a place as any to say goodbye.

‘I wish your father could have seen you,’ she whispered, and at the thought of what might have been, the tears finally started to flow.

Tears were useless. She had to get back. The cars were leaving. She’d slip into the back seat of the family car and her parents wouldn’t even question where she’d been. They wouldn’t notice.

Of course they wouldn’t notice. Why would they? Her life was nothing.

Her baby was dead.



‘There’s a baby behind my rock.’

Gina closed her eyes in frustration and tried hard not to snap. CJ’s need for the toilet was turning into a marathon. The coach left the rodeo grounds in ten minutes and if they missed the coach…

They couldn’t miss the coach. Being stranded at Gunyamurra in the heart of Australia’s Outback was the stuff of nightmares.

‘CJ, just do what you need to do and come on out,’ she ordered, trying hard for a voice with inbuilt authority. It didn’t work. Dr Gina Lopez might be a highly qualified cardiologist who worked in a state-of-the-art medical unit back home in the US, but controlling one four-year-old was sometimes beyond her.

CJ was just like his daddy, she thought wearily. Even though those big brown eyes made her heart melt, he was fiercely independent, determined to follow his own road, whatever the cost.

Like now. CJ had taken one look at the portable toilets and dug in his heels.

‘I’m not using them. They’re horrible.’

They were, too, Gina conceded. The Gunyamurra Rodeo had come to an end, the portable toilets had accommodated a couple of hundred beer-swilling patrons and CJ’s criticism was definitely valid.

So she’d directed his small person to where the parking lot turned into bushland. Even then she had problems. Her independent four-year-old required privacy.

‘Someone will see me.’

‘Go behind a rock. No one will see.’

‘OK, but I’m going behind the rock by myself.’

‘Fine.’

And now…

‘There’s a baby behind my rock.’

Right. She loved his imagination but this was no time for dreaming.

‘CJ, please, hurry,’ she told him, with another anxious glance across the parking lot where the coach was almost ready to leave. She was too far away to call out, and she hadn’t told the driver to wait. If they missed the coach…

Stop panicking, she told herself. It’d come this way. If the worst came to the worst, she could step down into its path and stop it. She might irritate the driver but that was the least of her problems.

She should never have come here, she thought wearily. It had been stupid.

But it had seemed necessary.

Back in the States she’d thought maybe, just maybe she could find the courage to face Cal. Maybe she could find the courage to tell him what he eventually had to know.

But now she was even questioning that need. Was it even fair to tell him?

She’d started out with the best of intentions. She’d arrived at Crocodile Creek late last Thursday and she’d left CJ with her landlady so she could go to find him. The house she’d been directed to was the doctors’ quarters—a rambling old house on a bluff overlooking the sea. At dusk it had looked beautiful. The setting should have given her courage.

It hadn’t. By the time she’d reached the house, her heart had been in her boots. Then, when no one had answered her knock, things had become even worse.

She’d walked around the side of the house and there he’d been, on the veranda. Cal. The Cal she remembered from all those years, with all her heart.

But he wasn’t her Cal. Of course he wasn’t. Time had moved on. He hadn’t seen her, and then, just as she had been forcing herself to call his name, a young woman had come out of the house to join him.

Gina had stilled, sinking back into the shadows, and a moment later she had been desperately glad she had. Because Cal had taken the woman into his arms. His face had been in her hair, he had whispered softly, and as Gina had stood there, transfixed, the woman’s arms had come around Cal’s shoulders to embrace him back.

This wasn’t passion, Gina thought as she watched them. Maybe if it had seemed like passion she could still have done what she’d intended. But this was more. It was a coming together of two people who needed each other. There was something about the way they held each other that said their relationship was deep and real. The girl’s face looked pinched and wan. Cal cupped her chin in his hand and he forced her eyes to meet his, and Gina’s heart twisted in a pain so fierce she almost cried out. This girl had found what she never had.

She’d fled. Of course she’d fled. She’d treated Cal so appallingly in the past. Now it seemed that he’d found love. Real love—the sort of love they’d never shared. What right did she have to interfere with him now?

She’d gone back to her hotel, cuddled CJ and tried to regroup, but the more she thought about it the more impossible it seemed. How would Cal’s lady react to her appearing on the scene? How could she jeopardise this relationship for him?

She couldn’t. CJ had been born in wedlock. Paul was his father and that was the way it had to stay.

But she’d invested so much. She’d come so far. Surely she couldn’t simply take the next plane home, though that was what she frantically wanted to do.

She’d promised CJ they’d see Australia. She had to make good that promise.

So she’d made herself wait a few days. She’d booked herself and her young son onto a crocodile hunt—a search by moonlight for the great creatures that inhabited the local estuaries. Thy hadn’t found a crocodile but they’d met a real live crocodile hunter and CJ’s wide-eyed enjoyment of his stories had helped ease the ache in her heart. They’d taken a tour out to the Great Barrier Reef and had tried not to be disappointed when the weather had been wild and the water cloudy.

Then she’d heard about the Gunyamurra Rodeo. CJ’s passion was for horses. There’d been a coach going via the rodeo to the airport, and the last day of the rodeo was a short one, so they’d decided to spend their last morning in Australia here.

CJ had loved it, so maybe it hadn’t been a total waste of time, but now the thought of leaving was overwhelmingly appealing. Crocodile Creek was three hundred miles away. She was never going to see Cal again. Their coach was due to leave to take them back to Cairns Airport, and it was over.

All she had to do was get her son from behind his rock.

‘CJ, hurry.’

‘I can’t do anything here,’ he told her with exaggerated patience. ‘There’s a baby.’

‘There’s no baby.’

CJ’s imagination was wonderful, Gina thought ruefully, and at any other time she encouraged it. Her son filled his life with imaginary friends, imaginary animals, rockets, battleships, babies. He saw them everywhere.

Not now. She couldn’t indulge him now.

‘There’s not a baby,’ she snapped again, and, dignity or not, she peered around CJ’s rock.

There was a baby.

For a moment she was too stunned to move. She stood and stared at the place between two rocks—the place where her son was gazing.

This was a birth scene. One fast glance told her that. Someone had lain here and delivered a baby. The grass was crushed and there was blood…

And a baby.

A dead baby?

She moved swiftly, stooping to see, noting his stillness and the dreadful blue tinge of his skin. He was so pale under his waxy birth coating that she thought he must be dead.

She touched him and there was a hint of warmth.

Warmth? Maybe.

He wasn’t breathing.

She fell to her knees and lifted him against her. His tiny body was limp and floppy. Where was his pulse?

Nothing.

Her fingers were in his mouth, trying frantically to clear an airway that was far too small. She turned him over, face down, using her little finger to clear muck from his mouth and then using a fold of her T-shirt to wipe his mouth clear.

Then she pulled him up to her mouth and breathed.

She felt his tiny chest lift.

Yes!

Heartbeat. Come on. There had to be a heartbeat.

Her backpack was where she’d dropped it, and CJ’s windcheater was drooping out of the top. She hauled it onto the grass and laid the baby down on its soft surface. It was almost one movement, spreading the windcheater, laying the little one down and starting cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

She knew this so well. Cardiology was her specialty but to practise CPR here, on a baby this small…

She wanted her hospital. She wanted oxygen and suction equipment. She wanted back-up.

She had to find help. Even if she got him breathing, she needed help. Urgently.

CJ was standing, stunned into silence. He was too young to depend on but he was all she had.

‘CJ, run to the side of the parking lot and scream for help,’ she told him between breaths.

Breathe, press, press, press…

‘Why?’ CJ seemed totally bemused, and who could blame him?

Could she take the baby and run for help? She rejected the idea almost before she thought of doing it. How long had the baby been abandoned? How long had he not been breathing? Even if she got him back… Every second without oxygen increased the chance of brain damage.

She needed every ounce of concentration to get air into these little lungs. She breathed again into the baby’s mouth and continued with the rhythmic pumping that must get the heart working. Must!

‘This baby’s really ill,’ she told CJ, fighting to get words out as she concentrated on CPR between breaths ‘You have to get someone to come here. Scream like there’s a tiger chasing you.’

‘There’s not a tiger.’

‘Pretend there is.’ She was back to breathing again. Then: ‘Go, CJ. I need your help. You have to scream.’

‘For the baby?’

‘For the baby.’

He considered for a long moment. Then he nodded as if he’d decided that maybe that what his mother was asking wasn’t too crazy. Maybe it even appealed to him. He disappeared around the other side of the rock. There was a moment’s silence—and then a yell.

‘Tiger. Tiger. Tiger. There’s a tiger and a baby. Help!’

It was a great yell. It was the best. He’d put his heart into it, and it sounded for all the world like a tiger was about to pounce, and a baby, too. But the end of his yell was drowned out.

The coach they’d come in was huge, a two-level touring affair. It had a massive air-conditioning unit, and even when idling it was noisy. Now, as it started to move and went through its ponderous gear changes, it was truly deafening.

Gina heard just one of CJ’s yells before the sound of the coach took over. The second and third yells were drowned out as the coach turned out of the parking lot, growing louder and louder until nothing could be heard at all.

Gina made to stand—she made to get herself out in front of the coach to stop it—but then there was a tiny choking sound from the baby. Her eyes flew back to him. Was she imagining it?

No.

If he was choking… His airway must still be slightly blocked. She had to get his trachea clear.

Once more she lifted the baby and turned him face down, and her fingers searched his mouth. The coach was forgotten. She desperately needed equipment. There might well be liquor or meconium stuck in his throat or on his vocal cords. How to clear his tiny airway without tracheal suction?

She shook him, carefully, carefully, supporting his neck as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

He choked again.

Something dislodged—a fragment of gunk—and she had it clear in an instant.

She turned him back over and breathed for him again.

This time his chest rose higher.

It fell.

It rose—all by itself.

Again.

Again.

She was breathing with him, willing him to breathe with her. And he was. Wonderfully—magically—he was.

She wiped his mouth again, using her T-shirt, and then searched her bag for a facecloth. She was cradling him against her now. She had to get him warm. Once she had him breathing, heat loss was his biggest enemy.

At least the outside air was warm.

She had to get help.

The coach was gone.

As if on cue, CJ appeared back from his tiger yelling. ‘I think they heard me,’ he told her, uncertain whether to be proud or not. His expression said he was definitely uncertain about the baby his mother was paying such attention to. ‘One of the ladies on the coach waved to me as it went past.’

Fantastic. She could hear it in the distance, rumbling down the unmade road, starting its long trip to Cairns.

To the airport. To America. Home.

She couldn’t think of that now. All that mattered was this tiny baby. His breathing was becoming less laboured, she thought, or was it wishful thinking? She wanted oxygen so badly.

She didn’t have it. She had to concentrate on the things she could do.

Swiftly she checked the baby’s umbilical cord. It looked as if it had been ripped from the placenta. Now that his heart was beating strongly, the cord was starting to ooze.

How long had the cord been cut? she asked herself, a bit confused. Obstetrics wasn’t her strong point, but surely the cord shouldn’t still be bleeding?

How much blood had he lost?

Where was the nearest hospital to Gunyamurra?

She couldn’t depend on a hospital. She was all this baby had.

She tugged the drawstring from her backpack and tied the umbilicus with care, then hauled the backpack wide and found her own windcheater—a soft, old garment that she loved. It’d do as a blanket.

Once again she checked his breathing, scarcely allowing herself to hope that this frail little scrap of humanity might survive.

But as if he’d read her mind and was determined to prove her wrong, he opened his eyes.

And even CJ was caught.

‘It’s a real baby,’ CJ breathed, awed at this transformation from what must have seemed a lifeless body to a living thing, and Gina could only gaze down at the baby in her arms and agree.

More. There were no words for this moment. For this miracle. She was suddenly holding a little person in her arms. A baby boy. A child who’d one day grow to be a man, because CJ had found him and her lifesaving techniques had blessedly worked.

How could missing a coach possibly compare to this? How could being stuck in this outlandish place possibly matter?

He was so tiny. Four, maybe five pounds? Premature? He had to be. His fingernails had scarcely started to form and he was so small.

His lips were still tinged with blue. Cyanosis? The tips of his fingers were still blue as well, and she started to worry all over again. As he’d started to breathe, his little body had suffused with colour, but now…

She checked his fingers and toes with care, trying not to expose him any more than she had to. It was a hot day, so the wind was warm against the baby’s skin. How long had he been exposed?

Maybe the warm wind had helped save his life.

But there were still those worrying traces of cyanosis. His heart wasn’t working at a hundred per cent.

It wasn’t his breathing, she thought. He was gazing up, wide-eyed, as if wondering where on earth he was, and his breathing seemed to be settling.

So why the skin blueness?

She wanted medical back-up. She wanted it now.

‘How will we get home?’ CJ asked, and she held the baby close and tried to make herself think.

‘We need to find someone to help us.’

‘Everyone’s gone,’ CJ said.

‘Surely not everyone.’

But maybe everyone had. Gina’s heart sank. The rodeo itself had finished almost an hour ago. A group of country and western musicians from down on the coast had booked the coach to transport their gear. They’d played at the closing ceremony, then organised the coach to stay longer, giving them time to pack up.

The timing meant that the crowd had dispersed. The rodeo had taken place miles from the nearest settlement—which itself wasn’t much of a settlement. There’d been mobile food vans and a mobile pub, but they’d gone almost before the last event.

CJ might well be right.

‘Someone must be here,’ she said, trying to sound assured. She tucked the baby underneath her T-shirt, against her skin, hoping the warmth of her skin would do the same job as an incubator. ‘Come on, CJ. Let’s go find someone.’

CJ was looking at her as if he wasn’t quite sure whether he wanted to accompany her or not. ‘Is the baby OK?’

‘I think so.’ She hoped so.

‘You’ve got blood on your shirt.’

She had. She grimaced down at her disgusting T-shirt but she wasn’t thinking of her appearance. She was thinking of how much blood the baby had lost.

Why had he bled so much? And newborn babies had so little… He couldn’t afford to have lost this much.

He whimpered a little against her and she felt a tiny surge of reassurance. And something more.

Once upon a time—four and a half years ago—she’d held CJ like this, and she’d made the vows she found were forming again in her heart right now. She’d loved CJ’s daddy so much. Cal had taught her what loving could be, and she’d pass that loving on to CJ.

And even though Cal no longer came into it—even though Cal was no part of her life and had nothing to do with this baby—she found herself voicing those same vows. She’d protect this baby, come what may.

What mother could have left him here? she wondered. How much trouble must a woman be suffering to drag herself away from her newborn child?

She thought of how distressed she’d been when CJ had been born—how much she’d longed for Cal and how impossible it had seemed that she raise her son without him. But the bond to her tiny scrap of a son had been unbreakable, regardless.

He’d been her link to Cal.

She’d thought of Cal so much as her son had been born, and suddenly, achingly, she thought of him now.

But it was crazy. She couldn’t think of Cal. Neither could she think about the coach growing further away by the minute. Her ticket out of here—away from Cal for ever—was gone.

She needed to find help.

‘Come on, CJ. There must be someone still around.’ She cradled the baby with one hand, took CJ’s hand with the other and went to find out.

The rodeo had been held in a natural arena where a ring of hills formed a natural showground. There was scrub and bushland on the hills but the rodeo ground was a huge, dusty area that now looked barren and deserted.

But not everyone had gone. As Gina and CJ crossed the parking lot back into the rodeo grounds, they found one solitary person—an elderly, native Australian. Gina had seen him before, working on the sidelines during the rodeo. Was he some sort of ground manager? He must be. He was staring around at the piles of litter and scratching his head in disgust. As he saw Gina and CJ, he shoved back his hat and smiled, obviously pleased to be distracted from the mess.

‘G’day. Come to help me clean up?’

‘We’ve found a baby,’ Gina told him.

He stared. His smile faded.

‘Um…say again?’

‘Someone has abandoned a baby in the bush. I have him here.’ She motioned to the bulge beneath her stained T-shirt. ‘We need medical help. Fast.’

‘You’ll be kidding me.’

‘I’m not joking.’ She outlined what had happened and the man’s jaw dropped almost to his ankles.

‘You’re saying some woman just dropped her bundle behind the rocks—and left it for dead?’

‘She may have thought he was dead already,’ Gina told him. ‘I had trouble getting him to breathe.’

The man cast an uneasy glance at the bulge under her shirt. He took a step back, as if maybe he was facing a lunatic. ‘So he’s under there? A baby.’

‘He’s under there. Can you take us to the nearest hospital?’

The man stared at her for a moment longer, took another step backward and then motioned uncertainly to an ancient truck parked nearby.

‘There’s no other way of getting out of here than that. How did you get here?’

‘Coach.’

‘The coach has left.’

‘Yes,’ Gina said, trying to hold her impatience in check. ‘Will you take us to the hospital? We need help.’

‘Nearest clinic’s at Gunyamurra, twenty miles from here,’ he told her, still really doubtful. ‘But there’s no one there now. The Wetherbys and the Gunnings—the two families that live near there and the workers on their stations—they were all here today so there won’t be a clinic operating. Maybe you need a doctor.’

‘Yes, please.’ To tell him she was a doctor herself would only confuse matters.

He cast another glance at her bulge. His mouth tightened as if he was becoming sure of his lunatic theory.

‘How can I contact medical help?’ she snapped, and he blinked.

‘We had the Remote Rescue Service on call during the rodeo,’ he told her, totally bemused. ‘They flew Joseph Long out with a broken leg an hour or so back. That was near the end with only the novelty events left, so they didn’t come back. Word is that they’re short a couple of doctors back at base.’

‘I need a doctor now,’ Gina told him. She was still holding CJ’s hand tight and using her other hand to cradle the baby. But the baby didn’t seem to be moving. He was so limp.

He couldn’t die. He mustn’t.

‘I s’pose I could call them back.’ There was another doubtful look at her bloodstained T-shirt—a look that said he accepted there was blood and maybe there had been a baby but he wasn’t too sure that he mightn’t be dealing with an axe murderer. ‘You sure it really is a baby? A live baby?’

She released CJ and held up the T-shirt—just for a moment, just so he could see.

They all looked at the bulge.

At the windcheater-wrapped baby.

He was surely real. He was surely a baby. He was incredibly tiny—more, he was incredibly beautiful. His crumpled little face was now becoming the flushed crimson of most newborns. His eyes were wide, dazed and unfocussed.

And he moved. It was a slight movement, but he definitely moved. He whimpered a little and a hand—a hand the size of a man’s fingernail—broke free from his makeshift blanket.

Gina didn’t say anything. She tucked the little hand back into the warmth of her windcheater, and she waited for this man to make his decision. She needed his help so much.

And it seemed that she had it. The man stared down and his face twisted into an expression she could scarcely read,

‘Will you look at that?’ he whispered. ‘He’s just like mine were at that age.’ He stared down at the baby for a moment longer and then he looked up at Gina. His old eyes met hers and held.

‘You really found him?’

‘We found him. We’re tourists on the coach but we found him just as the coach was leaving. I’ve been trying to get him to breathe. So far, so good, but if he’s to live we need your help. We need outside help. Fast.’

‘I’m moving,’ he told her, and he turned and started to stride swiftly across the dusty arena to his truck.

He took three long strides—and then he started to run.

‘Mommy,’ CJ said, in the tone of a patient man whose patience was being tested to the limit.

‘Yes?’

‘I still need to go to the toilet.’



‘Cal?’

He jumped. Cal had been placing a scalpel in the steriliser, but Charles’s voice from right behind him startled him into dropping it. He swore, then stooped to retrieve it with a sigh. ‘Will you cut that out?’ he demanded of his boss. ‘Quit oiling that damned wheelchair so we have a chance.’

Charles grinned. Charles Wetherby was the medical director of Crocodile Creek Medical Centre. He’d been confined to a wheelchair since a shooting accident when he’d been eighteen, but his paraplegia didn’t stop him being a fine doctor and a medical director who missed nothing. Charles knew his silent approaches startled his staff but he didn’t mind. It never hurt his young doctors to believe their medical director might be right beside them at any time.

Not that he had any need to check on Cal. Callum Jamieson was one of the best doctors they’d ever been blessed with.

Normally doctors didn’t stay at Crocodile Creek for too long. The work was hard, the place was one of the most remote in the world and doctors tended to treat it almost as a mission. They spent a couple of years here working with the Remote Rescue team, they got their need for excitement out of their system and then they disappeared.

Not Cal. He’d come four years ago and had made no attempt to move. There was something holding him, Charles had decided long before this. Something that didn’t make him want to face the real world. Woman trouble? Charles didn’t know for sure what the whole story was, but he knew more than Cal ever admitted—and he’d met Gina. For now, though, he wasn’t asking questions. Cal was a fine surgeon, and he went that extra step with patients. He really cared. Also, Cal was more gentle and painstaking with the indigenous people than any of the younger doctors who struggled with—and often didn’t care about—their culture. Cal was invaluable to this Remote Rescue Service and Charles was deeply grateful that he had him.

Especially now.

‘I need you in the chopper,’ he told him.

‘Trouble?’

‘Out at the rodeo.’

‘Didn’t Christina and Mike just bring someone in?’

‘Yeah. Joseph Long, with a fractured femur. You’d think kids would have something better to do than to risk life and limb sitting on a steer that doesn’t want to be sat on.’

‘How old were you when you got shot pig-shooting?’ Cal asked mildly. ‘Eighteen? Don’t tell me. Joseph’s…what? Eighteen? You’re telling me that kids should learn a lesson from you and stop being risk-takers?’

‘Don’t play the moral bit on me.’ Charles’s craggy features twisted into a wry grin. There weren’t many people who could joke with Charles about his background, but Cal had been around long enough to become a firm friend. ‘Just get on that chopper,’ he told him. ‘Fast.’

‘What’s up.’

‘Newborn. Breathing difficulties.’

Cal came close to dropping his scalpel again. ‘A newborn at the rodeo?’

‘There’s a woman there says she found him.’

‘A woman?’

‘Hey, I don’t know any more than you do,’ Charles said, exasperated. ‘I know it sounds crazy and if I could, I’d be in the air right now, finding out what’s going on. But Pete Sargent—the rodeo groundsman—has radioed in, saying there’s a baby and a woman and for some reason they don’t match. He says the woman found the baby. The baby’s certainly in trouble and he wants a doctor out there fast. Mike’s refuelling the chopper as we speak. You’re the only doctor available. So what are you standing here for?’



Gina was just about frantic.

The blue tinge to the baby’s fingertips and lips was becoming more and more pronounced. Cyanosis in a newborn had to mean heart trouble—but she didn’t even have a stethoscope. She was sitting in the rodeo judges’ stall and as a hospital ward it made a great judges’ stall. There was no equipment whatsoever.

Pete—bless him—had taken CJ in charge. Out on the grounds the pair of them were collecting litter. Pete had supplied CJ with a pair of work-gloves that were longer than his arms, and CJ was enjoying himself immensely.

That left Gina free to concentrate on the baby, but there was so little she could do. She kept his airway clear. She watched his breathing. She kept him against her skin, curving in so he had as much skin contact as possible, cradling any exposed parts into her soft, old windcheater. She was using herself as an incubator.

She willed him to live, and she waited.

Help came so slowly she thought she might well lose him.

But finally the helicopter came in from the east, low and fast and loud. It hovered for a moment above the car park as if the pilot was checking for obstacles. But Pete had already checked. There was no problem with its landing, and before it reached the ground Gina was running toward it.

She stopped just out of range of the rotor blades. Pete had come up behind her. The elderly groundsman was holding CJ’s hand and he gripped her arm, too, as if warning her that the rotor was dangerous.

Maybe he still thought she was deranged, Gina decided. He must think there was a possibility she might run into the blades.

She wouldn’t. She knew about helicopters. She’d flown with the Remote Rescue Service before.

So she stood and she waited, but she didn’t have long to wait. A man was emerging from the passenger seat, his long body easing out onto the gravel. He hauled a bag out after him, then turned.

Her world stopped.

Cal.




CHAPTER TWO


FOR how long had she dreamed of this moment? For how long had she thought of what she might say?

Her prepared speech was no longer appropriate. She’d accepted that three nights ago when she’d seen him back at Crocodile Creek, so maybe it was just as well that there were things to say and do now that had nothing to do with their past.

He was past the slowing rotor blades. He was almost by her side.

He stopped.

And he saw who he was facing.

‘Gina.’

The word was a blank expression of pure shock.

He’d had less warning than she. She at least knew that he was in the same part of the world as she was. She’d seen him only three days ago. But Cal hadn’t seen her for five years.

He’d hardly changed, she thought. He was a big man, long and lean and tough. He always had been.

Information about Cal’s background had been hard to glean, but she knew enough. His parents had been farmers on a holding that had been scarcely viable. His mother had abandoned them early. Cal had been brought up to hard times and hard work, and it showed. His bronzed skin was weathered, almost leathery. His deep brown eyes crinkled at the edges, and his strongly boned face spoke of the childhood he’d talked about reluctantly, a childhood where his first memory had been of gathering hay in the blazing sun before a storm on Christmas morning, heaving bales that had been almost as big as he’d been before he had been old enough to stop believing in Santa Claus.

Before he’d been old enough to stop hoping that one day things could change.

But they hadn’t. He hadn’t. He hadn’t changed a bit.

Yet she still loved him. She looked into his shocked face and she felt her heart break all over again.

How could she still love him?

Five years of heartbreak.

She had to move on. He had a life to lead and so did she. There was no room here for emotion.

But… His burnt red, tightly curled hair was just the same as her son’s.

Concentrate on medicine, she told herself fiercely. Use the medical imperative. Medicine had been her lifesaver for five long years and it would be her lifesaver again.

And as for loving?

Get over it.

‘Cal, there’s a baby.’

He was staring at her as if he were seeing a ghost. She might be moving on, but he hadn’t yet. How could he?

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

The harsh words were like a blow and she found herself physically flinching.

But she had to move past this. The baby’s life was too important to waste time on non-essentials.

‘I’ve been at the rodeo,’ she told him. Somehow. It was almost impossible to make her voice work at all, but when she managed it came out expressionless. Businesslike. ‘I found a baby,’ she managed.

‘You found a baby.’ Shock was still the overriding emotion.

‘It’s wrapped in a windcheater, under her T-shirt.’ Pete had moved into helpful mode now. He was looking from Gina to Cal and back again, as if he couldn’t figure out why they weren’t moving. As indeed they must. ‘She says some woman must have dropped it in the bush.’

‘What—?’

‘I need oxygen,’ Gina told him, hauling herself even more into medical mode and willing Cal to follow. ‘Cal, the baby needs urgent help if he’s to survive. He’s badly cyanosed. His breathing is way too shallow—he’s tiring while I watch.’

She still hadn’t pulled the baby from under her T-shirt so he was just a bulge under her bloodstained clothing. No wonder she didn’t have Cal’s belief. She must look crazy. ‘He’s only hours old. He’s lost blood. He’s prem, I think, and he’s not perfusing as he should. Blue lips, blue fingernails. Heartbeat seems far too rapid. Do you have equipment?’

She watched as Cal caught himself. As he finally managed to flick an internal switch.

‘A baby.’ His eyes dropped to the bulge and his deep eyes widened. He was taking in the whole scene, and it wasn’t pretty. ‘Not yours?’

‘Not mine.’ A little blood could go a long way and she was aware that she looked so gory she might well be a mother who’d given birth only hours before. And maybe she looked shocked and pale to go with it.

‘I need oxygen, and I need it fast.’

‘We have an incubator on board. Everything we need.’ The pilot of the chopper—a guy in a flight suit—was coming toward them now, carrying more equipment.

Medical mode won.

‘Let’s move.’



They moved.

The next ten minutes were spent working as once they’d worked together long ago. The pilot—a youngish guy Cal referred to as Mike—was a paramedic and he was good, but with a baby this tiny they needed every ounce of skill they all possessed.

She and Cal were still a team, Gina thought fleetingly as she searched for and found a tiny vein for the intravenous drip. Newborn babies had such a tiny amount of blood that even a small loss could be catastrophic. He had to have replacement fluid. Meanwhile, Cal had a paediatric mask over the tiny face, using the attached bag to assist breathing. His breathing slowed almost at once. From an abandoned baby with nothing, this little one was suddenly being attached to every conceivable piece of medical technology they could use.

Maybe he’d need them all. Because when Cal hooked him to the heart monitor and she watched his heart rate, she winced.

‘There’s something going on,’ she murmured. ‘That heartbeat’s too fast and with this level of cyanosis…’

‘You’re thinking maybe pulmonary stenosis?’

‘Maybe. Or something worse, God forbid. We need an echocardiogram.’

‘Yeah.’ He cast her a doubtful look. ‘We’ve done all we can here. We need to get him back to the base.’

She hesitated. Yes. They needed to get the baby to help. But…where did that leave her?

For the first time since she’d found the baby, there was a tiny sliver of time to consider. The baby was being warmed and he was hooked to oxygen and an intravenous drip. He was as stable as she could make him—for now. Somehow she made herself block out the fact that Cal was watching her as she forced herself to think through what should happen next.

Should she stay involved?

Now was the time to step back—if she could.

There were three factors coming into play here.

First, she badly needed transport. Once she reached Crocodile Creek, she could get a coach to the outside world. Maybe she could even still catch her flight home.

Secondly, more importantly, this baby needed her. Or he needed someone with specialist training.

‘Is there a cardiologist at Crocodile Creek?’ she asked, and Cal shook his head. He was thinking exactly what she was thinking. She knew it.

‘Our cardiologist has just left,’ he said abruptly, and she nodded. But the way he’d spoken… It brought her to the third factor.

Despite the fact that it was sensible for her to go with him to Crocodile Creek—despite the fact that medical imperative decreed that she go—she didn’t want to get in the helicopter with him. It had been a mistake to come. To drag out the moment…

This baby needed a cardiologist if he was to survive. He needed her.

She had no choice, she told herself fiercely. Focus on medicine. Ignore the personal. The personal was all just too hard.

‘We need to think about the mother,’ she managed, and Cal nodded in agreement. They’d always been apt to follow the same train of thought and it was happening all over again.

‘We do.’ He turned away to where Pete was kneeling a few yards away in the dust. Pete had obviously decided that his best role was in keeping CJ occupied and they were etching huge drawings of kangaroos in the dust. ‘Pete, have you no idea where this baby could possibly have come from?’

‘There’s been three or four hundred people through here over the last couple of days,’ Pete said, looking up from his kangaroo and shaking his head as he thought it through. ‘It could be anyone’s kid.’

‘This baby was born here only hours ago. Did you see anyone who was obviously pregnant?’

‘Dorothy Curtin’s got a bulge bigger’n a walrus but she and Max took off with the kids at lunch time.’

‘There’s no way Dorothy would abandon one of hers. But anyone else? Maybe someone who’s in trouble. A kid? Maybe someone who’s not a local?’

‘There were a few out-of-towners on the coach. But I dunno.’ He scratched his head a bit and thought about it. ‘I dunno.’

‘I didn’t see any pregnant women on the bus,’ Gina told them.

‘I’ll need to get the police involved.’ Cal looked uncertainly across at Gina and then he seemed to make a decision. ‘I want the mother found. But we need to take Gina—this lady—back to Crocodile Creek with us,’ he told Pete. ‘Will you stay on and show the police where the baby was found?’

‘Sure thing,’ Pete said. ‘I gotta clean up anyway. ’

‘I’ll show you exactly where I found her,’ Gina told him, and then hesitated, thinking it through. ‘Cal, we need to check the birth site anyway. We might have a girl somewhere who’s in real trouble.’

‘We might at that,’ Cal said grimly—and then added, more enigmatically, ‘And that’s only the start of it.’ He motioned to Mike. ‘Mike, you go with Gina. I’ll stay with the baby.’

Mike nodded. Until then the paramedic had worked almost silently alongside them, but he was obviously aware of undercurrents. He looked at Gina now, a long, assessing glance, and then he looked across to where CJ was intent on his drawing.

‘Is this your son?’ he asked her. ‘Will he be coming back with us, too?’

Cal hadn’t noticed CJ. He’d been preoccupied with the baby and with Gina, and CJ had had his head down, drawing dust pictures. Now his eyes jerked over to where the little boy knelt in the dust.

CJ was totally intent on the task at hand, as he was always intent on everything he did. Pete had been showing him the traditional way aboriginals depicted kangaroos and he was copying, dotting the spine of his kangaroo with tiny white pebbles. Each stone was being laid in order. His drawing of the kangaroo was three feet high—or three feet long—and it’d take many, many pebbles to complete it, but that wouldn’t deter CJ.

So for now he knelt happily in the dust, a freckle-faced, skinny kid with a crop of burnt red curls that were coiled tight to his head. With deep brown eyes that flashed with intelligence.

With hair and with eyes that were just the same as his father’s.

They all saw Cal’s shock. Gina watched his eyes widen in incredulity. She could see him freeze. She could see the arithmetic going on in his head.

She could see his life change, as hers had changed with CJ’s birth. Or maybe before that.

As it had changed the day she’d first met Cal.

‘Hey, the kid’s hair is just the same as yours,’ Pete said easily—and then he fell silent. He, too, had sensed the tension that was suddenly almost palpable.

‘It’s great hair,’ Mike said, with a long, hard stare at Cal. Then he recovered. A bit. ‘OK.’ He stared at CJ for another long moment—and then turned back to Gina. ‘You said your name is Gina? I’m assuming you’re a doctor?’ Cal had been working with her as an equal and her medical training must have been obvious.

‘That’s right. I’m a cardiologist from the States.’ But Gina was hardly concentrating on what she was saying. She was still watching Cal.

‘Then let’s get this birth site checked, shall we?’ Mike said, taking charge because neither of the two doctors seemed capable of taking charge of anything. ‘There are questions that need answers all over the place here.’ He directed another long, hard stare at Cal—and then he took another look at CJ. ‘So maybe we’d better start working on them right now.’



The flight back to Crocodile Creek was fast. They put CJ in the passenger seat next to Mike—helicopter copilot was a small boy’s dream—and Gina and Cal were left in the back to tend to the baby.

But there was scarcely room for both of them to work, and for the moment there was little enough for both to do. It was Gina who opted out, Gina who sank into a seat and harnessed herself in for the ride and Gina who said, ‘He’s your patient, Cal.’

Which was fine, Cal thought as he monitored the little one, adjusting the oxygen rate, listening to the baby’s heart, fighting to keep him stable.

The baby was his patient.

Gina’s son was…was…

Hell, he couldn’t take it in. It was overwhelming. The sight of the little boy had knocked him so hard he still felt as if he’d been punched.

How could Gina have borne a child—his child?—and not told him?

Could it be a mistake? Was he jumping to conclusions? Somewhere there was a husband. He knew that. A husband with coiled red hair the same as his? And eyes that looked like his?

He glanced across at Gina. She looked older, he thought. Much, much older than the last time he’d seen her.

He remembered the first time he’d seen her. She’d just arrived in Townsville, a young doctor from the States come to try her hand at Outback medicine. She’d been thin—almost too thin—her green eyes almost too big for her pinched, white face, and with her riot of deep brown curls tied back in a casual knot that had accentuated her pallor. He’d thought she seemed too young, too frail to take on the job she had applied for.

But over the year she’d been with the Remote Rescue Service, she’d proved him wrong. She’d fast become an important member of the service. She gave her all. She’d thrown herself into her work with total enthusiasm and skill. With basic training in cardiology, she’d proved an indispensable member of their team, and the rest of the doctors had only been able to wonder what had driven her from her high-powered training to life in far north Queensland.

‘I had a relationship that didn’t work out. It was…a bit of a drama.’ It was all anyone had been able to get from her. She didn’t talk about her past.

But finally she did talk, though still not of her background. As they’d worked together over the ensuing months, the pinched, wan look had disappeared and she’d blossomed. She’d gained weight, her eyes had lost their haunted look and had filled with life and laughter, and she’d brought life and joy to…

To his world.

He’d thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

He glanced again at her now. Her hands were clasped on her knees. She was staring straight ahead, unseeing.

She seemed haunted again, he thought. She was too damned thin again. The bloodstained clothes made her look like the victim of some disaster, and he had a sudden feeling that she’d look like that even without them.

He didn’t know her, he thought bleakly. He had no idea what was happening behind that blank mask. She’d walked away from him five years ago and he hadn’t seen her since. His only phone call had elicited a brutal response.

‘I’m married, Cal. My husband needs me. Absolutely. I can’t talk to you any more.’

Married. Married.

He needed to concentrate on his job. His fingers were lying lightly against the baby’s neck, monitoring his vital signs by touch as well as by sight, but there was still time and still room for him to look at her again. She wasn’t looking at him. She was staring down at her hands. She was wearing a plain gold wedding ring. Her fingers had clenched to white.

Why had she come?

Questions. There were questions everywhere. But for now only one mattered, he told himself.

Would this little one live?

He dragged his eyes away from Gina, back to the baby.

Needful or not, he’d continue to monitor him by sight, he decided. And by every other sense—because there was no way he could bear to look at Gina.

And he hardly dared to as much as glance at the little boy sitting next to Mike in the copilot’s seat.

Questions. Too many questions.

They scared him to death.



CJ was fantastic.

Over and over Gina how thought how lucky she’d been to have a little boy who demanded so little. CJ lived in his own small world, where his imagination ran riot. His requirements from his mother were for security and for hugs and for the basic necessities of life, but as long as those were provided whenever required, he was prepared to accept the assorted childminders he’d met in his short life. He even welcomed them as a wider audience for his incredible stories.

Now, as the helicopter landed at Crocodile Creek and the baby was wheeled into the hospital, as the emergency team sprang into action, Cal motioned to one of the nurses to take care of him.

‘Gina’s a doctor,’ he said briefly—brusquely. ‘She’s a cardiologist, right when we need one most. We need her help with the baby. Grace, can you find someone to take care of Gina’s little boy?’

‘Sure.’ Grace, a young nurse with a wide smile, held out her hand to CJ and beamed a welcome. ‘I hear you guys have been out at the rodeo. Did you see many horses?’

‘I saw lots of horses,’ CJ told her, ready to be friendly.

‘Will you tell me about them while we find you some juice and some cake? Come to the kitchen. Mrs Grubb is making chocolate cake and she loves hearing about horses. If we’re lucky, I think there might even be an icing bowl to lick.’

CJ was sold. He cast an enquiring glance at his mother for approval, then tucked his hand into Grace’s and disappeared cakewards.

‘He’s a great kid,’ Mike said as the paramedic wheeled the trolley through into Paediatrics, and Gina gave him a glance that she hoped was grateful.

She looked back at Cal. There was no gratitude there. His face was set and stern.

Maybe she should have phoned him four years ago.

Or not.

Maybe she shouldn’t be here now.

If she hadn’t been here now, this baby would be dead.

‘We need an echocardiogram,’ Cal said. He hadn’t paused as they moved through the hospital. He was intent only on the baby. Or he acted as if he was intent only on the baby.

‘You said you don’t have a cardiologist? No one with cardiology training?’

‘No.’

‘A paediatrician?’

‘Hamish is on leave. We’re trying to contact him now.’

‘We’re dead short of doctors,’ Mike said, and smiled, but then his smile faded a little. ‘There’s been a couple of…disasters. Just lucky you’re here, huh?’

‘I guess,’ she said dubiously, and cast an uncertain look at Cal. His face said there was no luck about it.

But she couldn’t look at his face. She needed to focus. This baby needed skills that she possessed.



He certainly did.

When the results of the echocardiograph were in front of her she felt her heart sink. Any thoughts she had of flying out of this place tonight were completely gone.

‘It’s pulmonary stenosis.’

With the stethoscope she’d been able to hear the characteristic heart murmur at the left upper chest. That and the fast heart rate had made her fairly sure what was causing the cyanosis. And now… Her fears were confirmed. There was a huge pressure difference between the right ventricle and the pulmonary artery. Blood flowing in one direction and unable to escape fast enough in the other. Recipe for catastrophe.

‘We can’t risk transfer to Brisbane,’ Cal said slowly—reluctantly. ‘We’ll lose him.’

‘What’s happening?’ Mike asked. He’d come in and watched as they worked, but he’d been on the sidelines. Another nurse was there now—a woman in her thirties who’d been introduced as Jill Shaw, the director of nursing. Jill was wheeling the baby back under the nursery lights, with instructions to keep warming, keep monitoring breathing, while the three of them were left staring at the results.

‘We operate,’ Gina said, staring down at her fingers as if there were some sort of easy answer to be read there. There wasn’t. They really needed a paediatric cardiologist, but the nearest available would be in Brisbane and to transfer the baby…

They would have had to if she hadn’t been here. They’d have been forced to. Cal was an excellent general surgeon, she thought, and his additional physician training made him a wonderful all-rounder in this place where multi-skills were vital. She knew that. Cal’s skills were one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place.

But the operation for pulmonary stenosis on such a tiny child…

The heart valve they’d be working on—the pulmonary valve—was thin, even in adults. Composed of three coverlets, like leaflets, it opened in the direction of the blood flow. With pulmonary stenosis those leaflets were blocked or malformed in some way. In the baby’s case it was a major blockage. His heart was being forced to work far too hard to force blood through.

What she needed to do was to perform a balloon pulmonary valvuloplasty—a tricky manoeuvre even in adults—forcing the valve to open. With babies this size…

She’d normally advise waiting, she thought bleakly. She’d normally advise keeping him on oxygen. She’d try and get him fitter, older. She’d operate at a few weeks.

To operate on such a newborn…

But this was no minor blockage.

‘Do you have the equipment?’ she asked. ‘I’d need to monitor catheters by fluoroscopy.’

‘I’d imagine we have all you need,’ Cal told her. ‘Simon, the cardiologist who’s just left, had the place well set up for heart surgery.’

Gina nodded. She’d worked with this service before, and she’d expected this answer.

Many of the population around Crocodile Creek would be indigenous Australians, and she knew from experience how reluctant they were to leave their people. For a tribal elder to come to Crocodile Creek for an operation would be hugely stressful, but here at least here they could still be surrounded by their own. To be flown to Brisbane, where there was no one of their tribe and no one spoke their language, was often tantamount to killing them. The cultural shock was simply too great for them to handle.

That would be part of the reason Crocodile Creek would be set up so well, she knew. This base would do surgery which would normally only be done in the big teaching hospitals. Death rates would be higher because of it, but the population would accept it. The doctors involved had to accept it.

But this doctor in particular didn’t have to like it.

‘So we have no paediatrician and no cardiologist.’

‘We’re not normally this short-staffed,’ Cal told her. ‘We’ve had a couple of dramas.’

He sounded defensive, she thought. Good. It stopped her thinking about all sorts of things she should be defensive about.

‘Do you have an obstetrician?’

‘Georgie’s mother died last week. She’s flown down to Sydney with her little boy, and we don’t want to pull her back unless we have to. She had back-up—Kirsty was an obs and gynae registrar—but there was a bit of a dust-up and Kirsty and Simon left in a hurry. Emotional stuff.’

‘Emotional stuff?’ she demanded, astonished, and he looked even more discomfited.

‘Um, yeah. We don’t need to go there.’

Of course not. When had he ever?

But she had a baby to take care of. Cal’s emotional entanglement, or lack of it, had to wait.

Mike was waiting for her to make a decision. He was looking interested—as interested in the chemistry between them as he was in the baby—and that made her flush. She remembered how intimate working in this sort of environment could be. She even remembered enjoying it, but she didn’t relish the questions she saw forming in Mike’s eyes now.

‘I’ll wait for an hour and reassess,’ she said, trying to make her voice calm and professional. ‘We need to get him fully warmed and make sure the shock of delivery has worn off. Maybe once he’s settled we might get better circulation.’

‘But probably not,’ Cal said.

‘No,’ she said heavily. ‘Probably not.’

‘So Gina’ll need to stay.’ Mike wasn’t sure what was going on—his eyes were still asking questions—but he was certainly prepared to be friendly while he found out. He gave Cal a rueful smile. ‘Just lucky we have plenty of room in the doctors’ quarters, eh?’

Cal’s face tightened. ‘She can’t stay in the doctors’ quarters.’

‘Why not?’ Mike was confused.

‘I’ll stay in town,’ Gina said hurriedly, but Mike shook his head. He was obviously a skilled paramedic, accustomed to making hard decisions, fast decisions, and he made one now.

‘No way. I’m sorry, Gina, but this baby is sick.’ He cast a dubious glance at Cal—as if he thought Cal might just be losing his mind. ‘We all know this baby’s high risk. It seems to me that we need our cardiologist on hand, right here. Wouldn’t you say, Cal?’

‘Of course.’ The words were tight and blunt. Cal turned away to pack equipment and Mike shook his head at his friend. He was obviously still confused.

‘Cal’s being a bore,’ he told Gina, with another dubious glance at his friend. ‘He’s tired. Too much work. But there’s plenty of us around here who are gentlemen.’ He tried a smile. ‘Especially me.’ He waited to see if he’d teased a reaction from Cal, but a reaction wasn’t anywhere in sight. ‘OK.’ He sighed. ‘Let’s find your son and find you a bedroom.’

‘I’ll stay here and monitor the baby,’ Cal told them, still without turning around.

‘Of course,’ Mike said politely. ‘How did I know you were going to say that?’

‘The baby needs monitoring.’

‘Of course he does, Dr Jamieson,’ Mike agreed. He compressed his lips in disapproval and then he turned to Gina. ‘OK. There’s obviously just me being a gentleman, but I’m all yours. Take me or leave me.’



Charles entered the nursery silently, wheeling his chair across the smooth linoleum until he came to rest against the incubator under the overhead lights. Cal was gazing down at the baby and, seeing the look of his face, Charles thought, Uh-oh.

‘Will we lose him?’

Cal turned and stared, almost unseeingly, down at his friend.

‘I don’t know. He has a chance.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Gina’s here.’

‘I heard.’ Charles hesitated. He’d met Gina before, just the once. He’d been astounded by the change the relationship had wrought on his reserved friend, and when it had gone pear-shaped he’d felt ill. Now Mike had given him a quick update on what was happening, and he was even more concerned. He’d suspected Cal’s past would catch up with him sooner or later but, damn, he didn’t want him to be presented with it now.

From a selfish point of view they were too many doctors down already. He couldn’t afford to have another of his staff in emotional crisis.

‘Are you coping?’ he asked, and Cal shrugged.

‘I’m coping. You’ve seen the kid?’

‘I’ve seen the little boy, yes.’

‘Dammit, Charles, he looks like me.’

‘Could you be his father?’

It was a direct question and it jolted Cal. He stared at the question from all sides and there was only one answer.

‘Yeah,’ he said heavily. ‘I could.’

‘And that makes you feel—how?’

‘How do you suppose it makes me feel?’ Cal turned and faced his friend square on. ‘If it’s true… She got pregnant and left? Went back to the States to her husband?’ He closed his eyes. ‘Hell, Charles, I don’t want to think about it. I can’t think. I don’t have time. We need to get this baby viable. He needs urgent surgery and we’re stuck with Gina to do it. No one else has the skills.’

He stared down into the crib and his mouth twisted. ‘We’ll do the best for him, poor little scrap. He’s been abandoned, too. People…they play games. They have kids for all sorts of reasons. Who knows what the reason is behind this little one and who knows what the reason is behind the child who’s out in Mrs Grubb’s kitchen, waiting for his mother to take him home? I can’t face any of it. Just… Let’s stick to medicine. It’s all I know. It’s all I want to know.’

There was a moment’s silence. Move on, Cal willed Charles, and finally he seemed to decide that was all there was to do.

‘Emily will do the anaesthetic,’ Charles said mildly, his voice carefully neutral, not giving away any of the anxiety that someone who knew him well could detect behind his eyes. ‘She’s contacting a paediatric colleague in the city who’ll stay on the phone throughout. Do you want to assist, or will I find someone else?’

‘Who?’ He was the only surgeon, and both of them knew it. But he shrugged. ‘It’s OK. I want to assist.’

‘So you can bear to be in the same room as her?’

‘I thought I loved her,’ Cal said heavily. ‘Once. I was a fool—but sure I can stay in the same room as her. I need to be able to. If that’s really my son…’ His voice trailed off.

‘Well, let’s get on with it,’ Charles said, and there was still heavy anxiety behind his eyes. ‘We need to save this life. For now, Cal, that’s all we can think about.’




CHAPTER THREE


SHE was good.

There was no doubting Dr Gina Lopez’s skill. Cal could only watch and wonder.

Not that there was much time for wondering. To operate on a child so young, to insert catheters into such a tiny heart, putting pressure on the faulty valve—that was something that in an adult heart would be tricky but in this pint-sized scrap of humanity seemed impossible.

Emily, the anaesthetist, was at the limits of her capability as well. This procedure should be done by an anaesthetist specialising in paediatrics, but Emily was all they had. She was sweating as she worked, as she monitored the tiny heartbeat, treading the fine line of not enough anaesthetic, or too much and straining this little body past more than it could bear.

Jill, the director of nursing and their most skilled Theatre nurse, was assisting Emily. She was sweating as well.

It was Cal who assisted Gina.

He watched her fingers every step of the way, trying to figure what she was doing, trying to anticipate so there was no delay between her need for a piece of equipment and the time she had it. He was organising, swabbing, waiting for the pauses in her finger movements to reach forward and clear the way for her. Holding things steady. Watching the monitor when she couldn’t, guiding her with his voice, and holding catheters steady when she had to focus on the monitor herself.

Grace, their second nurse, was behind him, and she was anticipating as hard as he was.

There was so much need here. Something about this tiny wrinkled newborn had touched them all.

They needed him to live.

They willed him to live.

All that stood between him and death was Gina.

They were lucky that she was here, Cal thought grimly as he helped her painstakingly introduce her catheters from the groin, monitoring herself every inch of the way. No matter why she’d returned after all these years—she’d been in the right place at the right time and this baby could live because of it.

Maybe.

‘He’s bleeding too much,’ she muttered into the stillness, motioning with her eyes to the catheter entry site. ‘There has to be an underlying problem.’

‘Haemophilia?’ Cal asked, and she shook her head.

‘I don’t think so. It’d be worse. But it’s not right. The cord bled too much and we’re having trouble here. I want tests. A clotting profile, please, including full blood examination, bleeding time and factor eight levels. Fast.’

‘What are we looking for?’

‘I don’t have time to think. You think. Something.’

He went back to sorting tubing, his mind moving into over-drive. Sifting the facts. She was right. The bleeding was far more severe than it should be. They were fighting to maintain blood pressure.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/marion-lennox/his-secret-love-child-42441266/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.