Breaking the Single Mom's Rules
Autor:in
JC Harroway
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CHAPTER ONE
DR KAT COLLINS liked nothing better than a good to-do list and the accompanying sense of achievement when she crossed off each completed item. Sadly, when it came to patients, reaching the end of that list was impossible, as her first day in the emergency department at Gulf Harbour Hospital was proving.
Thanks to a boating accident out in Auckland’s Waitematā Harbour, where many of the occupants hadn’t been wearing life jackets, the ER had admitted three near-drowning victims. In addition, the city’s largest sports stadium was host to an international rugby final, which brought in a constant stream of buoyant and boisterous casualties, many of them highly inebriated, loud and obnoxious. And, of course, neither of those events interrupted the everyday flow of people suffering from broken bones, chest pain or respiratory illnesses.
For Kat, dealing with the extensive backlog of patients in both the resuscitation room and the minor injuries clinic helped to take her mind off her daughter, Lucy, who was currently partway through her first day at school. Heading for her next patient—a seventy-seven-year-old woman who had taken a fall at home that morning—Kat calculated that the new entrants’ class of five-year-olds would be having morning tea right about then. A twinge of maternal worry tightened her chest. She loved her job, found the diversity and challenge of Accident and Emergency work varied and rewarding, but as a single parent working full-time she couldn’t be in two places at once and was rarely free of parental guilt.
Would Lucy have made any friends? Did she like her lovely teacher, Mrs Alder? Would Kat need to answer the dreaded question about why Lucy’s family only had a mum and no dad?
Swallowing down that pang of inadequacy that always accompanied thoughts of how she’d chosen the wrong man to father her beloved little girl, and that she not only carried all of the parental responsibility for Lucy but the financial responsibility too, Kat scanned her next patient’s ambulance summary as she left the minor injuries area in search of Mrs Gibbs.
As she passed she smiled at one or two of the other staff, including her new boss and Head of Department, Lauren Harvey. Her colleagues were so friendly and welcoming, making Kat feel like a valued member of the team.
For several minutes Kat scoured the department for her patient. Every corner of the chaotic ER was overflowing with people. Less urgent patients on stretchers even lined the corridors outside the ER’s main treatment rooms, which was where Kat finally located Mrs Gibbs.
Kat approached the frail woman, noting that her eyes were closed, marvelling that she’d managed to nod off on a hard stretcher amid all of the noise and activity. Someone had covered her with a blanket, so all that was visible was her pale and gaunt face.
Kat checked the time on the admissions slip before waking the elderly woman, her frustration mounting to discover the poor lady had been waiting for over four hours to be seen. Kat winced, hating the unsatisfactory parts of her job. In an ideal world there would be enough beds and staff for all of the patients. But in reality limited staff and an unknown, ever-changing and potentially infinite waiting list of patients meant that delays were inevitable.
Gently resting a hand on Mrs Gibbs’ shoulder, Kat woke her from a light snooze.
‘Mrs Gibbs, sorry to startle you. I’m Dr Collins, one of the ER doctors.’ She smiled her most reassuring smile, the one usually reserved for Lucy when she cried over a scraped knee or asked tricky questions about her father.
‘Oh, that’s okay, Doctor,’ said Mrs Gibbs. ‘I just closed my eyes for a second.’ The woman struggled to sit upright.
Kat stilled her. ‘Just relax for a few minutes while I ask you some questions.’ Of course Kat would need to examine the patient, but she couldn’t do that in a draughty corridor with no privacy.
‘Thank you, dear.’ Mrs Gibbs patted Kat’s hand.
Her fingers were cold. Kat tucked the blanket up to the woman’s chin, concealing her dissatisfaction with the system. She understood that no hospital was perfect, that accidents happened, placing enormous strain on already stretched resources, but she hated seeing vulnerable patients languishing in corridors. The sooner she could assess Mrs Gibbs and either admit her or send her home, the better.
‘Tell me what’s brought you in to see us today,’ said Kat, taking the woman’s radial pulse and reviewing the observations the paramedics had charted during the ambulance ride.
‘Well, it’s like I told that other lovely doctor,’ Mrs Gibbs said. ‘My feet got tangled around my neighbour’s cat, you see, dear. He always comes to me first thing in the morning for breakfast, and I tripped over him and fell. Such a silly thing to do.’
Kat sympathised. As a cat owner herself, she could clearly envision the scene. But something about the story snagged her attention.
‘What other doctor?’ asked Kat, scrolling through the notes in case Mrs Gibbs had already been assessed by one of her ER colleagues.
‘That one.’ Mrs Gibbs pointed at someone over Kat’s shoulder, her smile turning ever so slightly adoring.
Kat turned and spied Nash Grady, the department’s clinical nurse specialist, who was currently taking blood from another patient further down the corridor.
‘Oh, he’s not a doctor,’ Kat explained, relieved to clear up the simple mistake. ‘That’s Nash. He’s our clinical nurse specialist.’
She’d met him briefly at the start of her shift, his easygoing, friendly smile causing a flood of unprecedented curiosity she’d assumed was long ago deceased, not for resuscitation, another casualty of her last relationship with Lucy’s father, Henry. She just hoped that the smile she’d offered Nash in return had been less obvious than the one currently worn by Mrs Gibbs.
With a master’s degree in nursing, Nash could assess patients and even prescribe treatment. And as most of the ER staff wore scrubs it was no surprise that patients sometimes struggled to distinguish who was who, especially when their eyesight prevented them from clearly reading name badges. And with his tall and broad-chested physique and dark hair, Nash certainly carried off the scrubs spectacularly.
‘That’s the one.’ Mrs Gibbs nodded, her expression dreamy. ‘Lovely man. Very kind. He reminds me of my son.’
Observing the man who’d inspired Mrs Gibbs’ devotion, Kat’s rusty, battle-scarred libido stuttered to life. In that second, with both women staring his way, Nash looked up and locked eyes with Kat. A small smile twitched his lips, his expression tinged with a warmth and charm that made Kat suspicious. Closing her mouth, she hurriedly turned away.
‘Let’s move you somewhere private so I can examine you,’ Kat said, mildly flustered from ogling the sexy nurse, who seemed to be friendly with everyone.
With her life full to the brim with her job, her daughter and the gratitude she owed to her parents, Kat had neither the time nor the inclination for work friends, especially when they came packaged as the department’s charismatic, laid-back hottie.
She’d been fool enough to fall for Henry’s lure—the biggest mistake of her life. Not that she regretted the wonderful gift that was her darling Lucy, but for her daughter’s sake she wished that she’d chosen a partner with a little more care, one interested in being more than a sperm donor.
Ignoring the sensation of heat on the back of her neck as she unlocked the wheels of the stretcher and pushed Mrs Gibbs past Nash, Kat reaffirmed that relationships and love were for the naive and deluded. And if her personal life lacked a certain sizzle, that was why romance novels and battery-operated toys existed.
She wheeled the cumbersome stretcher to the nearest freed-up examination cubicle, locking the wheels and drawing the privacy curtains. The medication chart showed that Nash had indeed seen Mrs Gibbs and prescribed some analgesia.
‘I need to have a look at this sore leg of yours, Mrs Gibbs,’ Kat said. ‘Are you feeling comfortable enough for me to move you a little?’
Mrs Gibbs nodded. ‘Yes, Doctor. The pain’s not too bad now.’
‘I’ll examine your hip, and order an X-ray, just to be safe, although there might be a bit more of a wait, I’m afraid.’
Kat was about to raise the blanket from the patient’s legs to begin her examination, when a hospital porter poked his head through the curtains.
‘Is this Mrs Gibbs?’ he said with a cheery smile that seemed to be the number one job requirement. ‘I’m here to take you to the orthopaedic ward.’
Kat frowned. ‘Hold on,’ she said, confused. ‘I haven’t referred Mrs Gibbs to Orthopaedics. I haven’t even examined her. She needs an X-ray and—’
The curtains swished aside once more and Nash appeared, flicking his bright reassuring smile Mrs Gibbs’ way.
‘Are you causing more trouble?’ Nash asked the patient with a wink, clearly joking around in a way that made Mrs Gibbs giggle and Kat want to fan her face.
He moved to the patient’s side opposite Kat and adjusted her pillows so she appeared more comfortable, his small considerations second nature in the way of all great nurses.
She’d bet he was universally adored by the patients.
‘There seems to be some sort of mix-up,’ Kat said, her stare swooping from Nash to the hospital porter, who was already raising the side of Mrs Gibbs’ stretcher in preparation for wheeling her from the ER and up to Orthopaedics. A niggle of irritation sent prickles down Kat’s spine. She was losing control of this consultation before it had even properly begun.
‘Mix-up?’ Nash asked, smiling down at Mrs Gibbs before levelling his gaze on Kat.
Her heart began to gallop now that she was trapped in the focus of the man responsible for the first pulse of attraction she’d experienced in over five years.
But her job was the only area in her life where she felt in control. The rest—being so thoroughly betrayed by Henry, being forced to raise Lucy alone, watching the consequences of her mistake unfold and affect the people she loved most—were circumstances that had been thrust upon her and therefore only added to her sense that she was doing things badly.
Swallowing the irrelevant thrill of excitement coursing through her body, she gripped the rail of the stretcher. ‘I know it’s my first day—’ she directed her comments to Nash ‘—but I’m confused. The notes indicate that I’m the only doctor to see Mrs Gibbs.’
Nash shrugged, unlocking the wheel brakes and pushing the foot of the stretcher away from the wall. ‘You are the only doctor to see Mrs Gibbs, but she’s one of the lucky ones.’ He gave Mrs Gibbs another wide smile. ‘She’ll be spending the night as a VIP guest in Orthopaedics.’
Kat scrabbled around for the missing punchline, her patience wearing thin. ‘I haven’t referred her to Orthopaedics.’ Offering Nash a tight smile, she folded her arms. A mistake, because now she’d lost the game of stretcher tug-of-war.
‘I know,’ Nash said with a casual shrug and then addressed Mrs Gibbs as if the matter was decided. ‘We’ve laid on Graham, the best porter in the whole hospital, to take you to Ward Twenty-Five, where they’ll look after you like a queen or they’ll have me to answer to, okay?’
‘Thanks, dear.’ Mrs Gibbs beamed, both her and Nash oblivious to the tension coiled around Kat like razor wire.
She strived to be good at her job, liked to do things by the book. If there was a different protocol to follow at this hospital she wanted to be informed. His laid-back charm, his rapport with the patients was all very well, but procedures and regulations helped to avoid mistakes.
With a stifled sigh of defeat, Kat watched the porter wheel the patient towards the lifts, throwing a ‘Cheers, Grady’ over his shoulder. Nash swished the curtains fully open and wiped Mrs Gibbs’ name from the whiteboard on the wall, freeing the bay for the next patient.
‘Hold on a second,’ Kat said, following his rapid footfall down the corridor. She refused to be dismissed. ‘We need to talk.’
What on earth was going on? What sort of a place had she come to work in? Were there no rules at all?
‘Can’t it wait?’ Nash said without glancing her way. ‘It’s pretty crazy today and we all have lives we want to get home to at the end of our shifts.’ He logged into the nearest computer and began flicking through some notes.
Kat was certain there would be steam coming out of her ears. ‘I know how busy it is. I work here too, remember. Which is why I’d appreciate an explanation. I was about to examine that patient and send her to X-ray, if needed. I don’t enjoy being professionally undermined.’
‘She’ll have her X-ray from the ward,’ he said, his fingers rapidly typing. ‘And she’ll be much more comfortable there while she waits. I wasn’t undermining you, just thinking about the patient.’
Because he still hadn’t looked up from the screen, because he was acting as if it was okay to throw protocol out of the window as long as he flashed his dazzling smile, she employed her frostiest tone. ‘So, who authorised her admission to Orthopaedics?’
Logging off the computer, he finally turned to face her, sparing her thirty seconds of his undivided attention.
‘I authorised her admission, Dr Collins,’ he said, his tone cool and clipped.
Momentarily distracted by his eyes, which were the colour of chestnuts flecked with gold, Kat reacted to the fact that his relaxed attitude seemed to be slipping.
‘I realise that,’ she said, annoyance now her overriding driver, ‘but—’
He held up a hand, cutting her off. ‘We have two more elderly ladies like Mrs Gibbs who have been waiting just as long, so can I suggest that, for now, we set aside our differences and do our jobs?’
Kat’s jaw dropped. Insufferable man. She’d been trying to do her job when he’d muscled in and done things his own way.
Before she could argue further, he grabbed a stethoscope from the desk. ‘If you still have a problem with my methods, once things have calmed down,’ he said, backing away, leaving Kat in a scented cloud of his delicious aftershave, ‘feel free to take it up with me later.’
Kat most definitely had a problem, but it was too late. He’d already turned his back on her.
‘Welcome to Gulf Harbour, Dr Collins,’ he threw over his shoulder.
All Kat could do was silently fume.
