Fake Fiancée to Forever?
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Sue MacKay
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PROLOGUE
TILDA SIMMONS BLINKED. A bright light shone on her eyes. ‘Go away,’ she muttered.
‘Hello, Matilda. I’m Toby, a nurse. You’ve been in an accident.’
Her head was throbbing something awful. ‘I remember. I think.’ Hadn’t she lost control of the car on black ice while driving to work? Slammed into a brick wall or something?
‘You’ve been sleeping since coming up from Recovery to the general ward after having surgery to your face. The surgeon will explain everything as soon as he’s free.’
Hence the headache. ‘Thanks.’ The nurse wouldn’t give her the details. Not his job.
Toby continued. ‘Tell me the pain level in your head.’
One to ten, with ten being the worst. ‘Six.’
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but only said, ‘I’ve got strong analgesics here that the plastic surgeon insists you’re to take now you’re on the ward.’
In other words, this nurse would make sure she swallowed them, and didn’t ignore them.
‘I understand. To be honest, I’m happy to have the relief. I feel woozy.’ The after-effects of anaesthesia were clouding her mind a little. A new state for her, but as a theatre nurse she’d seen it happen more often than she could recall.
‘Glad to hear it.’
Hang on. ‘Did you say plastic surgeon?’ That meant tissue damage and scarring. On her head? Her face? ‘What happened? Am I all right?’ Was she going to look like something that scared the pants off little kids? A breath stuck in her throat. She sucked in hard, coughed out, aggravating her tender throat. Breathed in again, ignoring the increased pounding behind her eyes.
‘Easy.’ Toby touched her upper arm. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. You’ve been lucky. The wound is on the side of your face by the hairline. Not to mention your surgeon is one of the best.’ He was watching her closely, no doubt keeping an eye on her vital signs. ‘You’re in Western General Hospital, by the way.’
‘What’s wrong with me?’ Panic struck. She was a nurse, so she should know what was going on. Shouldn’t she?
Again the nurse’s firm hand pressed her upper arm. ‘Steady. You’ve had a knock to the head. This is a normal reaction to shock and surgery.’
True. She nodded and pain stabbed behind her eyes. ‘Can you break the rules and tell me what my injuries are?’ For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what she’d been told before being carted off to Theatre. Probably nothing too detailed at that point, if she was even conscious.
‘Think this is where I come in.’ A man stepped around the nurse. ‘I’m Gary Cook, your plastic surgeon today.’ Standing beside the narrow bed, he continued. ‘It appears that your head hit the steering wheel and the side of your left cheek split wide open. I’ve put everything back together with layers of suturing. Your forehead also needed stitching. Your left clavicle’s fractured but according to the orthopaedic surgeon who read your X-ray earlier you don’t need surgery for that. Time and rest will take care of it. From your GCS I’d say you’ve got severe concussion so no partying for a few weeks.’
Fat chance of that even if she wasn’t in here. James didn’t like her going out and enjoying herself with friends. So her Glasgow Coma Score had been low. ‘How low?’
‘Four. But it’s normal now. You came through surgery without a hitch. From here on it’s all about getting better. I’m recommending you stay in hospital for at least two nights, but we’ll monitor you before that’s a definite.’
Right now this was all too much to take in.
‘Thank you.’ Her eyes were closing of their own volition and she couldn’t find the energy to raise her eyelids again. She’d prefer to do without the after-effects from surgery, but it seemed she’d stuffed up driving and this was the price. An image of racing towards a brick wall filled her head. Something like a groan fell over her lips. It could’ve been a lot worse. A hell of a lot worse.
‘You’re safe, Matilda.’ The nurse touched her hand.
The next thing she was aware of was waking again with a monitor beeping somewhere behind her head.
Toby had a blood pressure cuff around her arm. ‘Welcome back, Matilda.’
‘Hi,’ Tilda managed. From now on she’d try not to be so damned cheery with her patients. It seemed a bit OTT while lying here feeling utterly useless.
‘One to ten, with ten the worst, what’s the pain level in your head?’
Twelve. ‘Seven.’
‘I’ll talk to the duty surgeon and see if we can give you something stronger for that. In the meantime, do you want a drink of water?’
Her mouth was a desert. ‘Please.’
‘I’ll go get it. I’ll also tell your husband he can come in. He’s pacing the floor of the waiting room, desperate to see you. He’s not happy we wouldn’t let him in until you woke up, but as you’ll know sleep’s the most important thing for you right now.’
James was here? When he’d been heading to Banff for business? When he’d left in a foul mood because she hadn’t picked up his dry-cleaning yesterday?
‘How long ago did I crash?’
‘Roughly four hours.’
So James had turned around to come back and see her. After the massive argument they’d had she half expected him to have stayed away on purpose. Her heart softened. They mightn’t agree on much these days but he had returned home to see her. Something was going right.
‘You wrecked my car.’ James stood at the end of the bed, glaring at her. ‘It’s ruined. After all the hard work I put in to get it up to speed and looking the best on the road, you go and drive it into a wall.’
Forget it. They weren’t getting on. Why had she thought they might? Those days were long gone.
‘It was an accident, James,’ she said wearily. ‘I struck black ice.’ Nothing wrong with her memory after all—unfortunately.
‘So what? If you can’t handle a powerful car then you shouldn’t have been driving. Don’t you even care about what you’ve done?’
Didn’t he care about her and if she was going to be all right?
‘I am sorry.’ She truly was because he loved that car, but she’d also like some recognition as his wife, who he was also supposed to love. She wasn’t just some woman who’d crashed his favourite vehicle.
‘Sorry?’ he yelled. ‘You think that makes everything all right? You stupid woman. Sorry doesn’t begin to cover it.’
‘Go away, James. I don’t need this right now.’ Proof that he really didn’t love her enough. Not enough to be worried after a serious accident had landed her in hospital anyway. ‘Go.’
Lachlan couldn’t believe what he was hearing from the room where a woman was recovering from surgery. What sort of man would tear strips off his wife in that situation? Or at any time. Not once had the guy asked how she was feeling. He hadn’t shown even a hint of concern. To Lachlan, it seemed to be all about the car.
Leaping up from the desk, he strode across to the room where the woman lay looking upset. Along with tired and defeated. Quite a sorry picture. ‘Excuse me, Mr Simmons?’
‘Who wants to know?’
‘James, quieten down, will you?’ Matilda Simmons gasped.
Lachlan intervened before the guy started ranting again. ‘I’m Lachlan McRae, another plastic surgeon on the ward,’ he told the distressed woman. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your husband.’ The whole ward probably had.
‘James’ surname is Connell, not Simmons.’
‘Mr Connell, your wife’s had serious surgery this morning. She needs to rest.’ He paused, waiting for the guy to ask how she was and how the op had gone.
‘Hope you knew what you were doing. Her face looks terrible.’
For the first time in his career, Lachlan wanted to plant his fist in someone’s face—this man’s in particular, so he’d feel the pain his wife was dealing with. It took a long, deep breath to keep his anger at bay.
‘I didn’t perform the procedure but I know there’ll be scarring for some time to come, but long-term Matilda will barely see where she’s been injured.’ Yes, he did add emphasis to ‘injured’ because someone had to get through to this man that his wife had been seriously wounded.
‘Think you could put my car back together in the same condition it was when I left home this morning?’ Connell was yelling again, glaring at his wife.
She winced, embarrassment now the most obvious emotion on her bruised face. ‘James, shut up,’ she whispered.
‘What? You don’t want people knowing what an idiot you’ve been?’
Lachlan watched the patient roll carefully onto her side, her back to her husband, and he said, ‘Mr Connell, I have to ask you to leave now. Your wife needs to rest,’ he repeated a little louder than before.
‘I’ll stay as long as I want,’ the man shouted. Was this his only way of making a point? To shout so loudly everyone within a hundred metres heard?
‘Please stop yelling. There are other patients in need of quiet. This is a hospital. People are here because they’re unwell. We do not tolerate behaviour like yours, Mr Connell.’ Now he was raving. His anger was unusual. Something about his patient’s vulnerability had him wanting to protect her from more than a damaged face. ‘I am advising you to go. Now.’
‘Need a hand in here?’ Toby stood in the doorway. A large man with shoulders like a brick wall, he could make people quiver with a stare should he feel the need. He was also the gentlest nurse on the surgical ward.
‘I think we’re fine. Mr Connell was just leaving.’
Absolute silence fell. All eyes were on the husband. Even Matilda had turned just enough to see what her husband did. She appeared to be holding her breath.
‘See you later.’ The man stomped out of the room as Toby stepped aside.
Lachlan’s chest rose and fell normally and the tension in his gut eased. ‘Thanks, Toby.’
‘You had it under control.’ The nurse came into the room, speaking softly. ‘Matilda, I’m back to harass you. How’re you feeling? Pain level?’
‘Five,’ she uttered. ‘I’m good. Truly. I’m a nurse and know about these things.’
‘Where do you work?’ Lachlan asked. He didn’t recognise her, but then her face was swollen and bruised.
‘I’m a theatre nurse at St Michael’s, Gastown.’
‘That’ll be why we haven’t come across each other then. I don’t do ops there.’
‘It’s a good crew there.’ She was fading. Everything catching up with her once more?
‘Anything I can get you?’ he asked, wanting to help any way he could.
‘My phone?’
Toby spoke up. ‘If it’s in your bag which is on the bedside table then you’re in luck. The paramedic found it in the car and brought it in with you.’
Lachlan stepped closer. ‘Like me to pass you the bag?’ He didn’t want her moving any more than necessary. And he wanted to offer her a hand getting what she required. Which at the moment didn’t include a ranting husband. Instead she needed to relax and sleep off the shock resulting from the accident.
‘Can you get my phone out?’ She managed a wobbly smile. ‘There’s nothing in there that’ll bite, I promise.’
Her smile nudged him on the inside. Which shouldn’t happen. This woman was a patient, no more, no less. But he was still angry at the way her husband had treated her so could be he was being a little soft.
‘Good to know, since I need my fingers for work.’ Delving into a woman’s handbag seemed a bit like stepping onto a minefield. Not that he’d ever done that, but when he’d worked in the States he’d put a soldier’s hand back together who had, and triggered a small bomb as he did so. ‘Here you go.’
He handed the phone to Matilda before stepping out of the room, where he sucked in a lungful, then let it go. No one should be abused by a loved one. The way Connell spoke to his wife was appalling. While she was still recovering from surgery and shock, at that. He leaned against the wall, eyes closed, and breathed out his bad mood. Time to move on. The woman’s relationship woes were not his problem.
Suddenly he was thinking of Kelly, his late wife. Not once had he spoken to her like Connell had to Matilda. The man should be holding onto his wife for dear life. He had no idea how lucky he was she’d survived. Four years ago when a driver fell asleep at the wheel of his car and drove into Kelly, she’d died instantly. His arms had felt empty ever since. An emptiness he doubted would ever be filled again.
‘Janet? It’s me, Tilda.’
Lachlan straightened at the sound of the distressed voice coming from the room behind him.
‘I’m in hospital. I had an accident on the way to work.’ Pause. ‘I’m all right. Promise.’ Pause. ‘Because I had surgery on my face.’ A longer pause. When she spoke next her voice was full of tears. ‘I can’t take any more, Janet. I’ve tried and tried to be good enough for him.’
Lachlan hissed air over his bottom teeth. Love had been easy for him and Kelly. From day one, they’d had each other’s backs and both their plans for the future and their hearts had been completely in sync.
In the room behind him Matilda was getting worked up. ‘When I get out of here, can I stay with you for a while? Just until I find my own place. I’m done with James.’
Lachlan walked away before he heard any more. Matilda Simmons seemed to be moving on from her marriage, but that might only be temporary. She had yet to get over what had happened earlier in the day, and right now her mind would be all over the place. Whatever she did, it was none of his business.
