How to Rescue the Heart Doctor
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Alison Roberts
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PROLOGUE
IT WAS FIVE O’CLOCK in the morning, the staffroom was empty and the full pot of coffee on the automatic percolator was too tempting to resist after the long night that paediatric cardiac surgeon, Anthony Morgan, had just had. A quiet moment to sit down and enjoy a mug of hot, strong coffee was exactly what he needed.
Only seconds later, however, a nurse came in carrying a baby in her arms and he couldn’t blame her for looking so taken aback to see him there.
‘I’m not in your way, am I? I can go...’ He put his mug of coffee down on the low table beside the chair he was sitting in, but somehow he managed to tip its contents onto the pile of folded newspaper on the tabletop. He couldn’t quite stifle his weary groan.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ The tone of the nurse’s voice was kind. ‘That paper’s due to go into the recycle bin anyway. And don’t get up. Please. You look like you need a quiet space even more than Tommy and I do, Mr Morgan.’
‘Please, call me Anthony...’
‘I’m Elsie, I’ve just started recently on this ward. I’ve seen you around before, of course, but not usually at silly o’clock.’
She had a rather lovely smile. She also had silvery grey streaks in her hair that told him she was older than most of the nurses here at St Nick’s.
‘It has been rather a long night,’ Anthony admitted. ‘I’ve been in PICU since midnight with a wee girl who looked like she might not make it. She had a fairly major surgery today and ran into problems with arrhythmias that put her into acute heart failure.’
‘Oh... I’m sorry.’ She was frowning but then looked shocked. ‘It wasn’t Victoria, was it? I knew she was having her surgery yesterday.’ He could see her almost wince as she realised she was stepping over privacy boundaries. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I spent some time talking to Vicky’s mother the last time I was on duty. I’m helping to raise a grandson with spina bifida so we had a connection. And Vicky’s just an adorable little girl. She gives the best cuddles in the world—just like my Felix.’
He was catching undercurrents to her words. She was a grandmother? What was it that made her want to be doing shift work? But he’d been right about the kindness he could hear in her voice. She’d taken the time to connect with not only a young patient but with her family and, with experience of a child with special needs, she would have been able to do that better than most. She also clearly adored her grandson. Anthony found himself smiling. He didn’t have to keep any barriers up. Vicky would hopefully be back on the ward within a very short space of time. This nurse was part of his own team, wasn’t she?
‘She’s okay. She’s a wee fighter. Her cardiologist has got her electrolyte balance sorted now so she may well come onto the ward in the next day or two and you might be able to get another one of those cuddles. Is your grandson the same age?’
‘No, he’s six—a couple of years older. We’ve been through a few surgeries ourselves but nothing as serious as an open-heart procedure.’
‘I’m glad he hasn’t needed it.’ Anthony managed to stifle a yawn. ‘I don’t actually need to be here for Vicky any longer, but if I went home I would no sooner get there than I’d have to turn around and fight my way through rush-hour traffic to come back. I’ve got a full Theatre list this morning so I thought I’d put my feet up here instead. And have a strong coffee.’ He glanced down at the empty mug in his hand. ‘So much for that plan.’
He saw Elsie shift the weight of the baby in her arms, who looked to be soundly asleep. ‘Here...give that to me.’ She held her hand out for the mug. ‘I’m well practised in making a coffee one-handed. Why don’t you put the newspaper in the recycle bin by the fridge?’
‘Sure.’ Anthony started to gather up the sections of the paper.
‘How do you take your coffee?’
‘Black, thanks. No sugar.’
He put the last section of the newspaper on top of the pieces he was already holding. It was the front page, with the banner at the top, a date of a few days ago and a photograph of a rescue helicopter with a backdrop of mountains. There was a man standing beside the stretcher about to be loaded into the aircraft. A hero who’d helped save the life of an injured climber.
Anthony couldn’t look away. He couldn’t even take a breath because it felt as if his chest was being squeezed in a vice. How long had it been since he’d seen this man’s face in real life? Nearly ten years? How long had it been since he’d felt welcome in his life? Probably not since his mother’s funeral even longer ago.
Until he heard her speak, he’d barely registered that Elsie had put a fresh mug of coffee down on the table beside him. Or that she was sitting down herself. Watching him.
‘Do you know him?’ Her voice was soft this time. A little tentative, perhaps. ‘Is he a relative of yours?’
Anthony still didn’t look up from the photograph. He shouldn’t say anything but the words seemed to get torn out of a deep place in his chest.
‘Yeah... Jonathon Morgan is my son.’
Why on earth had he told a complete stranger something that personal? It might be nearly twenty years but he’d never forgotten what it had been like to be the hot topic of gossip on the hospital grapevine.
Anthony dropped the paper and rubbed at his forehead. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured. ‘Maybe the night’s been longer than I realised. I’m quite sure you don’t want to hear about my personal life.’ He pasted a smile on his face. ‘Families, huh?’ He reached for his coffee. ‘They can be complicated, can’t they?’
The sound Elsie made suggested that she had no desire to hear any more about his personal life. Or maybe this had suddenly become awkward because she already knew about that old scandal? Anthony focused on the smell and taste of his coffee to avoid any eye contact.
It was a relief when the baby she was holding woke up and started crying miserably. It was even more of a relief when Elsie got up and excused herself.
Left alone, Anthony drank his coffee, his gaze drifting back to that front page photograph. That tightness in his chest was still there, along with a twinge that felt like a very familiar pain.
So Jonno was back in the country...
The son who wanted nothing to do with him...
Anthony drained his mug and got to his feet. He was ready to deal with this the way he’d dealt with unpleasant emotional issues for far longer than he cared to remember. By focusing on the problems of others that he could potentially fix. Medical problems to do with little hearts that were broken in some physical way.
He could feel a wry smile teasing the corners of his mouth as he quietly left this ward staffroom. How ironic was it that his own heart had been broken by something that couldn’t be fixed?
