One Tiny Miracle.... Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
to just walk away, to shrug his shoulders and let her get on with it. She wasn’t a nurse, or a set of numbers, or a pregnant woman, she was Celeste, who was kind and tired and had had a difficult start to her shift and a lot of mess to clean up.
‘I’ve spoken to Matthew’s family…’ As he chatted to her, he lifted the metal bedhead from the floor and replaced it, then easily dragged the portable oxygen cylinder back to its spot—just doing a couple of little things that he didn’t need to, in the same way Celeste had done for Fleur, only she could never know the effort behind his easy gestures, because being around her was becoming unbearable for Ben. ‘They’re on their way back. I’ve told them to come to the front desk, but if they arrive here, just give me a buzz.’
‘I will.’ She pulled over a linen skip and stripped the bed. ‘Do you think he’ll be okay?’
‘He’ll be in Theatre by now,’ Ben said, ‘so, hopefully, yes. I’ll let you know when I hear.’
Her quiet shift was anything but. By the time it came to a close the crash cart was checked and put away, the eight beds had been filled with patients, Fleur had agreed to a visit from Occupational Therapy and now that visiting time was over, the ward was actually neat and in order—at least the night nurse should have a quiet shift!
‘Thank you, Celeste.’ Fleur smiled as Celeste helped her into clean, dry undies before she headed off home. ‘For all your care and for washing out my clothes—my daughter never suspected a thing.’
‘That’s good. Theatre just called and it shouldn’t be too much longer till they’re ready for you.’
‘And I’ll just stay in for one night?’
‘If all goes smoothly, which I’m sure it will. I’ll see you in the morning.’ Celeste smiled. ‘I’m back on at seven.’
‘You work too hard,’ Fleur fussed. ‘I know it’s what you girls do now. Still, I hope your young man’s at home with dinner waiting so you can put your feet up.’
‘I shall!’ Celeste smiled and then blushed as she realised that Ben had come in. ‘’Night, Fleur.’ She walked over to Ben. ‘I don’t want her worrying.’
‘Sorry?’
Celeste hurried to explain. ‘Well, it’s just easier to sometimes let people think that there is a Mr Mitchell at home…’ Her blush darkened as it was only then she realised Ben would have neither known nor cared that she had just been caught fibbing to Fleur. ‘Have you heard anything about Matthew?’
‘That’s what I was coming to tell you about. I’m heading home, so I just rang ICU. I didn’t get a chance till now. Apparently his pupil blew in Imaging. They got him straight up to theatre and evacuated a massive subdural haematoma—so I came to say well done. It was a good pick-up—a lot of people might have hesitated seeing as his symptoms were so fleeting.’
‘How is he now?’ Celeste asked, warming at his praise. Matthew’s brain had been bleeding, the pressure building inside his skull, causing his symptoms. It was the scary thing about seemingly benign head injuries—and the reason patients were often admitted for observation afterwards. She had read about it, studied it, learnt about it, but now she had witnessed it for herself. The chore of regular neuro obs would never be considered a chore again.
‘On ICU. It will be a good forty-eight hours before we know anything, but there is hope…’
Which was always nice.
She handed over her patients and headed for home in a car that was making more new and rather worrying noises. She slowed down at the gates and indicated left for the block of units. She climbed out of the car, leaving it idling, too worried to turn off the engine, because one day it surely wouldn’t start again! Absolutely bone weary, she opened the gates and then realised someone had pulled up behind her.
‘I’ll close them,’ Ben called out, which he did, and she drove another hundred yards and then pulled on her handbrake and climbed out of her idling car again to open the garage, because the landlord was too mean to put in automatic doors.
‘I’ll get that.’ He walked over from the gates and made light work of the garage door, and even waited till she had driven inside and closed it for her as she walked out.
Which didn’t sound like much, but every stretch was one less stretch that she had to do and she was so tired that all she was was grateful.
‘Thanks for that.’ Celeste was too weary to even summon a smile.
‘No problem,’ Ben called, heading back to his own car to repeat the ritual for his own garage. And still he didn’t deliver a lecture. Still didn’t check that she was okay, or ask if she was sure she should be working.
Had he asked, Celeste thought, as she let herself into her little unit, she might just have burst into tears.
She had to eat, but she was too tired to cook, so she had a bowl of cereal instead.
Then a very quick shower. Knowing she’d regret it if she didn’t, she put out a fresh uniform for the morning, checked her alarm and slipped into bed, too tired to worry, too worn out for tears or even to think really.
She had to be back there tomorrow at ten to seven!
Chapter Three
BEN didn’t worry.
He was concerned for his patients at times, but he didn’t do worrying.
The worst day of his life had happened a long time ago and he knew things could never be that bad again, so consequently he just got on with things, didn’t fret or dwell—or, well, worry!
He hadn’t in years.
Yet there was this niggle now and, no matter how he tried to ignore it, still it persisted.
His second day at Bay View Hospital and the floodgates had opened.
One drowning had been brought in as well as victims of a multiple pile-up on the beach road. It was over forty degrees and people were collapsing everywhere. It was just one of those days where everyone ran to keep up and everyone worked up to and beyond their limits.
Including Celeste.
He could see her ankles swelling as the shift progressed, see her blow out of her mouth and onto her red face as she stripped yet another trolley and prepared it for the endless list of recipients, could see the effort in her movements, and then finally the sheer relief on her face at 3:30 p.m. when her shift ended. As he watched her waddle out, like it or not, Ben was worried.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ Belinda was tapping away on the computer. In her late thirties, and absolutely stunning, she was also witty. With a tumble of black hair, she had almond-shaped brown eyes, full red lips, and dressed like she’d stepped out of a magazine. Thankfully, very thankfully, Ben didn’t fancy her a jot, which meant there was no trouble sharing a tiny office and they could chat easily about things—which they did as Ben wound up his day and packed up his briefcase. It was only his second day and already paperwork was starting to pile up.
‘I’m stopping in at the real-estate agent’s, then the deli to buy salad and chicken instead of a burger and then…’ Ben thought about it ‘…I will make myself go for a jog this evening. What about you?’
‘I’ll show you…’ She gave a wicked smile. ‘Come here.’
Curious, Ben walked over and looked at the screen and stared at the image of a rather ordinary-looking guy.
‘A GP, late thirties, has children but doesn’t want to involve them yet…’
‘Sorry?’ Ben had no idea what she was going on about.
“That’s good,’ Belinda said. ‘The last one I saw brought his children along on the second date! We’ve chatted on the phone,’ Belinda explained to a bemused Ben, ‘and he seems great—we’re