Midwife Under The Mistletoe. Karin BaineЧитать онлайн книгу.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘ANYONE WOULD THINK I had baby brain,’ Iona muttered as she retrieved her perfectly good pen from the bin, where she’d tossed it along with the wet paper towel.
‘Are you sure you don’t?’ Della, her heavily pregnant last appointment of the day, enquired with a grin.
‘I’m one hundred percent positive on that score.’ You needed to have had some sort of relations in order for that to happen and Iona had been a born-again virgin since moving to the tranquillity of the Scottish Highlands. A serious relationship was the last thing she wanted to get entangled in when she was just beginning to get her life together at last.
Although baby brain wasn’t an actual recognised medical condition Iona did believe the to-do list for mothers and mothers-to-be could easily push other thoughts from mind. Her lapses in memory today were more likely to be new-house brain. She’d received the keys to her first non-share, non-rented flat this morning and couldn’t wait to finish work and go home for the first time.
‘That’s a shame. I was hoping for a buddy to go to mother and baby club with at the church hall.’
‘Sorry to disappoint. Maybe when you’re planning baby number three we can co-ordinate our schedules.’
Iona took the teasing with a pinch of salt because a child of her own was never going to happen. She loved the innocence of a newborn and the pure joy they brought to families and had her personal experiences been different she would’ve loved to have been a mother herself.
Unfortunately, having a baby meant tying yourself to the father for the rest of your life, with no escape, and she wouldn’t trust another man enough to make that sort of commitment again. She’d seen her parents caught in that trap, persevering with a long-dead marriage for the sake of their child, until they’d ended up resenting each other. In her effort to escape the toxic atmosphere she’d attached herself much too young to the dashing Andy, marrying him straight out of school. Only to find herself in an abusive relationship that she knew she would never have left if children had been involved too. It had taken her long enough just to get herself out of it.
No, Iona was happy to remain on the spectator side of pregnancy as a midwife. She was keen to help and support mothers until their babies had been safely delivered and monitor them for as long as they needed it, but her obligation didn’t go beyond a medical capacity. At the end of the day the babies went home with their mothers and she wasn’t beholden to anyone but herself and her job. She hadn’t gone back to school and spent years retraining as a midwife to throw it all away for another man.
Della laughed, clutching her beachball belly. There was definitely a glow in the women who came to the clinic to see Iona and whilst she might experience a pang of regret she’d never get to go through the joys of pregnancy herself, she’d accepted it. Conventional motherhood dictated a lifestyle she wasn’t prepared to give up her newfound freedom for.
She dipped the test paper into her patient’s urine sample and checked it against the colour chart for analysis. ‘Hmm, there’s a slight trace of protein. Excess protein can be a sign of a urinary tract infection so we’ll have to keep an eye on that in future appointments and if you experience any other symptoms, let me know straight away. Other than that, I’d say pregnancy is agreeing with you.’
Protein in the urine could also be an indicator of kidney damage or other disorders, including pre-eclampsia, but since Della’s blood pressure was normal and this was the first sign of a problem, Iona didn’t deem it necessary to worry her. If repeat tests showed similar readings she would send a sample to the lab for testing.
She tossed the used stick in the bin and gave her hands another wash. After Dr Irvine’s retirement she’d been temporarily upgraded to using this room to treat her patients. Although she was glad of the extra space, she had been sorry to see him go. The senior GP partner—whom she suspected had been practising medicine when Highlanders had still roamed these hills—had made the decision to take her on here at the clinic permanently. It was a position for which she’d be grateful for ever when it had provided her with the financial independence she’d long dreamed about.
Jim, as he’d insisted she call him, had been a true gent with an old-school approach to treating his patients. He’d known everyone in Culcranna by name and had always had time for those who’d needed him. As a result, he’d been well loved and respected. Only time would tell about his replacement, Dr McColl, who’d taken over as senior partner now Jim was content to spend his retirement on the golf course.
Although Fraser McColl was closer to her age than his predecessor, there was a stern quality in his manner that put her on edge and had caused a few run-ins between them. The latest had been his decision to cancel the staff Christmas party usually held on the premises out of hours. He’d called it unprofessional, made noises about it not being covered by insurance and she’d fought him on the issue because she’d been so looking forward to experiencing the tradition she’d heard so much about. Her colleagues had made the annual shindig sound so much fun she’d imagined it would be the perfect way to mark her first Christmas in the village.
Fraser had refused to back down, probably because he’d never understand how much her new job and new home meant to her. By all accounts he came from a family of means, with land and a title to boot, so a tiny flat and a steady income were probably inconsequential to him when they were everything to Iona.
Despite her rallying cry to the rest of the staff to protest, Fraser had imposed so many restrictions on the celebrations they’d been forced into a staid dinner at the nearest restaurant instead. Iona thought his stance on the matter was more about him letting the power go to his head than any insurance issues and had told him so in a fit of pique.
Since then they’d had a few minor rows, more to do with their clash of personalities than to any professional discourse. Iona didn’t appreciate anyone imposing unjustified restrictions on her after enduring a lifetime of that with her ex, and apparently Fraser didn’t gel well with people who didn’t fall into line. Which was tough luck for him because she was no longer prepared to tailor who she was to suit the needs of others.
There was no doubting Fraser’s skills or popularity as one of the practice doctors but his tendency to take over certain situations wasn’t a character trait she was keen on these days. With his dark, wavy hair and piercing green eyes he certainly cut a dashing figure in the sleepy village that even Iona wasn’t immune to. Whilst he had some of the local ladies hot under their cardigans, he reminded her of the men in her past who’d tried to stunt her personal growth. There was too much apparent control freakery about him for her to drop her defences, or any item of clothing, and she hated herself for finding him remotely attractive.
Perhaps if he kept his mouth shut she could enjoy the view at least, without having her hackles raised along with her pulse.
‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw me in the wee