The Italian Surgeon Read online

  ‘I do hope I settle down when I get back to work,’ she muttered, and Luca smiled, no doubt knowing exactly what she was thinking.

  ‘You will,’ he promised her. ‘You’re too much of a professional to be distracted from your work.’

  His prediction proved true for, although Rachel’s body hummed with love whenever Luca was around, she found her concentration was, if anything, sharper. It was as if her new sensitivity made her extra-aware of everything happening around her.

  The days flew by, as if the time she spent not with Luca went especially fast, while the time with him, like the following weekend, which they spent exploring Sydney and learning more about each other, went on for ever.

  Monday’s operating list was always short, and she finished in Theatre well before lunchtime, so she walked through to the PICU to check on Bobbie, as she did most days.

  Mrs Archer greeted her with relief.

  ‘Oh, Rachel, would you mind sitting with him for a few minutes? I promised the other kids I’d take some photos of him then realised I didn’t have a camera. I know the kiosk downstairs has those little disposable ones. I’ll just duck down and get one.’

  Rachel was quite happy to sit with the baby she thought of as her special charge, and smoothed her finger across his soft, warm skin.

  He raised his eyelids at her touch and she could swear the big, smoky blue eyes were smiling at her.

  Dark-eyed babies would start off with blue eyes, too, she thought, then shook the thought away as the eyes she was looking at filled with fright. A siren was wailing through the building.

  Not loud, but strident and urgent-sounding, its cry, rising and falling insistently, made the hairs on Rachel’s arms stand on end.

  She looked at Bobbie, thought of Luca—where was he?—then quelled the panic rising in her chest.

  It’s a practice drill. All you have to do is listen to the instructions. ICUs will be excluded.

  Her head told her these things but her heart still beat erratically, a jumble of emotions skittering through her body.

  ‘Attention, please. There is no fire so do not panic, but we are experiencing a bomb scare and would like all visitors to leave the building immediately. Staff have been trained in clearing the wards, so patients should remain where they are until instructed to move by a staff member. Staff should follow evacuation procedures as practised.’

  Rachel heard the words but couldn’t believe them, a disbelief she saw reflected on the faces of the two sisters monitoring the patients at the desk. Then, as the message was repeated, one of them was galvanised into action, leaving the desk and poking her head into the room where Rachel hovered protectively—though no doubt ineffectively—over Bobbie.

  ‘Have you done a fire drill? Do you know how to bag a baby on the way to the secure rooms in the basement?’

  Rachel nodded. The entire team had done a fire drill soon after their arrival at the hospital, and she’d been amazed at the extensive facilities deep below the hospital grounds where all intensive-care patients could be kept on the machines that were vital to their lives.

  ‘Then you take Bobbie,’ the sister said. ‘The service elevators work on generators so even in a fire they’ll take you down there. They will be set automatically to stop first at the ICU floors.’

  As calmly as she could, Rachel detached the bag of fluid from the drip stand and set it on Bobbie’s small bed. Then she detached the heart monitor. There were monitors where they were going, and the less gear they had to carry, the better.

  Then finally she unhooked him from the ventilator and attached a bag to his breathing tube so she could squeeze air into his lungs while they made the journey to safety.

  ‘We’ll be OK, kid,’ she told him, though her heart was thudding and she wondered just how safe anyone could be in a world that had gone mad. To plant a bomb in a hospital? Who would do such a thing?

  She stared in dismay at the innocent face of the baby in her charge, and shook her head in disbelief.

  Beyond his room a couple of aides were ushering reluctant family members out of the unit, assuring them the children would be well cared for. One near hysterical woman had to be physically moved away from her baby, a large orderly treating her as gently as he could, but with a firmness that brooked no resistance.

  ‘OK, let’s go,’ the sister called, when the unit was cleared of visitors. With one nurse to each small patient, they pushed the small beds out of the rooms and formed a queue out to the service elevator foyer, pressed the button and waited their turn to go down into safety.

  Waited in outward calm, but were they all hiding the inner turmoil Rachel felt?

  She wished she knew these staff members better. Wished she’d spent more time in the PICU!

  ‘So many of these things are false alarms,’ one of the women said, while an aide who was with them began to sob.

  ‘If you haven’t got a baby, you should get out of the building,’ the sister in charge told the crying woman. ‘Use the stairs and go down to ground level and then to the muster point. Our floor is muster point five—the colour’s blue—out to the right of the main gate.’

  The woman looked at her as if she didn’t understand, then she sobbed again and turned and fled, not towards the stairs but back into the ward.

  ‘I’d go after her, but I can’t stop bagging and patients come first,’ the sister said, but Rachel guessed they all felt as tense as she did, and apprehensive for the woman who hadn’t gone down the stairs—worrying what might happen to her.

  To them all!

  But once in the deep basement, she discovered the practice sessions had proved worthwhile for though there was an air of urgency as they pushed the small beds along a wide corridor, there was no panic. Arriving at the designated safe area, they fitted the patients back to equipment with a minimum of fuss and maximum of efficiency. A doctor circulated between the groups from the different ICUs and the CCU, making sure medication was administered on time, and that all patients were closely monitored.

  ‘Poor Mrs Archer, she’ll be going nuts,’ Rachel said to the nurse who was beside her.

  ‘Someone will explain to her—and we couldn’t bring the parents down here as well—look how crammed we are as it is. Far better to have people here who can be useful.’

  ‘Yeah,’ a male nurse said. ‘And far better to bury a few staff under all the rubble if the hospital does blow up than families who might sue if their loved ones are caught up in the chaos!’

  ‘Gee, thanks for reminding us of the buried-alive scenario,’ Rachel told him. ‘Just the kind of thought we need in order to keep calm!’

  ‘You’re a theatre sister—you’re always calm,’ the fellow told her. ‘Throwing tantrums in Theatre is the surgeon’s prerogative, not the nurses’.’

  ‘Such cynicism,’ Rachel murmured, but the conversation was helping everyone relax, though the mention of surgeons brought Luca back to the forefront of her mind.

  Worried as she was for him, she still smiled to herself, thinking of the pleasure they’d shared, glad they’d had their time of loving. If the worst did happen then she’d have no regrets.

  As long as he got out.

  Survived…

  ‘They’ll have to search the hospital, floor by floor, I guess,’ one of the other nurses said. ‘I wouldn’t like that job.’

  ‘I don’t think staff have to do it. Aren’t there bomb-disposal people for things like that?’

  ‘Whoever does it, it will take time,’ Rachel said. She’d decided Luca had probably left the hospital before the alarm, and this decision filled her with an inner peace. Although every time she looked at Bobbie, dozing peacefully on the small bed, she thought what a waste it would be for the baby to have gone through such a big operation and then to lose his life because someone had a grudge against the hospital.

  The minutes ticked slowly by, with announcements every now and then so they could follow the progress of the clearing of the building, and the search of e
ach floor by members of an anti-terrorist squad.

  Six hours after the original alarm had sounded, the siren wailed again, and the announcement that followed told them they were cleared to return to the wards, though the intensive care units were to wait where they were until further advice.

  It was after eight that night when Rachel finally pushed Bobbie’s bed out of the service elevator and back into his room, where his anxious parents were already waiting.

  ‘I’ll take over,’ the nurse who was standing by told Rachel, and she walked gratefully away. An overwhelming relief was washing through her but she guessed exhaustion would be close behind.

  Her feet led her automatically towards the team’s rooms, knowing there’d be coffee and, with a bit of luck, some food in the refrigerator. The lights were on, and as she passed Becky’s desk she realised the whole team was gathered—on chairs or perched on tables—and the expressions of their faces didn’t reflect any of the relief Rachel felt.

  ‘It’s over, you guys!’ she said. ‘They’ve sounded the all clear. You should be looking happy.’

  ‘Rachel! You’re all right! I’ve been trying to find you.’

  Luca came straight to her, put his arm around her and drew her close. She could feel his tension in the touch, and knew he’d been worried. It was nice to have someone caring about her—which thought in itself was scary.

  Having someone care wasn’t something she should get used to.

  ‘I was in the ICU basement—I was with Bobbie when the alarm went off so I took him down,’ she explained, feeling more tired by the minute.

  But not so tired she couldn’t see that her explanation had done nothing to relieve the tense atmosphere in the room.

  ‘Something’s wrong! There was a bomb? What don’t I know?’

  ‘The women shouldn’t be part of this,’ Luca declared. ‘We’ve men enough to do the operation without them.’

  Phil smiled at him.

  ‘I feel the same way, Luca, but I’m glad I didn’t say it out loud,’ he said. ‘Maggie would rend me limb from limb.’

  ‘Let the women speak for themselves,’ Maggie put in. ‘But, first, someone should explain to Rachel what’s going on.’

  Alex nodded and came to stand in front of Rachel, while Luca moved just a little away.

  To dissociate himself from Alex’s news, or from her? By now Rachel was too stressed out to care.

  ‘We’ve had a request to operate on a baby with HLHS—the same first-stage operation we performed on Bobbie Archer. But this baby is the son of a man who has political connections in a country where his politics aren’t one hundred per cent popular. The people who know about these things—I’m talking anti-terrorism specialists—believe today’s bomb threat was connected to the hospital’s agreement to treat the baby. Somehow the parents’ political enemies got wind of the arrangement, and thought a threat to the hospital might make the high-ups at Jimmie’s change their minds.’

  He paused and looked around as if gauging the reaction to his statement so far, then, with his eyes on Annie, he continued.

  ‘The baby has to have the operation or, as we all know, he dies, so mind-changing isn’t an option as far as I’m concerned. Annie has been in conference with the terrorism specialists and they suggested we perform the operation tonight. They feel that as soon as the night staff members are on duty, and all but ICU visitors have been cleared from the hospital, the entrances and exits to the hospital can be guarded more effectively.’

  ‘We hope!’ This from Kurt, who was looking anxiously at Rachel, no doubt seeing how tired she was, as he knew her better than the others.

  ‘Once the operation is over, and the baby stable, he can be moved to another location. Hopefully, the people who are now in charge of that aspect of things will be more successful in keeping the location secret.’

  ‘What gets me,’ Kurt said, heading straight for the crux of the matter, ‘is that if the new location’s kept secret, and whoever is threatening him thinks he’s still here, then the secrecy isn’t much use to us. Jimmie’s could still be targeted.’

  Alex waved away his concerns.

  ‘We can make it public that he’s been moved. In fact, it’s already been noised about that Jimmie’s won’t have him here at all because of the bomb scare.’

  ‘I don’t think the bomb scare is the issue,’ Maggie protested. ‘The baby is. You can’t move him immediately post-op.’

  ‘With life-support measures in place, we should be able to,’ Alex said. ‘It’s a baby, Maggie. We fly them huge distances on life support in the US to bring them to specialist centres for treatment.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like it,’ she said, and Rachel understood her concern. As anaesthetist, Maggie was the one who worked most closely with the baby post-operative—she and Kurt, who would be responsible for the ECMO device which could be used to provide oxygen to the baby’s tissues after the operation until the surgeons were certain the repairs they had done were providing good circulation.

  ‘Moving him is not our concern,’ Alex said. ‘We do the operation, and other people have to make decisions about the baby’s safety.’

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ Rachel said, speaking so quietly that the others who’d been arguing amiably among themselves had to stop talking to listen to her. ‘We’re going to operate to keep this baby alive just so some terrorist somewhere can kill him?’

  The depth of emotion in her voice reminded Luca of the little he knew of this woman who had fascinated him since he’d first seen her.

  She’d spent nine hours in a basement with a seriously ill baby, and now this. Was she regretting her renewed involvement with a patient?

  And would that lead to regrets over her renewed involvement with men?

  With him?

  Alex was explaining that other babies they operated on could die in car accidents—that there were no guarantees in this world—but Luca could tell his words were falling on deaf ears where Rachel was concerned. She was pale, and he could see her knuckles gleaming whitely on her clenched fists.

  Alex had moved on, throwing the meeting open to discussion, assuring everyone it was a voluntary job and if they didn’t want to be part of it, no one would blame them. The team members began to talk among themselves, but no one left the room.

  They would stick together and all perform their usual roles in the operation, Luca realised.

  He steered Rachel towards a chair, then settled into the seat beside her, sorry he could do little more than be near her.

  He took the tightly gripped hands in his and rubbed warmth into them.

  ‘The baby might not be killed by terrorists. Have you thought of that? He might grow up into a fine leader, and bring peace to his country.’

  She turned towards him and smiled, and what started off as a polite expression of gratitude warmed into a sheepish grin.

  ‘Thank you!’ she said, and he knew she meant it. ‘My mind had got so out of kilter I’d all but lost the plot. I think I was ready to take up arms and fight for the little babe when all we have to do is get the first-stage op right so he can live to have the next one.’

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, and he felt a surge of pride that she would make even that small emotional gesture in front of the others!

  ‘Come, we will go and get you a meal in the canteen,’ he said, helping her to her feet. ‘We have all already eaten.’

  She allowed him to help her up then smiled at him again as they left the rooms.

  ‘You know, for an emotional Italian you’re also a very practical man, Luca,’ she teased. ‘Always seeing to it that I’m fed!’

  ‘It’s because I love you,’ he said, in much the same way he might have said because cows eat grass. ‘But I said I wouldn’t rush you—that I’d let you set the pace—so I don’t talk of love to you, except when we’re in bed.’

  Rachel heard the words echo in the tired, empty cavern inside her head and tried to make sense of them.


  ‘You love me?’ Her voice was as tentative as her heartbeats, as faint as the breath fluttering in her throat.

  ‘I do,’ Luca said, pressing the button to summon the elevator.

  Being practical.

  Matter-of-fact!

  Detached?

  He didn’t look at her, intent on watching the numbers light up above the door.

  Rachel watched them for a while as well, but they didn’t offer any help.

  Luca loved her?

  How could he know so soon?

  She knew!

  But he didn’t know she loved him, so he wasn’t saying it in a ‘me, too’ kind of way.

  The elevator arrived and he guided her inside, though it felt more as if she’d stepped onto a cloud.

  With every possibility she’d fall right through it and land back on earth with a bump!

  ‘You love me?’

  She heard her own voice repeat the question, saw the other occupants of the metal conveyance turn to stare at her, and registered both Luca’s deep chuckle and the warmth of his hands as he pressed one of hers between them.

  ‘I do, though I probably wouldn’t have shared it with the whole world just yet.’

  ‘It’s not the whole world,’ Rachel told him, ‘only…’ she stopped to count ‘…five people.’

  The elevator reached the ground floor and the five grinning passengers disembarked, all offering their good wishes, and luck, one woman adding, ‘I’d stop arguing if I were you, and snaffle him up.’

  She would if she could just get her head around it.

  ‘It’s a funny time to tell me.’

  Luca made a grab for the closing door and it slid open again. He guided her out, then turned so he was looking at her, still holding one of her hands in both of his.

  ‘When the siren went off, I didn’t know where you were. There was a bomb scare. I thought of something happening to you. Of you dying! It was as if I’d died. Then the agony of you dying without knowing how I felt about you—I had to tell you.’

  ‘Agony for you?’

  ‘Agony for me,’ he said softly, then he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips before reverting to the practical Italian once again and leading her towards the canteen.