The Heart Surgeon's Baby Surprise Page 8
‘They don’t,’ Phil explained, when she voiced her
doubts. ‘They watch it on a second monitor in another
room, but I’ll be with you, explaining the procedure as
you go. We used to do the cath and explain at the same
time, but Alex decided that wasn’t fair on the patient to
have even a small portion of the operator’s attention not
on the actual job.’
‘Suits me,’ Grace told him, checking the equip-
ment already laid out for her, measuring the flexible
steel tubes that she’d ease into the blood vessel and
steer up to the heart, checking the monitors, second
catheter they’d use to place a guide wire, the balloons
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of different sizes which they would inflate to open up
the valves.
All was ready. Brett was brought in, and the opera-
tion began, Phil talking from the end of the table, ex-
plaining that quite often the operation was performed
by paediatric cardiologists rather than surgeons, the
work carried out in cath labs in their surgeries, but that
Brett was here because his cardiologist believed the
valve might be particularly tough and would need
expert help.
As he talked, Grace was threading the first wire in,
a fluoroscope showing her on a monitor where the wire
was at all times. Once into the heart, she had to measure
the blood pressure in the right ventricle, beneath the
valve, then in the pulmonary artery, above the valve. A
tiny transducer on the catheter tip did this for her, dis-
playing the pressures on a second monitor, giving her
a valve gradient against which she could check the
success of the operation later on.
‘Now Grace will measure the size of the ring of tissue
that holds the valve,’ Phil explained to the students in
the other room, while Grace asked for an injection of
contrast—thick clear fluid that showed up dark on the
fluoroscope—into the right ventricle. Filmed with a
high speed camera as it passed through the heart, the
contrast enabled her to work out the size of the ring she
had to stretch, and then choose the correct balloon size.
Satisfied she had all the information she needed, she
carefully withdrew the first catheter and began the sec-
ond part of the operation, to place a guide wire into the
pulmonary artery to steady the final catheter while she
inflated the balloon.
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77
Forty minutes later she was done, three inflations of
the balloon opening up the valve enough for a final
check of pressures below and above the valve proving
very satisfactory.
‘Well done,’ Phil said to her as she stood at one side
of the room, stripping off her gloves then removing her
goggles and mask. ‘You work so calmly and effi-
ciently—although I don’t know why I should be sur-
prised. Everything about you suggests calm efficiency.’
Including my clothes, Grace thought to herself, not
at all happy with the compliment Phil had given her,
although all her years in medicine this was exactly the
image she had tried to project.
It was Theo’s fault, probing into her past, opening
the door to the possibility of an affair, making her body
feel things she didn’t want to feel and her mind fear
where such feelings might lead.
Panic overwhelmed her, to such an extent that when
she ran into Theo in the tearoom a little later, she
couldn’t stop herself from speaking.
‘I think I’d prefer a straight donation and maybe
more than one if that doesn’t do the trick, rather than
revisions.’ She blurted out the words then, belatedly,
looked around, wondering just who else might have
heard this weird declaration. Aldo was over by the
window, working on his laptop, and from the look on
his face nothing short of a bomb going off on the table
next to him would disturb him.
He certainly hadn’t looked up, neither did he move
when Theo, one of his beautiful eyebrows raised, mur-
mured, ‘Is this really the right time and place?’ at her.
She shrugged her shoulders, as awkward as a school-
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girl. ‘It just came out,’ she muttered at him, turning
away to fill the kettle although she wanted neither tea
nor coffee, just needing to hide her scarlet cheeks from
him.
Although she had meant what she’d said.
Reluctantly she turned back to face him, hoping her
blush had faded, but instead of assuring him she meant
it, even if she hadn’t chosen the best place to voice her
thoughts, she realised he was smiling.
It wasn’t the condescending kind of smile Paul had
used when she’d done something to embarrass herself,
but a real, friendly smile—one that crept under her skin
and made her feel warm with pleasure.
A smile causing pleasure?
This had to stop right now!
‘I meant it,’ she said, but it came out far more
lamely than she wanted, her determination under-
mined by his smile.
Not any smile, of course—it was a really lovely
smile, possibly the first she’d seen from Theo. And if
he was handsome when he was being Greek and fairly
grim, Theo smiling went far beyond handsome.
And she needed her head read!
‘I realise that,’ he said, not smiling now. ‘But the
regular way of conception is so much easier—for me
certainly. In fact, I’m not at all sure I could manage any
other way. And on top of that, given the attraction you
must admit exists, isn’t it a good way for us to get to
know each other better?’
Having been distracted by the smile, it took a mo-
ment for Grace to realise what he was saying, and she
looked with horror at where Aldo had been sitting.
MEREDITH WEBBER
79
‘He left while you were pretending to fill the kettle,’
Theo said, and although she felt hugely relieved she
was also irritated that she was so transparent.
‘He wouldn’t have known what we were talking
about anyway,’ she said, trying desperately to shore up
her defences—trying to ignore the hot, excited feeling
Theo’s words had caused deep within her body. She
latched on to an earlier bit of his conversation. ‘And I
thought any man would know how to…’
She knew cool, detached women, especially doc-
tors, should be able to say the word in a cool, detached
manner, but when it came to the crunch she choked on
it.
‘Masturbate?’ Theo finished for her—so cool and
detached himself she could have hit him, especially as
she could feel fire in her cheeks yet again.
‘Yes!’ she said, although it made her even more em-
barrassed that he’d read her with ease.
‘I might not want to, and I do think we should
get to
know each other better. Wouldn’t you think it irrespon-
sible of me to father a child if I didn’t know the mother?’
he asked, subtly turning the onus back on her. Grace
shook her head, wondering just how she, Super-Cool
Sutherland, had got herself into such a ludicrous situation.
She was about to storm out of the tearoom when
Theo’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ he said.
‘Later?’ She knew she was frowning at him, and as
Phil and Maggie had just walked through the door she
shouldn’t be.
‘Dinner, my place, tonight. I’ll call for you at
seven, OK?’
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‘Oh, lucky you!’ Maggie said. ‘Theo’s house is to die
for and on top of that the man can cook.’
Grace opened her mouth then realised that anything
she might say would sound pathetic and closed it again.
She nodded at Theo and escaped, but as she scurried
along the corridor she bumped into Lauren Henderson,
and all the contrary emotion she’d been feeling
suddenly focussed on the dissatisfaction she’d felt as
she’d dressed for work that morning—on her clothes.
‘Lauren, you’re a local. Where would I shop for
clothes?’
Lauren seemed surprised then she smiled as she
glanced down at her own faded jeans and T-shirt.
‘As you can see, I’m not that into clothes shopping,
but you know the shopping centre Theo took you to
last night?’
Grace nodded.
‘Well, there are two or three boutiques there. I know
Maggie shops there and she always looks great.’
There was a slight hesitation then Lauren added,
‘Not that you don’t always look great.’
Grace had to smile because Lauren was looking as
embarrassed as Grace normally felt.
‘I look neat,’ she said, to soothe Lauren’s kind heart.
‘There’s a difference.’
Lauren smiled.
‘Neat’s not in my vocabulary—not with a nine-year-
old boy in the house. But you look more than neat, you
look classy.’
They parted and although Grace knew she should be
grateful to Lauren for the ‘classy’ compliment, she
knew it was just another word for the cool, sophisticated
MEREDITH WEBBER
81
image she tried to project—dull and boring fitted just
as well.
Neat!
She found a cab outside the hospital and told the
driver where she wanted to go, trying hard not to
analyse why she was doing this, assuring herself she
could look at clothes without buying any.
Without buying any? Two hours later she was in
another cab, half a dozen pristine white shopping bags
on the seat beside her. Fortunately there was no sign of
Jean-Luc in their common foyer and she was able to
escape up to her flat without having to discuss her shop-
ping expedition. And she hadn’t been in Sydney long
enough for anyone to know much about her wardrobe,
apart from work-wear, so no one—read Theo—would
know that her reckless purchase of not one but two
pairs of designer jeans and four new shirts—satin is the
new black, madam—had been made because she’d
panicked about going to his house for dinner.
Fortunately for her sanity—she was really begin-
ning to wonder just why she’d needed new clothes—
she had no time to ponder. In fact, she had barely
enough time to shower and change.
She changed into one of the new pairs of jeans, black
and skinny legged, making her own legs seem endless,
especially when she added a pair of high-heeled sandals
she’d bought at the last minute.
A white shirt with thin black stripes—justified in the
shop because it would go with both her black skirt and
her white slacks—completed the new dramatic outfit.
She brushed her hair, touched her face with make-up,
glossed her lips, then, feeling half excited and half
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foolish, hurried downstairs so she would be waiting
when Theo arrived. Heaven forbid he came in and saw
all her not-yet-unwrapped parcels. He would get totally
the wrong idea.
Wouldn’t he?
Theo double-parked outside Grace’s place, and leaned
over to open the door.
‘Thanks for being ready, and I’m sorry about not
getting out to open the door. Getting a place to park
around here is often impossible.’
He spoke the apology automatically, watching the
traffic around him, the man in the car behind gesturing
impatiently, so it wasn’t until he reached the traffic lights
that he had time to turn and actually look at his compan-
ion.
‘You look stunning.’
The words were out before he had time to consider
either their impact on Grace or on why he should be sur-
prised.
‘I mean, you’re a beautiful woman, you always look
classy, but tonight…’
He let the sentence hang, his mind already miles
ahead, wondering if she’d dressed up—could you call
jeans and a shirt dressing up?—because she was recon-
sidering his ‘revisions’?
His body tensed with excitement…
She didn’t reply, simply leaned back in the seat and
crossed her legs—legs that went on for ever—encased
in black jeans, a strappy black sandal dangling negli-
gently from her foot.
Had he misjudged her completely?
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83
Was this elegantly sexy creature the real Grace?
And, if so, how had he come to be feeling sorry for
such a beautiful woman?
‘Is it far away, your place?’
Her question made him realise he’d been lost in specu-
lation, and he explained how, although he lived in a
neighbouring suburb, one-way streets made it seem
further.
‘I’ve a terrace house. For someone with a house on
an acre of land it will seem minute to you. It was in a
sad way when I bought it but I like working with my
hands and I’ve enjoyed doing it up.’
Such normal-sounding conversation, Grace thought,
wanting to ask him if DIY activities were a substitute for
operating, wondering what she would do if she couldn’t
use her skill on babies, but he was doing the polite thing
so well that she had to respond in the same way, pretend-
ing they were newly met acquaintances and colleagues,
not people who’d already discussed something as ri-
diculously personal as the possible transfer of sperm.
The house looked like something out of a picture
book, a two-storied stone cottage squashed in the
middle of a row of attached cottages, all in various
states of disrepair. But Theo’s house stood out, the
stones newly sand- or water-blasted so they had turned
&nb
sp; a dusky pink in the light from the streetlamp on the
footpath. The top storey boasted a tiny veranda with in-
tricate wrought-iron lacework painted a pristine white.
‘Did it look as bad as the others when you bought
it?’ she asked, as Theo gave her his hand to help her
from the car.
‘Worse,’ he said. ‘I decided to start with the worst.’
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‘But you’ve only been with the team eight months,
someone said. Have you done all the work in that time?’
He was leading her through a minuscule front yard,
paved with old cobblestones and decorated with huge
urns and pots containing ferns and flowering annuals,
so bright petunias spilled down the sides of one and lacy
leaves spread outward from another.
‘I’ve lived in Sydney for a few years now, working
at the Children’s Hospital before coming across to
Jimmie’s.’
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard St James’s Hospital
referred to as Jimmie’s but, being new, she’d felt uncer-
tain about using this nickname, as if it was too familiar
a thing for a stranger to do.
Theo was unlocking his door, and as he pushed it
open she forgot about hospital nicknames and looked
around in wonder. Yes, the house was small, but Theo
had opened up the downstairs so it was all one big
room. The floor was polished wood, gleaming with
golden life, and on it he’d set just one rug, an old rug—
the jewel-rich colours suggesting Persian—to desig-
nate the sitting space. Comfortable leather armchairs
were grouped around it, and further in a round table
held an arrangement of leaves and flowers she knew
had come from his pots out the front.
Had he brought them in and arranged them because
she was coming, or was he a man who liked having their
beauty in his house all the time?
Uncertainty crept over her—a new uncertainty. This
one nothing to do with hooked atoms and everything
to do with the fact that as she got to know this man, she
might find herself liking him.
MEREDITH WEBBER
85
A lot.
‘Bedroom and bathroom upstairs—it’s a bachelor
pad, no room for visitors—and if you come this way,
you’ll see my latest project.’
He led her past a streamlined kitchen tucked against
the back wall and out into a courtyard, enclosed by high
brick walls. Vines grew up the walls and on the
southern side she saw an apple tree espaliered to precise