to be toast.
BILLIE’S FIRST DAY at St Luke’s wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. Gareth wasn’t there and she was able to slip into the groove of the department during daytime hours when there were a lot of senior staff around to have her back and take on the more raw and challenging cases.
She was content to take the nuisance admissions that everybody grumbled about. The patients that should be at their GPs’ but had decided to save their hip pockets and clutter up the public waiting room instead.
Billie really didn’t mind. It was satisfying work and she took to it like a duck to water. Her previous six months had been her medical rotation and she’d thrived there as well, treating a variety of cases from the humdrum to the interesting.
It was Thursday she wasn’t looking forward to. Thursday was the start of three night shifts and from nine until eight the next morning there were just three residents—her and two others—and a registrar, dealing with whatever came through the doors.
Actually, Thursday night probably wasn’t going to be so bad. It was Friday and Saturday night that had her really worried. The city bars would be open and the thought of having to deal with the product of too much booze and testosterone wasn’t a welcome one.
There would be blood.
Of that she was sure.
Nine o’clock Thursday night rocked around quicker than Billie liked and she walked into St Luke’s ER with a sense of foreboding.
Her hands shook as she changed into a set of scrubs in the female change room. ‘St. Luke’s ER’ was embroidered on the pocket in case Billie needed any further reminders that she was exactly where she didn’t want to be. Jen, the other resident who had also started her rotation on the same day, chatted away excitedly and Billie let her run on, nodding and making appropriate one-word comments in the right places.
At least it was a distraction.
Thankfully, though, by the time the night team had taken handover at the central work station from the day team, Billie was feeling a little more relaxed.
Things were reasonably quiet. The resus bays were empty and only a handful of patients were in varying stages of being assessed, most of them with medical complaints that didn’t involve any level of gore.
Billie knew she could handle that with one hand tied behind her back. In fact, she was looking forward to it.
A nurse cruised by and Helen, the registrar, introduced the three new residents. ‘Who’s on the night shift, Chrissy, do you know?’
‘Gareth,’ she said.
Billie’s pulse leapt at his name. Helen smiled. ‘Excellent.’
Chrissy rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she joked. ‘Everyone loves Gareth.’
Helen laughed. ‘He’s highly experienced,’ she said, feigning affront.
‘Sure,’ Chrissy teased. ‘And those blue eyes have nothing at all to do with it.’
‘Blue eyes? I hadn’t noticed.’ Helen shrugged nonchalantly.
‘Who’s Gareth?’ Barry, the other new resident, asked as Chrissy left to attend to a buzzer.
‘Brilliant nurse. Ex-military. Used to be in charge around here. Not sure why he was demoted … think there was some kind of incident. But, anyway, he’s very experienced.’
‘Ex-military?’ Billie’s voice sounded an octave or two higher than she would have liked but no one seemed to notice. No wonder Gareth had taken charge of the scene so expertly on Saturday night.
‘Apparently,’ Helen said. ‘Served in MASH units all over. The Middle East most recently, I think. Exceptionally cool and efficient in an emergency.’
Billie nodded. She knew all about that coolness and efficiency.
‘Also …’ Helen smiled ‘… kind of easy on the eyes.’
She nodded again. Oh, yes. Billie definitely knew how easy he was on the eyes.
‘Right,’ Helen said. ‘Let’s get to it. Let’s see if we can’t whittle these patients down and have us a quiet night.’
A quiet night sounded just fine to Billie as she picked up a chart and tried not to think about seeing Gareth again in less than two hours.
Gareth came upon Billie just after midnight. He’d known, since he’d checked out the residents’ roster, they’d be working together for these next three nights.
And had thought about little else since.
She had her stethoscope in her ears and was listening to the chest of an elderly woman in cubicle three when he peeled the curtain back. She didn’t hear him and he stood by the curtain opening, waiting for her to finish, more than content to observe and wait patiently.
She looked very different tonight from the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was swept back in a no-nonsense ponytail. The long curling spirals were not falling artfully around her face as they had on Saturday night but were ruthlessly hauled back into the ponytail, giving her hair a sleek, smooth finish. Her earlobes were unadorned, her face free of make-up.
And … yup. He’d known it. Even from a side view she rocked a pair of scrubs.
‘Well, you’ve certainly got a rattle on there, Mrs Gordon,’ Billie said, as she pulled the stethoscope out of her ears and slung it around her neck.
‘Oh, yes, dear,’ the elderly patient agreed. Billie was concerned about her flushed face and poor skin turgor. ‘I do feel quite poorly.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Billie clucked. ‘Your X-ray is quite impressive. I think we need to get you admitted and pop in a drip. We can get you rehydrated and give you some antibiotics for that lung infection.’
‘Oh, I don’t want you to trouble yourself,’ Mrs Gordon said.
Billie smiled at her patient. The seventy-three-year-old, whose granddaughter had insisted was usually the life of the party, looked quite frail. She slipped her hand on top of the older, wrinkled one and gave it a squeeze. It felt hot and dry too.
‘It’s no trouble Mrs Gordon. That’s what I’m here for.’
Mrs Gordon smiled back, patting Billie’s hand. ‘Well, that’s lovely of you,’ she murmured. ‘But I think that young man wants to talk to you, my dear.’
Billie looked over her shoulder to find Gareth standing in a break in the curtain. He did that smile-shrug combo again and her belly flip-flopped once more. ‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hey,’ Gareth murmured, noticing absently the cute sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the clear gloss on her lips. Her mouth wasn’t the lush scarlet temptation it had been on the weekend but its honeyed glaze drew his eyes anyway.
‘Thought
