still she held. Still she took comfort, where she had no right to take comfort. They’d been separated for five years!
So why did he still feel like … home? Why did everything about him feel as if here was her place in the world?
‘Hey!’ A hospital corridor was hardly the place to hold one’s ex-husband—to hold anyone. It was busy and bustling and their sliver of intimacy couldn’t last.
It was Isla, hurrying along the corridor, smiling—as Isla mostly smiled right now. The sapphire on her finger seemed to have changed Em’s boss’s personality. ‘You know I’m all for romance,’ she said as she approached. ‘But the corridor’s not the place.’ She glanced down at the sapphire on her finger and her smile widened. ‘Alessi and I find the tea room’s useful. No one’s in there right now …’
‘Oh, Isla …’ Em broke away, flushing. ‘Sorry. It’s not … Dr Evans was just … just …’
But Isla had reached them now and was seeing Em’s distress for herself. ‘Nothing’s wrong with Ruby, is there?’ she asked sharply.
‘No.’ Oliver didn’t break his composure. ‘But you have a problem with Dr Noah Jackson. He seems to think Em’s Gretta is a research experiment.’
‘Noah’s been upsetting my midwife?’ Isla’s concern switched to anger, just like that. ‘Let me at him.’
‘I don’t think there’s any need,’ Em managed. ‘Oliver practically threw him into the lift.’
‘Well, good for you,’ Isla said, smiling again. ‘I do like an obstetrician who knows when to act, and one who knows the value of a good cuddle is worth his weight in gold.’ She glanced again at her ring. ‘I should know. But, Em, love, if you’ve finished being cuddled, I would like you back in the birthing suite.’
‘Of course,’ Em said, and fled.
There was a moment’s silence. Then …
‘Don’t you mess with my midwives,’ Isla said, and Oliver looked at her and thought she saw a whole lot more than she let on.
‘I won’t.’
She eyed him some more. ‘You two have baggage? Your name’s the same.’
‘We don’t have … baggage.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ She was still thoughtful. ‘But I’ll let it lie. All I’ll say is to repeat—don’t mess with my midwives.’
Thursday night was blessedly uneventful. Gretta seemed to have settled. Em should have had a good night’s sleep.
She didn’t but the fact that she stared into the dark and thought of Oliver was no fault of … anyone.
Oliver was no business of hers.
But he’d held her and he felt all her business.
Oliver …
Why had he come here to work? Of all the unlucky coincidences …
But it wasn’t a simple coincidence, she conceded. The Victoria had one of Australia’s busiest birthing units. It was also right near her mother’s home so it had made sense that she get a job here after the loss of Josh.
And after the loss of Oliver.
Don’t go there, she told herself. Think of practicalities.
It made sense that Oliver was back here, she told herself. Charles Delamere head-hunted the best, and he’d have known Oliver had links to Melbourne.
So she should leave?
Leave the Victoria? Because Oliver had … cuddled her?
It’s not going to happen again, she told herself fiercely. And I won’t leave because of him. There’s no need to leave.
He could be a friend. Like Isla. Like Sophia.
Yeah, right, she told herself, punching her pillow in frustration. Oliver Evans, just a friend?
Not in a million years.
But she had no choice. She could do this. Bring on tomorrow, she told herself.
Bring on a way she could treat Oliver as a medical colleague and nothing else.
FRIDAY. EM’S DAY was cleared so she could focus on Ruby. Isla was aware of the situation. ‘If she really has no one, then you’d better be with her all the way.’
So she stayed with Ruby in the hour before she was taken to Theatre. She spent their time discussing—of all things—Ruby’s passion for sewing. Ruby had shyly shown her her handiwork the day before, so Em had brought in one of Toby’s sweaters. Ruby was showing her how to darn a hole in the elbow.
‘Darning’s a dying art,’ she’d told Em, so Em had found the sweater and brought a darning mushroom—Adrianna had one her grandmother had used!—and needle and thread and asked for help.
Ruby took exquisite care with the intricate patch. When she was finished Em could scarcely see where the hole had been, and darning and the concentration involved worked a charm. When the orderlies came to take Ruby to Theatre, Ruby was shocked that the time had already arrived.
She squeezed Em’s hand. ‘Th-thank you. Will I see you later?’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Em declared, packing up the darning equipment. ‘Isla’s told me if I’m to help deliver your baby at term then I should introduce myself to her now. So I’m to stay in the background, not faint, and admire Dr Evans’s handiwork.’
‘You’d never faint.’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ Em told her, and proceeded to give her some fairly gross examples. She kept right up with the narrative while Ruby was pushed through to Theatre, while pre-meds were given, while they waited for the theatre to be readied. Finally, as Ruby was wheeled into Theatre, they were both giggling.
Oliver was waiting, gowned and ready. So, it seemed, was a cast of thousands. This was surgery at its most cutting edge. They were operating on two patients, not one, but one of those patients was a foetus that was not yet viable outside her mother. The logistics were mind-bending and it would take the combined skills of the Victoria’s finest to see it succeed.
Shock to the foetus could cause abortion. Therefore the anaesthetic had to be just right—they had not only the Victoria’s top anaesthetist, but also the anaesthetic registrar. Heinz Zigler was gowned and ready. Tristan Hamilton, paediatric cardiologist, was there to check on the baby’s heart every step of the way. There were so many possible complications.
The surgery itself was demanding but everything else had to be perfect, as well. If amniotic fluid was lost it had to be replaced. If the baby bled, that blood had to be replaced, swiftly but so smoothly the loss couldn’t be
