She put out a distress call that he had to answer. He was a sucker for anyone who needed protection. Having someone to protect or care for, like his father had done for his mother, was what it was all about. It made him feel strong, valuable and worthy, and he liked those feelings. He liked feeling needed.
ABI WAS PLEASED to get to work on Monday. She was feeling overwhelmed, not physically but emotionally. Her emotions were swamping her and her head was full of conflicting thoughts about Damien. She wanted to trust him but she knew it was because she was attracted to him, and she really couldn’t afford to be. It broke all her rules.
But she had to admit she had enjoyed the day at the pier. She’d felt self-conscious at first about spending the day with Damien, but he and Summer had relaxed her and entertained her to the point that she’d forgotten to be worried, forgotten to be nervous about the crowds. It had felt like the type of Sunday thousands of normal families might enjoy and she had liked that feeling. It was something she’d never had. She had almost been able to pretend they were one of those families.
But they were not.
Perhaps she needed to think of any time spent with Damien and Summer as therapy. It had certainly made her feel good yesterday. She’d felt confident, she’d felt safe and she had coped with situations that she’d never imagined she would be able to face again. She had enjoyed herself. But Damien was still a colleague. It would be prudent to be careful.
She needed to be at work so she was forced to think about other things, things that mattered, like her patients.
She headed for Dylan’s room. He was due to have his dressings changed for the first time following the skin grafts to his arms so she needed to be there. She needed a dose of reality. This was her life. Her work. And work was something she could handle. She was trained for this and it didn’t require anything extra of her personally. She could cope with work but she couldn’t cope with her feelings for Damien or his daughter.
The pull towards them was strong. They were magnetic. Hypnotising. Was it them or was it the idea of them? A family unit but not quite? Something was missing for them, she could feel it. She recognised it because something was missing for her too, but was she living in a fantasy world? Was she kidding herself if she thought she could be the answer for them and vice versa? Why would they need her? No one ever had.
She gloved and gowned and straightened her shoulders as she tied a mask over her nose and mouth before entering Dylan’s room. Ellen had been nursing Dylan and she had everything ready and waiting for Abi.
She greeted Dylan’s mother, who was pacing at his bedside, waiting anxiously and hoping for good news. ‘Morning, Julie,’ she said, doing her best to project confidence.
Abi had one eye on the monitors as she picked up Dylan’s chart and flicked through it. ‘How’s he doing?’ she asked Ellen, as Dylan dozed. He’d been kept sedated since the surgery as it was important to keep him as still as possible to protect his arms from rubbing or pressure.
‘He’s doing well. Obs are all good. Temperature normal,’ Ellen replied.
A normal temperature was encouraging.
‘All right, let’s take a look.’
Ellen pushed the trolley closer to the bed as Abi spoke to Dylan’s mum. ‘We’ll change the dressings on his arms this morning. You’re welcome to stay while we do this but don’t expect the skin on his arms to look normal. Even though I have transplanted normal, healthy skin, it needs time to attach and for the blood supply to be restored.’
Abi and Ellen worked together to remove the bandages. Most came away easily and there was only one small section that required a little soaking. Abi felt positive. The skin she was revealing was red, indicating that the blood vessels were functioning.
‘Vascularisation has started,’ she commented, pleased with the outcome. ‘It’s looking good.’
‘What about his thighs?’ Julie queried.
‘The dressings on the donor site will remain on for another few days. His thighs are likely to be more uncomfortable due to the exposed nerve endings, but I will start to lighten his sedation.’ She turned to address Ellen. ‘Keep the antibiotics running for now.’
‘When do you think he might be able to come home?’ Julie asked.
‘Do you have somewhere to live?’ Abi realised she had no idea how badly their house had been damaged in the fire.
‘He’ll have to share a bedroom with his younger brother but the house is liveable.’
‘You should expect him to stay with us for another week but I’ll review that in a few days’ time and give you a more definite answer then.’
‘Will I need anything special when he does come home?’
‘We will go through all of that with you before he’s discharged. He will need physical therapy but I will get Grace Watson, she’s our resident physio, to speak to you before Dylan leaves and she or I will also organise a visit for you from a nurse or occupational therapist to organise any aids he might need. We’ve got time. The main thing is that he rests, stays relatively still and has time to heal,’ Abi explained, as she signed off on Dylan’s notes before returning to her office to get the rest of her day under way. She was consulting today. She had four new patients and she wanted a chance to read through their referrals before the appointments.
She sat at her desk, booted up her computer and scanned the list of names in her diary. One jumped off the screen at her. It was the first name on the list but that wasn’t what had caught her attention. She recognised this name.
Nicolette Farrington.
It couldn’t be.
The name was familiar but surely it couldn’t be her.
Abi’s heart was racing and she could feel a lump lodge in her throat, but she wasn’t quite sure what the lump was. It could be so many things. Fear. Apprehension. Panic.
Nicolette Farrington.
Mark had been a Farrington. He’d had two daughters—Nikki and Natasha.
Abi closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to stem the rising tide of panic. The words that had been printed on his memorial card flashed across the back of her eyelids.
Devoted husband of Tanya.
Loving father of Nikki and Natasha.
How many Nicolette Farringtons could there be in California? In LA?
She clicked on the patient details, almost reluctant to see what information had been entered. Did she really want to know?
Nicolette’s date of birth would make her twenty, which would make her the right age to be Mark’s daughter.
Abi was having trouble breathing. Her chest was tight and she could feel a sharp pain between her ribs as she tried to inhale. Apprehension had been replaced by guilt, which joined together with fear and panic. She fought down a wave of nausea as she tried to figure out what to do.
She
