was none of his business, he told himself. Addie was now a recovering patient. His patient. He needed to invoke professional detachment.
Like that was going to happen.
Cliff was reversing the anaesthetic. Heidi was leaning over Addie, ready to reassure her the minute she came around. A couple of other nurses stood in the background, looking distressed and concerned.
These were her people now. They were...all she had?
Regardless, they were here for her. He, on the other hand, was part of a nightmare from a distant past, and now he’d be part of today’s nightmare.
He stepped away from the table, feeling almost light-headed. There was nothing else he could do.
‘I’ll leave her to you,’ he told the staff. ‘I... Look after her. Constant obs. Don’t leave her for a moment. I’ll check back in an hour or so but I’m on the end of the phone if I’m needed before then.’
‘Yeah, you need to unpack and settle,’ Cliff said, roughly though, and Noah knew how deeply all those around the table were affected. ‘Thanks, mate. You don’t know how grateful we are that you were here for us.’
Us?
He looked down again at Addie and thought, This is your family. The hospital staff.
It was all she had?
Why did that feel so bad?
‘Do you have everything you need?’ Heidi asked, and he pulled himself together.
‘Yes. Thank you. I won’t be far away. Keep continual obs on her until I say not.’ He’d already said it but it seemed important to say it again. She couldn’t be left alone.
‘Of course we will,’ Heidi told him, and turned back to Addie. Noah was free to go.
After cleaning up post-op, he walked out onto the veranda and then further, out to the cliffs overlooking the beach.
Addie had lost her baby.
A baby...
Sophie...
For a moment he felt so dizzy he thought he’d be ill.
How could he ever have thought he could get away from this grief through work? He should have taken a job as a street cleaner for six months. Anything.
To lose a child...
‘Get a grip,’ he told himself, fiercely, as if it was important to make himself hear. ‘You can’t stop being a doctor because you’ve lost...’
‘I haven’t lost. Not yet.’
It felt like he had. Where was Sophie now? If he didn’t win...
‘Move on,’ he told himself harshly. ‘One step in front of the other, for as long as it takes.’
* * *
The grief was with her almost before she woke, almost before she remembered why she was grieving. It washed across her like a great black wave, swallowing all.
‘Hey.’ Heidi was holding her hand. ‘Hey, Addie. You’re okay.’
‘My baby... I’ve lost...’
‘Oh, Addie, we’re so sorry. Yes, you’ve lost the baby but our new surgeon was wonderful. He’s so skilled. He thinks...we all think that things will be fine.’
Fine. She let the word roll around her head as reality seeped back.
Noah was here, and he thought things were fine.
She should have hit him harder.
* * *
He unpacked, headed back out to the veranda and thought about a walk, but first he needed to check on Addie again. She should be on the other side of the anaesthetic, and the reality of what had happened would be sinking in.
There’d been no call from the nurses so things must be okay physically. But not only had she lost her baby, she’d know the chances of future pregnancies were now reduced. Future pregnancies weren’t impossible but it’d be a concern adding to the grief of her loss.
The nurses would look after her. They knew her and cared for her. As for him... He’d been there when she’d been jilted. He’d been there when she’d lost her baby. He was someone she could well never wish to see again, he conceded, but she might have questions. He owed it to her to answer them if she did.
To lose a child... If someone could answer his questions...
Don’t go there, he told himself savagely. He needed to block it. This was all about Addie.
He headed back into the hospital and a young nurse turned from the phone at the front desk, greeting him with relief.
‘Mr McPherson. We were hoping you might not have left the hospital. We have a ten-year-old coming in from down the coast. He fell trying to reach a bird’s nest and his dad thinks he’s broken his leg. He should be here in about twenty minutes. I know you’re not supposed to start until Monday, but seeing you’re here...’
So much for taking the weekend to get acclimatised, he thought ruefully. Work started now.
But...was work Addie?
Professionally only, he told himself.
He’d come to Currawong Bay to put a failed marriage behind him and to cope with an interminable wait. And Addie? Had she come here for the same reason? If so, the last person she’d want to see would be him, but for now he was her doctor. She’d have to wear it. She’d had enough pain today to mean the little more his presence added shouldn’t make too much difference.
* * *
Addie lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling and thought...blank.
Nothing, nothing and nothing.
She might have known it would never work. For the last few weeks she’d been gloriously, ridiculously happy. The first twinges of morning sickness had been met with joy. She was going to be part of a family.
Admittedly it’d be a very small family—one mother and one baby—but it would be a family nonetheless. Here, in this hospital, she had the support around her to make it happen. This was a lovely little community and they’d welcomed her with open arms. There was one grumpy nurse administrator but she’d even been able to manoeuvre that into a working relationship. In the three years she’d been here she’d helped deliver countless babies, she’d made good friends, and she knew she could count on the staff and the community to help her.
Except now she wouldn’t need them. Her hands fell to her tummy, to the wad of dressing where a tiny bump had been before, and she felt her eyes fill with tears.
She wouldn’t cry. She never cried, not when Gavin had jilted her, not when her mum had died, not ever.
Oh,
