his wife’s death built the same kind of wall between Angus and Hamish, or had Angus simply shut himself off from all emotion to shield himself from further pain?
And just what did she think she was doing, pondering such things? she asked herself as she closed the double doors of the shed. Why was she considering the convoluted emotional state of someone she barely knew?
Because you’re interested in him.
The answer was immediate and so obvious she felt a blush rising in her cheeks and was glad that Angus wasn’t around to see it. A dead giveaway, her blushes.
She thought of Clare instead, of the dark-haired beauty, and reminded herself that if Angus McDowell decided to be interested in a woman on their team, then Clare would surely be the number-one choice.
Kate grumped her way inside, a depression she rarely felt dogging her footsteps, but as she showered she thought of baby Bob and realised how little she really had to complain about.
Refreshed, she opted not for lounging-at-home clothes—in her case a singlet top and boxer shorts, her pyjamas of choice—but for respectable clothes—long shorts and a T-shirt, reasonable hospital visiting clothes. She’d just pop up and check not only on Bob but on Mr and Mrs Stamford, as well, to see how they were coping.
‘There’s something wrong? You’ve been called in?’
The panic she’d felt when she saw Angus by Bob’s crib was evident in her voice, but when he turned and smiled at her she realised she’d overreacted.
‘Did you think you were the only one who likes to check on patients, even when there’s no reason for alarm?’ he said.
Damn the blush.
‘Of course not,’ she managed stoutly. ‘It was just that seeing you there with him gave me a shock. Mr and Mrs Stamford?’
‘Gone to get a bite to eat. I said I’d stay.’
Was there an edge of strain in his voice that the statement pinged some memory in Kate’s head?
‘I got the impression you didn’t like getting too involved with patients and their parents?’
He frowned at her but she was getting used to that.
‘I think a certain degree of emotional detachment is necessary in our job.’
But even as Angus said the words he knew it hadn’t always been that way. He also knew that it was seeing Kate Armstrong’s empathy with Mrs Stamford that had broken through a little of his own detachment, enough to lead him to suggest he stayed with Bob while the couple ate together.
Was this good or bad, the breakthrough?
He was so caught up in his own thoughts it took him a moment to realise Kate was talking to him, pointing out the oxygen level in Bob’s blood, suggesting they might be able to take him off the ventilator sooner, rather than later.
Dragging his mind back to his patient, he nodded his agreement.
‘The operation is so much simpler when the coronary arteries are good,’ he said. ‘I was thinking the same thing about the ventilator when you came in. Maybe tomorrow morning we’ll try him off it.’
They stood together beside the crib, Angus so conscious of the woman by his side he knew he had to be very, very wary of any contact with her outside working hours. Admittedly, her taking them to the beach, her offer to lend her car at the weekend, were nothing more than neighbourly gestures, and he wouldn’t want to rebuff her or offend her, but every cell in his body was shouting a warning at him—danger, keep clear, problems ahead.
Kate felt him closing off from her and wondered if he’d been offended by her comment earlier—the one about detachment. But if he was closing off from her, well, that was good. It would be easier for her to pretend that’s all they were, neighbourly colleagues, in spite of how her body felt whenever she was in his company.
She felt hot and excited and trembly somehow, physical manifestations she couldn’t remember feeling since she was fifteen and had had a crush on the captain of the school’s football team. Not that he’d ever looked at her, nor even stood close to her.
She stepped away from the crib, turning to greet the Stamfords, who’d returned from their dinner.
Pete Stamford eyed her with suspicion, and she wondered if he was worrying again, thinking the presence of two doctors by his son’s crib meant there were problems.
‘It’s a habit,’ Kate was quick to assure him. ‘I find I sleep better if I do a final check of my patients before I go to bed.’
Pete nodded and Mrs Stamford, who still hadn’t offered them the use of her first name, shook her head.
‘Maybe all the horror stories we hear about health care are exaggerated,’ she said, and Kate knew it was an apology for her anger of the morning.
‘I don’t think the news channels would attract an audience if they didn’t exaggerate a bit,’ she said, then she said goodnight to the couple, including Angus in the farewell, and left the PICU.
Angus caught up with her in the elevator foyer, and though he’d told himself he should linger with the Stamfords until Kate was well away from the hospital, he felt uncomfortable about her walking home on her own this late at night.
‘Oh, I do it all the time,’ she said when he mentioned the folly of a woman walking the streets on her own. ‘There are always people around near the hospital. Cars and ambulances coming and going, police vehicles—we’re not quite in the middle of the city, but we’re close enough and the streets are well-lit.’
‘There’s that dark park across the road,’ he told her, stepping into the elevator beside her and wondering if it was the enclosed space, or her presence within it, that was making him feel edgy.
‘The park’s well-lit, as well,’ she told him, smiling up at him. ‘I’m not totally stupid, you know. I wouldn’t take any risks with my personal safety, but around here, well, you’ll see.’
And see he did, for there were plenty of people around as they walked down the street towards their houses. People, cars, ambulances and, yes, police vehicles.
Too many people really.
Far too many!
The thought jolted him—hadn’t he just decided that Kate was nothing more than a neighbourly colleague? But the light steps of the slim woman by his side, the upright carriage and slight tilt of her head when she turned towards him…something about her presence was physically disturbing. So much so he wanted to touch her, to feel her skin and the bones beneath it, to tilt her head just a little bit more, run his fingers into the tangled red hair and drop a kiss on lips so full and pink they drew him like a magnet.
Attraction, that’s all it was. He could cope with it, ignore it. And tomorrow he had a full day of appointments, no operations, so he wouldn’t see her. All he had to do was walk her home, say goodnight and that was that.
Except that Hamish was sitting in her front yard on the discarded yellow couch!
Admittedly Juanita
