and S4 were, let alone that S1—the first heart sound, when the mitral and tricuspid valves closed—was soft if there was myocarditis, and S4— the fourth heart sound—made a galloping noise, like ‘Tennessee’, when tachycardia was involved. And then the heart stopped pumping efficiently. Failed. And finally stopped.
Just as Ethan’s had. And all she’d been able to do had been to hold her little boy in her arms as his heart had finally given out and the life had seeped from his body. Natalie clenched her fists hard, willing herself to stay strong.
Though she was sure that Kit was thinking of Ethan, too. Especially because she noticed the tiniest wobble in his voice when he added, ‘We’ll get Ross booked onto the ward, Mrs Morley, and one of the nurses will take you up and help you settle him in.’
‘Can I—can I ring my husband? He’s at work. I was just so worried about Ross this morning, I couldn’t wait for him to get home.’
Oh, yes. Natalie had been there, too. So sure that something was wrong, she hadn’t waited for Kit. She’d left a message for him at work and taken Ethan to the emergency department. A mother’s instinct was usually right: it was one of the things she’d been taught at med school. Parents knew when something was wrong with their children—they couldn’t always put their finger on it, and the words ‘he’s just not right’ were usually justified, on examining the child.
‘No problem,’ Kit said. ‘I’ll get our nurse to show you where the phone is. There’s a special phone on our ward, too, which we keep as the parents’ phone—you can give the number out if people want to ring you for an update, and you don’t have to worry about blocking the ward’s main line.’
When they handed Mrs Morley and Ross over to the liaison nurse, Kit turned to Natalie. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Sure,’ she lied. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ Though she could hear the cracks in her own voice. Ha. At least he wasn’t bawling her out for not doing her job properly. He could have picked her up on the fact that she hadn’t told Mrs Morley what the complications were. But he clearly understood how hard she found it to say the words. How she could barely breathe—it felt as if someone had put her whole body in a vice and was slowly, slowly squeezing it.
‘If you want to take five minutes, have a glass of water or what have you, that’s fine,’ Kit said.
But that would be showing weakness. As good as saying that she couldn’t cope with her job. And she could. It had just caught her unawares this time. Next time she’d handle it better. ‘No, I’m fine,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m doing my job. I don’t need mollycoddling.’
Perhaps she was being a little bloody-minded. But it jarred that Kit was trying to soften things for her now. When she’d needed his support, six years ago, he hadn’t been there.
‘If you’re sure.’
She couldn’t stand him being so nice to her. Kindness wasn’t what she wanted from Kit.
Though she wasn’t going to think about what she did want from him.
‘Tally. Natalie,’ he corrected himself quickly, ‘paediatrics is a tough option. Especially at this time of year. You’re going to come across cases that remind you. Cases that have parallels. And some days you’ll find it harder to deal with than others.’
Meaning that he did, too? She’d noticed that he hadn’t actually said Ethan’s name aloud. Would the word choke him, too?
Kit laid his hand on her shoulder. Squeezed it, giving the lightest of pressure. ‘Natalie, if you need—’
No. She didn’t need anything from Kit. ‘We have a full list. Let’s move on,’ she cut in quickly. If he offered her a shoulder to cry on now, nearly six years too late, she couldn’t bear it. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, too—a white coat and her sweater weren’t enough of a barrier between them. Right now she couldn’t cope with feeling the warmth of his touch.
His voice cooled noticeably. ‘Of course, Dr Wilkins.’
Somehow she got through the rest of the afternoon. But the more she saw of Kit working—the way he was able to soothe the most fretful child—the more she realised how good he was with kids. They responded to him, to his strength and calmness, someone who was clearly going to take the pain away and make them feel better.
He didn’t rush through diagnoses either. He’d read a story if it was needed, or start telling a series of truly terrible jokes—jokes she’d had no idea he even knew—and made a game out of examinations. Let children listen to his heartbeat through his stethoscope. Took time to calm the worries of parents. Explained exactly what he was doing in terms the parents would understand, without frightening the child.
And she couldn’t help thinking what a great dad he would have made. How he would have been with his own children, dealing with tantrums and tears without letting them fray his temper. He’d still have kept his fun side, too, flying kites and racing round on a bicycle and playing boisterous games with them.
What a waste. What a bloody, bloody waste.
Or was it? Did Kit have another family now? Another son to replace the one he’d lost? A daughter, perhaps, one who looked like his new wife?
Natalie wasn’t sure what was worse: thinking about the dad he might have been, or thinking about the dad he might be now—to another woman’s children, not hers.
It broke her up inside, though she managed to keep a cool front. Even had coffee with him after their PAU stint, although neither of them spoke much and they kept the topics strictly neutral. Work. Safe areas.
And then she had two blessed days off. Two days when she wasn’t going to think of Kit at all. And by Monday, when she was on duty again, she’d be back in full control of her feelings.
‘What a waste,’ Fran sighed as she filled the kettle in the staffroom. ‘He’s so gorgeous, too.’
‘Waste?’ Natalie asked, frowning. What was Fran on about?
Ruth, the other nurse in the room, sighed dramatically. ‘Tall, dark and handsome. Drop-dead gorgeous, in fact— the sort who makes your knees go wobbly every time he smiles. And he’s a thoroughly nice bloke, too—not one of these who knows how gorgeous he is and expects every female he meets to worship him. He’s lovely. He takes the time to explain things to parents—and to students. He’s not one of these know-it-all doctors who think they’re God and nurses don’t have a brain cell to rub between them. He actually shows respect for the nursing staff. And he’s gay,’ she explained, looking equally disgruntled.
Natalie really wasn’t following the conversation. ‘Who is?’
Fran rolled her eyes. ‘Kit, of course. Our new registrar. He’s been here a week now. And you’ve been working with him in clinics and on ward rounds, so don’t say you haven’t noticed.’
Natalie blinked. ‘That he’s gay?’
‘No, that he’s gorgeous. I mean—tall, dark and handsome doesn’t even begin to describe him. He’s beautiful. And those eyes! Oh-h-h.’ Ruth shook her head. ‘You’re too focused on your work, Natalie. You really need to chill out. Get out more.’
‘Get a life. Yeah, I know,’ Natalie said, forcing a smile to her face. There had been a time when
