don’t worry, Mr Petersen. I may not be a neurosurgeon but I do know what I’m doing.’
She turned back to Samantha, satisfied that the stunned and distinctly discomfited expression on Joe’s face would take some time to dissipate.
‘I know your arm is sore, sweetheart, but I want you to try and wiggle your fingers for me. Can you do that?’
The movement produced was tentative but reassuring. ‘Good girl, Sam. That’s fantastic. Now, I’m going to hold your hand—just gently. Can you feel me touching your fingers?’ Felicity noted the temperature and colour of Samantha’s hand as she responded affirmatively. ‘OK, see if you can squeeze my fingers.’
Felicity compared the responses with Samantha’s uninjured limb. She could still feel Joe’s stare. She checked the radial pulses on both wrists before glancing up. ‘No neurological or circulatory deficit. That’s good.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I hadn’t done the necessary examination.’ Felicity gave in to the temptation to be deliberately obtuse.
‘I meant, why didn’t you tell me that you were a doctor?’
‘I’ve only been in here a few minutes.’
‘I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about last week.’ Joe Petersen’s tone suggested he was unamused by this verbal sparring.
Felicity shrugged as though it was a matter of little importance. ‘I don’t remember having the opportunity,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You had the situation well controlled—and, anyway,’ she added mischievously, ‘stabilising the head and neck of a spinal injury patient is a pretty useful thing to do.’ She turned back to Samantha.
‘We’re going to get a special picture taken of your arm,’ she told the child. ‘An X-ray. It looks at the inside of your arm. Do you know what there is inside there?’
Samantha shook her head. The fearful look returned to the large, brown eyes.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ Felicity reassured her. ‘An X-ray doesn’t hurt. It’s just a special camera that can see what we can’t see. Bones. They’re the hard bits inside your arms and legs.’ She was debating whether the trauma of inserting an IV line to give some narcotic pain relief was justified, given how easily Samantha could be distracted from her injury. She still looked ready to cry again so Felicity decided to test the distraction level once more.
‘Does your dog have a name?’
‘Snowy.’ The firm response came from Joe.
Felicity saw the expression on Samantha’s face and sighed inwardly. The little girl might be distracted from the pain but upsetting her wasn’t going to help. Maybe she needed to push a little harder and find out what was going on in this relationship. The vibes she was getting were making her distinctly uneasy now.
‘He looks pretty special,’ she told Samantha quietly. ‘Is his name really Snowy?’
Samantha shook her head slowly and dislodged another tear. Then another. ‘His name’s not Snowy,’ she sobbed. ‘His name is Woof Woof Snowball.’
Felicity bit her lip. Her peripheral vision caught the wince on Joe’s face and it was extremely hard not to laugh aloud. The neurosurgeon was acutely embarrassed by the childish name for the toy.
‘‘‘Woof Woof Snowball’’,’ Felicity repeated with some relish. ‘That’s a great name.’ She peered more closely at the toy. ‘He’s a rather grubby snowball right now, though. Did he fall out of the swing, too?’
Samantha nodded.
‘Did he hurt himself, do you think?’
The head shook this time. The tears were gone again and Samantha tried to smile. ‘I think he just got dirty.’
‘Maybe he needs a bath.’
‘I’m not allowed to have squashy toys in the bath. Mum says they take too long to dry.’
‘Ah.’ Felicity digested the information offhandedly as she began to record her medical observations on Samantha’s chart. So there was a mother. Joe’s wife, presumably. Maybe there were brothers and sisters as well. A whole family, in fact, including some cute, fluffy dog. ‘Have you got a real dog at home, too, Sam?’
‘No. Mum doesn’t like dogs.’
‘Oh.’ Felicity continued her rapid note-taking. ‘Does Daddy like dogs?’
‘I don’t know.’
Felicity’s glance was too automatic and too quick to hide her astonishment. How could Samantha not know whether her father liked dogs? Joe was frowning.
‘Of course I like dogs, Sam.’
Felicity tried to dismiss the notions that flitted through her head as she charted some oral analgesics for Samantha and filled in a requisition form for an X-ray. She needed a bit of time to think about this one. Standing up, she smiled brightly at Samantha.
‘I like dogs, too,’ she told her. ‘In fact, I’ve got a real dog. He’s an Irish setter called Rusty.’ Her smile widened. ‘Maybe I should have called him ‘‘Woof Woof Rusty’’.’
Samantha giggled. It was a delightful chortle that prompted Felicity to reach out and gently ruffle the child’s curls. ‘Rusty is a lovely dark auburn colour,’ she continued. ‘But he has long hair on his tail which is much lighter. On the ends it’s exactly the same colour as your hair.’
Samantha looked delighted with the information. ‘Sometimes Daddy calls me Nas—Nas...’ She struggled with the word. ‘Nastagmus,’ she managed triumphantly. ‘He says that’s what my hair reminds him of.’
‘Really?’ A nystagmus was a word used to refer to an abnormal and rapid type of involuntary eye movement. She caught Joe’s gaze and a lopsided smile appeared on his face.
‘She means ‘‘nasturtium’’.’
‘Oh!’ Felicity grinned. She loved the amusing verbal errors children often made, though she was usually careful not to show her amusement in front of them. It was difficult to hide her delight at present, however, and Felicity knew quite well that Samantha’s mistake had only provided part of the pleasure she was experiencing.
That lopsided twist of his lips was the first time she had seen anything like a smile on Joe’s face, and its effect was dramatic. His features softened and crinkles appeared around his eyes. The dark brown eyes were exactly the same colour as Samantha’s. In fact, Samantha looked very much like her father, and while their relationship was oddly formal for a parent and child there was really no doubt about their genetic bond.
Maybe there wasn’t anything too odd about their interaction either. Samantha’s face lit up at the sight of her father’s smile and the look that passed between the pair suggested a genuine closeness. Warmth, even. Felicity had the fleeting and rather disturbing thought that she would like just such a look directed at her from this man.
She excused herself hurriedly. She
