she couldn’t help noticing how broad and reassuring Dr Sheppard looked in his theatre trousers and V-necked top. A few stray black tendrils of chest hair poked out brazenly around his neckline and the fabric stretched tautly across the widest chest she’d seen in town for a while. She gulped and tried not to stare.
A gentle pulsing warmth started low in her stomach as she watched him absently stroke the bundled baby on the trolley. What would it feel like to be cradled in those strong arms? He’d draw women like kids to a sweets jar.
She winced as if hit by a wet flannel. Just like her ex-husband. The snake.
She glared at his tall frame. Typical. See how easily Dr Sheppard instilled trust in the father, she warned herself. She’d seen what a smooth talker could do once before.
‘Thanks, Doc. Thanks, Sister.’ Luke could hardly stand still in his excitement and relief. ‘I’m off to the phones.’ He sped off down the corridor, more excited than if he’d picked the winner in the Melbourne Cup.
Poppy seized gratefully on the break in her thoughts and helped steer the trolley through to the neonatal nursery.
‘I’ll do a thorough check before he goes into the crib, Sister.’ Poppy nodded and unwrapped the infant.
She watched Dr Sheppard check the infant. She had to admire the way his concentration focussed totally on the baby as he carefully assessed him from every angle.
When he was finished, he closed the tiny circular door with a gentle click. Poppy chalked up another point for him. She’d seen so many doctors snap the door shut, oblivious to the arm-flinging agitation of the baby within. She could work with this guy, she decided.
Then he spoiled it. ‘I can’t believe people put their children at risk by having babies at home. If I had my choice I’d ban it.’ He shook his head as he stared at the little fellow now resting comfortably in his artificial womb.
Poppy’s mouth dropped open. ‘Excuse me?’
Dr Sheppard glanced up at her measuringly. ‘You don’t agree, Sister?’
Cold blue eyes met militant green ones.
Poppy’s gaze didn’t waver. ‘No, I don’t agree.’
‘So convince me!’ He didn’t actually put his hands on his hips but he might as well have.
You bet I will, buddy. Poppy smiled sweetly. ‘My success would depend on whether you’re open to reasonable argument or whether your mind is already made up, Doctor.’
There was no answering smile and he spoke with sudden coldness. ‘Touché. I don’t like your chances. Maybe another day.’ He saluted her. ‘Thank you, Sister.’
Poppy shivered. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so easy to convince. It wasn’t just the right of the parent to choose the place of birth that she wanted to convince him of. Instinctively, she felt it would be hugely important to avoid any problems with her beliefs in midwifery. He could set her cause back two years if his demands were unreasonable.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, back in her usual uniform, Poppy could feel her feet dragging. She rotated her neck and shoulders to ease out any stiffness from the long day as she walked over to the crib.
‘Bye, Baby. We couldn’t help a true knot in your cord.’ She shivered at the closeness of tragedy. ‘It’s a shame about your mummy’s poor old tummy but you’re a lucky little boy.’
‘So how was our new paediatrician, Poppy?’ Sandy, the other midwife, pulled a butterscotch sweet out of her pocket and handed it to Poppy.
‘Thanks.’ Poppy untwisted the prize out of its wrapping and popped it into her mouth, rolling her eyes as the sweetness hit her tongue.
Poppy put her hand over her mouth as she crunched the butterscotch with her teeth. Sandy put her hands over her ears and the two women grinned at each other.
‘Sorry. I needed that. I haven’t eaten for about six hours.’ She pointed at the baby and answered Sandy’s question. ‘Well, I was pretty glad to see him, with the baby so stunned at birth, and he puts a tube in very well.’ She rolled the sweet wrapper in her hands thoughtfully. ‘He’s got that calmness the really experienced neonatal guys have so that everything seems to go smoothly with no stress. Very easy to work with.’
‘Hooray, you’ve said something good about a doctor finally.’ Sandy pretended to do a Red Indian war dance around the room.
Poppy glared at her. ‘I like Dr Gates.’
‘He’s as round as butter and married with six kids. He’s safe to like. Besides, he finally agreed with your complementary therapies. But this guy is young and Dr Gates says he’s single.’
‘Yeah, but I’ve got a bad feeling about how open his mind is. Also, he’s against a mother choosing the place of birth.’ Poppy rubbed her eyes and stretched her neck again. ‘Still, I suppose if everyone had their babies at home we’d be out of a job.’
Sandy frowned. ‘Don’t worry about him now. It’s been a long day for you and pressure’s on when a baby’s not responding.’
‘It’s OK, Sandy. I’m thinking that at least, having him here, we won’t have to book as many high-risk women into the base hospital.’ She stared dreamily at a rosy vision of babies and mothers filling the nursery.
Sandy shook her head. ‘What I don’t get is why such a qualified guy would come here.’
Poppy sniffed. ‘Why wouldn’t he come here? We have the best beaches on the North Coast and we’re close to about five national parks.’
‘Yeah, right, Poppy. Not everyone wants to tramp through slippery gullies to look at some hundred-year-old forest giant covered in green velvet.’ Sandy rolled her eyes.
Poppy wasn’t listening. ‘Hopefully, more women will come back to having their babies at Midcoast.’ She looked around at the freshly painted walls and the modern equipment.
‘I love this place and we fought hard for the birthing suites. It infuriates me that there’s no guarantee the ward will stay open if the birth numbers keep falling.’ She crossed her fingers superstitiously. ‘Help is here if they need it, but we’re finally offering our clients non-medical forms of pain relief, with great results. People are starting to chose Midcoast for those reasons. We don’t want another doctor to scare them away by being negative. We’ll just have to convince him that, while it has its place, conventional medicine isn’t always necessary.’
She shrugged her shoulders wearily and waved at the baby again.
‘I’ve had it. Bye, little one.’ She blew a kiss at the crib. ‘See you tomorrow afternoon, Sandy.’ With her bag in one hand and helmet and keys in the other, she headed thoughtfully out of the door. Poppy’s red motor scooter was no Harley-Davidson but it meant she didn’t have to walk home in the dark tonight.
Pushing open the external door, she almost collided with Dr Sheppard who was leaping up the stairs three at a time. Poppy stepped back out of his way but stopped when he put out his hand.
‘Hello again, Sister.’
