they’d visited but any day now he should be joining Bruce, who was still in the ward recovering from the surgery needed on his fractured femur.
Maybe this time Alex could ask about the chance of getting another underground trip. He didn’t need that special smile from Sam to persuade him.
‘Works for me,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to Control again and I need to get some patient details from the others involved here.’
It was ten minutes before they left the scene and another fifteen minutes to get to the emergency department of Christchurch General Hospital. By the time they had handed over the only patient they’d transported, Sam and Alex were officially off duty.
‘They don’t mind if we’re a bit late back with the truck,’ Sam informed Alex. ‘Angus and Tom are having a coffee and they can find another vehicle for them to get to Base if there’s a callout.’
‘Great. Quick visit to the ward, then?’
‘Absolutely.’
They stopped at the ward clerk’s desk to see whether Steve had been transferred from the intensive care unit yet. The nurse who overheard their request happened to be the one looking after both Steve and Bruce for the afternoon shift and she was more than happy to discuss her patients with Alex.
Big blue eyes were fastened on Sam’s partner and the eager, if subtle, leaning forward posture was nothing new, either. Sam was quite used to the interest women showed in Alex. She would have felt the same way in their position but it had never occurred to her to do anything more than appreciate his looks in a very academic way.
‘No fishing off the company pier’ had been a maxim handed down from her brothers well before Sam had seen for herself what damage such relationships could do to a working environment. Hardly a refined pearl of wisdom but very good advice nonetheless, and Sam’s narrow brush with disaster had sealed her acceptance. When her relationship with an ED doctor had petered out somewhat acrimoniously, the time spent in that department had been uncomfortable for months afterwards.
This pretty young nurse had dragged Steve’s notes from the trolley to show Alex.
‘He had a massive haemopneumothorax. Six fractured ribs. Would you like to see the X-ray?’
‘Maybe later. So he’ll still be pretty sore, then?’
‘Mmm. The chest drain only came out today. He’s had another CT scan on his head and neck, too. Did you know there was a hairline fracture in C6/7? Just as well you guys knew how to take such good care of him.’
Sam’s attention wandered as the nurse’s dimples flashed. There was a noticeboard in the central corridor beside the main desk. Photographs and thank-you cards from patients were interspersed with notices from support groups, rules for visitors and hospital services such as the hairdressing salon and chemist.
Below the large pinboard was a long, custom-built pocket that housed a variety of pamphlets. Idly, Sam scanned the titles. There were tips for incorporating a healthy level of exercise into a daily routine— ‘Push play for thirty minutes a day’. Dietary guidelines for a heart healthy eating plan had a cute little smiley red heart with legs. More professional looking were the warning signs and self-help checks for testicular and prostate cancer, but not many had been taken.
‘So, did you get any good calls today?’ The nurse was edging the conversation into a more personal arena.
‘Nah. Quiet day for us. Sam? You ready? Steve’s in room 3.’
‘Sure.’ But Sam didn’t turn directly towards Alex because her line of vision had just connected with something interesting.
Very interesting.
‘I’ll come with you,’ the nurse announced. ‘He’s due for obs, anyway.’
Sam started to follow the pair down the corridor but then hesitated. Too quickly for Alex to notice, she turned back, pocketed one of the pamphlets and then strode a step or two to catch up.
‘How’s Bruce doing?’ she queried.
‘Really well.’ You would have thought it had been Alex who’d spoken the way the nurse’s gaze was dragged back to the man she was keeping in step with. ‘They asked to be in the same room, which is why I’ve got them both on my list. He’s been up on his crutches today.’
The men from the caving club were delighted to see their visitors and show off their progress to representatives from the emergency services that had ensured their survival. Sam happily joined in the conversation but part of her mind was still firmly captured by the light-bulb moment she had experienced back at the noticeboard.
It wasn’t a flashy brochure trying to win people over to the benefits of a low-fat diet or thirty minutes of activity every day. It was even more discreet than the testicular cancer one. Sam hoped it would have lots of information inside but the two words that had caught her eye so effectively were enough all by themselves really.
Sperm bank.
A baby bank. An anonymous donation and then a withdrawal and bingo! A ‘no-strings’ baby. Sam’s buttons had not been pushed last week by the notion of falling madly in love, getting married and settling down to raise a family. Oh, no! What Sam wanted, purely and simply…was a baby. A being she could afford to love, heart and soul. A tiny person she could guide and protect and watch grow and develop. Someone who would love her back and could provide the bond between mother and child that had been missing from Sam’s life for what felt like for ever.
It wasn’t as though she needed a man in her life. Not on a permanent basis anyway. She was perfectly happy the way she was, thank you, and who needed the angst and stress of a relationship that didn’t work out long term? The argument that a child needed a father figure didn’t hold much water, either. Sam had no shortage of suitable male role models readily available if she happened to end up raising a son.
Financially she was secure enough and Sam didn’t intend giving up her job for ever anyway. A good day-care centre would have the added benefit of solving any issues regarding a lack of siblings for her child as well.
Dammit! Sam smiled at Bruce, realising she hadn’t heard a word he’d just said and he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for a response.
‘Hmm,’ she said thoughtfully, buying some time.
‘She’d love it,’Alex declared.
They were talking about caving, Sam realised as her brain retrieved snatches of the half-heard patch of recent conversation. Steve was actually looking as enthusiastic as Bruce at the thought of taking Alex off to climb dark vertical walls and squeeze painfully through impossibly small fissures. Did these men have rocks in their heads?
Maybe if Tim—the man who hadn’t made it through the disaster—hadn’t been a new and relatively unknown club member, his death would have made enough impact to dampen that enthusiasm a little longer.
‘I reckon I’ll be fit enough in a month or so,’ Steve was saying. ‘I’ll give you a bell.’
‘We’ll find somewhere easy for your first run,’ Bruce added.
‘Hopefully somewhere away from any fault lines,’ Sam suggested.
The
