touchstone.
The rock that had been missing from her life for so long. Yes, she’d learned to stand on her own two feet but the ground had never felt solid enough to trust. To put roots into.
The blessed relief that felt like a homecoming twisted almost instantly into something else, however. Fear?
He hadn’t said her name but he looked as angry as Simon had been when he’d stormed into the waiting room of Queen Mary’s.
Or… maybe it wasn’t anger. She’d seen that kind of look before, during a fight. Partly anger but also pain. And bewilderment. The result of being attacked when you didn’t know quite what it was about and why you deserved it in the first place.
Gemma didn’t know what to say. Maybe Andy didn’t either. He was looking at the baby in her arms.
‘I’ll take her,’ he said. ‘You bring the others and follow me.’
CHAPTER TWO
THANK heavens there was a sick baby to assess.
It was another blessing that Andy had had plenty of practice in using a professional mode to override personal pain. This might be the best test yet, mind you.
Gemma’s baby?
She had found someone to take his place in her life and she’d had his baby? A baby he now had cradled in his own arms as he led the way from the waiting room into the business area of the emergency department. Gemma was a good few steps behind him. He hadn’t waited quite long enough for her to scoop up the youngest girl and send the oldest one to fetch the boy called Jamie from the playpen.
Jamie?
Something was struggling to escape from the part of his brain he was overriding but Andy didn’t dare release the circuit breaker he’d had to slam on within seconds of walking into that waiting room.
That first glimpse of Gemma had hit him like an emotional sledgehammer. The power of that initial, soul-deep response had had the potential to destroy him utterly if he hadn’t been able to shut it down fast. Fortunately, some automatic survival instinct had kicked in and extinguished that blinding glow. Shutting off his emotional response had left him with a lens focused on physical attributes and… astonishingly, it could have been yesterday that he’d last seen her.
OK, her hair was longer. Those luxuriant brown waves had barely touched her shoulders back then and they were in a loose plait that hung down to the middle of her back now. Same colour, though, and even in the artificial glare of the neon strip lighting in here it was alive with sparks of russet and deep gold. She’d filled out a little, too, but that only made her look more like the woman he’d fallen in love with instead of the pale shadow that had slipped out of his life four years ago.
How much worse was it going to be when he was close enough to see her eyes? Nobody else in the world had Gemma’s eyes. They might share that glowing hazel shade but he’d never seen anyone with the unusual gold rims around the irises and the matching chips in their depths.
So far, by concentrating on the small people around her, Andy had managed to avoid more than a grazing glance. He was still avoiding direct eye contact as he walked briskly ahead of her.
He was getting close to the triage desk now and Julia was watching his approach. Or rather she was staring at the small train of followers he knew he had. Gemma must look like the old woman from the shoe, he thought grimly. So many children she didn’t know what to do.
The irony would be unbearable if he let himself go there.
‘Space?’ he queried crisply. ‘Query meningitis here.’
‘Um…’ Julia gave her head a tiny shake and turned it to glance over her shoulder at the board. ‘Resus One’s just been cleared… but—’
‘Thanks.’ Andy didn’t give her time to say that it probably needed to be kept clear for a more urgent case. The privacy and space of one of the larger areas would be ideal to contain this unacceptably large group. It wasn’t until he led them all into the space he realised that isolating himself from the hubbub of the cubicles would only intensify the undercurrents happening here but, by then, it was too late.
A nurse had just finished smoothing a clean sheet onto the bed. Andy laid the baby down gently. Her wails had diminished as he’d carried her here but the volume got turned up as he put her down and she was rubbing her eyes with small, tight fists. Was the light hurting her? Andy angled the lamp away.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked. It was quite easy to ask the question without looking directly at Gemma. Right now she was just another parent of a sick child.
‘Fever, irritability, refusing food.’ Gemma’s voice was strained. ‘She vomited once and her cry sounded…’ her voice wavered ‘… kind of high-pitched.’
Andy focused on the baby. He slid one hand behind her head. Lifting it gently, he was relieved to see her neck flex. If this was a case of meningitis, it was at an early stage but he could feel the heat from the skin beneath wisps of golden hair darkened by perspiration.
‘Let’s get her undressed,’ he told the nurse. ‘I’d like some baseline vital signs, too, thanks.’
Hard to assess a rate of breathing when a baby was this distressed, of course. And the bulging fontanelle could be the result of the effort of crying rather than anything more sinister. Andy straightened for a moment, frowning, as he tried to take in an overall impression.
It didn’t help that there were so many other children in here. The small girl in Gemma’s arms was still whimpering and the older boy was whining.
‘But why can’t I go and play with the toys?’
‘Shh, Jamie.’ The older girl gave him a shove. ‘Sophie’s sick. She might be going to die.’
Andy’s eyebrows reversed direction and shot up. The matter-of-fact tone of the child was shocking. He heard Gemma gasp and it was impossible to prevent his gaze going straight to her face.
She was looking straight back at him.
He could see a mirror of his own shock at Sophie’s statement. And see a flash of despair in Gemma’s eyes.
And he could see something else. A plea? No, it was more like an entire library of unspoken words. Instant understanding and… trust that what was known wouldn’t be used for harm.
And there was that glow again, dammit. Rays of intense light and warmth seeping out from the mental lid he’d slammed over the hole in his heart. Andy struggled to push the lid more firmly into place. To find something to screw it down with.
She’s moved on, a small voice reminded Andy. She’s got children. Another man’s children.
It was Gemma who dragged her gaze clear.
‘She’s not going to die, Hazel.’ But was there an edge of desperation in Gemma’s voice?
‘She’s here so that we can look after her,’ Andy added in his most reassuring adult-to-child tone. ‘And make sure that she doesn’t…’ The stare he was receiving from Jamie was disconcerting.
