Now he wanted to take them all down in a bloody thrashing for upsetting Tamara.
A little girl arrived before them.
‘Nine years old, suspected fractures to both arms and legs, and possibly ribs.’ A nurse from the nightshift read the details as Conor nodded to the X-ray tech.
The thrashing would have to wait.
As would thinking about that baby.
* * *
The hours disappeared in a haze of anguish and despair. Children came through ED, some staying longer than others before moving on to Theatre, or, for the lucky ones, to the children’s ward with plaster casts or multitudes of stitches.
Finally, ‘We’re all done.’ Mac appeared from the adjoining resus unit, looking like he’d been living a nightmare for hours. Which he had. They all had.
It was over. Air leaked from Conor like a puncture as the tension that had been with him from the moment Michael had told them what they were in for softened. ‘I didn’t know they could fit so many children on one bus.’ The exhaustion that’d been beating him up earlier in the afternoon returned at full throttle. ‘Glad that’s done.’ Except there were parents throughout the hospital dealing with their worst nightmares.
Parents. Closing his eyes, he rubbed them with his thumbs, and was confronted with an image of Mam letting herself in through the front door, shoulders drooped, knees buckling. Those laughing eyes he’d looked for on waking every morning of his four short years had been dulled with pain and anguish. Her arms had shaken as she’d clung to him. He hadn’t recognised her voice as she’d croaked, ‘Sebastian and Daddy are in heaven, my love.’ And there had begun the rest of his life.
‘I’ve never dealt with anything like it.’ Mac rolled his neck left then right.
‘What?’
‘Go home, Conor. Get a beer in you and hit the sack.’
Looking around, Conor couldn’t find Tamara. He stumbled. ‘Where is everyone?’
Tam, did you cope? Really? Behind that mask, are you okay?
Mac was muttering, ‘I sent day shift home half an hour ago. They were shattered after already working a shift, and I figured my team could handle the remainder of cases. Not that they’re in much better shape.’
‘It’s going to be a long night for them.’ What was left of it.
Mac gave him a rueful smile. ‘You sure knew how to cope with the situation.’
‘For all the wrong reasons, unfortunately.’ The wall clock read nine twenty. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was after midnight. As it was, he’d be back on duty all too soon. With that thought his mind filled with the urgent need to get out of there while he could still walk. ‘I’m gone.’
Home. A shower. Bed.
Tamara.
Now that you’re coming down from the high we’ve all been on for endless hours, are you looking all peaky and worried again?
She’d be beyond exhausted now that she had pregnancy to contend with as well.
I hope you’re all right. That my baby is doing okay.
CHAPTER THREE
TAMARA HUDDLED AGAINST the bench in her kitchen, waiting for the toaster to pop. Wet hair hung down her back. Blow-drying it would take energy she didn’t have. Tomorrow it would stick out in all directions but right now she didn’t care. All she wanted was to eat something fast before slipping between the clean sheets she’d put on the bed that morning. To fall asleep and forget all the horrors of the day.
Those poor little kids, broken, in agony, some damaged for ever. The parents’ distress had been equally harrowing. Not something she’d have considered from a parent’s perspective until that thin blue line had entered her life. Never before had she seen such despair, so much shock, all at once.
The day the fraud squad had turned up at her family home had been shocking, but in a very different way; certainly not life-threatening, only life-changing. Back then, the press she had been used to, following her around to photograph her latest outfit or hairstyle, or who she’d dined with and where, had turned on her. Painted her the same black shade as Peter. From that day on she and the media had come to a mutual understanding. They disliked each other; a far cry from the fawning she’d grown up knowing and enjoying. These days, loath to attract attention of any kind, she no longer wore supermodel clothes or spent a fortune on make-up and hair. Nowadays she hid behind dull and duller.
A sigh escaped. What a day. And she’d thought telling Conor about their baby had been difficult. It had been a breeze compared to what those poor parents were dealing with.
Ding-dong. The doorbell was loud in the quiet space.
Her neck cricked painfully when her head snapped up. Who was here at this hour? She didn’t have visitors at any hour. Staring at her bedraggled reflection in the microwave door, she hoped whoever was out there would take the hint and go away.
Ding-dong.
Pulling the belt of her bathrobe tight, she took another moment to stare at the image gleaming back at her. Whoever it was, they’d soon take a hike when they saw her looking like something hauled out of a dumpster.
Ding-dong.
Persistent. ‘Yes, yes, I’m coming,’ she muttered as she gave in. Opening the front door, a gasp escaped her. ‘Conor.’ Might have known, considering the persistence aspect.
‘Did you check to see who was out here before you opened the door?’ he growled.
She hadn’t given it a thought. ‘Hang on.’ She made to close the door and peek through the eye-hole just to wind Conor up. How else to deal with him when she could barely remember her own name?
He was too quick for her, splaying his hand on the door to keep it open. ‘Can I come in?’
Don’t tell me we’re going to discuss our baby now.
She’d be at a huge disadvantage, her brain only functioning on low. Yet she stepped back, breathed him in as he passed. Her body succumbed to the scent of man with an overlay of antiseptic. ‘You’ve come straight from the hospital?’ she finally managed.
‘I wanted to make sure you’d got home all right and was coping with what went down in ED today.’
Of course she was. And wasn’t. ‘There’ll probably be some nightmares, but I’m fine.’ He cared enough to check on her? When he had to be feeling as shattered as she did? Raising her eyes to his, she
found concern and something she couldn’t interpret fixed on her. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered around the lump suddenly clogging her throat. When was the last time a man—anyone, for that matter—had shown her such care? No one since her father had become ill with the dementia that had taken him from her. Not even Peter had managed to pull on a mask that had suggested he’d been genuinely concerned for her any time. One of the lesser reasons he was now her ex. ‘Thanks,’ she repeated.
‘Come here.’ Conor wrapped her up in a strong yet gentle hug, held her against his warm length and lowered his chin to the top of her wet head. ‘It’s been a huge day.’
Tamara’s arms lifted to his waist without any input from her brain. She snuggled her face into his chest. ‘Massive,’ she agreed.
‘You were amazing with your little patients. So caring, understanding, unflappable. I’ve worked with a lot of nurses and you are one of the best.’ A large, warm hand ran soft, soothing circles over her back. Slowly, slowly, the tension ebbed away, leaving her feeling comfortable with Conor.
Seriously? Oh, boy. That made her feel so good. ‘I could say the same back to you.’ And mean it as much as she believed he meant it.
‘So...’ Conor hesitated. ‘You’re okay now you’ve come down off the high brought on by the adrenalin rush today cranked up?’
‘I’m shattered so I don’t want to discuss our baby and how we’re going to deal with this situation tonight. I don’t believe I can be as focused as I need to be for that.’ Conor holding her like this made her feel as though she could tell him anything, open up to him, explain how she hoped their future—their baby’s future—would unfold. And probably give too much of herself away.
‘I came around to make sure you were all right. I also needed to hear you mention the pregnancy again. It’s been a blur from the moment Michael knocked on my office door.’
Leaning back in his arms, she gazed up at him. ‘We are going to have a baby.’