Hence all the wet clothes lying in piles around the department. Seemed most of the kids preferred being undressed than wet and cold.
Tamara approached with an amused expression lighting up her face. ‘Remind me not to have more than one child, will you?’ She tossed him a smile before picking up a book that had been dropped by one young patient.
Of course his gaze rested on her backside as she’d bent to retrieve the book. Of course. No problem with the chemistry between them. No difficulty with anything at this stage really. Not when he regularly felt light-headed and excited.
‘How are the boys who had allergic reactions?’ the teacher asked.
‘One lad’s doing well, but we’ve had to put the other on oxygen and morphine. He also reacted to the painkiller. His parents are with him, if you want to see them.’
The woman shook her head. ‘They don’t need me asking irritating questions. I saw them when they arrived.’
‘We need to start moving some of these children out of here, preferably on their way home.’ Conor glanced around the department. ‘There are other patients waiting to be seen and none of these youngsters require our attention any longer.’
‘Have you signed any of them out?’ Tamara asked.
‘Starting now.’
The teacher sighed. ‘I’ll get the parents together to explain that their children are ready to go.’
‘That’ll be a bag of laughs.’ Tamara chuckled as she watched the woman begin rounding up her charges and their families.
‘We didn’t need to see most of the children,’ Conor mused. ‘But I don’t mind admitting I’ve enjoyed the last hour.’
‘You’re a natural with kids. Our wee man is so lucky to be having you as his dad,’ she murmured before heading over to a group of kids objecting to picking up wet clothes.
Down, chest, down. But, hey, any compliment Tam was handing out he’d happily accept. His gaze followed her and his heart clenched as the kids laughed at something she said.
Impatience gnawed. They had everything going for them and had coped well with the king hits over the past week, and, damn it, he wanted more than he should.
‘Doctor.’ A parent stood in front of him.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Tell me again about this EpiPen my son will always have to carry. It seems extreme when he’s had bee stings before with no side effects.’
Conor nodded. ‘One sting, even two or three at a time, don’t always cause problems, but your lad had more than fifty today. Those would’ve filled his system with toxin, which will eventually disappear, but his body now recognises the toxin and even a small sting will ring warning bells and start a response you don’t want to take a chance on.’
‘Better to be safe than sorry?’ The man nodded.
‘If it was my child I’d be doing it.’
I’ve got a son. A son in utero, but he’s real. I’m going to be a dad.
And it felt wonderful. As long as he didn’t think about hearts and stoppages. Funny, but those had been far from his mind the last couple of days.
The phone buzzed at his elbow. ‘Call for Dr Maguire.’ It was the director of emergency services at Sydney Hospital.
‘Hold on and I’ll transfer this to my office.’ Conor punched some buttons and raced for his room.
‘Hi, there, Conor. Hope I’m not interrupting anything serious.’ The director’s voice boomed over the airwaves.
‘Perfect timing. How’s things in Sydney?’ What was this call about? He’d made arrangements to fly over for the interview on Friday.
‘We’re having a minor heatwave. The job? That’s yours. The other contender has pulled out for family reasons.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m also stoked.’ He and Tam could get serious about their plans for the future. ‘Thank you. I’m thrilled.’
‘So are we. We’d like it if you still come over at the end of the week so we can run through your contract and get to eyeball you before you start officially.’
‘Not a problem. I want to look into accommodation anyway.’ He’d got the job. Conor punched the air. Another tick in the going-well stakes. Where was Tam? He couldn’t wait to tell her.
* * *
‘Congratulations, Dr Maguire.’ Tamara lifted her glass of sparkling water in a toast the following night. ‘Watch out, Sydney Hospital.’
Conor tapped his glass against hers. ‘We’re on our way, Tam.’ He glanced around the restaurant she’d chosen to celebrate his new job. ‘I can’t believe how everything’s falling into place so easily.’
A flicker of doubt crossed her eyes but then she smiled. ‘Don’t tempt fate, whatever you do.’
‘That first day I walked into Auckland Central’s ED and set eyes on you, I had absolutely no idea how much my life would change.’ If not for Tamara’s pregnancy he’d still be avoiding the things that were now making him happy.
The sweetest pink coloured her cheeks under her make-up. ‘Are all Irish men so charming?’
The off-the-shoulder little black dress she wore was sensational. ‘You’re like another Tamara Washington. Just as beautiful and lovely with an added dose of style thrown in.’
The pink darkened to red. ‘I shudder when I think how I let myself go.’
Her hand was warm under his. ‘Your shapely body and stunning looks weren’t all that attracted me.’ The words were coming too easily for a guy not used to putting his feelings out there.
‘You’re embarrassing me.’ Tamara toyed with her glass. ‘What I wouldn’t do for a glass of wine right now. There’s so much to celebrate and I’m stuck with water.’ Her mouth was tipping into a big smile. One that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
‘For the best reason.’
‘Totally agree.’ No doubt in her eyes now.
* * *
‘Thank goodness for nights,’ Tamara muttered, as she dropped her bag on the kitchen table on Wednesday and pulled open the fridge to see what to have for dinner. ‘Then again maybe not.’
One soft and spongy tomato, a piece of cheese growing a healthy dose of mould—or was that unhealthy in her condition? The solitary carrot on the middle shelf was so soft she could tie a knot in it. The groceries she’d bought last weekend were still at Conor’s apartment.
Thank goodness for the café at work. Another supermarket trip was imperative, but would have to wait until the weekend. Her body ached with fatigue, as though it hadn’t had any sleep in a month.
Flicking the kettle on, she leaned a hip against the bench and stared out into her tiny back yard. It was as if she’d been running forward at full tilt since the day she’d told Conor she was pregnant, with no stopping to take a breath and suss everything out in a reasoned fashion. No wonder she felt as though she was slowly unravelling. The excitement of seeing her baby for the first time had gone, replaced with lethargy. Conor’s proposal hadn’t banished all her doubts either. In the middle of the night the old fears rose to torment her. A fast proposal so he could carry on as he’d always intended? But she had agreed to go to Sydney with him anyway. What else did he want from her?
This should be the best time of her life and yet she couldn’t drag up any enthusiasm. She was so damned tired. And still uncertain of relying on her judgement.
Ding-dong.
That darned doorbell. She never had got around to taking the batteries out. But, then, she enjoyed Conor dropping in all the time. Still did, if only she could find some energy. And complete belief that he wouldn’t hurt her.
Ding-dong.
‘Coming,’ she called. Please be Conor. Conor without too many questions, not Conor wanting to sort out dates for moving to Sydney, for getting married, for every damned thing.
‘Hey.’ He stood on the step, looking good enough to eat.
‘Hey, yourself.’ Pulling the door wide, she stepped back, and breathed in his man scent as he walked in. What a man. The man she wanted to trust implicitly, but couldn’t quite manage to yet. Getting close, but not close enough. Following him into her kitchen, she said, ‘I’m making a cup of tea. Want one?’ How domestic was that, then?
‘I’ve got a six-pack in here.’
Only then did she notice the grocery bags swinging from his hands. ‘You’ve got more than beer there.’
‘I’m on dinner. Hope you’re okay with steak again?’ He placed the bags on the bench and began unpacking, totally at home in her space.
‘Grocery shopping was next on my to-do list. But I wasn’t getting excited about it.’
‘Your excitement levels have been wavering most of the week.’ Conor leaned his butt against the bench and locked a formidable gaze on her. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right? Not having second thoughts about anything?’
Since when had Conor become challenging? Was this one of the reasons she was feeling at odds with herself? ‘I’m pregnant, and that’s taking everything out of me at the moment,’ she snapped, more forcefully than intended.
‘Sure that’s not an excuse for something else?’