Page 15 of Prognosis Baby Daddy

The morning cases gotunder way with Ben his usual jovial self again. She noticed he was always in high spirits while he operated and it was obvious that he thrived doing this kind of work. This morning they had a couple of children who had bad burns contractures of their arms which made straightening them excessively difficult and hence, limited their independence.

One was a nine-year-old girl whose fingers on her burnt hand were being dragged into a claw shape due to severe flexion scar contractures, and the other was a four-year-old boy whose right arm was permanently bent up due to a contracture over his elbow joint.

They were brother and sister who had been involved in a tragic fire in their family dwelling that had also killed their mother. Both had had delayed and inadequate treatment of their burns, as so often happened in remote and poor communities. No burns protocols, no immediate grafting, no physio or splinting or pressure garments.

The Lucia Trust had been alerted to their cases through a charitable organisation in their country and had flown them to Italy. It was Ben’s job to debride the thickened scar tissue that was causing their problems and then cover the defects with a skin graft.

Katya could see he was totally in the zone, relishing the challenge, eager to make a difference to these children’s lives. His excitement was palpable and the whole theatre was humming with anticipation.

She was excruciatingly aware of him today. It wasn’t just his elevated mood but the memory of their earlier conversation, the way her heart beat had accelerated and her stomach had turned over at his closeness. She really needed some distance from him but scrubbing in with a surgeon always necessitated close contact and today was no different.

They both needed to see what they were doing, he to operate, she to anticipate his needs, and as much as she tried to distance herself it made very little difference to their proximity. And despite her head telling her to keep it professional, focus on the job, her body had other ideas.

When their arms clad in thick long-sleeved cotton gowns brushed together, it was if he had stroked her bare skin. When their gloved fingers touched as they exchanged instruments, it felt as if he had trailed them up her arm. When his low voice rumbled in her ear it felt as if he had feathered kisses down her neck.

Not even the music was a distraction. Ben liked to listen to classical music as he operated. Being Russian, she was quite partial to classical music herself, but it seemed weirdly intimate and she found herself pining for the dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald who had serenaded them during her time with MedSurg, working with Gill Remy.

The CD playing today was Wagner. It was a poignant collection and she could feel her emotions see-saw with the rise and fall of the music. Wagner had been inspired by Ravello, Ben told her with pride, as he debrided scar tissue. The sexy timbre of his voice slid down her spine and ruined her concentration.

By the time Ben was satisfied with his work and the list came to an end she was eager to escape for a while. She needed to get as far away from him as was humanly possible. She’d come to her decision, there was no point buying into the attraction between them. All she had to do now was hang around until she’d had the baby and then get away — fast.

***

The list complete,Ben was just degowning when the wall phone rang. Being the closest, he picked it up. ‘Lucia Clinic, Dr Medici speaking,’ he said in Italian.

A woman replied. She was speaking in very broken, heavily accented English. ‘I speak to Katya Petrova...please...I her ...mama.’

Katya’s mother? ‘Of course,’ he said switching to English. ‘She is here. One moment.’

He looked up to see Katya just disappearing through the door. ‘Katya,’ he called after her.

She stopped and turned around shooting him one of her cranky looks and Ben suppressed a smile. He held the phone out. ‘It’s for you. It’s your mother.’

Oh, God!Katya covered the distance between the two of them quickly and practically snatched the phone from him. Had something happened to one of her siblings or was it just more of the usual?

‘Mama?’

‘Da,’ her mother said.

‘What’s wrong?’ Katya asked, slipping into her native tongue, gripping the phone, preparing for the worst.

‘Katya,’ her mother said reprovingly, ‘can’t I just ring and talk to my daughter without something being wrong?’

Since when had Olgah ever rung just to shoot the breeze with her firstborn? ‘Everyone’s OK, then?’ Katya said. Her youngest sibling was now seventeen but that still didn’t stop Katya fretting over them like a mother hen.

‘Da, da,’Olgah said dismissively.

Katya breathed a sigh of relief and loosened her grip on the phone. She was conscious in her peripheral vision of Ben’s blatant curiosity. He was sitting in the anesthetist’s chair, pretending interest in a chart.

If there wasn’t something wrong then Katya knew where this conversation was going to head, and she didn’t want Ben to be privy to it. She turned slightly so she couldn’t see him and leant heavily against the wall. She scuffed her feet against the floor, her head downcast, her free hand massaging her forehead.

‘What do you want, Mama?’ Katya asked, feeling herself tense.

‘Katya! How can you speak to your mother like that?’

Katya ignored the indignation. ‘How much, Mama?’

‘I need a couple of thousand. I’m a little behind on the rent and I’ve just got the second notice from the electric company.’

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