Page 52 of Prognosis Christmas Baby

‘Aha! Here it is.’ Nash stood brandishing his present. ‘It’s a bit small,’ he murmured, giving the hard rectangular box-shaped gift a shake.

Maggie shrugged. ‘Good things come in small packages.’

Nash looked down at her. ‘I know.’ He heard a satisfying little rattle as he continued to shake it. ‘Hmm, I wonder what it is?’

Maggie knew. She couldn’t believe it when she had drawn Nash in the Secret Santa draw. Buying a gift for someone for ten dollars was hard enough, but for Nash?

The man she loved.

She’d searched high and low, trying to find just the right thing, hoping that he’d be able to see the depth of her feelings in the perfect gift. When she’d stumbled into an Australiana store in the city and found eucalyptus-impregnated gum nuts for sale she knew she’d found exactly what she’d been looking for.

Something to remind him of home. The bush. And maybe her.

Nash grinned at her. ‘Let’s find yours.’

‘No,’ Maggie protested as Nash knelt again. ‘I’ll leave it for the twenty-fifth, thanks very much,’ she said primly, and departed, removing herself from temptation.

Of Nash, not the tree.

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Twenty minutes laterNash tracked her down in the tearoom. ‘Christopher’s results are back. His haemoglobin is sixty-four. I’ve organised the cross-match with the lab. They’re going to ring us when the blood’s ready.’

Maggie nodded. ‘Have you told Bree?’

Nash easily read between the lines. He knew what she was really asking was, does the grandfather know? ‘I’ve told Bree. And her father.’

‘How’d that go?’

‘He’s not happy.’

Maggie felt a slight edge of worry and hoped he wasn’t going to be a problem. ‘Well, thankfully it isn’t up to him.’

Nash nodded. ‘I did explain again that it was vital. That Christopher’s low haemoglobin level has a direct effect on the oxygen-carrying capacity of the blood and with his lungs being so sick it was interfering with his body’s oxygenation.’

‘What’d he say to that?’

‘He thinks we could give him more iron tablets. And spinach.’

Maggie almost choked on her cup of tea. ‘What?’

‘I know.’ Nash nodded. Christopher’s anaemia was way beyond being benefited by any pharmaceutical or nutritional intervention. Especially with the potential for further pulmonary haemorrhages. ‘Anyway, as you say, Bree’s given her consent and that’s all that matters.’

‘Okay.’ Maggie nodded. ‘Thanks for trying.’

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An hour later Maggietook a call from the blood bank to tell her they’d put two units of cross-matched blood in the blood fridge for Christopher. Maggie glanced over at bed five. Bree was there but her ever-present father was outside, having a break. Now was a good time to get the blood up — less hassle without Christopher’s grandfather and his disapproving presence.

Linda was on her break and due back in ten minutes. Nash had gone to Radiology with Gemma Perkins, the PICU director, to discuss a case. He shouldn’t be too much longer either. If she went and got the blood now, she and Linda could check it and put it up together with as little fuss as possible, and Nash would be here to deal with any grandfather-related issues.

‘Ray, I’m just going to the blood fridge.’

Maggie had allocated Ray and Gwen as runners. It was their job to be the gophers for the staff looking after the patients as it was policy in PICU that no patient was ever left unattended.

‘Sure thing,’ Ray said.

As Maggie pushed though the swing doors of the unit she heard singing and was delighted to see that the choir that visited the hospital every night in the lead-up to Christmas had stopped outside the PICU parents’ lounge.

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