Page 220 of Feathers in the Wind
Lily French buzzed around the bed hooking up the various monitors and drips, none of which Christian would understand once he awoke. She paused in her ministrations and looked at me, hands on her hips.
‘You two look terrible. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? There is nothing you can do here. I’ll ring you when he wakes.’
If he wakes.
A glance at the monitors told me his condition was stable. I looked down at the tiny figure on the hospital gurney, his little face lost among the tubes. He seemed so small and fragile.
Nat watched me from over the top of the paper mask he wore.
‘You go, Jessie. I don’t want to leave him.’
I gave him a fierce look that said, ‘And I’m not leaving either of you.’
‘You don’t look so crash hot yourself, sunshine,’ Lily glared at Nat. ‘I’ll go and get you a chair. You need to rest that leg.’
I followed her to fetch a jug of water. I wasn’t leaving either.
Lily cocked her head and watched me as I ran the tap. ‘He’s the one?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, that’s him, Lily. Nat and I have travelled a long way together. No turning back now.’
‘Well. I can see the attraction. Lucky girl.’ She frowned. ‘What’s he done to his leg?’
I avoided her eyes. ‘Just a silly accident.’
Lily gave me an appraising look before she shook her head. ‘Men. Just what you need when you have to deal with a sick child.’ She laid her hand on my arm, forcing me to look at her. ‘Are you sure you’re ready to be an instant mother, Jess?’
I smiled and nodded.
Lily picked up a chair and gave me one of her professional, reassuring smiles. ‘He’ll be all right, Jess. I don’t let my patients go that easily.’
Back in intensive care, I drew up a second chair, fished for Christian’s small hand amidst the tentacles of tubes and set myself to wait. Across the bed, Nat kept his vigil. Neither of us spoke.
Sometime in the dark hours of the night I dozed, still holding the child’s hand, my head cradled in my arms, resting on the side of the bed. An almost imperceptible tightening of his fingers, or a shift in weight, woke me and I sat up with a start.
‘Nat, he’s awake!’
Nat rose to his feet, his injury forgotten. He bent over his son, who looked from one to the other of us with large, fearful eyes. The change in his status on the monitors had alerted the on-shift nurse, who hustled us out of the way while she checked the machines.
She turned and smiled at us. ‘Looking good. Dr. Westmacott asked me to ring him when the boy woke.’
Mark appeared within a few minutes, looking as if he had just been woken, and I felt a rush of gratitude to him. Whatever he might have felt about Nat and me, he cared enough about his tiny patient that he hadn’t left the hospital.
‘Hmm,’ he said after he had finished his examination. I made a mental note to never to use that particular tone with a patient. ‘A word, Jessie.’
He took me by the arm and steered me into the corridor.
‘Is something wrong?’ My voice sounded high and tight even to my own ears.
Mark glanced through the window at the bed, where Nat stood leaning over his son and talking softly to him.
‘The child’s not out of the woods yet but it’s looking promising.’
‘So? What did you want to say to me that can’t be said in front of Nat?’
Mark cleared his throat. ‘Jess, I’m worried about you. There’s something damned peculiar about your friend. Are you sure you know what you’re taking on?’
‘Absolutely sure, Mark.’ I laid a hand on his arm. ‘Thank you for what you’ve done.’
