The Honourable Maverick / The Unsung Hero (3 page)

The sharp flash of dismay—anger, even—that he could be belittling the nightmare she’d been living with for so many months gave way to something very different. Something rather wonderful. Something that made it OK that she loved this baby she was carrying. She didn’t have to feel ashamed. Or guilty. Or terrified of what the future might hold for her child.

He’d not only made her feel safe, this man. He’d given her…hope.

Ellie’s smile wobbled. ‘Thank you.’ ‘No worries.’ Max looked away. Was he embarrassed by the gratitude he might be seeing? ‘So, do you know if it’s a girl?’ ‘No.’

‘You weren’t tempted to ask the ultrasound technician?’

‘I haven’t had a scan.’

Too late, Ellie realised what she’d let slip as Max blinked at her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I haven’t had a scan,’ she repeated. Did he not understand? ‘If I’d gone to an antenatal clinic my name would have been recorded. I knew Marcus was trying to find me and I couldn’t take that risk.’

‘But didn’t the hospital in Wellington get your details when you got a new job there?’

‘I didn’t get a job in a hospital. I went into the private sector. I had a job as a carer for a tetraplegic guy. I kept it up until very recently when the lifting got too much and then I finally managed to contact Sarah and she said she was going to the States and it seemed like the perfect solution so I sorted my passport and—’

‘Whoa!’ Max held up a hand. ‘Rewind. Are you saying you’ve had
no
antenatal care? Not even a scan?’

‘I’m twenty-eight,’ Ellie said defensively. ‘Young and healthy. I’ve had no problems. I’ve taken my own blood pressure at regular intervals and I even had the opportunity to test my own urine for protein and so on because the man I was caring for had dipsticks provided. I’ve taken all the recommended vitamin supplements and been careful with my diet. I had all
the information I needed in my textbooks and I’m a nurse, for heaven’s sake. I can take care of myself. I would have got help if there’d been any indication it was needed. I’m not stupid.’

The way his eyebrows lifted suggested that Max was reserving judgement on that score. ‘How many weeks are you?’

‘Thirty-six weeks and two days.’

‘What position is the baby in?’

‘I…’ That was something Ellie had done her best to ascertain but would have to admit she hadn’t succeeded in finding out. A small bottom and a head were hard to distinguish by palpation.

‘You don’t know, do you?’

Ellie had to look away. She pressed her lips together and encouraged the small flare of resentment she could feel forming.

‘Where were you planning to give birth given your aversion to registering as a patient in a hospital?’

‘I can go to a hospital. Somewhere else. Under a different name.’

‘And if you happen to succeed in lying about your due date and actually get onto an international flight, how’s that going to work if you go into labour at thirty thousand feet? Hours away from the nearest airport?’

He was angry. With
her.

And it was unbearable.

He’d made her feel safe and then he’d given her hope and now he was taking those precious moments back. Ellie had never felt this miserable in her entire life.

So utterly
alone.

Max was appalled.

He’d protected Ellie and now that he knew what he’d been protecting her
from,
he could only be grateful that fate had put him in the right place at the right time.

And now she was going to endanger both herself and her unborn baby with this insane plan to throw herself into a lifetime of hiding and deceit.

He couldn’t see her face at the moment because she had dipped her head under the weight of his harsh tone. He could see the copper gleam of that thick mane of hair, however. And the tip of a small, upturned nose. What had he said about the baby? That it might be a girl—petite and pretty like its mother? He’d meant it, but he could have said more.

He could have suggested it might have that gorgeous colouring of her hair and eyes that would demand the attention of anybody. He might not be able to see her arms hidden beneath the wide sleeves of that sweater but he could guarantee the bone structure was as fine as her face and hands.

What he could see was the way they were wrapped around her lower body right now. Fiercely protective. And he could see the slump of her shoulders as though she thought the entire world was against her.

Hadn’t she been through enough without him getting on her case as well?

‘Sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘I don’t want to make this any worse for you. I’d like to help, if I can.’

She looked up and caught his gaze and Max couldn’t look away. He’d remembered the attractive colour of her eyes but he must have forgotten their impact. He could
feel
that gaze. Like a physical touch. A handhold,
maybe. One that asked for comfort. Or strength. He could give her that much, couldn’t he?

‘You wouldn’t have a forwarding address for Sarah, would you?’

‘No.’ Max frowned. ‘You do know why she decided to take off for the States in such a hurry, don’t you?’

‘Not really. She didn’t say much in her email. I got the impression she was making a new start. Wanting a new life?’

‘No. That wasn’t the reason.’

Ellie looked horrified. ‘She was trying to get further away from me?’

‘No. Did she not tell you about Josh? About him being diagnosed with leukaemia six months ago?’

‘Oh, my God!’ Ellie breathed. ‘No. I knew she was worried about him when I left. She thought he was being affected by the stressful situation. It was one of the reasons I left Auckland.’

‘He didn’t get diagnosed until they came down here. He got a lot sicker fast and she decided she had to try and find his father so that the possibility of a bone-marrow transplant would be there. She finally managed to track down the man on his birth certificate and found out he’s a doctor working in California. She decided the best way to deal with it was to take Josh to meet him. Too easy to just say no with an email or phone call. She’s planning to stay long enough to have the transplant done in the States if it’s possible.’

‘She might need help looking after him. I could do that. Poor Sarah. She needs a friend if nothing else.’

Her determination might be admirable but the wobble in Ellie’s voice showed that she knew as well
as he did that she was heading down a dead-end street with that plan.

‘You can’t go to the States right now, Ellie,’ he said gently. ‘Give it up.’

‘Australia, then. That’s only a few hours away.’

‘Do you have any friends or relatives over there?’

‘I know someone in Darwin.’

‘That’s nearly as far as the States. What about this side of Australia? Sydney or Melbourne or Brisbane?’

Ellie sighed. ‘No.’

‘How will you manage on your own?’

‘I can get a job. I’m good at what I do.’

‘I’m sure you are.’ Max repressed a sigh. ‘But do you think you’d get a position as a theatre nurse without having to produce a documented record of your qualifications? Without them wanting to know where you were last employed? Without talking to people there?’

Ellie looked away again. ‘Yeah…I know.’ Defeat darkened her words. ‘I keep thinking and thinking about it and it’s going round and round in my head and I just keep hoping I’ll think of something that might work. Some way out.’

She gave him a quick glance and he could see that her eyes shimmered with tears. ‘And I can’t. I just have to take one day at a time and think about what I need to do
today.
For the next few hours, even.’

‘What you need to do today is to make sure that everything’s OK with you and your baby.’

Her nod was resigned. ‘I’ll go and see a doctor tomorrow, I promise. I’ll find a midwife.’

‘And you’ll have the baby in a hospital?’

She shook her head. ‘I
can’t.
What if Marcus found out? What if he got the chance to do a DNA test or something and got evidence that it
is
his baby? He’d take it away from me.’

Ellie was gripping the table now. She pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’m
not
going to let that happen. Not to me and especially not to this baby.
My
baby.’ She turned away with the obvious intention of leaving.

‘Hey…my baby, too…kind of.’ Max was on his feet. He had to stop her going. If she left, he’d have no way of helping her and he’d taken on a responsibility back then when he’d claimed paternity. OK, it had been pretence and he could give it up now but oddly it seemed to be getting stronger.

Ellie got halfway across the room as she made a direct line for her small overnight bag that still sat near the door. But then she stopped abruptly. She put her arms around herself again and then, to Max’s horror, she doubled over with an agonised cry of pain. It was then that he saw the dark stain on the legs of her jeans.

Had her waters broken?

He was by her side in an instant. Holding her. Helping her to lie down, right where she was. He was touching her and when he took his hand away, he saw the unmistakable smears of blood on his fingers.

‘Don’t move, Ellie,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be all right. I’m just going to call for an ambulance.’

T
HE
wail of the ambulance siren still echoed in his head as Max followed the stretcher carrying Ellie into the emergency department of Dunedin’s Queen Mary hospital.

The sound had been the consistent background to a blur of activity that he had orchestrated from the moment Ellie had collapsed on his floor. He had been the one to place the large-bore IV cannula to allow vital fluids to be administered to counteract the blood loss. He had inserted a second line when it had become apparent that her blood pressure was already alarmingly low and her level of consciousness was rapidly dropping. It was Max who kept an eye on the ECG monitor to see what effect the blood loss might have on her heart rhythm and increased the level of oxygen being given as the reading of circulating levels slowly deteriorated.

This was far worse than any complication he might have imagined her encountering on an international flight. She would have been in trouble if this had happened only hours ago on a short domestic hop. Or out
on the street before she had knocked so unexpectedly on his door.

She was in trouble anyway.

So was the baby.

Not that he could afford to worry about the infant just yet. He knew that the mother’s condition was the priority. He had dealt with such cases in his department more than once. Ruptured ectopic pregnancies. Uterine ruptures. Trauma. But this wasn’t some unknown woman who’d been rushed into his department by an ambulance with its siren wailing urgently.

This was Ellie and he’d promised her she was safe now.

‘Antepartum haemorrhage,’ he told the startled-looking triage nurse as the stretcher burst through the electronic doors into a brightly lit department.

‘Max! What on earth are you doing here?’

He ignored more than one head turning in his direction. Maybe this wasn’t the way he usually arrived at work and he rarely turned up wearing his bike-riding leathers but it was no excuse for unprofessional behaviour from his colleagues.

‘Is Trauma One free?’

‘Yes. We got the radio message. Someone from O and G is on the way down.’ The nurse followed the rapidly moving stretcher. So did the receptionist, who was clutching a clipboard.

‘We haven’t got a name,’ the clerk said anxiously.

‘Ellie,’ Max snapped. They were through another set of double doors now, in the best-equipped area in the department to deal with a critical case. The paramedics stopped the stretcher right beside the bed with
its clean, white sheet. Staff were waiting, having been primed to expect them, and they were wearing their aprons and gloves, ready to begin a resuscitation protocol. They all knew their first tasks. The portable monitoring equipment from the ambulance would have to be switched over to the built-in equivalents. A junior nurse held a pair of shears, ready to cut away Ellie’s clothing. A trolley was positioned near the head of the bed, an airway roll already opened in case intubation was necessary.

It was no surprise to see who was ready to control both the airway of this patient and the running of this emergency scenario. Jet was wearing theatre scrubs now and had a stethoscope slung around his neck. There was nothing unprofessional about his immediate reaction to seeing who had come in with this patient. He didn’t even blink.

‘On my count,’ he said smoothly. ‘One, two…three.’

There was a pool of blood on the stretcher as they lifted Ellie across to the bed. She groaned and her eyes flickered open.

‘It’s OK,’ Max said, leaning closer. ‘We’re in the hospital now, Ellie. Jet’s here and he’s going to look after you. We’re all going to look after you.’

Her eyes drifted shut again.

‘GCS is dropping.’ Max tried to sound clinical. Detached. It didn’t work.

Jet was holding Ellie’s head, making sure her airway was open. He was watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest and his gaze went to the monitor as the
oxygen saturation probe on her finger began relaying the information he wanted.

He frowned and flicked the briefest glance at Max. ‘What the hell happened?’ he murmured.

‘Massive haemorrhage. Seemed to come from nowhere as soon as she stood up. Severe abdominal pain as well.’

The clerk was still in the room, hovering behind the nursing staff who were changing ECG leads, hanging the bags of fluid and getting a blood-pressure cuff secured.

‘What’s Ellie’s last name?’ she asked. ‘How old is she?’

A registrar had his hands on her swollen abdomen. ‘It’s rigid,’ he announced. ‘Is she in labour? What’s the gestation?’

‘Thirty-six weeks and two days,’ Max said.

Ellie was almost naked now. Totally vulnerable. Exposed to an expanding team of medical personnel. Someone from the obstetric department had arrived, closely followed by a technician pushing a portable ultrasound machine. Jet was holding a mask over Ellie’s face and frowning as he watched the numbers changing on the overhead monitor.

‘Ellie…’ He had his mouth right beside his ear and was speaking loudly. ‘Can you hear me? Open your eyes.’

She wouldn’t want to, Max thought. This would have to be absolutely terrifying.

‘Are there any relatives who could give me her details?’ the clerk persisted. ‘Did her husband come in
with her? Or…her partner?’ The woman knew she was failing in her task but she made yet another effort. ‘The father of the baby?’

That flicked a switch in Max’s head and its effect was magnified by how vulnerable Ellie was. How much trouble she was in right now. He had tried to protect her and somehow he had stepped into a new nightmare and was still by her side. Was she aware of what was happening? Still terrified? Did she know he was here?

She had been so determined to stay away from hospitals to protect her child. Maybe the best thing he could do for her at this moment was to respect that determination and carry on with what had already worked once.

‘Yes,’ he said clearly. ‘I’m the father.’

Somebody dropped something metallic on the far side of the room and the sound rang out in the suddenly still moment following his statement. Jet uttered a low profanity but his gaze was still fixed on the monitor and the sound could well have been taken to be concern at a new development in Ellie’s condition. Max was close enough to speak to his friend without being overheard by anyone else.

‘I’ll explain later,’ he murmured. ‘Just back me up.’

The clerk was happy, scribbling on the sheet of paper attached to the clipboard. ‘Surname?’ she chirped briskly.

Oh, Lord. If she got registered under her real name, they have to deal with Marcus Jones turning up and he’d have plenty of time to get here. Even if things
went better than any of them could expect in this room, there was no way Ellie would be getting discharged in a hurry.

There was no time to think. In for a penny, in for a pound.

‘McAdam,’ he said wearily. ‘We’re married.’

The nurse, who was sticking on the leads required for a twelve-lead ECG, looked up, open-mouthed, and others exchanged astonished glances but the clerk knew she was on a roll.

‘How old is your wife?’

‘Twenty-eight.’

‘Date of birth?’

As if
he’d
know. This had gone far enough. Far too far, judging by the look Jet slanted his way.

‘Leave it,’ Max growled. ‘We can sort the paperwork later.’

‘But we need—’

‘Get out,’ Jet snapped. ‘We’re busy.’ He looked up, avoiding Max but catching most others in the room as he issued his orders.

‘I’m going to intubate,’ he warned. ‘Oxygen saturation levels have fallen far enough. We need a central venous line in. And an arterial line.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Max offered.

Jet gave his head a negative jerk. ‘On your wife? I don’t think so.’ He nodded at his registrars, giving them the signal to get started. ‘Get some bloods off as well. We need to know her blood group. Stat.’

‘I’d like a rhesus factor and antibodies, too.’ The obstetric consultant was watching the technician begin
the ultrasound examination. ‘Looks like we’ve got a central placenta praevia here and she’s in labour. Fully dilated.’

Less than an hour later, in the middle of the life-and-death battle to save Ellie Peters, she gave birth to a tiny baby girl.

There was a paediatric team amongst the crowd in Trauma One now. And a consultant from the intensive care unit, who was a specialist in dealing with haemorrhagic shock resulting from such massive blood loss. Ellie was being cared for. The baby was being carefully assessed.

Having been forced onto the sidelines due to his own admission of involvement, there seemed to be nothing for Max to do other than watch. He was torn between watching the monitors to evaluate the success of the treatment Ellie was receiving and staring at the scrap of humanity the paediatric consultant was bent over.

‘She’s small but doing OK,’ she pronounced eventually. ‘I’m happy with her breathing but the heart rate’s a bit on the slow side. Did I hear someone say the father is here?’

Ellie was deeply unconscious. The obstetrician was happy that the bleeding had ceased now that delivery was complete but the control of the blood loss might have come too late. The mother of this tiny baby was now on a ventilator to manage what looked like adult respiratory distress from fluid loss. Jet and the ICU consultant were worried about her kidneys. Her production
of urine had virtually ceased and her most recent blood test showed deterioration in renal function.

Max had done what he’d thought was the right thing in continuing the pretence that he was the baby’s father and he couldn’t back out now. Jet wouldn’t say anything because he’d asked him to back him up and the brotherhood that they made up, along with Rick, was glued together with a loyalty that would never be broken. There were plenty of other people ready to say something, however. To point him out and draw him into the case that this department would be talking about for a very long time.

‘You’re the father?’ The paediatrician didn’t know him so there was no undertone of astonishment. ‘Good. Come with us. We’re going to take your daughter upstairs and she’ll need you.’

Max took a step towards the group looking after the baby. And then another. And then he stopped.

‘I can’t…’ He looked over his shoulder at Ellie. And then back to the baby, now dried and wrapped in soft, warm towels. What the hell had he got himself into here?

Jet’s voice was calm. ‘Nothing you can do for Ellie at the moment, mate,’ he said. ‘We’re going to transfer her up to ICU very soon. Best you go with the baby. I’ll come and update you as soon as I can.’

And wherever the baby was being taken, whether it was a maternity ward or the paediatric ICU, it would be a more private place, Jet’s tone suggested. They would be able to talk about this. Hopefully, they might even be able to sort out the mess Max had created.

It seemed a reasonable plan. Max wasn’t due on duty
here in the emergency department until first thing tomorrow morning. They had a whole night to sort things out. Stepping back from taking any responsibility for Ellie might be a good first step. He took another step towards the baby and nodded.

‘Let’s go,’ he agreed.

‘How would you feel about holding her?’

‘Ah…I’m not sure that’s a great idea right now, is it?’

The paediatrician also took another glance at the monitor where the newborn baby’s heart rate was slowing down yet again.

‘It could help. Have you heard of kangaroo care?’

‘No.’ Max was staring at the baby in the plastic crib. It was lying on its side, a soft white hat covering the dark whorls of hair on its head. One arm was bent, a tiny starfish hand resting on its cheek.

Max hadn’t spent this long in the company of a baby this small…ever. He’d participated in a fair few deliveries, of course, throughout his training and then in a short run on O and G but it was a rare occurrence in Emergency and the babies were always whisked off to places like this paediatric intensive care unit. He’d never had a reason to stay involved. He didn’t now, except as a fraud.

He shouldn’t really be here at all.

‘It’s been around since the late seventies,’ the paediatric consultant broke into his guilt. ‘But it’s gaining quite a following. It’s basically skin-to-skin contact with a parent. As long as the infant is medically stable, there’s no reason not to use it and it’s been shown to
improve oxygenation and respiratory rates. It can actually make a significant difference to something like bradycardia.’

‘Skin-to-skin?’ Max couldn’t keep the dismay out of his voice. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘You don’t sit around naked.’ The doctor smiled. ‘In fact, the baby needs to be under your own clothing to help maintain body temperature stability.’ Her smile became reassuring rather than amused. ‘I know she looks tiny and fragile and that her arrival was a bit unexpected…’

‘You have no idea,’ Max murmured.

‘And I know you’re worried about Ellie,’ she continued, ‘but this is a way to help everybody, including—maybe especially—yourself.’

‘Oh?’ Max was listening now. He needed to help himself. Fast. ‘How, exactly?’

‘You’ll be doing what Ellie can’t do at the moment, which is caring for her baby. You could well make a big difference medically for this little one.’ She was watching him and a tiny frown line appeared. ‘If you’re really not comfortable, then I can get one of the nursing staff to do it, but it’s far better if it’s a parent. It can be a way of bonding that could make all the difference to the stress of the next few days.’

Max had the sensation of being trapped in a kind of glass box. He was being watched. By the paediatrician and her registrar. By the nurse who was hovering near the crib. Even by other nurses in this unit as they went about their own tasks. They all seemed to have paused right now to hold their breath and see what he was going to do.

They all believed that he was this baby’s father and what kind of a father wouldn’t want to do something that might help his kid? If it became obvious that he had no need—or, let’s face it, desire—to bond with this infant, people might start asking questions. Gossiping at the very least, and the less any of this was talked about the better. For Ellie’s sake.