The Italian Surgeon's Christmas Miracle (7 page)

Over my dead body!

A ridiculous thing to say. Over-emotional rubbish. Except that, at the time, he’d had the disturbing idea that she’d really meant it. She felt
that
strongly about it.

Had he—
would
he—ever feel that strongly about anything? Be prepared to lay his life on the line? To want something so badly that life would not be worth living without it?

Of course not!

But, curiously—and for the first time—Luke could feel envious of someone who did feel that way. Someone who could experience the euphoria of genuine passion. The notion was merely a flash, however. Easily pushed aside when recognised.

Passion denied rational thought. It involved lows, as well as highs. Misery that counterbalanced any happiness. An uncontrollable roller-coaster that Luke would never step onto because he was rational. He had to be. His career demanded it.

Why hadn’t he used his rational intelligence and walked away from Amy’s passionate outburst? He had certainly intended to. He knew there was no point talking to someone in that state and the only way forward was to create space until they calmed down.

She’d managed to get under his skin, though, hadn’t she? Prodded some weak spot he hadn’t known existed and he’d been sucked into responding. Worse, he’d lost it to the extent of revealing that he was planning to demolish this house out of spite and he didn’t even intend to keep the proceeds.

Zoe would tell him it was a mean thing to do.

And, dammit! She would be right.

It wouldn’t hurt to leave it for a few days, would it? Until after Christmas.

For Amy’s sake.

Zoe eventually came back to the kitchen.

‘Monty! Get back on your rug!’ Zoe gave Luke a scathing glance as the dog wriggled backwards. ‘You still here?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Robert said you were shouting at Amy before I got here.’

‘I never shout. If anyone was raising their voice, that would have been Amy.’ Luke frowned. How much had the other children overheard?

‘Robert says you’re gonna pull our house down.’

‘
Your
house?’

Zoe flushed. ‘Well, Monty lives here now and he’s my dog.’ Her voice rose defiantly. ‘You know what one of my mum’s boyfriends said to us once?’

‘Um…No.’

‘He had some stuff of Mum’s he wanted to keep. Like CDs.
He
said “possession is nine tenths of the law”.’

Luke sighed. ‘The legal system doesn’t see it quite like that, I’m afraid.’

Zoe snorted. ‘I don’t care. It worked for Wayne. He got to keep Mum’s stuff. It’ll work for us, too.’ Her eye was an angry slit. ‘You can sod off now. And when you’re gone, we’ll keep you out. You’ll see.’

The confidence was impressive. Quite endearing, really, but misplaced. Zoe needed to learn to think things through.

‘Maybe I won’t go anywhere,’ Luke suggested. ‘I could just move in and then I’d have the nine tenths of the law. Ten tenths, if you consider that I’m legally the owner.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Zoe gasped.

Luke raised an eyebrow. ‘It doesn’t seem a problem having extra people moving in around here, so why not? Uncle Vanni’s room is empty.’

Zoe actually believed him.

How crazy was that? Luke had the weird notion that he’d fallen down a rabbit hole and landed in a parallel universe. That he could even pretend to be thinking of doing something that would give his grandmother cause to disown him was…Well, it was unthinkable.

Or it had been. Until now.

What was even worse was that there was something vaguely appealing about the absurd notion.

Zoe looked ready to cry again. Luke was about to reassure her when a small, pyjama-clad figure appeared in the doorway.

‘Chantelle?’ Zoe moved towards the younger girl. ‘What’s up, sweetie? I thought you were asleep.’

‘I was.’ Chantelle rubbed her eyes. ‘Summer woke me up. She’s making a funny noise.’

Luke’s chair crashed over backwards due to the speed with which he got to his feet. Monty also rose and growled menacingly, but Luke ignored both events.

‘Show me,’ he demanded. ‘Which is Summer’s room?’

The ‘funny noise’ Summer was making was a distressed whimper on every outward breath. A tired sound, as though the effort was just too great.

Stepping into the room, Luke was instantly aware that it had the feel and even the smell of Amy. It was messy, with the clothes she had been wearing strewn over an unmade bed, but he barely registered a memory of how those jeans had clung to slim hips and how soft the woollen jumper had looked. The colours in the room were vibrant, with bright curtains and cushions. A faintly exotic scent that Luke couldn’t place, along with the flickering light from a low-burning fire, brought the room to life.

It was an attractive, cosy space but even with the glowing coals the ambient temperature wasn’t enough to account for the sheen of perspiration visible on Summer’s dark skin.

He shook her shoulder gently. ‘Summer? Wake up!’

The child didn’t stir. Luke peeled the covers off the little girl and felt for her pulse. Her skin felt chilled and it took a moment to locate a pulse at all. When he did, Luke wasn’t surprised to find it far too rapid and very weak. Her heart was failing and her blood oxygen levels were already too low to be compatible with consciousness.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Zoe asked from behind him.

‘She’s got a fever. Probably an infection of some kind.’

‘Like a cold or something?’

‘Yes.’ It had come on very fast but Summer’s immune system had already been compromised.

‘Is she really sick?’

‘Yes.’ He couldn’t be less than honest with Zoe. ‘Could you call an ambulance, please? Tell them I’m here and I said it was urgent.’

Zoe hesitated in the doorway. ‘She’s not…going to
die
, is she?’

The tone was anguished. Something Margaret had said flashed into Luke’s mind. Something about the children that ended up in the Phillips household being lucky.

No one else had wanted to care for this dying child but here she was clearly very much loved. Luke’s own heart gave an odd squeeze.

‘Not if I can help it,’ he told Zoe sombrely. ‘But we need to hurry.’

Robert took Zoe’s place in the room a second later. He stared at Summer and then at Luke and his look was accusatory. ‘I thought you were Summer’s doctor.’

‘I’m one of them.’

‘So why can’t you make her better, then?’

‘It’s not always possible to fix things, Robert.’ He must know that, surely? If he was here in a foster-home, life had been a lot less than perfect so far for this boy.

‘Well, it should be,’ Robert muttered. ‘It’s not fair.’

He turned and walked away and Luke sighed. Of course it wasn’t fair. Neither was it fair that he was made to feel so guilty. He did his best and he knew he did it better than most. He couldn’t afford to feel guilty. A failure. And he wasn’t, he knew that.

Luke also knew he was going to try harder than he ever had before for this particular little girl.

The benefit of the location being so close to St Elizabeth’s made itself apparent in the speed with which the paramedics arrived.

‘Are you going to be all right,’ Luke asked Zoe, ‘if I go to the hospital with Summer?’

‘I’ll look after her.’ Robert had appeared again as Luke carried Summer to the waiting ambulance.

‘Lock the doors,’ Luke reminded them. ‘And call the police if anything scary happens.’

‘We’ll call Amy,’ Zoe said. As though that was all the back-up they could need.

‘Text her now,’ Luke said in parting. ‘Let her know I’m bringing Summer in.’

Amy arrived in the emergency department of Lizzie’s within ten minutes of the ambulance but already Summer was in the resuscitation area, hooked up to every monitor available and with an IV cannula taped into a vein on her arm.

Luke was there, bent over the unconscious child, a stethoscope in his ears.

‘What’s happened?’ Amy tried to sound calm.

‘She’s in heart failure.’ Luke straightened and nodded at the ED consultant. ‘Fine crackles. Widespread. Bilateral. I think you’re right. We’ve got an infection that’s tipped her instantly into failure.’

‘This is serious, isn’t it?’ Amy moved to the head of the bed, reaching out to touch Summer’s forehead with a gentle stroke. She looked up and found Luke watching, his eyes dark. Intense.

She could read the answer to her query there, but she had already known that. She could also read a level of sympathy that came as a surprise. Again, she had the impression that Luke understood. More than he realised, perhaps. More than he would want to admit to, anyway. In response to his gesture, Amy moved to one side of the room.

‘We’re starting a dopamine infusion,’ Luke told her, ‘to combat the heart failure. We’ll adjust her diuretics and add in spiranolactane. We’ll also have a think about using an ACE inhibitor and beta blockade. We’ve taken bloods, of course, to try and isolate the precipitating infection, and we’ve already started her on antibiotics.’

‘I should ring my mother. What time is it in Italy?’ Amy looked at her watch, but then bit her lip. ‘Maybe I should wait till morning. If I tell her now, she’ll insist on heading home. Possibly with my grandmother in tow. That’s not going to help anyone, is it?’

‘What about consent?’ Luke queried. ‘We should talk about how you feel about mechanical support, like ECMO or a ventricular assist device.’

Amy stared at the surgeon. He was talking about extraordinary measures to keep Summer alive. ECMO delivered oxygen and removed carbon dioxide via catheters placed directly in a patient’s heart and arteries. The ventricular device was only a little less invasive, with a device placed inside the heart to assist pumping. There were big risks associated with these therapies and they were only temporary. A lot of surgeons would argue there was little point in heroic attempts to keep Summer alive if it only delayed the inevitable.

Luke seemed to be reading her thoughts. ‘It might buy some time,’ he said quietly. ‘I can’t promise anything.’

But he looked as if he’d
like
to promise something, and Amy smiled. He might try to hide it but—underneath the armour—there was a man who really cared. Not someone who could throw a bunch of children out of their home.

‘We should talk,’ she agreed. ‘As far as medical consent goes, I signed up as a carer for Summer along with my mother. I have the authority to sign any necessary consent forms.’

‘What would you like me to do?’

‘Whatever you can.’ Amy’s lip trembled. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but it would be so special if we can have Summer with us for Christmas.’

Luke gave a single nod, as though he had expected the response. He moved to talk to the ED staff.

‘Let’s get Summer up to the ICU.’ He sought Amy’s gaze as preparations were made. ‘Are you coming?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘We’ll talk later, then, when we’ve got her settled and stable.’

A little over an hour later, Amy sat beside Summer’s bed in the intensive care unit, holding her small hand.

‘She’s holding her own,’ Luke decided, looking up from a printout of test results. ‘Her arterial blood gas levels are as good as we could expect. Her blood pressure’s up and her heart rate and temperature are down.’ He frowned at Amy. ‘You should get some rest. I spoke to the night supervisor and your shift in the ward is covered for the rest of the night.’

‘I need to stay with Summer.’

‘She’s going to sleep for hours yet. And you know how good the staff are in here.’

Amy did know. She also knew that Summer was so used to being in hospital that she probably wouldn’t even be frightened. But what if something happened?

‘Nothing’s going to happen,’ Luke said. ‘Not in the next few hours.’

How could he read her mind like that? Amy dragged her startled gaze from Luke’s face back to Summer’s. She looked as though she was sleeping peacefully now and those dreadful noises of respiratory distress had almost gone.

‘You might be needed at home,’ Luke added. He cleared his throat when Amy didn’t respond immediately. ‘I got the impression that some of the other children were very worried about Summer.’

‘They’ll be worried sick,’ Amy agreed. ‘I tried to text Zoe but she’s not answering. Hopefully, they’re all asleep, but still…’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Good grief, it’s nearly 2:00 a.m.!’

‘And I need to collect my car. I’ll walk you home.’

No!
a voice in Amy’s head cried in alarm. A walk in the middle of the night, alone with Luke Harrington? How terrifying would that be?

The stumble of her heart felt like someone thumping her from the inside. Wake up! it conveyed. What better opportunity could you have to talk to him?

To plead her case?

He had helped Summer, hadn’t he? He was prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to keep their little girl alive.

Surely, surely he could be persuaded that Summer—and the other children—needed their home just as much?

‘OK,’ Amy said bravely. ‘I’ll grab my stuff from the ward and meet you outside ED in five minutes.’

‘Y
OU
look like a dragon.’

‘Pardon?’ Was this going to be another insight into what the staff of Lizzie’s considered a less than amenable personality? ‘Oh…!’ Luke breathed out again and noted the white billow of his breath in the icy air.

Amy looked nervous. Was she expecting flames, as well?

‘Where’s your coat?’ Amy was wrapping her own around her body more securely.

‘Hanging over a chair in your kitchen.’

‘But you can’t walk home without one! You’ll get hypothermia.’

‘It’s only a few minutes. I’ll survive.’

Amy looked doubtful. ‘We could call a taxi.’

‘Could be a long wait. Besides, I could do with some fresh air and we need to talk.’

‘Mmm.’ He could see the way Amy sucked in a deeper breath. ‘Right. About the house.’ She set off as though keen to get it all over with.

Luke caught up within a couple of strides. ‘Yes. Amongst other things.’

‘Other things?’ Amy latched on to a change of subject eagerly. ‘Such as?’

‘Summer.’

‘Oh…’ They turned to walk through the car park and Luke could see the top of Amy’s head beside him, her dark hair hidden beneath a bright, rainbow woollen beanie. ‘It’s not looking good, is it?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘And she was well down the transplant list last time we heard.’

‘I’ll call the co-ordinating centre first thing tomorrow morning and see how she’s placed at the moment.’

‘Will you?’ Amy’s eyes shone as she looked up at him. ‘Oh, thank you!’

Luke was getting that weird feeling again. Like he’d had when he’d gone along with that lie about why he had come to the house and Amy had smiled at him. The feeling of being powerful and generous even when he wasn’t doing anything worthy of gratitude. It was less weird this time, though.

Pleasant, even.

‘These lists can change dramatically. Sadly, a lot of children die while they’re waiting.’

Amy sighed, her breath making a huff of vapour, the sadness of the sound chasing that pleasant sensation away. Luke wanted it back. She needed comfort of some kind but touching his companion in any way would not be appropriate so Luke stomped on the odd inclination to put an arm around her shoulders.

‘Maybe Summer will be one of the lucky ones.’

‘I hope so.’ They waited at the side of the main road for a black cab to pass. ‘It’s awful to be wishing tragedy on another family, though.’

The taxi was gaily decorated with tinsel around the inside of its windows. Laughing passengers were wearing Santa hats.

‘Especially at Christmas,’ Amy added.

It was Luke’s turn to sigh. ‘It’s just another day in the year, you know. The hype is out of all proportion if you ask me. I hate the way it becomes almost impossible to get things done.’

Like demolishing a house?

‘And for what?’ he added hurriedly, to drown out the uninvited voice. ‘A commercial opportunity that’s completely out of control.’

They were on Albany Street now, almost into the park, but Amy had slowed down. Virtually stopped. She looked horrified.

‘But…but Christmas is
magic
!’

‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’

Stupid question. He could see she believed it. Her shining eyes and parted lips were illuminated by a streetlamp. She was practically
glowing
!

And…beautiful.

Amy Phillips was absolutely, stunningly…
beautiful
.

‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘It’s the only time we all get to celebrate how important we are to each other. Oh, I know there’s birthdays and Mother’s Day and everything but Christmas is for whole families. For
everybody
! Neighbours and nurses and taxi drivers and…and even dogs.’

Luke was trying to get past the realisation of how stunning this woman was. How could he have never noticed before? He must have heard her voice with that tiny catch of exotic pronunciation even if he hadn’t experienced the suggestion of huskiness that came with a subject she felt intense about. He must have seen that smile—the way it curled up at the edges and reached right into her eyes. Those
incredible
eyes! Had he been completely blind?

‘Especially for the children,’ Amy continued. ‘It’s magic because they believe it’s magic. The world is full of secrets and pretty decorations and special food and they get something to look forward to. To dream about.’

Unconsciously, Luke was shaking his head. Not all children. Not in the way Amy wanted to believe. Trapped deep inside himself was the echo of a four-year-old boy who had begged Father Christmas for a real family. One with a father and a mother and…
please
…a brother to play with.

‘Ho, ho, ho,’ Santa had chortled. He’d patted the little Luke on the back, firmly enough to encourage him to slide off his knee, and then he’d presented him with a lollipop.

A red one that was never eaten.

‘I know…’ Amy’s expression had become anxious as she watched Luke’s face. She started walking again and their feet crunched on frozen puddles on the path. Bare branches made an archway that drew them forward into the night. ‘But it’s like anything in life, isn’t it? You can choose whether you focus on the good stuff or the bad stuff.’ She smiled winningly up at Luke. ‘What’s that saying? Something like, “Life shouldn’t be measured in how many breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away”? Well, there’s lots of those moments at Christmastime.
That’s
what makes it magic.’

There was a plea in her face now. She wanted him to agree with her. It seemed terribly important that he should agree but Luke couldn’t find a thing to say. He was having trouble catching his breath. Maybe it was one of those moments she was talking about but it had nothing to do with the time of the year and everything to do with Amy Phillips.

The path had the odd tree root sneaking along its edge and, because Amy’s head was still tilted upwards as she appealed to Luke, she stumbled a little when her foot caught. Just enough to make it an automatic action on Luke’s part to catch her arm and prevent her falling. She turned swiftly and, just as naturally, he caught her other arm and there she was—standing so close he could feel her warmth. Feel the almost desperate plea in her eyes.

She wanted something from him but Luke couldn’t, for the life of him, concentrate enough to remember what it was.

Her closeness and the feel of her in his hands was mesmerising. In his experience, women who were in such close physical proximity and had a look on their faces even remotely like this wanted something he rarely had the time or inclination to bestow.

This time, however, he had no hesitation at all. It required no more thought than stealing that photograph had.

Luke bent his head and kissed Amy.

It was, absolutely, the last thing Amy had expected.

The conversation about Christmas had been the perfect lead in to presenting her case about the house but instead it had led to him intending to kiss her!

Here they were, on the outskirts of a huge, deserted, dark, frozen park in the middle of the night and Luke Harrington was going to kiss her!

Luke Harrington!

She should run. Physically and emotionally.

Life was way too complicated already.

Amy was poised to flee—every cell in her body charged with adrenaline—the choice between fight or flight made in the split second she saw the intention in Luke’s eyes.

But then the distance between them closed and she could feel the warmth of his breath on the chilled skin of her face. She could
smell
him. A mix of potent masculinity and sheer power. She tried to run, at least mentally, but the instant Luke’s lips touched hers, Amy tripped and fell headlong.

Into the kiss.

His lips felt cold and her own were more than half-numb but still this kiss felt like nothing she had experienced before.

It all happened so fast and Amy still had the sensation that she’d lost her balance and was falling, so she really had no choice but to reach out for something to hold on to. The solid chest in front of her was like a wall and her hands slid upwards, searching for an anchor. Luke’s neck. Perfect.

So was the way his arms came around her body so securely. Safely. Counterbalancing the firm pressure from his mouth. With the fear of falling removed, Amy could relax just that fraction. Her lips parted just that fraction, as well, and the warmth of their breaths mingled and then there was
heat
.

Searing heat as Luke’s tongue touched hers and Amy was falling all over again because the muscles in her legs were melting from that heat. Christmas decorations had nothing on the swirl of colours and sensations coursing through her entire body. Everything was melting, especially that core deep within her belly. The widespread, delicious tingle was changing shape, curling up at its edges and turning in on itself to make a hard knot of desire.

This wasn’t simply a kiss.

It was an awakening.

A much less pleasant kind of awakening occurred when the kiss finally ran its course and they both stepped apart.

Luke looked as stunned as Amy felt and the chill of the night had increased dramatically. How long had they been standing, locked in each other’s arms?

With a final, faintly shocked glance at each other, they continued walking. Silently.

Was Luke trying to absorb the startling effect of that kiss, as she was? She couldn’t resist a tiny glance up at his face. If he hadn’t believed in magic before, surely he was at least giving it some head room right now?

It was only a short distance from the tree beneath which they’d been kissing to the house on Sullivan Avenue, but if Luke had been as unaware as Amy of his feet actually touching the ground, he was giving no sign of it. When he eventually spoke, it was to express disbelief certainly, but the tone suggested anything but pleasure.

‘Unbelievable!’
The word was outraged.

The tension in the tall body beside Amy gave out vibrations that she responded to automatically. It was a rather similar sinking sensation to the one she’d experienced the other night, when she’d known she’d just touched a sterile object and brought a critical medical procedure to a screaming halt.

‘What’s wrong—?’ Amy had to stop herself adding his name. It felt like it would be natural to call him Luke, but she couldn’t, could she? And she could hardly call him Mr Harrington now. Not after he’d just kissed her so thoroughly!

Amy was following his line of vision even as the confused thoughts were jumbling in her mind. She could see his car. A gorgeous, low-slung, sporty model in an unusual shade of smoky blue.

Very low slung.

‘Oh, no!’ Amy breathed. Both the tyres she could see were as flat as pancakes.

Two brisk strides took Luke to the other side of his vehicle.

‘Four flat tyres! This is deliberate vandalism,’ he pronounced. His gaze snapped in two directions as he scanned the rest of the street. ‘And mine seems to have been the only vehicle targeted.’ He glared at Amy. ‘I wonder why?’

‘It does stand out,’ she ventured. ‘It’s the only convertible and the colour is unusual.’

Luke said nothing and Amy squirmed inwardly. Oh, Robert, she thought in dismay. This was
so
not the way to express antagonism.

‘Let’s go inside, shall we?’ Luke suggested dryly. ‘I need to call a cab.’

He should have been as mad as hell about what had been done to his car.

Curiously, he actually experienced a flash of something that felt like gratitude for an excuse to follow Amy back into that house.

To stay close to her for just a little longer.

Luke was feeling slightly dizzy again. The way he had when Margaret had told him the house was full of children and Italian women. As though the very foundations of his world were being rocked.

And so they were.

It might have started when he’d recognised how attractive Amy was but the Richter scale had increased exponentially with that kiss.

Luke was feeling things right now that he had absolutely no experience with.

Intense, dangerous things.

They led to a place he’d never ventured into because he’d learned long ago that, if you were self-disciplined enough, you could keep yourself safe from that dangerous place.

Safe from nasty things. Boarding school had cemented that lesson. And he’d already known that things that were
too
nice were also to be avoided. The hedonistic pleasures that were the stuff of irrational desires and behaviour. The benefits of a lifestyle that kept you safe from those places had been breathed in with the very air of his childhood.

Could he distract himself now?

Possibly.

Did he want to make any effort to do so?

No. Not just yet, anyway.

How could he, after
that
kiss? He was bewitched by a combination of the bizarre events that had unfolded since he’d left work for the day. It would wear off. Daylight would dispel the feeling of unreality. Even electric light might help.

Amy pulled off her woolly hat when they were inside the kitchen again. Wisps of dark hair escaped the plait and curled around her race, still picking up the inadequate light from the single bulb enough to gleam. Then she poked up the inside of the range, adding more fuel, and the fire tinged her face with a rosy glow.

Extra light wasn’t helping. Luke’s fingers were coming back to life now, stinging and burning at their tips. His lips had a similar tingling going on but he knew that wasn’t from the recent, subzero environment. They were remembering that extraordinary kiss.

Wanting more.

‘Sit down,’ Amy invited. ‘You must be totally frozen. I’ll make some hot chocolate.’ She put the kettle onto the stove and then moved to pick up another object as she walked towards Luke. ‘Here’s the phone. Why don’t you call for a taxi while I just check on the children?’

She was back within a couple of minutes. ‘They’re all sound asleep,’ she reported. ‘Zoe’s crashed in my bed so I’ll use Uncle Vanni’s room for the rest of the night.’ She busied herself making a hot drink, spooning chocolate powder into mugs, wrapping a cloth around the handle of the kettle before pouring the boiling water and then opening a refrigerator to extract a carton of milk.