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‘You’re not going to make me walk?’
‘You’re off the hook till tomorrow, and then we’ll take it slowly, starting with the frame again.’
‘I’m sorry I made a mistake and hurt myself. The doctor wasn’t too pleased with me, I think.’
Wrapping the BP cuff around his upper arm, she laughed. ‘Dr Ricco was worried about you, not angry. But you’re going to have to be more careful from now on. No sudden movements. The walking was going so well, and that’s a good thing, but crossing your legs, twisting your hips or making sudden turns is not allowed. Understand?’
‘Yes, Nurse.’
‘Yes, Elene,’ she emphasised. Until now he’d always used her name. ‘You’re not in trouble with me either.’
Her patient relaxed into his pillow. ‘That’s good.’
‘The better news is there’s rabbit stew for dinner.’
She got a wobbly smile in return.
Ripping the cuff away, she told him, ‘Blood pressure’s almost normal. Now, go to sleep and let that hip start mending. I’ll be right here if you need to go to the bathroom or want a drink of water.’
Less of a wobble in the next smile. ‘You’re good to me. I don’t deserve it.’
‘Everyone’s allowed a second chance.’ Care of Mattia, that one. But he was right. People made mistakes, but it didn’t mean they should be punished for ever. So could she think of getting into a relationship again and making a go of it next time? Could that be her second chance? Why did an image of Mattia flit across her mind just then? He was not the man for her second-chance relationship. She knew he was nothing like Craig, but he liked being in control too much. Though those kisses did make up for that, for a while. And, truly, he didn’t demand she be subservient like Craig had. Though that had taken time to become apparent with Craig. No. Mattia was nothing like him. It should work. Hello? To hell with second chances, huh? Mattia would not give himself one after the Sandy fiasco so there went hers.
‘I’ll get you a cup of tea.’ She stood up, not waiting to see if Gino wanted one or not. Keeping busy would get her mind back in order, and hopefully put a stop to those stupid images and ideas floating around her brain like they had every right to be there.
* * *
Thursday was going to be another hot, clear day. Elene knew that from the quick drive to the unit with Mattia at five-thirty that morning as they responded to an emergency. ‘Fill me in on the details,’ she said to him.
‘Our patient’s a teenager, six months pregnant and homeless. Her friends brought her in when she slipped on the steps leading up from the beach, where they apparently spent the night under the stars. Euphemism for nowhere else to go.’
‘There’s no shelter for the homeless?’
‘Yes, but some teenagers avoid it, not wanting to answer the questions or be sent into care.’ Mattia pulled into the unit’s car park.
‘Why bring her here and not the hospital?’
‘You’d have to ask them that. But, from what I’ve been told, we’ll transfer her as soon as it’s feasible.’ His door opened. ‘We’re dealing with a broken arm and torn blood vessels, not the pregnancy.’
‘She’ll need checking thoroughly if she fell very far.’ That baby could’ve taken a hard knock.
‘I agree. But first things first. Stop the bleeding.’
There was a lot of bleeding to stop, and most of it nothing to do with ruptured blood vessels. Mica was haemorrhaging. According to her friends, the baby had taken the brunt of the fall. The shattered ulna and radius in her left arm with a torn vein only added to their woes.
‘Elene, I’m going to call in the obstetrician and then operate on Mica’s arm. Get ready to assist.’
‘Yes, Mattia,’ she answered with a smile as she sponged blood off Mica’s arms.
Mica was sent to Radiology while everyone prepared for Theatre. Elene felt right at home, despite not knowing the others crowded around the table—except for Mattia. And sometimes she wondered how well she knew him. But not in here. Watching Mattia, working alongside him, while he operated always had her in awe. But that wasn’t the man she had to get along with.
‘Those bones aren’t broken,’ Mattia muttered as he scanned the X-ray of Mica’s arm before the anaesthetist put her under. ‘They’re shattered.’ Stepping closer to the young girl, he asked quietly, ‘Mica, can you hear me? I’m Dr Ricco.’
The girl nodded once, opened frightened eyes to stare at him.
‘I know your arm is hurting. Are you in pain anywhere else?’
Her good arm moved and her hand touched her ribs. ‘There.’
‘I want another X-ray,’ Mattia announced. ‘Can we get the portable machine in here pronto?’
‘What’s up?’ Elene asked as she gently inserted a cannula in Mica’s good arm in preparation for drugs and fluids.
‘I don’t like the condition of her bones where the fractures occurred.’
‘Brittle bone syndrome?’
‘Mica.’ Mattia leaned close to the trolley. ‘Do you have a history of broken bones?’
Another nod. ‘Lots. Lately.’
So it wasn’t something she’d had from birth. ‘Dietary?’
‘Could be.’
Elene placed the BP cuff above the cannula and took a reading. ‘One-forty-two over eighty-eight.’
Mattia and the obstetrician discussed how to go about this without too much stress on Mica while dealing with all the injuries ASAP.
Elene heard a stifled gasp and bent over the trolley with a tissue to wipe the tears spilling down the frightened girl’s cheeks. She was only a child herself. Sixteen, pregnant and in a terrifying situation. ‘It’s going to be all right, Mica.’ She took her hand and leant close. With the doctors talking, nurses preparing for surgery, the anaesthetist getting ready, it was chaotic in an organised way, but very scary for their patient. ‘Everyone’s on your side.’
‘My baby?’
That was a problem she couldn’t answer. ‘The doctors are monitoring Baby. Its heart’s beating so that’s good.’ She wasn’t about to outline what could be wrong. The baby had been quiet for a while, no kicking—possibly dealing with shock. ‘We’re going to give you something to make you go to sleep for a little while.’
‘Keep my baby safe,’ Mica sobbed. ‘Please.’
Elene froze, her hand hovering above Mica’s. ‘Keep Aimee safe. Please. Don’t let anything bad happen to her.’ Danielle on the birthing table, haemorrhaging due to low platelet numbers, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, fear in her eyes.
‘Elene?’ Then, ‘Elene, focus.’ Mattia was beside her, his hand on her shoulder. ?
?You’re in Theatre with Mica. Mica, remember?’ He’d spoken in English.
She shivered and looked up into his concerned eyes. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Think you can see this operation through?’ No censure marred his question. He understood.
Finding a wobbly smile, she nodded. ‘Yes, I can.’
‘Great.’ Then Mattia looked around the team lined up. ‘Let’s do this.’ On the nod from the anaesthetist he picked up a scalpel, his focus entirely on the fractured arm and putting the bones back together. Elene, now under control of her emotions, passed instruments as he required.
An hour later they left Theatre, Mica’s shattered bones wired together, the bleeding stopped and her arm stitched. She was still in the care of the obstetrics team who had managed to stem the haemorrhage but were concerned about the baby’s lack of movement.
Mattia scrubbed his hands and turned to Elene. ‘You did well in there.’
‘Thanks to you getting me back on track. That’s not happened before.’
Mattia stepped closer, laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You are allowed to grieve.’
‘Not in Theatre with a seriously injured young girl desperate to save her baby.’ A tear escaped and slid down her cheek, followed by another, and another.
‘Don’t torture yourself.’ He drew her against his length, his arms winding around her. ‘You’re coping with a lot and doing it brilliantly.’ He leaned close, his lips brushing her cheek. ‘Brilliantly.’
The air was suddenly filled with man scent overlaid with antiseptic. And Elene’s head seemed to be floating, blanking the pain, absorbing the warmth, the kindness, the understanding from this man. She pressed closer to the source of comfort and security.
Then those lips were on hers, skimming across her mouth before possessing her, taking the kiss deeper and deeper, his tongue owning hers, until she was afraid to breathe in case she woke up to find this all a dream. Which would be the right thing to happen. But she didn’t want right. She wanted this—Mattia’s kisses. Mattia himself. Wanted him burying himself inside her and obliterating the pain for ever.
