Earthquake Baby

‘H…hello, Jack,’ stumbled Laura.

‘Laura. I’ve been worried about you.’ Standing before her, he felt his heart lurch. He wanted her. So much. Too much.

‘Can I come in?’

As he stared intently into her eyes, some part of him, somewhere deep in his psyche, knew why she had come. Knew that if he stood aside a chain of events would be started that he mightn’t be able to control. The first domino would fall.

There was silence as he watched her warily. She was looking at him with an openness she hadn’t used since that night ten years ago. Time failed to progress. Clocks didn’t exist in the world they now found themselves in.

He couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘What now, Laura?’

‘Make love to me, Jack.’

As a twelve-year-old, Amy Andrews used to sneak off with her mother’s romance novels and devour every page. She was the type of kid who daydreamed a lot and carried a cast of thousands around in her head, and from quite an early age she knew that it was her destiny to write. So, in between her duties as wife and mother, her paid job as a paediatric intensive care nurse and her compulsive habit to volunteer, she did just that! Amy Andrews lives in Brisbane’s beautiful Samford Valley with her very wonderful and patient husband, two gorgeous kids, a couple of black Labradors and six chooks.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE MIDWIFE’S MIRACLE BABY

Earthquake Baby

Amy Andrews

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THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO ALL THOSE

AT THE COAL FACE OF RESCUE WORK.

WHAT YOU DO IS TRULY HEROIC.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER ONE

LAURA’S legs struggled to keep pace with the bed as it was wheeled quickly down the corridor that led from Intensive Care to the operating theatres. The monitor alarms shrilled continuously as the patient’s heart rate climbed higher.

Laura squeezed the black bag attached to the patient’s breathing tube, administering lungfuls of air to the unconscious, critically ill patient. If he didn’t get to Theatre soon, he would die.

She handed over the bag in one smooth movement to the anaesthetic nurse and the surgical team whisked him through the swing doors. They shut firmly, blocking Laura’s view. She crossed her fingers as she walked back down the corridor with the other members of the team who had helped her prepare Mr Reid for his operation. Their thoughts were with him.

‘How’s it looking?’ asked Marie Prior, the unit’s clinical nurse consultant, as she approached.

‘Not good,’ admitted Laura.

‘Mr Reid’s deterioration wasn’t totally out of left field. He’s lucky you picked up the signs early.’

‘It was a close call, Marie. Too close,’ said Laura, feeling depleted now the adrenaline rush had ebbed.

‘Let’s go have a coffee. Come and meet the new psychiatrist. He’s doing today’s debriefing session.’

Great, Laura thought. Just what she needed!

‘He’s cute,’ Marie cajoled. Laura’s reluctance to participate in such activities was legendary.

‘Bunny rabbits are cute,’ Laura said, completely disinterested in checking out the new kid on the block. ‘But I do need a coffee, so I’ll go. But I’m not talking about my feelings or how I was a deprived child.’

The psychobabble she could do without. Laura’s privacy was too important and, while she recognised that debriefing was essential in her working environment, she preferred to do so casually among the other staff. She dreaded these monthly sessions and avoided them where possible.

‘What’s his name anyway?’

‘John Riley. Dr John Riley.’

An errant, traitorous brain cell kicked into life. Her heart quickened for a few beats before she consciously quelled the disturbing activity taking over her body. John. Not Jack. Goodness, it had been ten years and still just the mention of a similar name was enough to stir parts of her anatomy only he had stirred. Anyway, her Jack Riley was a surgeon, not a shrink.

Her thoughts wandered to Isaac. He was the only man in her life now. She felt the warmth of her love for him flow through her. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ten minutes later Laura was relaxed, enjoying the playful banter in the staffroom. She had almost forgotten about the sudden turn of events that had sent her relatively stable patient to Theatre. Almost forgotten about the highly stressful period they had all just endured. Not a bed to spare. One patient left and there was barely enough time to clean the bed area before another took their place.

Marie entered the room carrying a steaming mug, chatting amicably with a man following close behind. It was difficult to see him properly. His head was blocked from her view but Laura got the impression of height and bulk. She had chosen her seat carefully. Crammed in beside the bookcase, it hid her to a certain extent. From where the guest speaker’s chair was positioned it would be difficult to see all of her unless she leant forward.

Marie quickly hushed the group and introduced her guest.

‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet Dr John Riley. He’s St Jude’s new Director of Psychiatry.’

Everyone nodded and smiled and murmured their interest.

‘Actually, John’s a bit formal.’ His cheerful voice resonated around the room. ‘Most people call me Jack.’

Laura’s heart stopped. For one dreadful moment she thought she was having a cardiac arrest. That voice. It couldn’t be him. Could it? Marie sat down and afforded Laura a full view of his face. Oh, no! It was him! She looked again, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Same olive skin. Same dark hair clipped close to his head. Same brown eyes framed by incredibly long lashes. Dark, soft, compassionate. She watched, fascinated despite herself, as he dug his teeth into his bottom lip and smiled at what somebody was saying.

Same sexy, full lips. The same lips she had kissed softly for the last time ten years ago. Kissed as she had got out of his bed and walked out of his life. He was a psychiatrist now? What had happened to surgery?

‘Well, I thought to start off, you might like to introduce yourselves and maybe tell me a little something about your lives.’

Laura watched, her thought processes frozen as people relaxed under his friendly, interested gaze. Somebody cracked a joke and Jack laughed. It was a comforting noise, gently blanketing the room.

Laura knew how that felt. It made you feel safe. Like being cocooned in a blanket on a cold and rainy night. He had made her feel like that. Safe. Reassured.

There were only two more people to go before those eyes would be focussing on her. Laura’s mind was in a total dither. She wanted to run but felt incapable of breathing, let alone anything involving major muscle groups.

She had changed a little, sure, in ten years. A different hairstyle, a few kilos lighter. But it was futile to think that he would not remember her. She wasn’t flattering herself. They had shared a momentous, life-changing experience. For a brief period, ten years ago, he had been her lifeline. A superficial change in physical appearance could not obliterate that.

All he had to do was glance out the corner of his eye and he would see her, but he was much too professional for that. His gaze and attention was one hundred per cent fixed on the person who was talking. They had his complete and undivided attention. She tried to sink further from view.

‘Ah…one in every crowd,’ he joked. ‘Something to hide?’ Jack shifted in his chair to get a better view of the staff member beside the bookcase.

He recognised her immediately. Felt his eyes widen as shock and disbelief engulfed his body.

‘Laura?’ The question rasped from his throat.

The laughter in the room subsided as speculation and curiosity took hold.

‘You two know each other?’ Marie asked.

Jack did not answer. He was speechless. It was her…really her. After ten years of wondering…wishing. Here she was. In front of him.

A little different maybe, considering the last time he had seen her she’d been naked and sated beside him. He remembered his dissatisfaction on waking to find that she had left some time in the night. It felt like yesterday.

There were so many things he wanted to ask, to know. His mind crowded with questions, each more urgent than the previous one. How she was and what had she been doing and why the hell had she left him like that? He had wanted to hold her some more, talk some more, make love some more.

When Marie had talked about a Laura, it hadn’t occurred to him that it would be her. His Laura. He had given up reacting to the name years before.

He watched as her eyes widened and he read the plea expressed in their blue depths. Please, don’t reveal me.

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘We go back a bit.’

He was rewarded with a look of such gratitude he forgave himself the little white lie. Good grief, he thought. They don’t know. These people, her colleagues, don’t know who she is or what she’s been through. How had she managed that?

‘Well…’ He cleared his throat. ‘We must catch up…later.’

‘Mmm.’ Laura nodded.

She listened but did not hear any of the group debrief session. Her thoughts whizzed chaotically around her head at a million miles an hour. It was him. Jack. It was really him!

The same Jack who had occupied too many waking and nearly all her sleeping hours for a decade. What was she going to do? She couldn’t think. The beginnings of a headache crawled across her temples.

Somebody laughed loudly, jarring across Laura’s taut nerves. She had to admire Jack’s skill. He had a knack at drawing people out. The stresses of the last few weeks had affected everyone. It was his job to be their pressure valve, allowing the steam to escape. Ease the tension.

Patients and situations were openly discussed, putting them into perspective. Unlike her, the people she worked with were much more open to this form of communication. They felt it helped and Laura knew, in reality, that these sessions were invaluable. But circumstances had given her a few coping strategies of her own.

‘What about you, Laura?’

‘Huh?’ she asked belatedly, becoming aware of people looking expectantly at her.

‘Marie was saying that you were looking after Mr Reid when he tried to clock out today.’

‘Yes.’

‘How do you feel about that?’

Still shrouded in the mental fog of disbelief, she groped around for a generic answer he couldn’t analyse too much.

‘Concerned.’

‘Is that all?’

For God’s sake, she wanted to yell, stop talking to me. Leave me be. I need to get my head around this. ‘Worried for his family.’ She shrugged.

‘You don’t seem very concerned or worried.’ Jack observed. Brown eyes watched her carefully from below long lashes.

‘Oh?’ That’s because all I can think about now is you!

Silence filled the space between them. Laura just wanted to get away. She didn’t want to indulge in a philosophical debate. She wanted to be gone.

Jack finally spoke. ‘He was a long-term patient. He looked like he’d turned the corner. Surely his setback was a shock?’

‘This is an intensive care unit. People are critically ill. Sometimes they get worse before they get better.’ Now his persistence was really irking her.

‘Sometimes they don’t get better.’

‘Sometimes.’

Jack read her body language loud and clear. Arms crossed, legs crossed, back erect. Subject closed. She didn’t want to talk about it. He wondered how often she did that. Laura had been through a major trauma ten years ago. The emotional baggage from that, mixed with a high-stress work environment, was not a good combination. She was a prime candidate for burnout.

She was thinner than he remembered. Her blue eyes still troubled. He wished he’d known her when they had sparkled with life and fun. Before the terrible events of Newvalley. Before they had mirrored the part of her spirit that had died in the tragic building collapse.

Laura was saved further scrutiny by Marie who came to the rescue, diverting his attention with a question. She gulped air into suffocating lungs. His shrewd gaze weighing her up had felt as restrictive as bricks against her chest. No doubt he had been analysing her every word, every gesture.

Five minutes later a beeper rang out, interrupting the conversation. Jack pulled it off his belt, checking the message.

‘I’m sorry, folks, I have to take this call.’

‘Use the phone in my office,’ Marie offered. ‘Across the hall.’

Seeing her chance to escape, Laura stood, ignoring the speculative looks from her colleagues. Her shift finished in fifteen minutes but she was sure no one would begrudge her knocking off now. Just a quick word to the afternoon staff about Mr Reid and she was out of here. Too much had happened today—confronting a ghost from her past was beyond her.

Laura grabbed her bag from her locker. She just wanted to get away from the hospital. St Jude’s had been her sanctuary for the last eight years. Suddenly it didn’t feel safe here either. Jack Riley’s presence caused too many complications.

She pushed the lift button. It arrived promptly and she got in.

‘Hold the lift, please,’ a voice commanded, followed closely by a big hand preventing the doors’ closure.

‘Laura.’ His brown eyes smiled gently.

‘Hello, Jack.’ Her earlier testiness dissolved as the years melted away.

He took her hand and squeezed it. They stood quite close in the small lift, looking at their joined hands. Her slim, pale one in stark contrast to his, large and tanned. There was so much to say. Where to begin?

‘It’s nice to see you again.’ His voice was husky. ‘Can we go somewhere and talk?’

‘I’m really tired.’ She needed time to think.

He lifted her chin. Yes, she looked done in. He yearned to embrace her. ‘Please.’

‘OK.’ She sighed. ‘But not the canteen.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Gossip.’

He raised the other eyebrow.

‘Oh, come on, Jack. You know what a hospital’s like! The grapevine will already be working overtime with what happened in the staffroom.’

‘Let them talk.’ He shrugged.

‘No. Attention is one thing I don’t need,’ she said, and marched out of the doors as they opened onto the foyer.

Laura steamed ahead, leading Jack to the deserted area around the staff pool. It was a cool, peaceful haven set in the beautifully landscaped grounds of St Jude’s. She sat down at one of the shady, poolside tables, removed her sunglasses and watched him sit down opposite her.

It was a strange moment. Despite brimming with questions, neither seemed to know how or where to start. For now, Laura was content to just be near him as decade-old memories were rekindled. The good as well as the bad.

‘Laura…how…how have you been?’ He reached for her hand and she allowed him to take it.

‘OK.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ She laughed. ‘Really.’

‘Any nightmares? Flashbacks?’

‘The first two years were rough but…I’ve been good since.’

‘That’s great.’

‘I’m over it, Jack. It’s behind me. I’ve got on with my life.’

‘Yes, but it doesn’t ever really go away. Does it?’

‘Sure it does.’

‘You must let me in on your coping strategies.’

Laura looked at the doubt etched on his face. He could think what he liked. She was over it. She was.

‘So, what have you been up to?’ asked Jack.

‘Nothing much. Working…living…’

‘Is that it?’

No, she wanted to say. I’ve had your baby and raised him for the past nine years. My life has been very full. She wanted to thank him for such a precious gift. But she was silent. She couldn’t just dump something like this in his lap.

She needed to know if his attitude towards having children had changed. She needed to know him better before deciding whether or not to break the news.

Ten years ago her decision to keep their son a secret from him had been clear-cut. It hadn’t been easy, and the importance of her decision had weighed heavily on her. But she’d done the right thing. She had been sure of that. Still, his reappearance in her life clouded the issue again. Had it been the right decision?

‘Pretty much,’ she answered. ‘How about you? I thought you were off to Adelaide to become a hotshot surgeon. When did you become a shrink?’

He was silent as he searched for the right words. ‘After Newvalley, I found it difficult to get back into everyday life—you know what I mean?’

Laura nodded. She knew exactly what he meant.

‘I did go to Adelaide and I even stuck it out for a year, but, well…my heart wasn’t really in it. Surgery had been my passion and then suddenly it seemed so insignificant. Being involved in that rescue effort where so many people died…’

They were both silent for a few moments, reflecting on the lives that had been lost when the earthquake had hit and the parts they had played in the dreadful tragedy. It had been a major catastrophe for Australia, making news headlines for weeks.

‘It was totally life-changing. It made me reassess my whole direction,’ said Jack.

Laura nodded again. She understood. Her life now seemed to be separated into two different parts. Before the earthquake and after the earthquake. She was not the same girl as she had been in those years and moments before the earth had shaken and the building had tumbled down around her.

He closed his eyes. ‘I thought I was losing it for a while. I couldn’t sleep and when I did I’d have nightmares. I felt on edge and irritable. I couldn’t concentrate properly on my work and that’s scary when you’re wielding a scalpel! And I wasn’t the one who’d been trapped… I don’t know how you’ve stayed sane all these years, Laura.’

‘I had help,’ she said.

‘So did I, actually. And that’s when I knew I wanted to become a psychiatrist. So I studied people’s minds instead of their anatomies. And here I am today.’

‘Here you are,’ she whispered, and squeezed his hand.

‘So.’ He lifted her left hand and inspected it. ‘No wedding ring.’

‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Never married.’

‘C’mon Laura, they must be lining up! You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,’ he said gently, as he brushed his fingers through her fringe.

She closed her eyes and shrugged. ‘What about you? No wedding band either?’

‘Divorced.’

Laura felt her eyes widen as she sat more upright. He had been married! Surely not? Jack was sexy as hell and no doubt attracted women like bees to a honey pot but, if her memory served her correctly, he had never wanted to get seriously involved.

They had spent hours talking while she had lain beneath the rubble of the backpackers’ hostel. Marriage, kids, all that ‘settling down’ stuff had definitely not been on his agenda. His career had been his only focus. She must have been a hell of a girl!

‘Any children?’ She held her breath.

‘No, thank goodness.’ His tone was tense, forbidding.

She tried not to flinch. It seemed he was still not enamoured about the idea of being a father. Oh, Isaac. Obviously her decision to keep quiet about their son had been justified.

‘What happened?’

‘Long story,’ he said dismissively. ‘So, are you coming to the memorial service next week?’

‘No.’

‘You’ve never been to any.’ His tone was accusing.

‘I went to the first.’ Her tone was defensive.

Their eyes met and held as she remembered that day and what had happened later in his apartment. They’d made Isaac together that afternoon. They had made love like it had been their last night on earth and they the only two people in the world, clinging desperately to each other, trying to find solace and stability in a world that had been turned upside down.

Jack remembered it vividly. He remembered holding her as she had broken down.

‘I thought I was going to die,’ she had said over and over, as huge sobs had racked her slim body. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how she must have felt—trapped for twelve hours before they’d located her and then for a further eight as rescue teams had worked frantically to dig her out.

He’d thought she was going to die too on a couple of occasions as the unstable foundations had rocked and shifted, buffeted by aftershocks rumbling deep beneath the earth. He’d been helpless to do anything but be there with her, hold her hand, talk. That she had survived was a miracle.

Slowly her sobs had subsided and Jack remembered her embarrassment and then the sudden rush of passion that had taken over as two traumatised people had tried to find a haven together. It had been unexpected—spontaneous—and Jack doubted that either of them could have stopped it. It had been sweet and intense and as he sat opposite her now, he knew he wanted to experience it again.

‘Sometimes I wish I hadn’t gone.’ She broke into their memories.

‘You don’t mean that, Laura.’

No, he was right. She didn’t. Isaac had come from that day. The one great thing that had come out of the whole disaster. He had filled her life with love and joy. Isaac’s name meant laughter and that’s what he had brought to her life—laughter and happiness. Two emotions she hadn’t thought she would feel so soon after Newvalley.

‘No, I don’t,’ she conceded.

‘Come with me to Newvalley, Laura.’

‘No, Jack.’

‘It might be good closure, Laura. If not for you, for the others.’

‘There are no others.’

‘I mean the relatives of the victims, Laura. Every year they turn up and sit around wondering where you are and how you’re doing. They’d love to meet with you. See you’re OK.’

Laura was surprised. She’d never thought of it from that angle before.

‘You could be their closure, too.’

‘I don’t want to be their closure,’ she said tersely, and rose from the table. ‘It took me a couple of years of therapy to get to a point in my life where I could put it all behind me. I don’t want to go back. Rehash it. I can’t be someone else’s crutch.’

‘So don’t be. They won’t ask for anything that you can’t give them, Laura. They’re just people who lost loved ones and feel connected to you because you made it out alive. Let them be near you.’

She shoved her hands in her uniform pockets and paced.

‘I can’t, Jack. I don’t want to remember that time in my life. I want to leave it in the past, where it belongs.’

‘It’s part of who you are. Deny it at your own peril. It’ll creep up on you one day when you least expect it. Post-traumatic stress can be quite debilitating.’