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‘Dammit, Dani—’ Josh began, but this time she wasn’t going to take no for an answer—not when it was obviously what they both wanted.
Her mind wasn’t really on what she was saying. What did conversation matter when she was finally where she’d wanted to be for so many years?
And it felt so good.
Ever since she’d first fallen in love with him she’d imagined what it would feel like when he finally held her in his arms, but this surpassed anything she’d ever dreamed. He was so tall and strong—the sort of solid bulwark that a woman could depend on to protect her when life turned rough.
‘Dani…’ he muttered, almost incoherently, and his head swooped down towards her even as he swept her up into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.
At last!
Josie Metcalfe lives in Cornwall with her long-suffering husband. They have four children. When she was an army brat, frequently on the move, books became the only friends that came with her wherever she went. Now that she writes them herself she is making new friends, and hates saying goodbye at the end of a book—but there are always more characters in her head, clamouring for attention until she can’t wait to tell their stories.
Recent titles by the same author:
SHEIKH SURGEON CLAIMS HIS BRIDE*
THE DOCTOR’S BRIDE BY SUNRISE*
TWINS FOR A CHRISTMAS BRIDE
A MARRIAGE MEANT TO BE
*Brides of Penhally Bay
Look out for the second book in Josie Metcalfe’s neonatal duet— coming soon from Medical™ Romance
BY
JOSIE METCALFE
CHAPTER ONE
JOSH peered cautiously through the window in the door that barred the entrance to the unit, wary in case it was that fierce senior sister on duty.
He knew that his mother preferred to collect him from the homework club at school rather than have him walk for five minutes to the hospital on his own; knew he wasn’t really supposed to come up here to wait for her shift to end; and he definitely shouldn’t know the code to let himself into the unit, but he was so fascinated by the tiny babies she cared for that he just couldn’t resist.
‘Hi, Josh,’ called one of his mother’s friendlier colleagues, looking across at him from her position at the desk. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her welcoming smile. With Sally Nugent on duty he knew he wasn’t going to be summarily ejected tonight. ‘Your mum’s nearly finished. Go on into the staff lounge while you’re waiting for her. There might even be some biscuits left in the tin.’
His stomach was empty but it was easy to ignore it when there was the fascinating world of medicine surrounding him. He might only be nine, but he already knew what he wanted to do when he grew up.
‘Have you had any new babies in today?’ he asked, lingering beside the desk while Sally frowned at something on the computer screen.
‘Not so far,’ she said with a distracted smile in his direction, just as the phone began to ring.
Josh could only hear Sally’s side of the conversation but he could tell from the expression on her face that she was being told something serious. Usually Sally could manage to find a reassuring smile for everyone, no matter what was happening in the unit. This time he could tell from the way she suddenly went white that something very different had happened.
She clattered the phone down almost before she’d finished speaking, and instead of hurrying him through to wait out of sight in the staff waiting room—the way she normally would—she sat there for several seconds, biting her lip, apparently unable to bring herself to look in his direction.
Suddenly he felt sick with apprehension.
‘Sally?’ he prompted, hating the fact that his voice still sounded like a kid’s when he’d been the man of the house from the moment he’d been born. Had something happened to his mother? She and Pammy were all he had in the world, at least until Pammy’s baby arrived. ‘What’s the matter? What’s going—?’
‘I’m sorry, Josh,’ she interrupted abruptly, getting to her feet. ‘You’re going to have to leave the unit. Go down and wait in the main reception area.’ She started ushering him towards the door. ‘Your… There’s an emergency coming in and your…your mother’s going to need to stay on late tonight. Is there someone who can come and fetch you…to take you home?’
He knew she wasn’t telling him the truth—at least, not the whole truth—and he dug his feet in, refusing to move another inch until he had an answer to the most important question.
‘Is it Mum? Has something happened to her?’ he demanded, a strange shaky feeling starting deep inside him. It was the same feeling that he’d got the day his mother had phoned to tell him there had been an accident and she was delayed in A and E.
He’d been so convinced she’d been injured that initially he hadn’t been able to hear her telling him that she’d been nothing more than a bystander and was taking care of the victim’s children until their father arrived. He’d known then just how devastating it would be if anything were to happen to his mother or to her best friend, Pammy. The three of them had been together all his life and were the only family he had in the world.
‘Please, Sally. You have to tell me,’ he demanded hoarsely, his heart beating so fast that it felt as if it was going to choke him. ‘Has something happened to Mum? Is she ill? Hurt?’
‘No, Josh. It’s nothing like that,’ she said firmly, giving his arm a squeeze, and the fact that she met his eyes this time reassured him that she was telling him the truth. ‘Your mother’s fine, but she’s…she’s going to be very busy for a while. It would be better if you went out of the unit to wait, just until—’
The sound of the lift arriving only a few feet away had her breaking off with a soft curse under her breath, and he knew that whatever had her so jumpy was about to emerge from those doors.
There was a confused cacophony of voices and noises, with orders being snapped and vital signs being monitored by bleeping machinery. As the trolley began to emerge through the gaping doorway he could see that the figure on it was having some sort of a fit, like that boy in the top class at school who’d had an epileptic attack in the gym last term. Then he heard someone using the keys he’d pressed to unlock the door into the unit, and out of the corner of his eye saw the unit’s senior consultant stride into view.
‘Is this Pamela Dixon?’ he demanded, and Josh gasped as if he’d been winded by a punch. ‘Take her straight along to Theatre,’ the man ordered briskly after a lightning-quick assessment right there in the corridor. ‘Bloods have been taken for cross-matching, I hope?’
‘What’s wrong with Pammy?’ Josh demanded loudly, completely forgetting that he wasn’t even supposed to be there. ‘Her baby’s not coming for weeks yet. What are you doing to her?’
‘Josh…! Hush!’ He knew the feel of his mother’s arms as they encircled him from behind, even though she smelt of that awful disinfectant in the hand-cleansing gel and not the lavender soap he’d bought her for her birthday. ‘Pam collapsed while she was out shopping. Mr Kasarian is going to try to help her.’
‘But, Mum, he said to take her to Theatre and Pammy can’t have an operation,’ he insisted, looking up into eyes the same golden brown as the ones that met him in the bathroom mirror when he brushed his teeth. Suddenly everything inside him clenched tight as he realised this was the first time he’d ever seen those eyes filled with fear—the same fear that was gripping him by the throat and turning his innards to water. ‘He can’t do it! It might hurt the baby.’
He tried to step forward to stop them pushing the trolley to the other end of the department, towards the one part of the unit that he’d never been allowed to investigate, but his mother held him back.
‘Josh, you don’t understand,’ she said with a quiver in her voice. ‘Mr Kasarian has to operate. He’s trying to save Pam’s life.’
‘But…I don’t understand.’ He was having to blink hard against the hot threat of tears. ‘She was all right this morning. We had breakfast together and she said she was going to walk to the shops after I went to school. She was going to buy some things for the baby, and…and…’
The expression on his mother’s face evaporated the words off his tongue, the desperation there telling him that, no matter what he said, it wasn’t going to change what was happening now.
‘She collapsed in the shop, Josh…in the ladies’toilets… And nobody knew she was there until the cleaner heard noises in the cubicle and realised that the door had been locked for a long time.’
‘Wh-what’s wrong with her?’ His heart felt as if it was fluttering wildly against his ribs, like the little bird that he’d rescued from next-door’s cat. It was going so fast that it was making him feel quite light-headed, as if he was going to be sick. ‘What’s he going to do to her?’
‘Her blood pressure’s gone up much too high—it’s called eclampsia and that’s why she collapsed,’ she explained briefly, and he was struck that, even now, she’d remembered that he always wanted to know why things happened. ‘And the only way to make the blood pressure come down is to take the baby out of her…quickly.’
‘But, Mum, you said…’ His thoughts were such a panicky jumble that it was hard to find the words he needed first. ‘The baby…Pammy’s baby! It isn’t time for it to come out yet.’ Her face looked all blurry as he tried to put his thoughts in order, so he knew he was crying now, but he couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been told that his mother’s best friend in all the world was expecting a baby he’d been so…so excited. And as soon as Pammy had told him that he was going to be able to help her to look after it…to feed it and protect it…it was all he’d been able to think about.
None of them knew whether it was a girl or a boy… Pammy said she wanted to wait until the baby was born to find out, the way she always waited till Christmas morning to open her presents. Josh had already persuaded her that it should be called Daniel if it was a boy, but if it was born too soon, it wouldn’t be able to live and it wouldn’t matter what it was called because it would never survive long enough to know that he would have been the best big brother ever.
‘Josh, they have to operate,’ his mother said in a funny choked voice, and he felt even worse when he saw that she was crying, too. She and Pammy had known each other for hundreds of years…ever since they’d met in that group home when they were little. They always said that they might not have been born sisters, but they were sisters now. Better than sisters.
‘If they don’t operate quickly, Pam will die,’ she continued urgently. ‘She might die even if they do, and then the baby would die, too, so Mr Kasarian really doesn’t have any choice.’
He flung himself into her arms and they clung together, sobbing and terrified that they were going to lose the only family they had in the world.
‘I’m sorry, Sister Weath—Meredith,’ Mr Kasarian interrupted himself, the grey pallor of defeat dulling his stubble-darkened golden skin and robbing his dark eyes of their usual sparkle.
Josh had never seen him like this before; had usually seen him smiling as he answered one of the millions of questions Josh peppered him with, even though he wasn’t supposed to be visiting the unit. ‘Even though Pam didn’t work in this particular department, she was one of ours, too, so you know that we did everything we could…’
‘Of course you did,’ his mother agreed softly from behind a shaky hand, her other hand tightening painfully around Josh’s. He didn’t care how tight she squeezed. Nothing could hurt worse than the pain inside him.
‘If only someone had found her sooner,’ the consultant continued. ‘By the time we got her to Theatre she’d already been convulsing for so long that…’ He shook his head. ‘She was already going into multi-organ failure. All we could do was to try to save the baby.’
‘So they’re both dead,’ his mother mourned, her voice so choked with tears that Josh could hardly understand the words. ‘My best friend and her baby, both gone in one day when we’d got so many plans to—’
‘No!’ the consultant interrupted, suddenly quite flustered. ‘I’m so sorry, Meredith. I can’t have made myself clear. I lost your friend, but her baby is still alive…for the moment, at least.’
‘What? It’s alive?’ Josh wasn’t certain whether he’d spoken or if it had been his mother.
‘Yes, Josh. It was a little girl, and she’s very small, but she’s a real fighter.’
‘A girl!’ Josh didn’t know whether to be disappointed that it hadn’t been Daniel, the little brother he’d wanted, or just to be pleased that Pammy’s baby was still alive.
‘Can we see her?’ his mother asked, and for one horrified moment Josh thought she was asking to see Pammy, and the idea that he might see the woman who had been an extra mother to him the whole of his life lying there, dead, made him feel sick.
‘Of course you can, Meredith,’ the consultant said with a reassuring smile, and with a silent sigh of relief, Josh realised that he and his mother were talking about the baby. ‘Just as soon as she’s been settled in the unit and… well, I don’t need to tell you any of that,’ he added with a shrug. ‘You probably know just as much about that side of things as I do…probably more. You’ve been working in the unit long enough.’
‘Oh, Josh,’ his mother murmured when Mr Kasarian left, and when he saw her eyes filling with tears again a feeling of panic filled him in an overwhelming flood.
All his life it had been the three of them coping together against the world, him, his mum and Pammy. He’d never known his own father because he’d died in a motorcycle accident before he’d been born, and he’d never met the father of Pammy’s baby either, but there’d never been a time when Pammy hadn’t been there to help him cheer his mother up when she was sad. Now there was only him, and he had no idea what to say to stop her crying, not when he felt so much like giving in to the tears, too.
‘We’ll manage, Mum,’ he said shakily as he patted her arm, wishing he believed it even as he voiced the words that Pammy had always said. ‘We’re the three musketeers, remember? And we’ll still be the three musketeers…only this time I won’t be the youngest.’
‘The three musketeers,’ Josh murmured as he hung his stethoscope around his neck and stuffed a notepad in the pocket of his white coat. ‘What on earth made me think of that today?’
That scene had taken place at least twenty-seven years ago and had been a pivotal point in his life. The first moment he’d seen that tiny, almost transparent scrap of a baby he’d known exactly what branch of medicine he wanted to concentrate on when he was all grown up.
It must have taken some determination on his mother’s part to survive in those early years, going from a household consisting of one child supported by two wage earners to one of two children supported by just one SCBU nurse. He never did know how she’d persuaded the authorities to allow her to adopt Pammy’s baby, but he did know that she was a formidable woman when she set her mind to something. By his early teens he’d become very adept at finding employers who would overlook the fact that he was underage for a job by playing on the fact that he was tall and blessed with a responsible attitude. But even though he was helping to support their little family, nothing was allowed to interfere with his grades at school; nothing was permitted to get in the way of his eventual acceptance into medical school and the first step on the road to becoming a paediatric consultant.
The ring of the phone dragged him out of his unaccustomed ramble down memory lane.
‘Yes, Caitlin?’
‘Dr Dixon has arrived,’ his secretary told him quietly, and a quick glance at his watch reminded him that he should have been ready ten minutes ago to greet the new member of staff beginning her first day on the unit.
Exactly how many minutes had he been standing there wool-gathering when there was a whole department out there depending on his input?
‘Twenty-seven years on and I still can’t forget the chaos that tiny baby caused in our lives,’ he complained to the walls of his cramped office, then growled at the fact that Dr Danielle Dixon would definitely get the wrong impression if she heard him talking to himself.
He strode out into the corridor, trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t a clue whether it was dread or excitement that was filling his stomach with butterflies.
‘I’m a consultant, for heaven’s sake,’ he muttered crossly as he strode out of the room. A relatively new one, admittedly, but as far as could tell, he was well respected by his immediate colleagues and his peers. He certainly didn’t need to worry that the newest member of the team was going to be able to find fault with anything that happened in his unit, but…
His thoughts stalled abruptly when he caught sight of the slender, almost child-like figure waiting uncertainly by the main reception desk at the entrance to the unit.
He couldn’t seem to breathe for a moment as he was struck by her ethereal beauty, then couldn’t help taking advantage of the fact she hadn’t seen him to look his fill.
She looked as if a puff of wind would blow her away, and that impression was only compounded by the soft cloud of silvery blonde curls and deep blue eyes that made her seem as if she only needed a pair of gossamer wings to complete the picture.
Utter nonsense, he scoffed silently. You only had to take a look at that determined little chin to realise that she had enough stubbornness for a whole herd of mules. That, after all, was what it would have needed to get her to this point in her life.
‘Ah, there you are, Mr Weatherby,’ the receptionist said, and the newest member of his team turned sharply towards him and almost felled him in his tracks with a single smile.
‘Josh!’ she exclaimed, hurrying towards him and clearly bubbling over with excitement.
‘Dr Dixon,’ he replied firmly, in spite of the fact that his voice felt almost rusty in his throat.
He saw the split second that she realised her faux pas and watched her deliberately replace her happy expression with a more serious one. ‘I’m sorry. I mean, good morning, Mr Weatherby.’
The attempt at keeping her expression straight failed in a second and he was almost tempted to laugh out loud. That face would never be able to hide what she was thinking and feeling, any more than those blue eyes could stop gleaming with the sheer joy of being alive. That was just one reason why he would always blame himself for…
‘I can’t believe it, can you?’ she demanded, stepping close enough to grab his arm with one slender hand and almost bouncing with excitement.
Even through the thick cotton of his white coat and the thinner sleeve of his shirt he could feel the warmth of her hand, but the sensation was far closer to the sharp hum of electricity as every hair stood to attention all over his body at the innocent contact.
‘I finally made it, Josh! I’m on the way to being a paediatrician. Isn’t it just the most—?’
‘Congratulations,’ he interrupted formally, conscious of watchful eyes and wary of gossip.
As he forced himself to step back, he told himself that it was not only on his own account but for the sake of the newest member of his team. She would hardly want to be the subject of hospital gossip on her first morning.
The increased distance between them meant that she had to release her hold on him but he still had to stifle a groan at his body’s instant response to the innocuous contact from her slender hand.
It was just so wrong.
This was Dani, the tiny baby he’d fallen in love with from the first moment he’d seen her in the incubator that day, and who’d been his baby sister in everything but blood and name.
And from this morning on, he reminded himself silently, she was just the latest doctor to spend six months in his department while she decided whether it was the area of medicine in which she wanted to specialise.
‘Now,’ he said briskly, ‘if you’d like to follow me, let’s see just how much you’ve learned.’
He turned and strode back towards the other end of the unit, cursing himself for his abruptness. Once again he’d wiped the happiness off her face as swiftly as if he’d slapped her, and that hadn’t been his intention. He just couldn’t cope with any physical contact between the two of them, no matter how innocuous; had deliberately avoided being anywhere in her vicinity ever since the disastrous events of her eighteenth birthday.
‘I don’t know how detailed a tour you were given around the unit when you came for your interview, but—’
‘Josh,’ she interrupted softly, her dark blue eyes looking almost bruised. ‘Is this going to be too difficult for you…having me working in your unit?’
He nearly snorted aloud at the innocence of her question.
Difficult? Try bloody impossible, especially when she stood there looking as if she was made of spun sugar and all he wanted to do was…
‘You got the job on merit,’ he pointed out gruffly. ‘Remember? I excused myself from your interview in case my presence biased the choice of candidate. Now all you have to do is prove that the committee made the right decision.’
‘But…’ She paused uncertainly.
He knew he hadn’t answered her question, but hoped that at least he’d been able to redirect her thoughts. Then he saw those slender shoulders straighten and that neat little chin inch up a little further, and knew she’d accepted the challenge.
He stifled a sigh, knowing that his life would have been very much easier if Dani had chosen a similar post in another hospital, but, without being big-headed about it, he knew that his unit was one of the best for the next stage of her training if she was still determined to specialise in paediatrics. That was especially true if she was leaning towards neonatal medicine.
‘This is the neonatal end of the unit,’ he said crisply, unable to prevent the touch of pride in his tone, ‘and it’s the most recent development within the department.’
‘Did it take you long to get approval?’ Those dark blue eyes were visually cataloguing the set-up, from the individual prettily-curtained bays—all occupied at the moment—to the mind-boggling array of monitoring equipment surrounding each clear acrylic isolette.
‘Long enough, but it was securing the level of financing that was the biggest headache. There’s just so much specialist equipment needed and the cost of each item is astronomical.’
‘That always seems so strange to me,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘When the cost of electronic items on the high street has come down so much, why should similar items be so inordinately expensive when they’re being sold to hospitals?’
He was unsurprised that she should have the same niggling suspicions that he’d been harbouring for years. It just didn’t seem credible that so many extra millions could be poured into a system and do so little good.
But that wasn’t the issue, here, he reminded himself sternly. He’d always known that she was ready to take issue with any injustice she uncovered, right from kindergarten age, and he was struck with a sudden desire to test the mettle of this new member of his team to see whether she had changed. This was no longer a matter of girls being prevented from joining the boys’ football team but the hidebound monolith of the NHS she was criticising. How would she defend her contentious words?