Gold Coast Angels: Two Tiny Heartbeats Read online

  ‘I’ve got your back, Palmer. Go home now. Rest. You still look peaky. And if you want help or advice—ask!’

  Lucy nodded past the lump in her throat. How had she been so lucky to end up with Flora as a boss?

  Flora smiled at her. ‘Look after yourself, Palmer. I still have big plans for you.’

  Now she felt like crying, and if she didn’t get out of here quickly she’d disgrace herself by throwing her sobbing self onto the starched front of her boss.

  Lucy almost ran from the ward, past Cass who was on day shifts for a few weeks, and in her hasty departure she didn’t see the speculative look that followed her.

  She also forgot all about the blood tests she was supposed to get as she pressed the button for the lift and escape.

  The doors opened. When she stepped in Nikolai was standing at the back of the lift like her nemesis. ‘Are you going to Pathology now?’

  Lucy blinked. She felt like smacking her forehead but instead refused to be goaded into saying she’d forgotten again. ‘Are you following me?’

  Thick, dark, eyebrows lifted. ‘I imagine that would be difficult from the inside of a lift. Not being able to see through the walls.’

  She played the words back in her head and winced. Impolite and ungrateful. It wasn’t Dr Kefes’s fault she felt physically and emotionally exhausted. ‘Sorry. And, yes.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll go to Pathology now.’

  The lift stopped on another floor and two intense, white-coated doctors entered, and the conversation died a natural death.

  Lucy recognised one of the newcomers, Callie Richards, the paediatrician who was looking after Sally’s baby. They both nodded at Nick but the tension between them was palpable to the other two in the lift and, fancifully, Lucy decided the air was actually shimmering.

  It seemed other people had dramas, too. The man raised his eyebrows at Nick, who didn’t change his expression, and Callie offered a forced smile to Lucy, who smiled back awkwardly.

  One floor down the late arrivals stepped out and as the doors shut Lucy let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in a little whistle. She looked at Nikolai. ‘Who’s the guy?’

  Nick smiled. ‘Cade Coleman, prenatal surgeon from Boston. And you’ve met Callie Richards, the neonatal specialist. She’s in charge of the NICU here and is looking after Sally’s baby.’

  ‘Yep. I remember her. She seems nice. It was just him I didn’t know. I guess I’ll recognise everyone soon.’

  They reached the ground floor and the lift light changed to indicate ‘up’. Lucy realised she hadn’t directed the lift to take her further down to the laboratory.

  Nikolai shook his head and pressed the lower-ground button for Pathology to override the person above. He put his hand across the doors to hold them open. ‘Are you working on Monday?’

  ‘One in the afternoon.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to see me to get your results before you start. My rooms. Twelve-thirty? In case you forget to make the appointment.’

  Ooh. It was her turn to give him the look. ‘Fine. Thank you.’ As he took his arm away from the doors she said, ‘Are you this helpful to all your pregnant ladies?’

  He shrugged and she couldn’t read the expression on his face. ‘Only the really vague ones who forget to have their bloods done.’

  ‘Touché,’ she said cheekily, and he smiled. She watched him walk away until the doors shut and the lift sailed downwards. Well, she had been vague to forget again but she needed to sleep. As soon as she got home she was going to bed and sleeping the clock round.

  * * *

  Nick’s hand tightened on his briefcase as he strode to the doctors’ car park. She had a point. But the memories of Chloe, gaunt and drawn, haunted him and when he’d seen Lucy was looking so tired it had brought it all back. He needed to stop worrying about her. She wasn’t Chloe, neither was she his responsibility. Although even Chloe would have a fit if she thought he still felt the need to keep her under his wing.

  His phone rang. His registrar. Thoughts of Lucy shifted to the back of his mind again as he turned back to the hospital.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THAT NIGHT, AFTER a nap and crossing her fingers after her less-than-traumatic disclosure to Flora May, Lucy decided to talk to her mother. She glanced at the clock. It was too early for the dinner date her mother always had before clubbing with her friends on Friday nights but hopefully late enough to be after the ritual bath and nail preparation that took place prior to departure.

  ‘Mum? It’s Lucy.’ There was a vague affirmative and Lucy bit back a sigh. One day she was going to stop hoping for a shriek of pleasure from her mother that she’d rung.

  ‘I know you’re going out. Can I talk for a minute?’

  The conversation went downhill from there. If being told she had always known she would let her mother down, done the exact thing her mother had told her not to do, been called an immoral, stupid little girl, being told that no way was she ever minding her brats or even admitting to being a grandmother counted as a conversation going downhill.

  Lucy was pretty sure it was, because she could feel herself curling into a protective ball as the tirade continued. She just got more numb and wasn’t even aware of the tears as they rolled down her cheeks.

  When her mother paused for breath, Lucy finished by whispering, ‘And by the way, I’m having twins.’ There was a further stunned silence and Lucy decided to put the phone down gently. Enough.

  Yep. It had been as bad as she’d feared. Probably worse. She sucked in a breath and forced her shoulders to loosen from the deathlike squeeze she had them in.

  Her hand crept to her belly. She wasn’t having brats. She was having gorgeous babies and maybe they would be better off without a vitriolic grandmother. Maybe she would finally be able to separate her mother’s idea of who she was from her own version. It might take a bit of practice but she had six months to do it before her babies were born.

  Surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly given her exhaustion and mental distress, Lucy slept most of the night for the first time in ages.

  On Saturday she did the bare minimum of housework and lazed and snoozed all day, recharging her batteries for next week’s onslaught.

  She started a journal, wrote down her thoughts and all the things she had to be grateful for, and began to talk to her babies. It was amazing what a difference a small change like that made.

  By Sunday morning she was rested and felt more like her old self. In fact, she felt better than better. Maybe it was knowing that the dreaded call, despite being as horrific as she’d dreaded, was over. Done.

  Some time in the night she’d felt the first real joy of what was to come. So this was her path. What she couldn’t change, she would just do better.

  Her midwifery would be put on hold, but at least it might have prepared her a bit for what was ahead.

  Pregnancy, birth, maybe not twins but, hey, twice the joy. She’d been chosen for that double blessing for a reason, she just hadn’t figured out what that reason was.

  So, it was a beautiful day, her stomach growled with hunger for the first time in weeks, and she lived in a fabulous part of the world with the ocean right outside her landlord’s front door. What wasn’t to celebrate?

  Filled with new vigour, Lucy tidied her cabana and afterwards scooted around the big house, plucked dead leaves off ornamental ferns, cleaned the aquarium filter and steam-mopped the outside terrace because the salt was crusty underfoot from the storm a few days ago.

  Besides, she loved the front terrace, where she could look out over the white sand just behind the boundary fence, watch the paddle-boarders and hope to catch a glimpse of a whale or a dolphin.

  As she hummed a country ballad the gate screeched as she took the garbage out, so she hunted out the lubricant spray, s
ang a few words and patted her stomach as she wandered back to fix it. ‘We’ll be okay, kiddos.’

  * * *

  Nick’s Sunday morning wasn’t going as planned. He’d knocked on Chloe’s door to see if she was interested in them having breakfast together. It was handy having a sister in the flat next to his. He was starving and maybe they could catch up.

  But after the third knock nobody came to the door, so she was either out or not answering. He’d go for a jog and see if she was there when he came back. He tried to check the impulse to find out where she was or who she was with. Just check she was okay, he reminded himself.

  Nick was sick of his own company—which was almost unheard of—and just a little bored. As he set off he reminded himself that exercise often worked to shut the voices down.

  The beach felt great under the soles of his runners but while the long jog along the sand had helped his restlessness it had also stoked up his appetite for that iconic Sunday breakfast—one of his favourite times on the Gold Coast. With so many great places showing off the ocean, choice was a problem but the idea of eating alone, again, was less than appealing.

  Not that there wasn’t activity and people everywhere. Kids were learning to be lifesavers on the beach with their little tied-on caps and colourful swimmers. Paddle-boarders skimmed the backs of waves and made him wish he’d bought one. Apparently it was a useful and not sexually orientated exercise diversion—as his sister had wryly commented.

  He didn’t know why Chloe had a thing about his carefree love life. He wasn’t promiscuous, he just didn’t feel the need to belong to anybody.

  He was happy to concentrate on his work and have fun with like-minded women. He wasn’t out to break anybody’s heart, and relationships were for dalliance, not drama.

  Still, a diversion would be nice, he thought as his shoes slapped the footpath and he finally spied a shapely little surfer girl in a tiny bright skirt and floaty top ahead, kneeling beside the driveway of one of the mansions. She was doing something to a gate. He couldn’t help his appreciative smile as he jogged closer.

  The sunlight danced in a deep auburn cascade of hair that hid her face and the way she was leaning over promised the sort of shapely curves men liked and women didn’t.

  So it was a shock when she looked up to see hazel eyes and a rosebud mouth he already knew. Not a babe. It was Lucy. Pregnant-with-twins Lucy.

  His social skills dropped with his confusion. ‘Hey, stranger.’

  She grinned at him. Looked him up and down and shook her head. ‘Ha. I’m not the strange one. I’m not wearing shorts and joggers with black socks.’

  ‘Ouch.’ He looked down at his trunks and runners, and decided to throw away the socks, even though they barely showed above his shoes. He’d thought he looked okay. ‘I’ll have you know this is the latest in trendy jog wear.’

  ‘My bad, then.’ She didn’t look sorry. She sat back and wiped her hair out of her eyes and the thick mane flashed like fire in the sunlight. Funny he hadn’t noticed her hair that much at work. ‘So, where do trendy joggers run to?’

  He blinked. ‘Mostly to and from the beach. And back to the hospital apartment building where a lot of the trendy staff stay.’ He sounded like an idiot, so he glanced away and pointed to a tall building a block back from the ocean.

  ‘Wondered where that was.’

  He looked back at her and the slight breeze rippled her hair as she turned her head to look. He’d never had a thing for redheads before—but now he could see the attraction. He’d heard they had a tendency for fire and passion and he could just imagine young Lucy letting fly. The thought made him smile even more.

  ‘I didn’t know it was so close to the hospital,’ she said. ‘Been there long?’

  His mind was five per cent on the conversation and ninety-five on admiring the view. ‘Not that long. I live next door to my sister, Chloe. Two years now. Very convenient.’

  ‘Someone said you had a sister who was a nurse at the hospital.’ She nodded, and everything on the top half of her body wobbled a bit. He tried not to stare at her cleavage.

  Things were getting foggy. ‘Bless the grapevine. Yep.’ Why was he brain dead? ‘We used to share but she wanted her own place and couldn’t see any reason to shift.’ He was rambling. ‘It’s close enough to the hospital that I can walk if I want to. Or run in an emergency. Most times I drive because usually I’m going somewhere later.’

  She nodded again and this time he made sure he didn’t look south.

  His mouth was dry. From the jogging, of course. He could seriously do with a drink. ‘Is this your house?’ He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice but when she laughed he acknowledged relief. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her. She was having things tough enough.

  Her lips curved. ‘Yeah, right. I’m a closet millionaire.’

  She raised her eyebrows haughtily and grinned. ‘I’m the house-sitter. These people are friends of an older couple who used to put up with me visiting a lot when I was a kid. They were the first people I told about the babies. Nearly time to go public.’

  He thought about that. About the hospital and the rumours, and he consoled himself it would blow over in a week. He’d try to make sure he checked she was okay when it all blew up. ‘Seems a very nice place to stay. You living in the house?’

  ‘No.’ When she shook her head it was better than nodding because everything really jiggled.

  He should go but he enjoyed the way she talked. Bubbly and relaxed. Not like the women he usually hung out with, who were always on their best behaviour. He knew that Lucy wasn’t trying to attract him. Which was a good thing because she needed a fling like she needed a hole in the head. And he didn’t do relationships, and you couldn’t have much else with a woman who was pregnant by someone else.

  ‘I have the cabana out back, which suits me fine. I just open the house up every couple of days, let the breeze blow through, water the indoor plants. Feed the fish. That kind of stuff.’

  She was sort of restful, too. He could picture her pottering around. Maybe humming off key. ‘Spray the rusty gate kinda stuff?’

  She waved the can. ‘That’s me. Handy Lucy.’

  ‘Nice.’ He refused to think about where he wanted to put his hands. Instead, he said, ‘Would you like to go for breakfast?’

  Where the heck had that come from? Nick couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Hell, and he’d told himself he was going to be careful to keep it professional.

  But apparently that thought couldn’t stop him from embellishing the offer. ‘Maybe bacon and eggs down at the surf club near Elephant Rock? My shout. We could try and get a table on the veranda and soak in some Vitamin D.’

  He didn’t even recognise what he was saying. Some devil inside was using his mouth. Didn’t it know she was going to be a patient of his as well as a work colleague? This was an invitation with disaster written all over it.

  Lucy’s face lit up with the happiest smile he’d seen all week. Too late to back out, then. So maybe having a devil using his mouth was worth it if she got that much of a kick out of company.

  Her chin jutted as if she expected an argument. ‘I’ll pay my own way, thanks, but I love that place.’

  Independent, then. He’d already guessed that. But he’d bet she was lonely, too.

  ‘And I understand sunlight is very important for pregnant women.’ She grinned. ‘Gee. Breakfast on the beach and my appetite’s back.’

  A glow expanded in his chest, because he could have a cooked breakfast and not have to eat it alone, and he’d made a girl happy. Three good things from one action. ‘I’ll grab my car and meet you back here, in...’ he glanced at his watch ‘...say, fifteen minutes?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Nick lifted one hand as he jogged off towards the tall building Lucy could see
further up the road. She recognised the bulk of the hospital behind and how it could be useful to have the consultants’ units so close.

  So it seemed Dr Kefes jogged by her door regularly. This morning she’d had her headphones in and hadn’t heard him approach so it had been a shock when he’d stopped. She’d thought him just a well-built jogger and had been happy to admire the fitness machine, until she’d recognised him, then she’d been bowled over by the sheer physical presence of him.

  That must have been where the black-sock comment had come from. She’d felt like smacking her forehead when that had popped out.

  ‘Just trying to make him human,’ she muttered, and bit back a giggle. She should be aghast at herself for teasing him—but she wasn’t, and he hadn’t seemed to mind. He probably had women sucking up to him everywhere. She’d never been a toady—except to her mother, but she was going to train herself out of that—and wasn’t going to start now.

  Lucy gave the gate a final generous spray of lubricant and stood up.

  And she darned well refused to feel nervous about going for breakfast with him. Dr Kefes. Nikolai. He hadn’t actually said she could call him Nick but she’d worry about that later. She hadn’t felt this good for weeks so she may as well enjoy it, and now there was a bit of unexpected excitement in her day.

  Who knew when the next pregnancy ailment would strike? And she was in for double dose when it did come.

  As for having breakfast with a consultant at her work who’d also offered to be her obstetrician, well, she wasn’t going to get out of line, and there was no way he would. No reason they couldn’t be friends.

  By the time Nick arrived to pick her up Lucy was standing at the gate in a yellow sundress, complete, he couldn’t help noticing, with bra. He saw the straps and stifled his disappointment. Stop it.

  He leaned across and opened the passenger door for her because he could see she wasn’t going to wait for him to get out and do the job properly.