‘For that I’ll work twice as hard this morning.’ And keep as far from Nixon as possible.
‘You will take it slowly, and you won’t go rushing around like a mad thing.’ Steph got all serious. ‘You sure you’re ready to come back? I’m not only talking the physical effort.’
‘Best you don’t give me babies for a few days. There’s no guarantee I won’t have a crying fit with these hormones swirling around my system. Every time I think they’re on their way out they give me a right old beating up.’
‘I’m putting you on triage. You can’t get into too much mischief there. No heavy lifting or pushing wheelchairs either.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Emma saluted. It was good to be away from those blasted walls in her apartment she’d been all but climbing with frustration. She was probably pushing herself too hard. It was Wednesday, five days since the birth, but she had to get out of the house.
She scanned the department for a certain person, while her ears did an imitation of radar shields trying to hear his low, gravelly voice.
‘Hi, Emma. Surely you’re not back to fighting fit yet?’ one of the younger nurses asked.
‘No plans on doing anything crazy strenuous but otherwise feeling A-okay, thanks.’ Not spilling the beans about the head stuff.
‘Hard to believe you’ve had a baby,’ another nurse said. ‘Look at you, all slim and attractive again. Make that still.’
Okay, getting embarrassing now. ‘Cheers. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Can we get on with something, like work?’ Emma looked over at the white board where patients were written up when they were brought through. ‘Not a lot going on yet.’ Getting busy fast had been the plan.
‘Listen up, everyone.’ Nixon strode out of his office, his mouth tight, eyes serious. ‘There’s been an accident north of Wanaka involving a campervan and car. The first patients will be here in less than thirty.’
‘How many are we expecting?’ Emma asked.
‘Two from the car in critical condition. One’s on the way in the helicopter, the other by ambulance. The reports coming in on the remaining casualties suggest arm fractures for two plus a suspected skull fracture.’ Nixon seemed to be talking directly to her.
Seemed to be, because his gaze had reached her and stopped. But she was probably wrong. He had no reason to seek her out. She was glad that the confusion between them had gone, replaced with calm and, yes, damn it, that irritating caution. Caution she now believed hid past hurts. Emma focused on the scant details he was providing and ignored the fluttering in her belly. They had to work together.
But did he have to look so delectable with that stubble on his chin? Those broad shoulders filled out his scrubs in a way she’d not noticed before. Emma shivered as need clogged her veins. She’d been fooling herself to think this desire for sex with Nixon was going to disappear in a haze of reality. She wanted him. All of him. That was her new reality.
‘Emma.’ Her new reality spoke directly to her. ‘Welcome back. Sure you’re up to this?’
‘Better than going bonkers at home.’ She glanced around the department. Her world might be topsy-turvy right now, but here at work she knew who she was, and what was expected of her. And damn it all, she was more than happy to see Nixon despite the misunderstanding that kept arising between them.
‘Don’t overdo it, all right?’ Nixon stood close, his steady gaze locked on her.
Closing her eyes, she drew in a long, slow, man-scent-laden breath. How had she not been aware of this before? Nixon had become more attractive and sexy and exciting in the time since she’d gone into labour. The tension gripping her eased off, replaced with a different kind of tightness. Sexy and inappropriate in the middle of an emergency department.
Looking around, she found something innocuous to say to quieten her body. ‘I think Abbie’s bringing Grace in today for you all to meet her. As long as she’s not grizzly, which she hardly ever is.’
‘I can’t wait.’ Steph smiled as she picked up a folder. ‘We had a collection and put a basket of baby things together for them.’
The buzzer announced the arrival of their first critical patient, giving Emma an excuse to look away from those watchful faces so she could exhale and quickly swipe at a couple of tears.
‘Emma, you’re with me and Nixon until you’re needed in triage. You can roll bandages.’ Steph winked before handing out jobs to everyone.
Brushing her hands down the front of her top, Emma said, ‘Right, let’s get this show on the road.’
Nixon stood in front of her, his eyes tracking her hands on their trip down her belly to her thighs. ‘About Sunday…’
‘I’m sorry. I was out of line.’ She waited for him to raise his head so she could eyeball him. But when he did she got sidetracked by the heat blazing out at her, and she forgot what she’d been going to say. ‘We work together, we don’t need to know the nitty-gritty about each other.’
His eyes widened with relief. ‘You understand. That’s good. I’d hate anything to come between us that interfered with work.’
Not what she’d meant at all. Her stomach clenched painfully around a lump of disappointment. ‘It won’t. I love my job and won’t put it in jeopardy over something you don’t want to talk about.’ So much for backing off. She was protecting herself, her feelings, her heart. ‘Here’s our first patient.’
Soon she was in triage, time flying by in capsules of broken bones, fevers, chest pains, a probable concussion. Emma took readings and obs, made notes, reassured patients and sent them straight to ED or back to the waiting room according to the seriousness of their situation.
Emma wanted work to be a distraction from everything going on in her head, and she got it. When knockoff time after only four hours rocked around she was shattered. ‘Hate to admit it,’ she told Nixon.
His eyebrows rose in a quaint fashion. ‘There’s a surprise. Time you headed home to those walls you so want to destroy. Oh, what have we here?’ He inclined his head at Santa Claus being wheeled in.
Emma chuckled. ‘Been climbing too many chimneys, Mr Rodgers?’ So much for going home. She wanted to help this man she’d known all her life if she could.
‘Get away with you, girl. My wooden horse fell over as I was handing out the presents at the primary school.’
‘So you were Santa at Rosie’s school today. Rosie was that excited this morning I couldn’t get her to eat any breakfast.’ Emma found scissors to cut the red pants away from what appeared to be a very swollen ankle. ‘Who’s taken your place on the sleigh?’ Disappointed kids were not an option.
‘One of the teachers made up some story about Santa’s helpers being busy so he’d do the job. The kids accepted that, probably thinking they’d miss out on their presents if they didn’t.’ No remorse showed in Mr Claus’s face, just amusement at what a silly old coot he’d been, and flicks of pain whenever he moved his ankle, which he did too often.
‘Are you always this restless?’ Emma asked.
‘Me? Restless? Like I’ve ants in me pants, that’s me. Been like this for a while now. Night time’s the worst. Wife keeps threatening to move me to the spare bedroom.’
Nixon raised his head. ‘I’ll check a few things while we’ve got you here. Any numbness anywhere? Walking tall or stooped?’
‘No numbness, can’t always straighten fully first thing in the morning. Getting old, that’s all.’ Behind the smiley face worry flickered, disappeared fast.
Was Nixon thinking Parkinson’s? Emma shuddered, mentally crossing her fingers for this lovely old man, and plumped the pillows ready for him once they got him onto the bed. ‘There you go, Mr Rodgers. Let’s get you up here so Dr Wright can examine you thoroughly.’
‘This is where I take over.’ Nixon placed a hand under his patient’s arm. ‘I’m not having Emma flinging you over her shoulder this morning. Can you call us an orderly, Emma? Santa needs to go to Radiology. I’ll give him the once-over while you’re doing that. And then it’s time you clocked
off.’
‘On it. You take it easy, Mr Rodgers.’ The brazenness was dipping rapidly, the man looking more and more like a wizened old guy. ‘Speaking of your wife, want me to call her and let her know how you’re filling your afternoon?’
‘No can do. She’s in Auckland visiting the grandkids and doing the Christmas shopping. Bet I’ll need a second job to cover that.’ His smile was wistful.
‘I can talk to her for you,’ Nixon added his piece. ‘Or you can if you’re feeling up to it.’
‘No, leave it for now. Get me sorted first.’
Emma glanced at Nixon, saw her concern reflected in his thoughtful gaze. Something wasn’t sitting right, but if their patient didn’t want his wife to know he was here then there was nothing they could do about it.
‘Orderly,’ he murmured, a slight lift to those full lips. ‘Then home.’
Flip, flop. Her stomach did its new dance routine as she hurried away. How could one man’s lips do this to her stomach? Lips she hadn’t kissed, or touched, or any damned thing. Lie down, hormones. You’re on the way out, remember?
*
Nixon pumped his legs hard, the cycle eating up the forty-five kilometres out to Glenorchy. Sweat streamed off him, moulding his spandex shirt to his skin. Salt stung his eyes and plastered his hair to his scalp under the helmet. To his left, wavelets on Lake Wakatipu glittered in the late afternoon sun. High above, two paragliders winged their way over the water.
Idyllic. That summed up Queenstown and its surroundings. Idyllic. The best move he’d ever made.
A car sped past him, the wing mirror a whisker off his elbow. He raised his fist and vented uncharacteristically loudly and rudely. The driver couldn’t hear and he doubted there were people hiding in the bushes alongside the road to note his profanities.
But damn, did cussing make him feel better. Lifted some of the weight bearing down on him from the moment Emma walked into the department that morning. He hadn’t slept a wink last night for thinking about that aborted conversation she’d tried to get started. Why would he consider telling her what made him tick when they wouldn’t be going anywhere with it? He’d got by for thirty-one years without discussing the day his family died, so what would be gained by opening that can of worms now? A sinking feeling was going on in his gut. Like if he didn’t open up his life would remain in this holding pattern. If ever there was a person he might be able to talk to, it was Emma. She’d understand what had driven him to withdraw from loving people. Wouldn’t she? She’d been to hell and back and was still a very loving woman.