Christmas with the Maverick Millionaire

Mitch’s heart gave a little surge. ‘Hey, mate,’ he said, sitting in the chair next to Brian and lifting his gloved hand to clasp the boy’s.

This was why he did this. This was why he was determined to complete the tour. Nothing could get in the way of this.

Not even a beautiful nurse.

* * *

Sam’s anger had only lasted about twenty seconds. Once she’d realised Mitchell hadn’t just dived off to the slopes without her she dressed as quickly as she could. Her nurse brain was ticking. She grabbed extra supplies just in case in his rush to reach the hospital he’d forgotten his insulin and testing equipment.

The snow was much heavier today, the car tyres barely coping on the ten-minute drive. She wasn’t used to this. Dave had assured her that driving wouldn’t be a problem, but shouldn’t she have those snow things on her tyres?

Lisa was panicking. Two of her staff were out with norovirus and the two replacements she’d tried to call were unavailable. She took one glance at Samantha and gestured her over. ‘Mitch told me about the diabetes, so I know why you’re here. But what do you know about cystic fibrosis?’

Sam blinked. ‘Eh, quite a lot, actually. That was the job I was supposed to be doing before I took the job with Mitch. I was supposed to be a specialist for a little boy with the disease.’

‘So you’ve dealt with it before?’ Lisa wasn’t wasting any time.

She nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘What about oxygen regimes and doing chest physio?’

She was beginning to sense where this was going. ‘I’m fine with all that. Do you need some help, Lisa?’

Lisa turned the computer around and pulled up the web page for the UK national nursing body. ‘Are you registered as Samantha Lewis?’

She smiled and bent over her, typing in her name and bringing up her registration status. ‘That’s me. Paediatric nurse and registered general nurse.’

Lisa turned to face her, desperation in her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t ask but...’

‘What do you need?’

‘Could you special a seven-year-old boy with cystic fibrosis for the next few hours until I can find someone else?’

Samantha nodded. ‘I’m happy if you give me some background on the little boy.’ She glanced down the corridor. ‘I should check first. Is Mitchell okay?’ Her fingers were jiggling the insulin pen in her pocket.

Lisa smiled. ‘I put some food in the room earlier for them both. Everything should be fine.’ She reached over and touched Sam’s arm. ‘You’re good for him, you know.’

She was surprised. ‘I am?’

‘Take it from someone who’s watched from the sidelines all these years. I was pretty shocked when he told me about his diabetes diagnosis. He might not give it away to the press, but Mitchell Brody is a control freak. I don’t envy the job you have.’ She gave her a wink. ‘But I think you’ve got it covered.’

She waved her arm along the corridor. ‘Now, come with me so I can find you some scrubs for the next few hours and give you a rundown on our patient. And, Samantha—’ her grey eyes were serious ‘—I can’t thank you enough for this.’

She felt a little flush of pleasure. She’d been looking forward to working this Christmas with the little boy she knew with CF. It was a real, hands-on nursing job. Sometimes she missed that. School nursing was great, very diverse with lots of social issues as well as health ones. But sometimes she missed doing the actual physical care.

It only took five minutes to change into a pair of pink scrubs and flat shoes. Lisa briefed her on the patient and she had a quick read over his notes. Rudy Jones had a lung infection, which was exacerbating his condition. The thick, sticky mucus in his lungs was making it difficult for him to breathe and his oxygen saturation was low.

‘Hi, there, Rudy.’ She walked into his room with gloves and mask in place. It was important not to introduce Rudy to any further germs. His defences were already low and his medication chart showed he was on two different types of antibiotics and some steroids. The bronchodilator that was currently running was causing little clouds around them.

She sat down next to the bed and spent the next ten minutes talking to him. He was frail, with an oxygen monitor attached to one finger. It was clear he was underweight—as a lot of the children with CF were because they couldn’t digest certain nutrients in food.

It was easy to see how much strain his body was under. All the accessory muscles around his chest were working overtime. It was important to try and relieve some of the pressure on his lungs by loosening some of the mucus. Physiotherapy was a daily part of a CF child’s life. Sometimes it could be fun, but sometimes it could be exhausting and difficult. Samantha was lucky. She’d had specialist training when she’d been a sister in ICU, so it meant she knew exactly how to help.

‘Rudy, have you got a device to help with your physio?’

He nodded and pointed to the top of the locker. There was a ‘flutter’—a handheld device shaped like an asthma inhaler—that delivered vibration to the airways of the lungs, making it easier to cough out mucus.

‘Okay, we’re going to start the active cycle of breathing techniques. Are you ready?’

He nodded and they moved the pillows on the bed to make him more comfortable.

She positioned her hands carefully to complement his breathing cycle of deep breaths, ‘huffing’ and coughing. She worked with him, vibrating certain sections of his chest with his huffing and coughing to try and loosen the mucus in his lungs and let him cough it up. It was a slow, painstaking process, with her monitoring Rudy throughout. He managed to expectorate quite a bit of mucus with the help of his ‘flutter’ device.

By the end he was exhausted—just as she’d expected he’d be. But his breathing was a little easier and his oxygen saturation had climbed a few digits. She wondered how Mitch was doing with Brian. Being with a kid like that would stir up a lot of memories for him. Here’s hoping he wouldn’t forget about his diabetes in the process.

His dedication here was much bigger than she’d expected. He showed real commitment to this place. And it was clear it was genuine.

When other stars were involved in places like these they usually had the paparazzi positioned on the doorstep or a camera crew filming their ‘charitable’ work.

Mitch was nothing like that. He was here because he wanted to be.

He was here because he cared. And it made her like him all the more.

She smiled at Rudy. Time to get the little guy to eat and increase his calorie intake. ‘Okay, Rudy, what’s it to be? Custard or chocolate pudding?’

* * *

Today had been the best day yet.

She’d managed to help a child when she’d needed to, and she finally felt as if she knew Mitchell a little better.

He wasn’t the playboy rock star the media portrayed at all. He was sensitive, stubborn beyond all belief and had a serious, unwavering commitment to this hospital and its patients. She actually wondered if it was a little to his detriment. Was there something she didn’t know? Obviously, there was.

Mitchell had been so focused on young Brian today he’d pushed everything else aside. She hadn’t ignored her responsibility to him. And it was clear Lisa was wise beyond all measure. Any time she’d enquired about what was going on in the barrier nursing room, Lisa could tell her about food intake, blood sugars and insulin doses. It was clear, now she knew what was going on, that she understood completely. If Sam hadn’t been happy that Mitchell was stable, she couldn’t have helped with Rudy. Lisa had clearly been giving him ‘prompts’ as she’d dealt with Brian, in order to keep both her desperately needed assistants in place.

It wasn’t as if she couldn’t see into the room. She could. Young Brian had deteriorated quickly since yesterday, his colour and skin tone frightening. But she could see Mit

chell—even if he didn’t notice her. He was engrossed in talking quietly to Brian, entertaining him, being supportive.

One week ago she wouldn’t have believed this. She would have searched around for the secret camera crew that must be filming Mitchell Brody doing his superstar ‘good deeds’. But nothing could be further than the truth.

A regular nurse for Rudy had shown up around thirty minutes ago, just when she’d finished all the physio and then spent an hour trying to encourage him to eat. But she didn’t mind. She loved working with kids. It made her feel useful. It made her feel worthwhile. This job with Mitch was the strangest she’d ever had. It didn’t help that he was blurring a lot of lines for her.