‘Yes, lovey, here you go. You might have a bit of a hard time of it, though. My veins aren’t very good.’
Lane smiled and grabbed the tourniquet. ‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’
She cast her gaze over both her patient’s arms and decided to pick the left, which looked more likely to give her a successful blood draw. She tied the tourniquet.
‘How does that feel? Not too tight?’
‘No, it’s fine—you go ahead. I won’t look, though.’
‘As long as one of us does, hey?’
Lane smiled and palpated the patient’s arm, finding the median cubital vein almost immediately. She swabbed the area and let it dry.
‘Sharp scratch coming...’ She inserted the needle, added the vial to the vacutainer and the blood began to flow. ‘There you go. No problem.’
Mrs Downing still wasn’t looking. ‘Have you done it?’
‘Yes. Got it first go.’ She removed the needle and added a cotton swab. ‘Press here for me.’
‘It’s done? Oh, you are good! You can do that again; I’ll have to ask for you next time. I like all the nurses here, but the one I saw two weeks ago gave me some horrible bruises trying to find my veins. I was black and blue!’
Lane tried to give a sympathetic look but didn’t want to say anything detrimental about nurses—it just wasn’t right. No one tried to hurt a patient on purpose. It would have been no one’s fault.
She scribbled Mrs Downing’s details onto the vial and popped it into the bag with the yellow slip, then checked to make sure her patient’s arm had stopped bleeding before she put on some tape to hold the wadding in place.
‘Leave that on for an hour or two. No heavy lifting, okay?’
Mrs Downing smiled and winked. ‘I’ll give the gym a miss today, then, lovey. Am I all done?’
‘You are. Have a nice day, Mrs Downing.’
‘You too, lovey.’
Lane popped the blood sample into the collection box and cleaned down, ready for her next patient. He hadn’t arrived yet, so she took a sip of her tea, thinking about the chick magnet in the next room.
Dr Branagh’s consulting room was right next to hers. He was mere feet away. Just a wall between them. And she held a secret that would bring his well-ordered life crashing down in an instant.
Tori’s arrival had made Lane change her entire life, so she wondered if she ought to feel sorry for him? But then she decided not to. No one had ever felt sorry for her. Simon hadn’t even considered her feelings. All he’d been able to think about was himself. His own happiness.
Well, Lane had to consider Tori’s happiness. That poor little girl had lost her mother for ever, and she would not introduce her father into her life until she knew she could trust him not to ruin it even further. Simon, and even her own father, had taught her that when the going got tough or complicated, most men bailed out.
What if Cole was no good?
What if he was reckless?
What if he had no idea how to look after a child?
What if he walked out on Tori after only a few weeks?
What if he’s married already?
That thought made her chew on a fingernail.
What if Dr Branagh had a wife? Lane would be causing problems for her, too. What if he already had kids? They’d have a new half-sister...
And suddenly, as if her thoughts had summoned him to her room, there he was in her doorway, stethoscope draped casually around his neck, smiling his charming disarming smile and looking at her with those gorgeous baby blues.
‘Hey, do you have a moment? I need a chaperon.’
She blinked. Nodded. Looked to see if he had a ring on his left hand. He didn’t.
‘Of course. I’ll be right in.’
* * *
‘Miss Thomas? I’ve brought Lane in as chaperon. She’s our new HCA. So if you’d like to go behind the curtain and remove everything above the waist and let us know when you’re ready...?’
Cole’s patient nodded and stepped behind the curtain, pulling it closed behind her. As he waited, he took a moment to re-read the notes from his patient’s last few consultations, then he smiled at Lane.
‘How are you settling in?’
She still looked a little uncomfortable. First day nerves again?
‘I’m all right. Trying to remember how to use the computer system.’
‘Have you been away from general practice for a while, then?’
She didn’t get to respond as his patient was calling out from behind the curtain. ‘I’m ready.’
He indicated that Lane should go first and then he stepped behind the curtain with her, pulling it closed behind them.
Miss Thomas was here because she’d had a double mastectomy and was worried about the healing of her wounds. From what he could see, the left incision was healing nicely, but the right one appeared to be weeping, and it hadn’t adhered the way it ought to.
He donned gloves and took a closer look. ‘Any pain?’
‘A little. But I was told that would be normal anyway.’
He palpated the skin around the wound. It didn’t feel hot, but there was still some residual swelling from the procedure.
‘I think we ought to take a swab to be on the safe side, and I’ll put you on some antibiotics in the meantime—just in case. Lane, could you pass me a swab from over there, please?’
Lane rummaged in a drawer and pulled out what he needed before passing it over.
‘This shouldn’t hurt, but let me know if it does.’
He gently touched the end of the swab to the weeping wound, trying to make sure he got a good sample t
o send off to the lab. He capped it off when he was done.
‘There you go. You can get dressed now.’
He held back the curtain for Lane to pass through and then closed it again, so that his patient could get dressed in privacy.
‘Do you need me for anything else?’ Lane asked, not really looking at him, but at some point just over his right shoulder.
Why did he get the feeling Lane was keen to get away from him? Had he embarrassed her this morning? Thinking back, he didn’t think he’d said anything terrible to her. Perhaps he should take a moment to apologise to her when he could? Because he really didn’t want there to be an atmosphere between them. She seemed uncomfortable, and there was something about her discomfort that made him feel he wanted to take it away. People normally felt relaxed and easy-going with him.
Lane had soulful eyes. A deep, mesmerising blue. Almost sorrowful—as if she’d been through a terrible loss. And, having been through a dreadful loss himself, he wanted to make her feel better. Give her a reason to smile.
‘If you wouldn’t mind taking the swab to the sample collection box in the foyer...?’
It was all he could think of to say. Any other words stuck in his throat. Now was not the right time. He had a patient and they were both professionals.
‘And if you could add a note to the patient’s file to say that you chaperoned?’
She nodded and took the swab. ‘Of course.’
And then she was gone, just as Miss Thomas threw back the curtain and emerged fully clothed once again.
Did the room seem a little dimmer with Lane gone?
How ridiculous! It’s probably just the morning light.
Cole smiled at his patient and began tapping at his keyboard to request a prescription for her. He was back in work mode and he’d stay that way until lunch.
* * *
Lane dropped the swab into the sample box and took a moment to breathe in the fresh air coming through the open front doors of the practice. That poor woman... A double mastectomy! Had she had preventative surgery? Or had she actually had breast cancer? She’d seemed so young. Her own age. But whatever had happened she was surviving. Perhaps it had been caught early and the doctors had had time to do something about it and save her life?