The Night Before Christmas

‘She might well catch up after the transplant,’ Dr Kingsley said. ‘And it’s good to know there might be a perfect match down the track if things don’t go perfectly this time. You do understand there’s no guarantee of success, don’t you?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘I know the statistics are better for live donations and the treatment for any episodes of rejection are getting better all the time. The odds are in our favour.’

‘Very true,’ Jack put in. ‘But that’s why we do a last-minute cross-match to check compatibility again. Just in case any antibodies have sneaked in as a result of the illnesses you’ve both had recently.’

Lizzie nodded again. She crossed the fingers of one hand in her lap, covering them with her other hand so that neither of these highly trained surgeons would see such a childish action.

‘I’d prefer to run the standard checks again for Hep B and C and HIV as well, even though I see that your last results were fine.’ Jack was smiling at her again. ‘I like to tick all these boxes myself for cases I’m involved with.’ He glanced at his colleague. ‘If you don’t see it as interference?’

‘Heavens, no. Sounds like a good quality control measure to me. Feel free to keep ticking boxes in Theatre as well,’ Dave said.

Lizzie could swear that Jack gave her the ghost of a wink. ‘There are so many boxes to tick in there, they need a supply of extra pens. Sterilised, of course.’

Dave was pulling sheets of loose paper from the case notes. ‘I have the consent forms here if you’re ready to sign them?’

Lizzie nodded.

Jack frowned slightly. ‘You’ve discussed this already?’

‘I know about the possible complications,’ Lizzie said.

‘Lizzie’s a nurse,’ Dave explained. ‘She worked in Theatre for quite a while before moving to a job in the emergency department.’

‘I’m not going to change my mind,’ she added firmly.

Jack raised a single eyebrow that told them both this was one of his boxes and her breath huffed out in a resigned sigh.

‘OK. Go ahead. I’ve only worked part time in a general practice since the twins were born so I guess I’m pretty rusty.’

There was an appreciative gleam in Jack’s eyes now that suggested, rather flatteringly, that he thought it would take more than some time away from the front line for her mental wheels to collect rust. Clearly it wasn’t enough to persuade him to make an exception, however. And that was good. A careful surgeon was a good surgeon. Even if he was only there in a supervisory capacity she wouldn’t be impressed by someone who wanted to cut corners.

‘The first thing I’ll say is that death from a kidney donation is exceptionally rare—approximately 0.03 per cent—but it has happened so I have to mention it.’

Lizzie nodded. It was a risk she was more than prepared to take. The alternative of staying alive and watching her precious child die was unthinkable.

‘Other complications might include you needing a blood transfusion during surgery, a small degree of lung collapse, blood clots in your legs or lungs, pneumonia and a UTI or wound infection.’

Lizzie was reaching for the consent form.

Dave pointed to a line on the document. ‘This states that I’ll do the procedure laparoscopically, which should give you a much faster recovery rate, but if it’s difficult for any reason, it gives me permission to go for an open procedure. That would give you a bigger scar and mean that you were in hospital for about a week instead of three to four days.’

‘And Misty? How long will she need to be in hospital for?’

‘Probably at least two weeks. She’ll still need dialysis until the new kidney settles in and we’ll want to make sure everything’s fine before she goes home.’

‘But it’s possible she could be home for Christmas?’ Lizzie asked anxiously.

‘Absolutely.’

Oh … yes … Dr Jack Rousseau’s smile was gorgeous, all right. It wrapped itself around Lizzie like a hug as she signed the necessary permissions for both her own surgery and Misty’s.

Dave Kingsley’s voice sounded oddly distant for a few seconds.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ she said.

‘I said we’ll send you out to see the nurse. She’ll give you a gown and pop you in an examination room. We’ll give you a bit of a once-over and then send you off for the rest of your tests.’

The warm glow that the visiting surgeon’s smile had given her faded so fast Lizzie was left with a faint chill that trickled down her spine. A physical examination? With this Dr Rousseau watching or … worse … ?.doing it himself? She wasn’t bothered by the thought of him seeing parts of her she’d never see herself when she was being operated on. She’d be asleep after all. But to be awake and so aware of him? To have him maybe pressing his hand on her bare stomach?

Oh, Lord! Why did he have to be so young?

So impossibly good looking? And … nice, damn it.

And why, oh, why had she let herself step into fantasyland in the dead of night and imagine just what it would be like to be touched by him?

Maybe her reaction was obvious in the way Lizzie was prising herself off her chair to follow Dr Kingsley’s instructions.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she heard Jack say. ‘I’ll catch up with the test results later today before we go and visit Misty.’

‘Misty Matthews? She’s in Room 3. You must be Dr Rousseau.’ The nurse’s tone was awed. ‘Welcome to Westbridge.’

‘Thank you. I’m due to meet Dave Kingsley to review this patient. Is he here already?’

‘He was but he got a call up to the ICU. He said to look after you until he got back. Would you like a coffee?’

Jack shook his head. ‘My time is a little limited. I’ll go and see Misty now, if I may.’

‘Of course. This way.’

The whole family was in the small room.

‘This is Dr Rousseau,’ Lizzie told the child in the bed. ‘He’s the doctor who’s going to help Dr Kingsley take Mummy’s kidney out and give it to you.’

‘Hi, there.’ Jack took a step closer to the bed. His shirt collar felt inexplicably tight and he found himself loosening his tie.

He never felt comfortable around small people. They could see too much and had no hesitation in saying whatever came into their heads and sometimes he had no idea how to respond. Or he didn’t understand what on earth they were talking about. Or, worse, they’d cry. A lot.

Misty wasn’t crying. She wasn’t saying anything either. Lizzie was sitting in a chair beside the bed and Holly was right beside the pillow, tilted in as if she wanted to be as close as possible to her twin. The resemblance between the twins was striking. Or maybe it was the difference between them that was making Jack feel like there wasn’t quite enough oxygen in this private room.

Or it could be due to the way Lizzie was sitting, with her arms on Misty’s bed as she leaned forward to talk to the little girl. The way it was making her cleavage so obvious, pushing mounds of skin that looked incredibly smooth and soft into a line of sight he couldn’t avoid to save himself.

Well, he could, but that would mean meeting the intense stares that were coming from both Holly and the older woman in the armchair by the window.

‘You’re going to help with both operations?’ The older woman sounded as wary as she looked.

‘Not at the same time.’ Jack tried his most charming smile. ‘Lizzie’s first and then we go next door to Misty.’

The sniff wasn’t impressed. ‘Doesn’t Misty need a paediatric specialist for her surgery?’