The Honourable Maverick

‘You have no idea,’ Max murmured.

‘And I know you’re worried about Ellie,’ she continued, ‘but this is a way to help everybody, including—maybe especially—yourself.’

‘Oh?’ Max was listening now. He needed to help himself. Fast. ‘How, exactly?’

‘You’ll be doing what Ellie can’t do at the moment, which is caring for her baby. You could well make a big difference medically for this little one.’ She was watching him and a tiny frown line appeared. ‘If you’re really not comfortable, then I can get one of the nursing staff to do it, but it’s far better if it’s a parent. It can be a way of bonding that could make all the difference to the stress of the next few days.’

Max had the sensation of being trapped in a kind of glass box. He was being watched. By the paediatrician and her registrar. By the nurse who was hovering near the crib. Even by other nurses in this unit as they went about their own tasks. They all seemed to have paused right now to hold their breath and see what he was going to do.

They all believed that he was this baby’s father and what kind of a father wouldn’t want to do something that might help his kid? If it became obvious that he had no need—or, let’s face it, desire—to bond with this infant, people might start asking questions. Gossiping at the very least, and the less any of this was talked about the better. For Ellie’s sake.

Which was how all this had started, wasn’t it?

He really would have to be more careful next time, he decided with a wry inward smile as he found himself nodding and then being guided to the comfortable armchair rolled into this corner of the PICU.

A nurse took the layers away from the baby. They left her with a nappy and her hat on, an oxygen saturation monitor clipped to a minuscule toe and some unobtrusive sticky dots and soft wires that connected her to a cardiac monitor. She was mostly naked, Max noted with some alarm. Small and pink and awkward-looking, with stick-like arms and legs.

‘Keep her prone and upright,’ the paediatrician advised. ‘The nurses will keep an eye on you both and levels are set for an alarm to go off if the oxygen levels or cardiac rhythm need interventions.’

Max had sacrificed the neck of his T-shirt so that he didn’t need to discard any of his own clothing. The vertical cut allowed him to fold the neckline down so that the baby’s face would be uncovered. He heard the whimper of the baby as she was picked up.

Good grief…he really didn’t want to do this. Was it too late to back out?

An alarm began to sound. A slow bell that pinged ominously. Maybe the baby didn’t like the idea, either. Her heart rhythm was jumping erratically.

‘Does she need to go back in the crib?’ Max tried not to sound too hopeful.

‘Let’s see how we go for a minute or two.’

With an inward sigh, Max held up the bottom of his old, soft T-shirt while a nurse positioned the baby and then covered her. A layer of the leather jacket came next and then she helped him put his arm in the right place for support. He felt awkward. Uncomfortable.

He could feel the baby wriggle against his chest, moving tiny limbs as if in protest. He could feel the miniature chest heaving as she attempted to breathe and cry at the same time but the effort seemed exhausting and the movements diminished.

Max took a cautious glance downwards and found the baby’s eyes were open. So dark they looked black and they were fixed on him. He took a deep, careful breath and let it out very slowly.

‘Look at that.’ The paediatrician sounded delighted. ‘Heart rate’s coming up and it’s steady.’

They waited another minute as Max sat as still as humanly possible.

‘Looking good,’ came the expert verdict. ‘We’ll leave you to it, Max.’

‘Ah…’ He watched as staff began to disperse. To stop watching, even, from all over the unit. Any second now and he would be virtually on his own. ‘How long should I stay here?’

‘The longer the better,’ a nurse said cheerfully. ‘As long as you can, anyway.’

Max tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He breathed. In and out. He could feel the baby breathing. In that first long, quiet minute of being left to himself he could even feel the baby’s heart beating. A soft, rapid ticking against his chest. Almost on top of his own heart.