The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride

‘Chest X-ray?’

‘Not indicated, given that she has typical clinical features.’

Those typical clinical features that were listed in any paediatric textbook were feeling far more personal to Jenna. This was Ella in her arms. Feeling too hot, her nose rubbing against Jenna’s shoulder as her head twisted in discomfort. Feeling heavy and exhausted but forced to continue the laboured breathing.

Poor little thing. Jenna had never experienced empathy with her patients to quite this degree—even the ones that had stolen her heart. She rocked Ella gently and shifted the end of the oxygen tubing a little closer to the baby’s flushed features.

Paul’s attention, with startling suddenness, was transferred to Jenna. ‘Why did you leave it so long to bring her in?’

The scrub suit and the body it revealed were forgotten instantly. So was any embarrassment. The unfairness of apportioning blame for Ella’s condition got her back up just as instantly.

‘We came as soon as I saw she was in respiratory distress.’

His gaze didn’t leave hers but Jenna wasn’t going to be the first to look away. To imply guilt. It wasn’t easy. The weight of Ella in her arms and her concern for the child was making her feel bad enough already. Guilt was only a heartbeat away, even if it was unjustified.

‘You’re a paediatric nurse. I would have expected you to pick this up well before it required urgent hospital admission.’ The approval of her care of Ella that he had expressed only that morning seemed long forgotten.

He was a paediatric surgeon, for heaven’s sake. He had seen how well Ella had looked at 6 a.m., stuffing a piece of toast into her mouth, and he must know just how quickly the condition of young children could deteriorate.

Then again, maybe Ella hadn’t gone downhill so suddenly. There had been a period of several hours when she had been away from the observation of trained eyes.

‘Mrs Gibbs had taken Ella out for a walk.’

‘And you allowed this?’ Paul looked astonished. And then disappointed. Jenna felt a wave of shame. He had every right to be disappointed in her. The fact that she had let herself down in a professional capacity was bad enough to make Jenna feel that disappointment like a physical blow.

She hated that Paul thought less of her. There was no point trying to defend herself or, worse, suggest that he had been in a position to make the judgement call himself.

Or to explain that there had been no clinical grounds on which to forbid the outing later in the morning and that she had been trying to act as a professional and keep her own emotions out of an already volatile mix. That she had been trying to act as a nanny and not a substitute mother.

She may have nothing to feel guilty about but from Paul’s point of view, she had failed in her duty to his child. Bad enough for a nanny to be negligent but for someone who was supposed to be a senior paediatric nurse, it was inexcusable.

The bright flush in her cheeks might have gone unnoticed except that Paul paused, having flicked back the cubicle curtain. He turned once again.

‘My mother tells me that Ella prefers your care to anyone else’s at present.’

Jenna lifted her chin but said nothing. Did he really have to sound as though the idea that she could still do any part of her job well enough was surprising?

‘She will need someone to stay in hospital with her during this admission. Day and night.’

Jenna nodded her agreement. She had no argument with his statement. She approved of the fact that Paul recognised its importance. Maybe he did care, just a little. Many babies were left to the care of nursing staff overnight because family circumstances made it necessary. Some even had to be separated from their family members during the day as well, but the cooperation and recovery of children who had a familiar, loving presence with them at all times was measurably better.