Dr Romano's Christmas Baby

The place was abuzz with speculation about the new director of emergency. Few people in the department had been around long enough to remember him from eight years ago. Or, thanks to her insistence she keep her maiden name, to know that once upon a time he and Rilla had been married.

She figured it wouldn’t take long though, the hospital grapevine what it was.

‘You going to be OK, Rilla?’ Julia Woods, the NUM asked, sidling up to her.

Rilla forced a smile to her lips as she carried out the daily task of checking the resus trolley, pleased to have the routine. ‘Of course,’ she dismissed.

‘I’m sorry, he had some admin stuff to attend to so he thought it would be a good opportunity to drop in and meet everyone informally before he started next week. I could hardly say no.’

‘Of course,’ Rilla replied.

‘Have you seen him since he’s been back in the country?’

Rilla shut her eyes briefly, the image of his naked back as he strode along the track with Beth in true hero fashion burnt into her retinas. ‘Yes,’ she said noncommittally, her hand shaking slightly as she checked the light on the laryngoscope. ‘It’ll be fine, Julia. Really.’

Rilla saw the doubt in her boss’s gaze. Julia had known her for a long time. Had gone to their wedding. She knew how hard the separation and the intervening years had been on Rilla.

‘Really,’ Rilla reassured her, giving Julia’s arm a quick squeeze.

An hour later all the nursing staff were summoned to the staffroom to meet the new director. Rilla contemplated not going. It wasn’t like she needed an introduction. And if they’d been busy she would have stayed behind to man the fort, but the post-night duty lull was in full swing and unless a disaster struck, it would probably be another hour before today’s patients start tricking through the doors.

And then there was the message that not going would send. To those who knew their history. And to Luca. It was going to be hard enough working together again without people’s pity. It was time to show everyone, including Luca, that she was over him and moving on with her life.

As far as work was concerned, her baggage with Luca was in the past. Once word got out of their prior relationship they would be watched and speculated over endlessly. Rilla had to start on the right foot. Had to project an it’s-OK, it’s-all-in-the-past, the-divorce-papers-are-out-there, we’ve-moved-on aura. Even if it killed her.

Still, as he entered the staffroom, she wasn’t prepared for the sight of him. On Friday, due to the urgency of the situation, she hadn’t paid much attention to his attire, apart from when he’d been shirtless. But today, dressed in his work clothes, he looked devastatingly handsome. Like the old Luca.

His dark trousers sat low on his hips, the pleats at his waistband pressed perfectly, sitting in a way that emphasised the narrowness of his hips. His crisp navy blue business shirt was luxuriously thick. His zigzag-patterned tie classy.

So much for a casual meet and greet.

She didn’t have to check his clothing labels to know they were Italian, as were his soft black leather shoes. Luca had always dressed with complete and utter class. His wardrobe had had more labels than hers and she had teased him un-mercilessly about it when they had first got together.

But it was about more than the designer quality of his clothes. It was how he wore them. He’d always exuded charisma but now there was supreme confidence. Arrogance, almost. Once she would have put it down to his Italian roots or his noble Latin features, but she wasn’t so sure any more.

There was a distance to his demeanour, a streak of aloofness that moulded his raw sex appeal into something much more mature, more dangerous. And she didn’t think it had anything to do with ancestry. Whatever it was, the combination was powerful. Luca Romano was still a pleasure to watch.

Rilla was pleased to note, though, that there was some evidence of ageing. It hadn’t just been her. At thirty-five his black hair had some grey streaks. It looked more severe too. The length had been tamed. It had once brushed his collar and flopped a little in his eyes. Now it was more closely cropped. But it only succeeded in drawing attention to his amazing fringe of thick sooty lashes.

The few extra lines around his eyes and mouth in no way marred his handsome face. His jaw was just as square, his nose as patrician. He was still tall and lean and most definitely wearing his years well.

Rilla could see the fact was not lost on some of the younger nurses and was surprised by the hot shaft of jealousy that sliced through her. It shouldn’t have. Luca had, after all, always aroused this kind of reaction in women. Once, secure in his love, she’d taken pride in it, knowing he had been hers. Now it was as irritating as hell.

There were ten nursing staff on the morning shift and Julia introduced each one. Luca was his usual charming self. Not hurried. Taking the time to ask each one about themselves, putting everyone at ease, making them laugh. He was a hit.

‘Of course, you know Rilla,’ Julia said as she came to her second-in-charge.

‘Of course,’ Luca said, inclining his head.

They locked gazes for a moment, his accent sliding over her skin, eight years of history thick between them. Rilla felt her cheeks grow warm as Luca’s gaze moved quickly on to the next person, excruciatingly aware of the curious stares of her in-the-know colleagues.

She was pleased to escape ten minutes later after Luca’s brief new-broom speech finished with a my-door-is-always-open assurance. But his gaze was careful not to encompass her and she got the distinct impression she wasn’t included.

By midmorning the lull was well and truly over. In fact, the department had descended into bedlam. Ambulances arrived with frightening regularity, unloading their cargo of car-accident victims, asthmatics and chest pain sufferers, filling the resus bays.

The usual suspects swelled the waiting room out front with a mishmash of legitimate illnesses and minor time-consuming complaints—sore throats, vague pains, migraines, fevers, paper cuts.

The combined noise could have given a crowded theatre before curtain-up a run for its money. Not that Rilla noticed, well used to the low-level chaos that the emergency department became most days. And today, after the unsettling brush with Luca, she was more than grateful for the background hum distracting her from buried memories, newly roused.

Just before lunch the appropriately nicknamed Bat-phone rang. It was red and their direct link to the ambulance control centre. Rilla took the call about the imminent code-one arrival of a ten-day-old baby with apnoea. She replaced the receiver, a sudden chill up her spine as her thoughts instantly turned to her ten-day-old niece.

How worried the parents must be that their baby was having episodes where it stopped breathing. She quickly sorted through the possible causes. A seizure? Maybe caused by a brain infection or cranial trauma from an accidental or non-accidental injury. A respiratory infection? A near cot death?

‘Apnoeic ten-day-old. ETA two minutes,’ Rilla told Henry Bosch, the junior resident, as she entered the resus cubicles to prepare the area.

Henry gave her a startled look and Rilla could see the convulsive bob of his Adam’s apple.

‘Where’s Karen?’ he asked.

Rilla wished the senior reg was there too as she recognised the wail of a distant siren. ‘She’s still up with Julie and the resus team, dealing with the arrest on ward eleven. I’ve paged her. You’re it until then.’ Rilla smiled and injected confidence into her voice.

Please, let this kid be fine by the time it gets here.

There was no more time for wishes as the siren blared louder, announcing its arrival outside. ‘Let’s hustle,’ she said to Henry.

The ambulance doors opened and Rilla’s worst fears were confirmed when she saw the paramedic huddled over a small form, ambu-bag in place over the tiny face.

‘Ten-day-old baby, four weeks prem, three-day history of upper respiratory tract infection, Mum has a cold.’ The paramedic rattled off a brisk, succinct handover, eyes not leaving the baby as his partner slowly pulled the gurney from the car.

Sounds like an RSV picture, Rilla thought. The respiratory virus could affect babies very seriously, making them desperately ill. Especially if there was a history of prematurity.

‘Lethargic and poor feeding today. Mum had babe at the GP when she had a prolonged apnoea, resolving with stimulation. GP called the ambulance. Three further episodes en route, requiring vigorous stimulation and oxygen therapy.’

‘Rilla!’

Rilla turned, startled by the hysterical call, shocked to see Beth getting out of the passenger side of the ambulance.

‘Beth?’ Rilla gasped, looking at her sister’s tear-stained, frantic face. ‘What the…?’ She swivelled her head back to the tiny baby on the gurney, looking small and defenceless on the huge trolley. Bridie? Beth reached her and Rilla enfolded her distraught sister in her arms, her heart hammering madly as her sluggish brain connected the dots. This apnoeic, seriously ill baby was her niece?

‘It’s all my fault,’ Beth sobbed. ‘I gave her my cold. Her lungs are too premature to cope with it. Oh, my God, I don’t want her to die.’

Rilla would have given anything at that moment to be in possession of a magic wand. Anything. Instead, she was it. The only senior nurse they had around until Julia got back from the arrest, and she had only a very junior doctor at her disposal.

Her brain raced as she prioritised. ‘Bridie’s going to be fine, just fine,’ Rilla soothed as she hurried inside, dragging Beth with her, keeping up with the gurney. ‘You know she’s in the best hands here,’ she said, ‘the best.’

Rilla prayed to every god she could think of plus the ones she couldn’t, that she was right. She froze out the sickening worry of an aunt and the more basic pull of sisterhood. She had to remove herself emotionally from her tiny niece, struggling to breathe, and her frantic sister.

‘You’re going to have to intubate,’ Rilla told Henry briskly as she hooked Bridie up to the monitors and another apnoea required Rilla to give a vigorous sternal rub before it resolved. This time Bridie’s heart rate slowed and her oxygen saturations dipped. The situation was worsening.