City Surgeon, Small Town Miracle

And heard.

‘What is it?’ she whispered, and he glanced up and realised his emotions were showing in his face. How many years since he’d done this? And the last baby he’d heard…

‘It’s fantastic,’ he said, but he said it too fast, and saw doubt remain. Try as he may, he couldn’t get his face in order. As an alternative he put an arm around her shoulders, propped her up and handed the stethoscope to her.

She listened, and her face relaxed. As it should. And strangely he found himself relaxing as well, in a way that had nothing to do with the sound of a strong baby’s heartbeat. He was holding her, feeling the tension ease, feeling her body relax into his.

Just like…

No.

‘You looked like there was something wrong,’ Maggie whispered.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’

‘Then why—?’

‘No reason. Let’s move on with this ultrasound,’ he said, more roughly than he’d intended, and she nodded and lay back on her cushions and looked at him directly.

‘Do you need me to tell you how to work this?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘But—’

Okay, truth time. ‘Maggie, I’m not a general surgeon,’ he told her. It went against the grain to admit it but he was up to his ears in this mess already—he may as well commit the whole way. ‘I’m a gynaecologist.’

‘A gynaecologist,’ she said, stunned.

‘Yes. I’m in charge of surgical gynaecology at Sydney South.’ He smiled wryly and glanced across at Betty. ‘If Betty’s ovarian cancer had been diagnosed now rather than ten years back maybe I’d be able to help her. It’s what I’m good at.’

He was searching for gel, laying out what he needed. She was staring at him as if he’d just grown two heads.

‘A surgical gynaecologist,’ she muttered, awed. And then: ‘You don’t get to be a gynaecologist in this country without being an obstetrician as well.’

‘I’m English. But, yes, that’s right. I’ve done the training.’

‘You’re a baby doctor?’ He’d thought Betty had drifted into sleep as the morphine took effect, but now the old lady’s eyes flew open. ‘We so need a baby doctor,’ she whispered.

‘I’m not a baby doctor,’ he said, more roughly than he’d intended. ‘I work with women with gynaecological problems. Surgical problems.’

But Betty was no longer listening. Instead she was smiling. ‘That was the only thing missing,’ she said. ‘Now we have everything we need. Oh, Maggie…’

‘Don’t you dare give up,’ Maggie said, sounding fearful, and Betty tried a feeble wave but didn’t have the strength to pull it off. She closed her eyes.

‘You just concentrate on our baby,’ she said. ‘On William’s son.’

‘Okay,’ Max said, trying not to sound grim as he saw the colour drain from Betty’s face. The more he saw what was happening to Betty, the less he liked it, but he needed to focus on Maggie. ‘Let’s get some gel on you and have a look.’

He rubbed gel on her bulge. Maggie closed her eyes. Yes, she was desperately anxious about the outcome of this ultrasound but she was so tired. If she could just sink into her cushions and sleep for twenty-four hours, that’s exactly what she’d do.

There was not a snowball’s chance in a bushfire of that happening.

Where was Angus? And how was she going to cope with her patients, with the farm, with Gran, with an injured leg?

She couldn’t. She’d hoped she’d have another few weeks to work before the baby was born, but now, with her leg hurting as much as it did, and with Betty dying, and…

And as if on cue the doorbell pealed.

She tried really hard not to groan.

Max was about to place the paddle on her tummy. He paused and looked questioningly at her.

‘They’ll keep knocking till we answer,’ she said, and tried to sit up.

‘They?’

‘It’ll be a patient. The locals know where I live. I need to answer.’

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he said, sounding appalled she could think such a thing. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and pushed her back on the cushions. Which, she had to admit, felt excellent.

This man was taking charge. Even if it was only for a moment, it’d do, she conceded. There were too many worries to fit in her head. He’d carried her, he’d cared for Gran, he was caring for her.

So soak it in.

She could lie back and imagine that this arrogant, bossy doctor could take all her worries away. He’d check her baby, tell her everything was fine, make sure Betty was pain free, reassure Angus, fix whoever was at the door, fix her world…

Yeah, and pigs might fly. But, meanwhile, he’d said she wasn’t going anywhere and he meant it. She let herself relax against her cushions. She didn’t quite close her eyes but she almost did. If she shut her eyes the world might disappear.

She wasn’t quite ready for that, she conceded. Not yet. Disappearing worlds were for Betty.

But she wouldn’t mind if ninety per cent of hers went away.

He was wasting time. The ultrasound was becoming urgent. He had to get to the door, tell whoever it was to wait and get back to his patient. To Maggie.

But when he tugged the door wide he found a deputation. Mother, father, a scrawny little boy clinging to the mother’s jeans, and a baby.

‘The baby’s got a cold,’ the man said quickly, as if he was worried the door might be slammed in his face. ‘We’ve all had it, but she’s been bad all day and then she went limp. She looks okay now but the missus got scared. So I said we’ll stick her in the car and bring her here. Can Doc have a look?’

This was a nightmare. He should tell them to go away.

But Maggie had said she was the ambulance. Was she also the only local doctor?

These people looked terrified. For good reason?

He glanced down and saw the tiny child was swaddled in so much wool he could barely see her.

‘How long was she limp?’ he asked.