The Midwife's Marriage Proposal (9 page)

And he didn't want to.

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

He still wanted Sally.

And ending their relationship seven years ago had
been the biggest mistake of his life. He should have married her while he'd had the chance and given her so many babies that she couldn't leave the house!

He ran a hand over his face and cursed softly.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he had been arrogant, making the decision for both of them. Maybe he should have trusted her feelings more.

Trusted her love for him.

But he hadn't, and he'd thrown away the one thing that had mattered to him in life.

He sucked in a deep breath and stared across the mountains without seeing their beauty.

For seven years he'd had to live with the lingering doubt that he'd made the wrong decision and there hadn't been anything he'd been able to do about it.

But she'd finally come back.

Sally Jenner was home.

Which meant that he'd been given a second chance.

* * *

By the time she returned to work on the following Monday, Sally was feeling more positive.

She'd found a lovely garden flat on the shores of the lake, which was available immediately, and she intended to move in as soon as possible.

She'd taken Bryony and Helen to see it and both of them had agreed that it was idyllic. And Sally was already forming a close friendship with Helen. She could see what Oliver loved about her. She was gentle and warm and extremely good company.

And as the three of them had stood staring at the view from Sally's new flat, Helen had asked her if she'd be one of her bridesmaids. Bryony and her seven-year-old daughter, Lizzie, had already agreed.

‘I don't have sisters,' Helen said quietly, ‘and I've
always wanted three bridesmaids. Don't ask me why. Will you do it?'

Sally had hesitated but Helen had been so sweetly insistent that eventually she'd agreed.

‘Sally?' Emma walked up to her, carrying a pile of notes, a harassed expression on her face. ‘A woman's just turned up complaining of breathlessness and chest pains. The husband says that they've given up on the GP because he just keeps giving them different antibiotics. He's obviously really worried about her. Would you check her blood pressure and things while I just call Tom?'

‘Of course. Is she booked with us?'

‘No.' Emma shook her head. ‘They're staying with family but I think she is carrying her notes. The husband told me that she's thirty-three weeks. First baby.'

Sally hurried to the examination room and introduced herself to the couple. ‘How long have you been this breathless, Mrs Singh?'

‘For about a month.' The woman was overcome by a severe bout of coughing and Sally frowned.

‘And you've seen your doctor?'

The husband nodded. ‘He said that she has a chest infection and he's given her two different types of antibiotics. She was feeling a little better yesterday so we came up to stay with my brother, but suddenly in the night she was much worse.'

‘And you've had pains in your chest?' Sally checked the woman's temperature, pulse and blood pressure and offered her a drink as she started to cough again. ‘Mrs Singh, can you describe the pain in your chest?'

The woman gave an agonized gasp. ‘It happens when I breathe in. Such a sharp pain. The GP said it was infection.'

Sally nodded and quickly scanned the notes. ‘And when you cough, are you bringing anything up?'

Her husband nodded. ‘All night she coughed up clear, frothy stuff.'

Sally tucked some pillows behind the woman and gave her a smile. ‘Try not to worry. I'm going to find the consultant now and ask him to come and take a look at you. Then we'll get you sorted out.'

She hurried onto the labour ward in search of Tom and saw him emerge from Theatre, a mask dangling round his neck.

‘Are you looking for me?'

He looked tough, male and far too tempting for her peace of mind.

Her heart kicked against her chest but she ignored the reaction and concentrated on the problem in hand.

‘There's a woman in the examination room complaining of chest pain and difficulty breathing,' she told him quickly. ‘Her GP has treated her with two lots of antibiotics.'

Tom lifted an eyebrow. ‘But?'

‘I don't think she has a chest infection,' Sally said immediately. ‘I think her symptoms might be cardiac.'

The moment she'd said the words she wished she hadn't. She wasn't a doctor and the woman's GP had diagnosed a chest infection. What reason did she have to doubt him?

She waited stiffly for Tom to dismiss her assessment of the patient but he didn't. Instead, his gaze fixed on hers intently.

‘Why do you think it's cardiac?'

‘Because she's coughing up clear, frothy sputum, she has tachycardia and she's describing pleuritic chest pain,' Sally said immediately. ‘I think she's showing
signs of pulmonary oedema. I've seen it before. I'm wondering whether she has rheumatic heart disease.'

‘You've seen it before?' Tom frowned. ‘Mitral stenosis in British women is pretty rare.'

‘She was born in Pakistan and I saw several similar cases when I was working in a clinic there. It seems to be more common in Asian women. I have a bad feeling about her.'

Tom didn't hesitate. ‘So let's go and see her together and if necessary we'll get the cardiologists involved. Did anyone listen to her heart when she booked?'

‘Yes, but there's nothing in the notes.'

‘I'll just grab a stethoscope and I'll meet you in the room.'

Mrs Singh was coughing again when Tom walked into the room and Sally felt her heart skip a beat.

What if she was wrong?

What if it was just a simple chest infection that hadn't cleared with the antibiotics?

Perhaps she was being over-dramatic.

Tom questioned the couple carefully and then listened to the woman's chest, his face expressionless as he concentrated on the sounds.

Finally he straightened. ‘I want to run a few more tests, Mrs Singh,' he said calmly. ‘I want you to have a chest X-ray and an echocardiogram, and I'm going to ask the cardiologist to come and see you straight away. I think the problem may be your heart rather than your lungs. I just need to talk to my colleague while Sally arranges for your X-ray, and then we'll talk again.'

Sally followed him out of the room and across to the desk.

‘It's OK for her to have an X-ray?' Sally put the form under his nose and he scribbled on it quickly.

‘She's in her third trimester so it's fine. And it's essential that we see what's going on.'

‘But you do think it is her heart?'

‘If you're asking whether I think you're clever, the answer is yes, Sally Jenner.' He dropped the pen back on the desk and gave a crooked smile. ‘Very clever. Cleverer than the GP who has been treating her for a chest infection.'

‘Well, I've probably seen more cases than he has,' Sally said practically, opening the phone book and sticking it under his nose. ‘As you say, it isn't such a common problem in this country. I suppose you want to call the cardiologist. I'm afraid I don't know who he is. I haven't been here long enough to find out.'

‘It's a she,' Tom said immediately, something flickering in his blue eyes, ‘and her name is Chantal Mornington. She's half-French.'

And Tom liked her. That much was obvious.

Not liking the feeling of jealousy that stabbed through her, Sally forced a smile. ‘Are you going to call her or shall I?'

‘I'll call her and talk to her about the echo—you sort out the chest X-ray. I want to see that before I speak to Chantal.'

Wondering just what Chantal Mornington was to Tom, Sally made the necessary arrangements and stayed with Mrs Singh while she went to X-ray.

Tom was waiting for the films when she arrived back on the unit. She handed them over and he examined them in silence, his expression intent.

‘Well?' Sally glanced at him expectantly and he stirred.

‘She has an enlarged left atrium and some shadowing here …' He tapped with his pen, and then glanced over
his shoulder with a smile as an elegant, dark-haired woman walked up to the desk. ‘Chantal. Thanks for coming.'

‘As if I'd refuse. You're one of the few of my colleagues who doesn't waste my time.' Her voice was smoky and seductive and Sally felt as though she'd stepped naked into a mountain stream.

There was no mistaking the beautiful cardiologist's feelings for Tom and, judging from the warmth in his eyes, he wasn't exactly immune either.

‘We seem to have a case of pulmonary oedema due to mitral stenosis,' he said, and Chantal stepped closer, her body brushing against his as she took a closer look at the X-ray.

‘I've seen one or two similar cases in my career,' she said smoothly, ‘but it's actually quite rare in this country now. You did well to spot it, Tom.'

Her dark eyes glowed with approval and invitation and Tom smiled down at her before turning briefly to Sally.

‘Actually, Sally was the one who picked it up,' he said easily. ‘She's worked in Pakistan and she's seen it before in young Asian women. Very smart of her.'

‘Indeed.' The cardiologist's eyes slid to Sally and then away again, dismissing her as unimportant.

‘You'll want to do an echo, of course,' Tom said, ‘and I suppose we ought to start her on beta-blockers.'

They spoke about the management for a few minutes, their heads close together, and Sally decided it was time to remind them that she existed.

‘Why beta-blockers?'

Tom dragged his gaze away from the beautiful cardiologist. ‘Because as her heart rate increases so her stroke volume falls, and that puts increasing pressure on
the left atrium,' he explained. ‘All of those effects can be reversed by the use of beta-blockers.'

‘That's why I like working with you,' Chantal said huskily, removing the X-ray from the light box and slipping it into its cover. ‘Very few obstetricians understand even the most basic principles of cardiology. We'll move her to CCU, do the echo and see if she's suitable for a balloon valvuloplasty. Are you happy with her from an obstetric point of view?'

‘For the time being.' Tom nodded. ‘We'll want to monitor the baby, obviously.'

‘You know you're always welcome on my unit,' Chantal murmured silkily. ‘Are you going to argue with me if I start her on diuretics?'

‘I'd be uneasy.' Tom frowned. ‘Hypovolaemia will reduce the placental blood flow and that could have a detrimental effect on the foetus.'

Chantal smiled. ‘In that case, I'll assess the degree of pulmonary congestion and talk to you before I do anything. Agreed?'

‘Agreed.' He smiled. ‘Thanks, Chantal.'

Resisting the temptation to grind her teeth, Sally excused herself and went back to tell Mrs Singh what was happening, trying hard not to analyse her feelings.

Why should she care if Chantal Mornington clearly had a serious crush on Tom?

And why should she care if those feelings were reciprocated?

The guy was bound to have a love life of some sort, and they were welcome to each other.

She really didn't care.

So why did she suddenly feel so crushed?

Trying hard to pull herself together, she helped transfer
Mrs Singh to CCU and then returned to the labour ward.

‘Grab a cup of coffee while it's quiet,' Emma suggested, and Sally gave a nod and made her way to the staffroom.

She stopped dead when she saw Tom sprawled in one of the armchairs. He was scanning a medical journal and nursing a cup of coffee. He glanced up and saw her and his blue gaze was suddenly warm.

‘Hello, there.' He uncoiled his length and stood up, dropping the journal on the coffee-table. ‘Can I pour you a coffee?'

She was tempted to refuse but she didn't want him questioning her reaction so she nodded instead, forcing herself to walk into the room. ‘Black, please. No sugar.'

He reached for a mug and filled it. ‘So you came across pulmonary oedema in Pakistan?'

She took the mug. ‘Thanks, and to answer your question, yes, I did. The medical workers seemed to think that mitral valve disease was on the increase. We had a few women who came in with problems in their pregnancy.'

Tom nodded. ‘The rise in cardiac output puts a tremendous stress on the heart. Patients can often deteriorate suddenly and unexpectedly, and if a diagnosis isn't made quickly enough, the consequences are serious.'

Sally sipped her coffee. ‘I certainly saw a couple of cases similar to Mrs Singh's. Do you think she'll be OK?'

‘Who knows?' He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘But Chantal Mornington is an excellent cardiologist.'

‘Yes. I could see that you had quite a mutual appreciation society going on,' Sally said tartly, and then
wished she hadn't spoken as he turned amused blue eyes in her direction.

‘Meaning?'

She shrugged, cursing herself for making such an impulsive remark. ‘Nothing.'

He was silent for a moment and then he put his coffee-mug down on the table and leaned towards her, his gaze searching.

‘If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, I could say that you're being ridiculous—' his voice was soft ‘—or I could say that I'm pleased that you are jealous.'

She stiffened. ‘I'm not jealous.'

‘No?'

‘No. There's nothing between us any more, Tom. You're perfectly entitled to see anyone you like.'

And she was going to do the same.

Any day now she was going to meet someone.

‘That's a lie.'

‘You think you need my permission to date?'

He was silent for a moment and when he spoke his voice had lost all traces of humour. ‘There's only one woman I intend to date and I'm looking at her.'