The Nurse's Christmas Gift. Tina Beckett

to think she should have paid more attention.

      She swallowed down the ball of bile before the pressure built to dangerous levels.

      The new doctor spoke again. ‘What’s her diagnosis?’

      The ball in Annabelle’s throat popped back into place with a vengeance.

      It couldn’t be.

      Sienna glanced over at him. ‘Hypoplastic left heart syndrome. She’s waiting on a donor heart.’

      The other doctor’s dark head bent as he examined the baby. ‘How far down is she on the list?’

      ‘Far enough that we’re all worried. Especially Annabelle Brookes—you’ll meet her soon. She’s the nurse who’s been with our little patient from the time she was born.’

      Annabelle, who had begun sliding back towards the door, stopped when the new doctor slowly lifted his head, turning it in her direction. Familiar brown eyes she would recognise anywhere met hers and narrowed, staring for what seemed like an eternity but had to have been less than a second. There wasn’t the slightest flinch in his expression. She could have been a complete stranger.

      But she wasn’t.

      He knew very well who she was. And she knew him.

      No. It couldn’t be.

      For a soul-searing moment she wondered if she’d been mistaken, that he wasn’t Sienna’s replacement at all, but was here to say he’d finally signed the papers. Maybe he’d heard about Baby Hope’s case and had just popped in to take a look while they hunted for Annabelle.

      Or...maybe he’d met someone else.

      Her whole system threatened to shut down as she stood there staring.

      ‘Annabelle? Are you all right?’ Sienna’s voice startled her enough to force her to blink.

      ‘Oh, yes, I...um...’ What was she supposed to say?

      Max evidently didn’t have that problem. He came away from Hope’s incubator, extending his hand. ‘I didn’t realise you’d moved from London.’

      ‘Yes. I did.’ She ignored his hand, tipping her chin just a fraction, instead. So he hadn’t come here to find her.

      Sienna glanced from one to the other. ‘You two already know each other?’

      One side of Max’s mouth turned up in a semblance of a smile as he allowed his hand to drop back by his side. ‘Quite well, actually.’

      Yes, they knew each other. But ‘quite well’? She’d thought so at one time. But in the end... Well, he hadn’t stuck around.

      Of course, she’d been the one to tell him to go. And he had. Without a single attempt to change her mind—or to fight for what they’d once had.

      Sienna’s brows went up, obviously waiting for some kind of explanation. But what could she say, really?

      She opened her mouth to try to save the situation, but a shrill noise suddenly filled the room.

      An alarm! And this one wasn’t in her head.

      All eyes swivelled back to Baby Hope, who lay still in her incubator.

      It was the pulse oximeter. Hope wasn’t breathing!

      ‘Let’s get some help in here!’ Max was suddenly belting out orders in a tone that demanded immediate response.

      Glancing again at the baby’s form, she noted that the tiny girl’s colour had gone from bad to worse, a dangerous mottling spreading over her nappy-clad form. Annabelle’s heart plummeted, her fingers beginning a familiar tingle that happened every time she went into crisis mode.

      Come on, little love. Don’t do this. Not when we’re just getting to know each other.

      Social services had asked Annabelle to keep a special eye on the infant, since she had no next of kin who were willing to take on her care. Poor little thing.

      Annabelle knew what it was like to feel alone.

      In Max’s defence, it had been her choice. But he had issued an ultimatum. One she hadn’t been prepared to accept.

      Right now, though, all she needed to think about was this little one’s battle for life. Max shot Sienna a look. The other doctor nodded at him. Whatever the exchange was, Max took the lead.

      ‘We need to tube her.’

      Annabelle went to the wall and grabbed a pair of gloves from the dispenser, shoving her hands into them and forcing herself to take things one step at a time. To get ahead of yourself was to make a mistake.

      She hurried to get the trach tube items, tearing into sterile packages with a vengeance. Two more nurses rushed into the room, hearing the cries for help. Each went to work, knowing instinctively what needed to be done. They’d all been through this scenario many times before.

      But not with Baby Hope.

      Annabelle moved in next to Max and handed him each item as he asked for it, her mind fixed on helping the tiny infant come back from the precipice.

      Trying not to count the seconds, she watched Max in motion, marvelling at the steadiness of his large hands as he intubated the baby, his face a mask of concentration. A look that was achingly familiar. She swallowed hard. She needed to think of him as a doctor. Not as someone she’d once loved.

      And lost.

      He connected the tubing to the ventilator as one of the other nurses set the machine up and switched it on.

      Almost immediately, Baby Hope’s chest rose and fell in rhythmic strokes as the ventilator did the breathing for her. As if by magic, the pulse ox alarm switched off and the heart-rate monitor above the incubator began sounding a steadier blip-blip-blip as the heart reacted to the life-giving oxygen.

      The organ was weak, but at least it was beating.

      But for how much longer?

      Thank God they hadn’t needed to use the paddles to shock it back into rhythm. Baby Hope was already receiving prostaglandin to prevent the ductus in her heart from closing and cutting off blood flow. And they had her on a nitrogen/oxygen mix in an attempt to help the oxygen move to the far reaches of her body. But even so, her hands and extremities were tinged blue, a sure sign of cyanosis. It would only get worse the longer she went without a transplant.

      ‘She’s back in rhythm.’

      At least a semblance of rhythm, and she wasn’t out of the woods, not by a long shot. Her damaged heart—caused by her mum’s drug addiction—was failing quickly. Without a transplant, she would die. Whether that last crisis arrived in a week or two or three, the outcome would be the same.

      Annabelle sent up a silent prayer that a donor heart would become available.

      Even as she prayed it, though, she hated the fact that another family would have to lose their child so that Baby Hope might live.

      They watched a few more minutes as things settled down. ‘We’ll leave her on the ventilator until we figure out exactly what happened. We can try adjusting the nitrogen rate or play with some of her other meds to see if we can buy her a little more time.’

      Sienna nodded. ‘I was thinking the exact thing.’ She glanced at Annabelle. ‘Are you okay?’

      It was the second time she’d asked her that question. And the second time she had trouble coming up with a response.

      ‘I will be.’

      ‘I know this one’s special to you.’

      Of course. Sienna was talking about the baby. Not about Max and his sudden appearance back in her life.

      ‘I just want her to have a chance.’

      ‘As stubborn as you are, she has it.’ Sienna gave her a smile.

      ‘Annabelle