The Surgeon's Miracle. Caroline Anderson

his lunch now and Libby was getting concerned.

      She found him in the corridor, propped up on a window sill and looking pale and shaky, and she smiled and perched next to him, wondering where his mother was. Poor woman. She was trying to juggle the family and be there for Lucas, but it wasn’t easy for any of the mothers, and sometimes something had to give.

      ‘Hi, Lucas. You’ve been gone a while—everything OK?’

      The lanky teenager shrugged. ‘S’pose. Mum had to take Kyle to the doctor. My nan rang—he’s sick.’

      ‘Oh, dear, that’s a shame. Look, your lunch is waiting. Why don’t I fetch a chair and you can ride back to the ward? You’ve probably done enough for the first time.’

      ‘I can do it myself,’ he insisted, shrugging up off the window sill and wobbling slightly on the crutches. Libby frowned. He had to learn how to use them, but the last thing he needed was to go over and damage the leg again, and he was strictly non-weight-bearing at the moment.

      She fell into step beside him. ‘OK, if you’re sure. I’ll walk back with you—it’s a good excuse to have a break, and I could do with some time out. You guys are wearing me down!’

      He grinned and took a few steps, but he had to pause again on the way, leaning over on the crutches and getting his breath, and Libby heard a quiet footfall behind her.

      ‘How’s it going, Lucas?’

      She didn’t need to turn to know who it was, and her pulse picked up as she turned to him with a smile. ‘He’s doing really well.’

      Andrew grinned at him. ‘Good man.’

      Lucas straightened up again, Andrew’s praise having a visible effect on his mood. He was tall—a good head taller than Libby, but for all his youth he could look Andrew in the eye already, and he had a way to go before he finished growing.

      ‘I think this is the first time I’ve seen you standing up—you’re going to be seriously tall, aren’t you?’ Andrew said, eyeing him thoughtfully, and Lucas shrugged.

      ‘Always was. I’m going to be a basketball player.’ His words tailed off, his face crumpling, but Andrew wouldn’t let it go.

      ‘Give it time,’ he said softly. ‘You can still do that. Your leg will heal.’

      ‘Are you sure?’ Cos it doesn’t feel any better yet. It’s gonna take for ever and I feel like about a hundred.’

      ‘Lucas, it’s only been just over a week,’ he said gently. ‘It’ll take a while, but I’ve fixed all the bones together, and once they’ve all knitted back into place and we can get the hardware off your ankle, you’ll soon be up and running. Just be patient. You’ll get there and you’ll soon get your fitness back.’ He looked around. ‘So where’s Mum today?’

      ‘At the doctor’s with my brother. He’s got tonsillitis. He gets it all the time.’

      ‘Poor kid. I used to get tonsillitis. It’s nasty.’

      ‘Better than smashing your leg up.’

      Andrew grinned wryly. ‘Yeah, it probably is.’ His eyes flicked to Libby’s. ‘I’m on my way down to A and E—lad with a classic fib fracture, apparently. I’m probably going to have to take him to Theatre, so you’ll need to find room for him, but I’ll be back up after I’ve seen him to check last night’s admissions. And maybe we can find time for a coffee—I was hoping to get one earlier while we went through the notes together, but we got a little sidetracked,’ he added softly, and she felt colour brush her cheeks.

      So that was what he’d wanted. Not to ask her to go away for the weekend at all, but to talk through the notes. So why had he? ‘I’ll make you one when you get back,’ she suggested, but he shook his head.

      ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get them and grab some sandwiches and we can eat while we talk—unless you have plans for lunch?’

      She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. ‘No. I hardly ever have time to eat, never mind plan it!’

      He tutted. ‘I’ll get some for you, too, then, and I’ll see you in a bit. It looks like you’ve got your hands pretty full with this young man for a minute.’ He turned back to him and gave the boy’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. ‘Chin up, Lucas. You’ll get there.’

      And with a smile at him and a slow, lazy wink at Libby, he strode off down the corridor, leaving her wondering how she was going to get through the weekend without melting into a puddle of mush.

      ‘Right—let’s get you back on the ward,’ she said to Lucas, dragging her thoughts back in line, ‘and you can start planning your return to basketball.’

      He set off again, but by the time they got back to the ward he was exhausted, and once back at his bed she brought him his lunch and settled the rest of the boys in his bay down for a rest until the visitors arrived at three.

      It took bribery and a little coercion, but finally by onethirty they were all quiet and she headed back to the office where the endless paperwork was still waiting for her.

      The paperwork, and Andrew, with sandwiches and coffee. ‘I was about to start without you. Egg and cress or chicken salad?’

      ‘Either,’ she said, wondering why her office suddenly seemed so small and airless. Andrew was ripping open the packets, handing her one of each with a raised eyebrow, and she took them with a smile and tried to remember how to breathe. ‘Thanks. So how’s the kid with the fib fracture?’

      ‘Sore and feeling a bit silly. Apparently the idea was to jump off his trampoline onto his skateboard, only he fell off the edge of the board when he landed.’

      ‘Idiot! Of course he did! What is it with boys?’

      Andrew winced. ‘Don’t. I can’t tell you how many close shaves I had as a child. The kid’s father was funny, though—reminded me of mine. He described it as an ill-conceived idea, poorly executed,’ he said with a chuckle.

      ‘Oh, dear. So no sympathy from that quarter, then,’ she said, joining in his laughter while she studied the smudges under his eyes and wondered how he kept going.

      ‘Not much. He’s managed to snap the fibula but it’s a nice clean break and it’ll screw back easily—better than a ligament injury long term anyway. He’ll be up on the ward in a minute, but he’d just had something to eat so I can’t take him to Theatre till later. His name’s Michael Warner,’ he added, sinking his teeth into his sandwich and nearly making her whimper again.

      Good grief, he was so physical! If watching him eat was going to do this to her, how on earth was she going to get through two formal dinners without disgracing herself? She dragged her eyes away and tried to be practical. ‘Right. Where do you want him? On the ward with the other boys?’

      ‘Oh, yes, put him with the lads. He’s twelve, he’ll fit right in—and a bit more company might stop Lucas feeling sorry for himself.’

      He attacked the sandwich again, and she gave a slightly strained laugh. ‘I doubt it. He’s sore and cross with himself and until he’s running around again like before, he’ll be wallowing in self-pity and grumpy as a grumpy thing.’

      They shared a smile, and her lungs stopped working for a moment, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her and leaving her weak. He’d shaved at some point, and changed into trousers with a cut to die for and a shirt so soft she just ached to touch it. Or was it the man inside?

      ‘Damn—may I?’ he asked, glancing at his squalling pager, and she nodded. He spoke briefly, then sighed and put the phone down.

      ‘Right, I have to get on. Jacob needs a look,’ he said, draining his coffee and putting the paper cup in the bin. ‘I’ve checked my patients, they all seem fine unless you know different?’ She shook her head and he nodded briskly. ‘OK. I’ll see you later. Tell young