swollen. When he went to kneel down beside her to comfort her, she floated away. Through the door. Down the stairs, where everything was now eerily quiet. No matter how hard he tried to reach her, she kept sliding further and further away, until she was a tiny blip on the horizon. Then poof! She was gone. Leaving him all alone. Just as his parents had.
Max’s eyes popped open and encountered darkness. He blinked a couple of times, a hand going to his chest, which was slick with sweat.
God. A dream.
He sat up and shoved the covers down, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Well, hell!
He didn’t need a dream to tell him what he already knew.
But maybe his subconscious had needed to send him a clear and pointed message about going to that Christmas party with Anna: that he needed to tread very, very carefully.
* * *
Baby Hope was still holding her own. And he’d finally shaken off the remnants of that dream he’d had that morning.
He’d also received some positive news about the accident victims they’d treated a couple of days ago. Several of the patients had already been released to go home, and the rest of them were expected to recover. Sarah, who’d been one of the most badly injured, might have to have surgery to stabilise the sternal fracture. But everyone was hopeful that she’d heal up without any lasting damage.
That was some very good news.
He hadn’t seen Annabelle yet this morning. Which was another good thing.
Right, Max. Just because you’ve passed the entrance to the hospital multiple times since your arrival this morning, means nothing.
A thought hit him. Maybe she’d come down with the same virus that had plagued other hospital staff.
It didn’t seem likely. A few of those had trickled back to work today, and no one else had called in sick. At least, that was what one of the nurses had told him. So it seemed that the outbreak might be dying down. A good thing too. The closer they got to Christmas, the more patients they’d probably be seeing. Everywhere he looked, there were doctors and nurses whose faces appeared haggard and tired.
Frayed nerves were evident everywhere, including the operating room this morning, where he’d had to repair a hole in a young patient’s heart. The anaesthetist had snapped at a nurse who’d only been trying to do her job. He’d apologised immediately afterward, but the woman had thrown him an irritated glance, muttering under her breath. It was probably a good thing that he’d understood none of the words.
All of a sudden, Annabelle came hurrying down the hall, a red coat still belted tightly around her waist. When she caught sight of him and then glanced guiltily at the clock to his right, one side of his mouth cranked up in spite of himself. She was late.
The Annabelle he knew was never late. Ever.
He moved a few steps towards her. ‘Get held up, did you?’
‘I’m only six minutes late.’
For Anna, that was an eternity. He held up his hands to ward off any other angry words. ‘Hey, I was only asking a friendly question.’
‘Sorry, Max. It’s just been quite a day already.’
‘Yes, it has.’ His had started off with that damned nightmare, followed by a surgery at five o’clock this morning. Fortunately, the procedure had been pretty straightforward, and he’d been out of the surgical suite an hour later.
Her glance strayed to his face. ‘What time did you get here?’
‘A few hours ago.’
‘I thought shift changes were at eight.’ Her fingers went to her belt, quickly undoing the knot.
He nodded. ‘They are. I had an emergency to see to, so I came in early.’
Her breath caught with an audible sound, her hands stopping all movement. ‘Hope?’
‘No, another surgery. It was urgent, but it came out fine.’
‘I’m so glad.’ She finished shifting out of her jacket and stepped into her office, where she hung the garment on the back of the door. Her lanyard was already hanging on a cord around her neck. ‘Have you been to see Hope yet?’
‘Once. She’s still stable. I was just getting ready to check on her again. Care to join me?’
‘Yes. I was halfway afraid something would go terribly wrong during the night.’
A cold hand gripped his heart. It had indeed. He shook off the thought.
‘I would have called you, if something involving Hope had come up.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘So your day has already been tough?’
‘Kind of. I’ve been on the second floor.’
‘Oncology?’ Some kind of eerie premonition whispered through his veins.
‘Yes.’ Her voice quavered slightly. ‘We found out this morning that one of my nephews has been diagnosed with a brain tumour. I went to ask Dr Terrill a few questions about the type and prognosis. Just so I could hear first-hand what he might be facing.’
He hadn’t yet met any of the doctors or nurses on the second floor, as each area was kind of insulated from each other. ‘I’m sorry, Anna. Who is it?’
‘It’s Nate. Jessica’s son...the one I mentioned.’
A band tightened around his chest. ‘How old is he?’
‘Just two.’
Jessica, the youngest of Annabelle’s sisters, had already had a couple of children by the time he’d left. In fact, the huge size of Anna’s family was one of the things that had created such pressure on her to have children of her own. She would never admit it, but with each new niece or nephew the shadows in his wife’s eyes had grown. She’d wanted so desperately what her sisters had...what her parents had had. If the family hadn’t been so close, it might not have mattered quite so much. But they were—and it did.
He wanted to ask what Dr Terrill had said, but, at two years of age, the tumour had to be something that didn’t take years to emerge.
‘Jessica noticed he wasn’t keeping up with his peers on the growth charts like he should. And recently he’d been complaining that his head hurt. So they ran a series of tests.’
Headaches could be benign or they could signal something deadly. ‘Do they have the results?’
Annabelle could say it was none of his business. And it wasn’t. Not any more. He’d lost the right to know anything about her family when he’d walked out of their home and flown to Africa.
‘A craniopharyngioma tumour. They’re in discussing treatment options with their doctor today.’
He went through the catalogue in his head, searching for the name.
Found it.
Craniopharyngiomas were normally benign. But even though they didn’t typically spread outside the original area, they could still be difficult to reach and treat.
‘Why don’t you get someone to cover you for a few hours, so you can be on hand if they need you? Or maybe you should go to London early.’
That might solve his dilemma about the Christmas party.
‘I need to work. And Mum and Dad are there with Jessica and her husband. At this point there are too many people. Too many opinions.’
Kind of like with Annabelle’s in-vitro procedures. There had always been someone in her family stepping up with an opinion on this or that. It hadn’t bothered him at first, but as things had continued to go downhill Max had come to wish they would just mind their own business. A ridiculous