West Wing to Maternity Wing!(14)

The tears started to fall again on her already damp pillow. And he'd  touched her. And said it didn't matter to him. He hadn't run screaming  from the room because she'd had a mastectomy. He hadn't cared that she  wasn't a whole woman any more. He didn't even seem to care that she was  carrying an anonymous donor's baby.

But did he mean any of it? Because he might have touched her-brushed against her almost-but he hadn't seen her.

Lincoln had always been a gentleman. He'd always been a man with a good  heart. Was he taking pity on her because of her current predicament?

Or could he really look at her as a real woman?

Amy pulled the covers up around her head. Maybe if she didn't think  about this stuff right now it would go away. Maybe this was all just a  bad dream and she would wake up in the morning, six years in the past,  in her own apartment, ready to return from her holiday to the Amazon aid  boat and her hot new doctor friend.

If only …

Lincoln had told her to focus on the good things. Not to think about the  bad. She started to count them off in her head. So far, all her cancer  check-ups had been clear. In a few months' time she'd reach the golden  'five years cancer-free'. She was being looked after by one of the best  obstetricians in the country. There. Two already. This wasn't so  difficult.

The finest neonatologist she knew had agreed to look after her baby.  She'd just had the most erotic kiss she'd experienced in six years.  She'd just felt like a woman again for the first time in six years.

Her mind drifted. Dark tousled hair. Electric blue eyes with a dark blue rim. Broad shoulders and firm, hard pecs.

Amy groaned and pulled the pillow over her head.

Linc. All about Linc. This clearly wasn't working.



'Dr Adams, a word, please.'

Lincoln glanced over his shoulder and heaved a huge sigh. James Turner  was standing behind him with his arms folded tightly across his chest.  He was quite possibly the last person Linc wanted to see right now. His  temper was short and his nerves frayed. Not to mention there wasn't a  single thought in his head that currently made sense.

'What word do you want, Mr Turner? How about "busy", "hungry" or  "tired"? I'll let you pick.' He closed the notes he was writing in and  stood up, sliding them back into the filing cabinet.

James's face remained fixed. 'She has to go.'

Lincoln turned to face him. 'Who has to go?' It was late, his brain was  buzzing and he had about ten other things to do right now.

'Your friend Amy Carson. She fainted and now she's better. It's time for her to go home.'

'Really?' Lincoln raised his eyebrow as he tried to control his temper  at the sheer cheek of the man. 'And what makes you think that's your  decision?'

'I'm in charge of the security for the First Lady. Everything around here is my decision. And I don't make compromises.'

Lincoln stepped forward until he was only inches from James's face. 'I don't like what you're inferring.'

'I don't care.'

'Well, in that case show me your medical degree, Mr Turner. Because  unless you've got one, I think you'll find this is a medical  decision-not a security decision.'

James scowled at him and shook his head. 'Don't make this into something  it's not, Dr Adams. This isn't a medical decision, this is personal.  Your lady friend turned up here to see you and blagged her way in. She  shouldn't be here and she's compromising the safety of the First Lady  and the First Daughter, so she has to go.'

Lincoln felt a red mist start to descend over his eyes. He jerked open  the door of the filing cabinet and pulled Amy's notes back out. He  didn't need to flick through them-by this point he knew them off by  heart. 'Let's see. Ms Carson has protein in her urine, her blood  pressure is above normal and pitting oedema is evident in her legs and  abdomen. She is showing classic signs of pre-eclampsia.' He slammed the  notes shut. 'She is at risk. Her baby is at risk. She didn't blag her  way in here, Mr Turner, she's been admitted to this hospital because  she's sick.'

'She can't be sick here, it's a security risk.'

'Don't be so ridiculous. Is there a pecking order here? Did I imagine it  or did the doctors here tell me that you pulled up outside with the  First Lady in labour, with no warning, no prior planning? Did you get  turned away? Is the First Lady's baby more important than Ms Carson's?  Is that the way things have become in the US?'         

     



 

James pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. 'So transfer her.'

'What?'

'Transfer her somewhere else. They can look after her.'

The man was inhumane. Linc wondered if he was actually a machine. James  was immune to anger-he obviously enraged everyone he came into contact  with. It was time for a new angle. Lincoln took a deep breath and leaned  against the filing cabinet. 'Fine. But if she goes, I go. I've agreed  to be her neonatologist. I need to be there when she delivers. And to be  frank, I don't care where that is. Make the arrangements, Mr Turner,  let me know when we leave.' He turned away and started walking down the  corridor. He got six strides before he heard the voice behind him.

'You can't be serious.'

Linc turned back towards the incredulous voice. James had followed him  along the corridor. 'You're going to walk away from the First Lady? It's  the best publicity you'll ever get,' he sneered.

Linc smiled. 'And if you've done your homework, Mr Turner, you'll know  that I'm the doctor that doesn't like publicity and doesn't want it.' He  tilted his chin. 'So what's it to be, Mr Turner? Because I'm too tired  to fight with you about it. Do you want to arrange the transfer or not?'

James hesitated for a second. Lincoln could see a tiny muscle twitching  under his eye. He was furious and Lincoln couldn't have cared less.

He let out a sigh. 'Okay, she can stay.'

'Finally, something we agree on.' And before he could answer Lincoln walked into the on-call room and slammed the door.





CHAPTER FIVE

DAVID stood at the bottom of the bed, his forehead puckered with a  frown. 'Can you recheck her blood pressure manually, please?' He nodded  to one of the nearby nurses.

He scribbled something in the notes before giving Amy a little smile.  'I'm a bit of a traditionalist.' He gestured towards the monitor. 'Some  studies have shown that automated methods can underestimate systolic  blood pressure, so I like it double-checked with a mercury  sphygmomanometer. Trouble is, in the world of technology they can be  hard to find these days.

He glanced back at Amy. 'Yesterday's blood results were fine, but I want  to see what today's are like.' He lifted the bed covers and examined  her legs and ankles, before unhooking the stethoscope from around his  neck. 'Can I take a listen to your chest, please?'

Amy nodded and leaned forward as he lifted her T-shirt, placing his cool stethoscope on her skin. 'Take a deep breath, please.'

Amy breathed in and out slowly as the stethoscope moved from under her breast to her back.

The nurse appeared back at the door with a manual sphygmomanometer in  her hand. She took a few seconds to wind it around Amy's arm before  inflating the cuff then placing the stethoscope inside her elbow. A few  seconds passed before she released the valve and turned to David. 'Same  as the machine. One hundred and fifty over one hundred.'

David gave a sigh and stood back.

Lincoln appeared at the door. 'Knock, knock.' He walked into the room, 'How are things, David?

'Your friend Ms Carson is proving quite an enigma.' He pointed at her  chart. 'Her blood pressure is still borderline despite her being started  on anti-hypertensives yesterday. There's still some protein in her  urine. But her lungs are clear and her peripheral oedema seems to be  improving.'

He turned back to Amy. 'Any other symptoms?'

She shook her head.

'Then we have a problem.'

'What?' Lincoln's head shot upwards. 'What do you mean, there's a problem?' He moved over to the side of the bed next to Amy.

David gave a little smile. 'In normal circumstances, at this stage, I  would probably ask Amy to rest at home and come into the hospital every  day to be monitored.'

Lincoln's brow wrinkled. 'I don't understand. What's the problem?'

David gave his shoulders a little shrug. 'It's my understanding that Amy  doesn't stay around here. I can't exactly send her home and ask her to  come in every day for monitoring if she lives four hours away.'

Amy nodded her head in relief. Thank goodness. For a second there her  heart had been in her mouth-she'd wondered what David was about to say.

'But isn't it best she stays here if she's at risk of pre-eclampsia?' Lincoln looked agitated.

David shook his head. 'Not at this stage. Her symptoms aren't severe.  Her blood pressure is still borderline and we've started her on some  treatment.' He gave Amy a serious look. 'However, you still require  careful assessment, daily blood and urine tests, and blood pressure  monitoring. We also need to keep a close eye on you to ensure you don't  develop any other symptoms.'         

     



 

Amy gave him a smile. 'So what do you suggest, Dr Fairgreaves?'

'I suggest I give you a little more freedom.'

Amy's smile broadened. 'That sounds good.'