Well, at least the island no longer needed her.
Funny how that thought was starting to give her no pleasure at all.
‘Your uncle’s gone home to sleep,’ Quinn was saying softly. He was watching Fern over the bed dividing them. ‘You can, too, if you like. I’ll take good care of her, Dr Rycroft.’
Fern swallowed. She was sure that he would. If any man could do it, Quinn Gallagher was the man to keep her aunt alive.
She looked down at the bed again and her heart lurched. Sure, Quinn Gallagher would connect the monitors through to his office and check every so often but…
But if her aunt was in a city hospital she’d be in Intensive Care with a nurse awake and watchful at every moment.
After all Maud had done for her; it was the least Fern could do.
‘I’ll go home and see my uncle and come back,’ she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. ‘The spare bed here is empty. If it’s OK with you…’
He didn’t try to dissuade her.
‘That’s fine. But I’ll keep the monitors going just the same. If you sleep…’
‘I won’t sleep,’ Fern said rigidly. ‘After the events of today, even if my aunt was fine, I still wouldn’t sleep.’
She was right there.
It took Fern less than half an hour to drive home, reassure her worried uncle and be back at Quinn Gallagher’s transformed mansion-cum-hospital. Quinn greeted her briefly when she returned but in the next ward Frank Reid had started vomiting again and he had his hands full.
He didn’t need her.
‘Frank’s blood sugars are settling,’ he told her. ‘Once I can stop the retching he should be OK. I’ve given him another dose of metoclopramide and it should take effect soon. If you watch your aunt so I don’t have to check the monitors…’
It had been the right thing to do to return, Fern thought thankfully, as she pushed the room’s second bed close to her aunt’s and crept under the covers. It was a warm enough night but the events of the day were taking their toll. She felt shivery and in need of the comfort of the blankets.
She didn’t undress. It seemed wrong to don nightclothes when she wasn’t ill-or even very tired. She was just shaken and she was here to work.
Fern put her hand out from the bedclothes and placed her fingers round her aunt’s wrist. This was better than any monitor Quinn Gallagher could devise-and she was a darned sight closer if Maud’s breathing faltered.
She was so close…
In her long years of training Fern had never felt so close to a patient.
Even with her aunt and uncle, Fern strove for distance. There was no distance here-not now.
Just soul-destroying grief if this heartbeat didn’t continue. Maud had to live…
The long hours of the night dragged on.
She should be sleepy, Fern thought, but she wasn’t anything of the kind. Her mind was whirling in a million different directions.
Muffled through the heavy walls she could hear intermittent sounds from the men’s ward. She heard Frank moan once or twice and grimaced. Let the metoclopramide work, she breathed silently. If Lizzy’s stunt caused permanent damage…
Fern was starting to feel horribly responsible herself. By agreeing to marry on the island she’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. Frank had to be OK.
Then she heard Sam’s voice raised in protest and Fern’s grimace deepened. If Sam was making a fuss…
Maybe she should go to him…
Sam had no priority at all.
Fern’s fingers tightened on Maud’s wrist. Maud’s pulse was strong and steady but it didn’t make Fern one bit more willing to go to Sam. Her place was here. If Quinn Gallagher was taken up with Frank then he couldn’t watch the monitors and Maud had to be monitored by machine or in person.
So Fern lay still, realising that she needed this time alone almost as much as Maud needed her. The darkened hospital was close to silent and the turmoil of the day seemed a bad dream.
The only thing of importance was the beat under Fern’s fingers-the steady throb of her aunt’s heart.
The monitors were linked to her aunt’s breast and they led to another room. Quinn’s office…Fern knew he’d still be checking from time to time. A conscientious doctor wouldn’t believe Fern’s assurance that she’d stay awake.
And Quinn was a conscientious doctor.
The thought was a vague but solid comfort. Maud was safe. With Fern beside her and Quinn in the next room nothing could happen.
Nothing could happen with Quinn Gallagher there.
That was crazy. What a stupid thing to think when she had known the man less than a day. What was it about the man that was so solid…so powerful…?
It was her emotional state, Fern told herself firmly. Nothing more. She’d been emotionally wrought for days in the build-up to the wedding, asking herself over and over whether she was doing the right thing. And, then, as she’d made the decision and the final preparations and made it almost to the altar-to have this happen…
Drat Lizzy, she thought miserably, but in her heart Fern knew her real emotion was one of relief.
‘So, maybe it was the wrong decision,’ she whispered into the dark, and winced again at the sound of Sam’s angry voice from the next room. Her beloved…
He was nothing of the sort!
There were footsteps down the corridor and another voice, softer but firm for all that. Quinn’s voice…
Then the footsteps returned, but not as far as they’d come. The steps stopped outside Fern’s door. The door opened a crack and then wider, allowing a slit of light to fall over Maud’s bed.
Quinn stepped silently into the room. Unlike the corridor where the floor was of polished wooden boards, the wards were carpeted-so Quinn’s feet made no sound. His body blocked the slit of light but as he came further into the room the slit widened and Fern could watch him as he approached.
He checked Maud with deft precision. Fern nodded silently to herself. This man didn’t leave anything to chance-or to the monitors. He felt Maud’s pulse and took her blood pressure, then checked each monitor lead. Then, almost as an afterthought, Quinn turned the pencil light torch he’d been holding to shine down at Fern.
‘I’m not asleep,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not completely untrustworthy.’
He smiled, then, his smile almost tender in the soft light of the torch.
‘I never thought you were, Dr Rycroft,’ he said gently. ‘But your aunt is my patient. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I’d love one,’ Fern smiled. She pushed back the bedcovers and Quinn’s eyes widened as he saw her blouse and jeans.
‘What, no nightie, Dr Rycroft? Dressed for escape, then, are we?’
‘If you like.’ Fern’s voice tightened.
‘I wouldn’t worry about indecent advances by the night staff.’ Quinn smiled. ‘Your beloved’s only a scream away. In fact, I would have thought you’d know that. Has he been keeping you awake?’
‘He’s not my beloved,’ Fern said crossly. ‘I…Is he all right?’
‘No.’ Quinn shook his head. ‘He’s not all right. Mr Reid has been ill again and rude enough to disturb Mr Hubert’s sleep. Mr Hubert seems to think he’d like a private room-or at least have Mr Reid shifted out into the corridor. Very tetchy he’s been when I’ve suggested he take himself off to his own bed if he didn’t like it here.’
‘He’s…he’s upset,’ Fern said miserably. ‘Sam’s not always so unreasonable.’
‘I’d assumed that,’ Quinn nodded. ‘If he’s half as bad as I think he is then you’ve been granted a last-minute reprieve from death by boredom. Still, I have to assume you know what you’re doing, Dr Rycroft.’
‘Good.’ Fern gritted her teeth. ‘Look, forget the cup of tea…’ This wasn’t a big hospital with kitchen staff on call.
‘It’s already made,’ he smiled. ‘If you’re as awake as I think you are, come out on the verandah and drink it.’