One Tiny Miracle...(4)

By: Carol Marinelli


He forced himself to push her out of his head, and wouldn’t let himself give her another thought—till he drove out of his garage, feeling just a touch uncomfortable in his slick four-wheel drive, and saw her watering her sunflowers and waving at him.

He waved back—reluctantly. Ben didn’t like waving to neighbours or, despite what he had said, dropping in for sugar, or popping over for a chat. Had she not appeared in pain, he’d have kept right on walking, have kept himself to himself—which was just how he liked things to be.

Whoosh!

As he drove past, Celeste could feel her cheeks redden even as she, oh, so casually waved.

He. Was. Gorgeous!

Gorgeous! Well over six feet and broad, his legs were as thick and as solid as an international rugby player’s, and that longish brown hair flopping over his eyes as he’d stared down at her on the beach already had her wanting to run her fingers through it. As for those green eyes...why the hell didn’t they have doctors like that where she worked?

Then she stopped being twenty-four and single and remembered she had sworn off men for the next decade at least. Also, she was, in a few weeks, going to be a mum.

Funny, but for a moment she’d forgotten. Talking to Ben, chatting as they’d walked, for a moment there she’d forgotten she was pregnant, had just felt like, well, a normal woman! Which she was, of course—there was nothing more womanly or normal than pregnancy. But this morning she’d been one who’d fancied and blushed and said all the wrong things in the face of a very sexy man. Celeste had assumed, though she’d neither read nor been told it, that the ‘fancy’ switch remained off during pregnancy—that you went into some sort of hormonal seclusion, where men were no longer attractive and you didn’t flirt or even look twice. And for six months it had been that way...

Would stay that way, Celeste told herself firmly.

Not that she needed to worry. A deft kick from her baby reminded her that she had no choice in the matter—she was hardly a candidate for romance!





            CHAPTER TWO

‘CELESTE, WHAT ARE you doing here?’ Meg, the charge nurse, shook her head as Celeste handed her a return-to-work certificate as she joined the late-shift emergency nurses to receive handover.

‘I’m fine to work. I saw my obstetrician again yesterday,’ Celeste explained.

Meg scanned the certificate and, sure enough, she had been declared fit, only Meg wasn’t so sure. ‘You were exhausted when I sent you home last week, Celeste. I was seriously worried about you.’

‘I’m okay now—with my days off and a week’s sick leave...’ When Meg didn’t look convinced Celeste relented and told her everything. ‘My glucose tolerance test came in high, that’s what the problem was, but I’ve been on a diet for ten days now, and I’ve been resting, doing yoga and taking walks on the beach. I feel fantastic—some people work right up to forty weeks!’

‘Not in Emergency,’ Meg said, ‘and you’re certainly not going to make it that far. How many weeks are you now?’

‘Thirty,’ Celeste said, ‘and, as the doctor said, I’m fine.’

Which didn’t give Meg any room to argue and, anyway, here wasn’t the place to try. Instead she took them through the whiteboard, giving some history on each of the patients in the cubicles and areas. ‘When the observation ward opens, Celeste can go round there...’

‘I don’t need to be in Obs,’ Celeste said, guilty that they were giving her the lightest shift, but Meg fixed her with a look.

‘I don’t have the resources to work around your pregnancy, Celeste. If your obstetrician says that you’re fine for full duties and you concur, I have to go along with that—I’m just allocating the board.’

Celeste nodded, but no matter how forcibly Meg said it, Celeste knew she was being looked out for as far as her colleagues could—and for the ten zillionth time since she’d found out she was pregnant she felt guilty.

Finding out she was pregnant had been bad enough, but the fallout had been spectacular.