Hearts Of Gold

‘That’s all she asks?’

Annie nodded.

‘It’s cash. She’s from the Philippines, married to an Australian, and she loves dogs but can’t have one as her husband’s getting on and could be knocked over by a big dog or trip over a small one. I’ll give you her phone number and you can speak to her direct about the arrangements.’

Which sorted out the dogs. Alex wondered if he could turn the subject to more personal matters, but Annie forestalled him with a question.

‘Did Maggie tell you why she didn’t want to stay with you?’

‘No, though I guess it could be something to do with sharing with two men. She might have imagined she’d have to do all the cooking and housework.’

‘Mmm.’

Alex waited for an explanation and when none was forthcoming asked, ‘That’s it? Mmm?’

‘It was a considering kind of mmm,’ Annie explained. ‘An “I’m not sure enough to say anything” kind of mmm.’

‘About what?’ Alex persisted, realising Annie’s conversation, first about the dogs and now about something to do with Maggie, was actually relaxing him quite nicely. It seemed so normal somehow, to be walking like this with Annie and talking trivia.

‘About Maggie,’ Annie now said, and Alex found he was intrigued. He liked Maggie and greatly appreciated the contribution she made to his work. A good anaesthetist was essential in all operations—but even more critical when working on hearts that could be as small as plums.

But they’d reached the restaurant, and his first whiff of the garlic-scented air turned his thoughts from staff to food.

And once again he made Annie laugh, his indecision over what sauce to have with his penne delighting her. Her laughter filled his heart with a heady gladness that went beyond the attraction he felt for her, and filled his mind with a resolve to continue this rather strange courtship.

‘It’s all very well for you,’ he grumbled. ‘You probably cook delicious sauces every day of the week. Once I’m past curry, it’s steak or steak. Not that you don’t have great steak out here in Australia, but it gets a bit boring after a while.’

‘You can buy prepared sauces then all you have to do is boil the pasta and heat the sauce and voila`, an Italian meal.’

‘Voila`’s French,’ he said, still grumbling, but now because Annie had slipped off the jacket of her suit, revealing a dark green blouse that made her eyes seem greener. And just as he was comparing the colour of the eyes to her blouse the top button popped, revealing a glimpse of a deep shadow between her breasts, so lust replaced the gladness in his heart, while an inner voice—a mean-spirited voice, sharp with jealousy—wondered if she’d had her jacket on or off at the meeting that morning.

‘The waitress asked if you’d decided,’ Annie said, indicating a young woman who’d materialised by his side.

‘I’ll have the Matriciana,’ he said, and silently congratulated himself on his recovery.

‘It’s about the only pasta sauce not on the menu. How about you try the Alfredo?’

Annie was just being helpful, but he glowered at her anyway, knowing he couldn’t ask what she’d had on at the meeting, suspecting he might be seriously love-struck to be thinking this way, and, as the wine waiter approached, wondering if it would be totally improper behaviour if he reached across the table and did up the wayward button.

He didn’t, asking Annie instead if she had a preference in wine, and when she settled on a glass of the house Chianti, he told the waiter he’d have the same. Thankfully, the man departed.

Which left him with Annie, and the revealing neckline of her shirt, which kept drawing his attention as surely as seagulls were drawn to fries at a picnic.

His silence must have stretched a fraction too long.

‘You’re frowning again. Is it Jamie, or are you still worried about Amy?’

Annie’s question—so work-oriented when his mind had been so far away—made him smile.

‘If I confess I was thinking of seagulls…’ not entirely true but close enough ‘…would you think I was totally mad?’

‘Not totally,’ she said, a smile lighting up her face and twinkling in her green-today eyes.

She sat back, obviously waiting for him to explain, but of course he couldn’t. Neither could he think of any logical thoughts he might have been having about seagulls.

Apart from them liking fries!

‘Jamie came through really well,’ he said, reverting to work as an escape from dangerous territory. ‘It’s hard to tell how older children will react. I think because they understand the concept of an operation, and have some knowledge of what’s happening to them, they can be more fearful. I don’t know of any studies that have been done to see how that affects recovery, but it would be interesting to test the theory. I had a teenage patient once, and though he was used to having catheters stuck up an artery or vein from his groin, and knew all the process, and watched the screen to see the tube travel to his heart, he told me, years later, how much he’d hated it and how he’d far rather have been knocked out before the procedure took place.’

‘Why wasn’t it an option?’ Annie asked, and Alex smiled to himself. He’d mentioned the case as a diversionary tactic but Annie was so eager to know things he enjoyed these discussions nearly as much as—

Boy! He’d nearly thought ‘the popped button’ and pulled himself up just in time.

‘A lot of older children enjoy being part of their treatment, and we’d assumed that was the case with this youth. However, him telling me how much he hated it was a wakeup call for me, because I’d made an assumption on his behalf. Early on, we did all catheterisations for testing and small ops while the patient was sedated slightly but not out of it, mainly because we didn’t have the mild, short-acting anaesthesia we have today. And though we knock the infants out, we’d continued doing the older children with just sedation.’

‘Until someone protested?’

Alex nodded. ‘Bad medicine, that!’ he recalled. ‘We should have asked. I always do now, and I make sure the cardiologists—they do most of the caths these days—know how I feel about it. I even gave a paper on it once.’

And as he said the words he remembered where and when he’d given that paper. At the congress at Traders Rest five years ago…

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