Pregnant By The Single Dad Doc

Life hadn’t even touched her. Except, maybe, for her eyes. Those beautiful eyes of hers, a cloudy blue, seemed to look right into his soul. Her eyes told a story and he wondered if it was a story he wanted to hear? She looked a little sad. The brightness and optimism that had flowed from her, that he had once enjoyed, was gone, and in its place was a reserve he had never seen there before.

His own life had thrown trauma at him in the years they had been apart. What had happened to her? What had she lived through—if anything?

Ellie had seemed hesitant. Was it him? Was it meeting him again after all these years? Perhaps, it was just shock and surprise.

He’d wanted to reach out when he came back, but it had already been five long years then, and life had got in the way, and as his life had progressed with Jo he’d felt sure that it was better for both of them if he kept his distance. He’d told himself that she would have moved on too, and that getting in touch would simply be reopening old wounds. It would have seemed odd to get back in touch just to cause her more heartache...to stir up old feelings that she must have moved on from.

He’d not wanted to seem as if he was rubbing her face in it. Not that he’d suspected in any shape or form that she was single and still waiting for him, anyway. Ellie was beautiful. He’d hoped that she’d found someone, too.

He sipped at his tea and smiled at his beautiful daughter as she continued to detail the areas of the heart. Atria. Ventricles. Mitral valve. Tricuspid valve. He heard the way she always paused before saying sinus node and wondered, as he always did, if she would become a doctor one day.

‘And then...’ she paused, considering, looking up at him. It was a strange, unexpected break in her routine. ‘Daddy, how do you break someone’s heart?’

He almost choked on his lunch. He had to cough, wipe his mouth on a napkin. He leaned forward, wondering where the question had come from? ‘Why?’

‘This girl at Verity’s said that her dad had broken her mother’s heart.’ There was another pause as she frowned. ‘How do you do that? The heart isn’t made of glass, or china. It’s muscle. It’s meant to be strong, not weak.’

How did you break a heart?

I bet a lot of us could answer this one.

* * *

Ellie was putting on scrubs, preparing for surgery with Logan. She’d spent her lunch break reading up about gastroschisis as she’d tried to eat a sandwich, finding herself falling down rabbit holes of research as she often did, reading about one situation and sparking an interest in another.

The baby in question had a silo pouch currently covering her intestines, and she knew that after the surgery she would remain in NICU for several weeks. The intestines had been floating in amniotic fluid for months, so they would be swollen and not working very well. The baby would only be discharged once she was taking feeds well, putting on weight and excreting normally.

The surgery today was to insert the last remaining part of the intestines, remove the silo pouch and repair the defect that had caused the gastroschisis in the first place.

She was just putting her clothes into a locker when one of the nurses entered.

‘Hi, it’s Ellie, right? Clare. Very pleased to meet you.’ Clare shook her hand. ‘Is this your first surgery?’

‘My first on this placement.’

‘You’ve done some before? That’s good. So I don’t have to worry about you fainting, then?’

Ellie smiled. ‘No.’

‘Dr Riley is a good surgeon. He’ll teach you a lot.’

‘He already has.’

There must have been something in her tone, because Clare cocked her head to one side.

‘Do you know each other?’

‘From years ago. We knew each other when we were young.’

‘Oh. Right. What was he like back then? Still handsome?’

Ellie tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. ‘Oh, yes.’

‘I knew it. I bet every girl in school was after him.’

‘I only met him at college, doing A levels.’

‘The wild years, huh?’ Clare stripped out of her clothes and got into a set of scrubs. ‘Before he settled down?’

Ellie looked at Clare. He’d ‘settled down’? What did that mean? Was he married? Living with someone? For some strange reason the knowledge was disappointing. Almost upsetting. But what had she expected? That he was still single? She guessed she might have assumed he’d be with someone, but as she hadn’t known for sure it hadn’t hurt. But now...? Now that she was being told for definite...? Well, that was an entirely different beast.

She didn’t want to appear to Clare as if she didn’t know, so she went along with it. ‘Yeah.’

‘It’s kind of sweet how he goes to eat lunch with Rachel when he can.’

Rachel. She’s called Rachel.

Ellie slowly wrapped up her hair and placed it inside a surgical cap carefully, taking her time as she allowed this new nugget of knowledge to seep into her brain.

Rachel.

He meets her for lunch as often as he can.

That’s kind of romantic. They must love each other very much.

And she felt jealous. A sudden wave of jealousy hit her smack in the solar plexus, making her feel almost dizzy and faint with the strength of it. Jealous that he had someone to love. Jealous that he had someone he could wrap his arms around and hold. Jealous that someone else now held the heart she herself had once thought was hers.

‘Yes. It’s very sweet,’ she said, thinking it was anything but.

* * *

He could feel her watching him. Those wide blue eyes were watching his every move from over her surgical face mask. He felt tempted to look up and see, but after his lunch with Rachel and her questions about breaking someone’s heart he felt guilty about doing so. He knew exactly how he’d broken Ellie’s.

Luckily there was an operation to concentrate on: getting the last of Baby Darcy’s intestines back into her body and the hole in her abdominal wall repaired. This would hopefully be her final surgery and would get rid of the horrible silo bag that she’d had attached to her since birth.

‘How was Rachel?’ she asked.

His hands paused. How the hell did she know about Rachel? He hadn’t told her a thing. Had she spotted him at lunchtime with his daughter? Or was this just a case of the damned hospital grapevine at work? Probably the latter. However, he still felt irritated by it. That he hadn’t been the one to tell her. And this was hardly the place to be bringing up something so damned personal!

‘I’m not sure that’s what we need to be concentrating on right now, Miss Jones.’

There and then he knew there was a change in the atmosphere in the operating room. Knew that those around him were all looking at him with questioning glances. Because normally he was happy to talk about his daughter and her progress. He was proud of Rachel.

He met her gaze. ‘I’m sorry—that was rude of me. Rachel was very well, thank you.’

The tension eased somewhat and he continued with his work, even though he still felt bad. And he’d called her Miss Jones. Talk about creating an issue when there didn’t need to be one! Now she’d probably spend the rest of the day calling him Dr Riley rather than Logan. He needed to change that. And quickly.

‘Can you see what I’m doing here, Ellie? More light, please,’ he instructed the theatre technician, standing to one side.

Ellie moved forward to see better.

‘What are the complications of a silo—do you know?’

‘Er...infection and fascial dehiscence.’

‘Good. You’ve been reading up.’ He looked up at her and smiled. ‘On your lunch break?’

He was pleased to see her eyes crease at the corners, indicating a smile back.

She nodded. ‘Best time to cram.’

‘Removing the silo now... What are we looking for?’

‘We’re checking that the bowel looks healthy.’

‘Yes. I’m going to stretch the defect now, to reduce this final section of bowel.’ He carefully placed his fingers inside the defect, checking all around, before pushing the last of the bowel inside. ‘Ellie would you like to irrigate the bowel and abdomen?’

She nodded quickly and he could tell that she was grateful to do something towards the surgery.

He organised the skin for closure, starting opposite the umbilicus, sealing off small bleeds with the cautery and separating the fascia, explaining what he was doing and why.

‘I’m creating a purse string suture. Irrigate the wound again, please.’ Good. She was doing well. Her hands were steady and sure. No hesitation. ‘Now I’ll make a new umbilicus.’ He created another purse string on the outer skin.

‘It’s so quick,’ she said, glancing up at the clock. ‘Barely twenty-five minutes.’

‘And Baby remained stable throughout, which is the best thing,’ he said, stepping away from the table and pulling off his gloves. ‘How did you find that, Ellie?’

She pulled off her surgical mask as they went into the scrub room and her face was a mask of awe and wonder. ‘Amazing! You made it look easy.’

He basked in her praise. ‘You might be doing it yourself one day.’

Ellie nodded. ‘Maybe.’

‘Have you decided on a specialism yet?’

‘I’m not sure. I’d like to do transplants—I know that.’

That was a good choice—though he was a little disappointed she didn’t want to choose his speciality. ‘General surgery? That’s good.’

‘You sound like you don’t approve.’

‘I do. Is that because of your dad?’ Her father had had a heart transplant; he remembered that.

Ellie looked away. ‘I guess...’ She began washing her hands.

Logan stood watching her for a moment. He’d never felt so far away from her as he did at that moment. As if she was unreachable and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way he’d spoken to her earlier? He wanted to put that right. Hated being at odds with her.

‘I’m sorry about how rude I was to you at the beginning of surgery.’

She glanced at him. Gave a brief smile. ‘It’s okay. I was being nosy and it wasn’t very professional of me.’

‘Not nosy at all. It’s just... I wanted to be the one to tell you about Rachel.’

‘No one was gossiping about you.’

‘I know. It’s just...she’s my daughter and I’m very protective of her.’

Ellie turned to look at him. ‘Your daughter?’

‘Yes.’

She laughed. ‘I thought she was your—’ She stopped speaking, blushed and grabbed some paper towels to dry her hands with. ‘How old is she?’

‘Six. Going on sixty.’

Ellie smiled and pulled off her cap. ‘I’d love to meet her one day.’

‘She has Asperger’s,’ he blurted out, not sure why he was explaining, but it was out now. However, Rachel having Asperger’s was only one part of who she was—he shouldn’t have labelled her as if that was all she was. ‘And she’s sweet and kind. And many other wonderful things besides.’

Ellie smiled. ‘She sounds lovely.’

* * *

The rest of the day had passed almost in a blur. Doing half-hourly obs on the gastroschisis baby... Running around after the others... She hadn’t got to see Logan at all after they’d done a consult in A&E. She’d wanted to talk to him more, after her little mistake about who Rachel was, but she’d ended up going home without seeing him again.

His daughter! Not his wife, or partner, or whatever she’d suspected her to be. But that still meant there was a mother to his child. Where was she? How come he didn’t meet his partner for lunch?

She could be busy. Working hard.

I don’t even know what she does. She could be a high-flying surgeon like Logan.

Of course she would be. Logan liked successful people. He’d been surrounded by them his entire life. Both his parents were doctors, he had an uncle who practised law, and a cousin who had created his first app aged just sixteen and was probably a multi-millionaire by now.

I’m happy for him.

She forced a smile to her face, telling herself this was true, but she was having a hard time with it. A small, selfish part of her had wanted him to be stuck in some kind of limbo, too. Her life had been ripped apart and now she was starting again—why wasn’t he? She felt so far behind everyone else now. Constantly playing catch-up.

But why did she constantly give herself a hard time? Was it because everything she tried failed? Her relationship with Logan had collapsed out of nowhere. Being a mother had ended tragically. Her marriage to Daniel had collapsed too. Her business had failed.

But now she was trying to be a doctor, and there was no way she was going to fail at that!

Somehow, and without remembering climbing the stairs, she found herself in the doorway to Samuel’s bedroom. Everything was as she’d left it. In limbo. Half done. Two of the walls still needed painting. The crib was still in its flat-pack. A lonely teddy bear sat in the windowsill, waiting to be loved.

It all just looked so...sad.

But what was the point in finishing?

Ellie closed the door and went back downstairs to make herself some dinner. She’d barely had time to eat today, what with the surgery, and then rounds, and then she and Logan had been called down to A&E to assess a patient who might have been going into early labour. Thankfully, she hadn’t. The maternity unit had managed to stop her contractions with tocolytics and Ellie had got to inject her with steroids to help with maturing the baby’s lungs, just in case.

It had felt good today to be hands-on—first in surgery, then doing obs during rounds, and then later with that emergency patient. She finally felt as if she was moving forward—that she was achieving something. And Logan was actually a very good teacher.

She remembered how he’d drilled her on the way back up in the lift.

‘Why do we inject with corticosteroids?’

‘It helps the baby’s lungs mature.’

‘What else?’

‘Brain function.’

‘What would happen if we didn’t?’

‘An early delivery would mean the baby might be more likely to suffer respiratory distress syndrome or other complications.’

‘Side effects of giving steroids?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Studies have shown that there are no adverse effects on the baby, but if more than one course is given studies do show that some babies can be a little smaller, though there are no long-term consequences. How far apart do we give the injections?’

‘Twenty-four hours.’

Standing in that closed confined space with him had made her realise how her body still reacted to him. It was as if it remembered. As if it wanted to feel him against her once again. It had been a terrifying and delicious feeling all at once.

She liked it that he drilled her with questions—even over some of the simpler things they did. He was being thorough, making sure she understood the basics—because if you didn’t understand the reasoning behind those, how could you understand the more complicated issues? And his questions took her thoughts away from how it had felt to hold him. To kiss him. To have him kiss her back...

She liked being tested. Liked getting the answers right. It felt good. And distractions were helpful.

Downstairs, as her ready meal of lasagne cooked in the microwave, she picked up her book on neonatal medicine and began reading from where she’d stopped at breakfast that morning.

She was happy that Logan had a daughter. That he had a happy, healthy child. He was lucky to have someone to hold in his arms.

She missed that. Being able to hold someone. To squeeze them tight, love them, knowing that they loved you back just as much.

He was lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

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