The Nurse's Secret Son Read online

  “Daniel?”

  He turned his head to look at her. “Can we do that, Sophie? Can we put everything behind us? You were sleeping with my brother at the same time you were sleeping with me. Did you tell Michael you loved him as well, or did you save that particular honor for me?”

  Sophie shut her eyes at the accusation in his voice. How could he think that of her? The denial came to her lips, but she quashed the impulse to clear her character. There had been four years of lies trapping her in a web that just got stickier.

  ER Drama

  Blood pressure is high and pulses are racing in these fast-paced, dramatic stories from Harlequin® Medical Romance™. They’ll move a mountain to save a life in an emergency, be they the crash team, emergency doctors or paramedics. There are lots of critical engagements amongst the high tensions and emotional passions in these exciting stories of lives and loves at risk!

  The Nurse’s Secret Son

  Amy Andrews

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  PROLOGUE

  DANIEL MONDAY frowned as the ringing of the bedside phone interrupted his familiar dream. The woman beside him protested sleepily as he rose on one elbow and plucked it off the cradle. The red digital figures of the clock told him it was three a.m.

  ‘Yes?’ He heard the tension that had crawled across his shoulders reflected in his voice. His blue eyes mirrored his concern. No one rang at three in the morning with good news.

  There was silence on the other end and Daniel felt his ire rise at being woken in the middle of the night by a prank call. ‘Is anyone there?’ he asked curtly.

  ‘Daniel…it’s me…Sophie.’

  Daniel felt the tension in his shoulder muscles intensify as the woman from his dream spoke into his ear. He rose slowly from the bed, careful not to disturb the leggy redhead, and wandered into the lounge room. What did Sophie want?

  ‘It’s three in the morning, Sophie—what do you want?’ He knew he sounded gruff but it was late and…he didn’t need this. He didn’t need a late-night trans-Pacific phone call undoing all the emotional distance he’d achieved. Hell! He’d moved to New York. Started a new life. He didn’t need her to unsettle his equilibrium again.

  ‘It’s John…’

  Daniel heard the catch in her voice and felt his heart start to pound. Something really bad must have occurred for her to be ringing at this time. ‘Grandfather? What’s happened to G.?’

  ‘He’s had a CVA.’

  ‘A stroke?’ The pounding was almost deafening now as he tried to recall everything he knew about cerebral-vascular accidents. ‘But he’s so fit and healthy.’

  ‘He’s eighty-four, Daniel.’

  ‘Which side is it? Is it bad?’ His medical training had taken over now, the questions he needed to ask to assess his grandfather’s condition forming clearly in his mind.

  ‘It was a right CVA. He’s totally paralysed down his left side. He’s stable but the next 48 hours will be critical. His neurologist won’t know the full residual effect until the swelling dissipates. He’s asking for you, Daniel. He’s very distressed.’

  Daniel clutched the phone, forcing himself to concentrate on the information and not to dwell on the emotion in Sophie’s voice. ‘So his speech is OK?’ asked Daniel, still in clinical mode. That was positive.

  ‘It’s not great. He’s very difficult to understand.’

  Daniel closed his eyes and imagined his strong, intelligent grandfather lying helpless in a hospital bed. How he would hate it.

  ‘Will you come home, Daniel?’

  As soon as I can arrange it. I’ll get on to the airline now. It’ll still probably be the day after tomorrow with the time difference.’

  A silence fell over the line. Was she thinking the same as him? Did John have that long? Would he get there in time?

  ‘Thank you, Daniel. If anyone can get him through this, you can.’

  He nodded, knowing she was right. He had always known he was the apple of his grandfather’s eye. Not seeing John was probably one of the hardest parts of his self-imposed exile.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Daniel said the words before he could stop himself. Before he could remind himself that he was still angry with her. But her voice sounded shaky and he knew how close she also was to John.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, and he could hear her sniff. ‘It’s been a shock and it’s awful to see him so…still. Max is very upset. He found John on the floor and he’s too young to understand. He keeps asking for his G.G.’

  Daniel felt his heart go out to his nephew. The poor little guy. He’d already lost his father. It must have been awful for a three-year-old to discover his normally active great-grandfather sprawled helplessly on the floor. Even from the other side of the world Daniel knew that Max and John had a very close relationship.

  ‘Where is the little tyke?’

  ‘He’s at Arabella with Sally.’

  Thank goodness for Sally. Daniel wondered with all the things that had happened in the last four years how the Monday family would have coped without their unflappable housekeeper.

  ‘Have you rung the rest of the family?’

  ‘Your parents are flying back from Europe as we speak.’

  ‘Good. OK,’ said Daniel. It was time for him to ring off but now her voice was in his ear again he found it an almost impossible task. Her voice stirred memories. ‘I should go—get things organised.’

  Sophie walked silently into Max’s bedroom and watched him sleep. She’d been by John’s side all day and she had missed her little man. She hoped to take him to see his G.G. as soon as possible to allay Max’s fears and she was certain it would also be a real boost for John.

  Not as much as Daniel’s arrival would be, however. The prodigal grandson would be greeted with much joy even if John Monday would be physically incapable of expressing it. She could feel her own anticipation building and had to remind herself how much Daniel had hurt her. How the hurt and anger had erected a wall of bitterness between them.

  Sophie stroked her finger down Max’s cute button nose and watched his chest rise and fall.

  ‘Daddy’s coming home, my baby,’ she whispered. ‘Daddy’s coming home.’

  CHAPTER ONE

  SOPHIE buckled a sleeping Max into his car seat and shut the door. She looked up at the leaden sky and thought, How appropriate! Still, at least the inclement weather had held off until now.

  Getting away had been just what she had needed. The stress of the last few days had taken its toll. Watching John slip in and out of consciousness had been very worrying.

  Worse was witnessing his frustration at being unable to communicate properly during his waking moments. For such an articulate man, being robbed of his speech had been the worst insult.

  She had gratefully accepted her mother-in-law’s invitation to get away to the holiday house for a couple of days. John’s condition had stabilised and now they were back from Europe she had been relieved from her bedside vigil.

  Max had needed this time away, too. He had been clingy and upset since his great-grandfather had been taken ill, and dividing herself between her son and John had been exhausting. He had needed reassurance and she had been able to give him that these last two days when it had been just the two of them.

  And then there was Daniel. His plane had touched down yesterday and Sophie had felt too wrung out and emotionally shot to deal with all their personal baggage as well. She was going to have to face
him soon but the lingering memory of the last time they’d seen each other and the shame and loathing it always aroused didn’t make her in any hurry.

  She threw her small bag into the boot of her car and let her hand linger on the bright yellow paintwork as she shut it. She loved her Beetle. Michael had bought it for her for their first anniversary.

  Michael. Sophie felt the familiar rush of mixed feelings rise like a tidal wave inside. The acute sense of loss and grief had started to dissipate but it occasionally still threatened to overwhelm her. She made a conscious effort to concentrate on the pink flower on her dashboard as she buckled up. She felt the wave ebb and sighed gratefully.

  Not for the first time, she wondered how different her life would be now if Michael hadn’t become a paraplegic and she had been emotionally free to marry the man she had truly loved, instead of settling for his brother. Guilt and pity and platonic love and long-standing friendship had been a strong catalyst and she’d been…happy.

  But with Daniel back on the scene, he would be a constant reminder of a tumultuous part of her life. There was bound to be a resurfacing of all the hurt and guilt and anger that had made their previously carefree relationship a minefield of recriminations.

  She reversed out of the garage into the steadily falling rain and thanked the gods for the divine weather of the last two days. Max loved visiting the holiday home. But, then, so did she. Set high on a hill overlooking the beckoning Pacific, a short drive from Noosa, who wouldn’t?

  They’d had a ball, building sandcastles on the beach and swimming in the luxurious pool. She had seen the worry in her son’s eyes ease and the incessant questions about John slow to a trickle as he’d realised that his world hadn’t changed too much.

  Of course, visiting his great-grandfather briefly at St Jude’s on their way to the coast had been very beneficial in this process. Max had been able to see for himself that John wasn’t dead, that they hadn’t been lying to him.

  Sophie’s eyes had welled with tears as Max had planted a kiss on John’s cheek and said, ‘I wuv you, G.G.’ She’d noticed tears shining in the old man’s eyes, too and she had swallowed hard and looked away, battling to regain her composure. John didn’t need his support structures falling apart. That’s why this break had been so important. To regroup. But now it was time to go home.

  She looked down at the sleeveless white vest she had thrown on after whipping off her bikini top down on the secluded beach. Her denim cut-off shorts were damp from having climbed into them while she’d still been wet from the ocean. There wouldn’t be much call for her to wear this outfit for a while.

  It was amazing that in just two days the sun had coaxed her slender arms and long legs to turn a lovely shade of caramel brown. It emphasised her dark blue eyes and the natural caramel streaks in her blonde hair.

  The car crawled down the winding dirt driveway as the rain and the encroaching dusk reduced visibility. The surface was a little slippery too and Sophie was grateful when the road flattened out. She rounded the last bend before the gate and slammed her brakes on hard, sliding to a halt.

  A ute blocked the road at a crazy angle, the driver’s door wide open. Sophie recognised the vehicle immediately as belonging to Charlie, Sally’s husband. The couple had kept house for the Mondays for two decades and Charlie had been responsible for the magnificence of the gardens, both here and at Arabella, the Monday family mansion in Brisbane.

  Sophie was momentarily puzzled. The car didn’t appear to be damaged so an accident seemed unlikely despite the atrocious driving conditions. A breakdown maybe? But…where was Charlie?

  And then she saw him through the gloom. A figure lying on the ground, face up, near a rear wheel.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered as her nursing instincts urged her body to action. She glanced at Max, who was still sleeping soundly. She grabbed her mobile, praying for decent coverage, and flung her door open. She went directly to her boot, pulled out the first-aid kit and bolted to Charlie’s side.

  The rain drenched her in seconds. It didn’t matter. Only Charlie mattered.

  ‘Charlie! Charlie!’ she called, as she knelt in the mud and shook him. She ignored the tiny hard rocks that dug into her knees like needles. She grabbed the torch from the first-aid kit and shone it in his face.

  ‘Damn,’ she swore, as the gravity of the situation became apparent.

  It was obvious Charlie had had a massive allergic reaction to something. He’d seemed perfectly fine ten minutes ago when she had waved him good bye, so it had to be anaphylactic shock. Bees. She remembered he was allergic to bees.

  His face had swollen dramatically, his eyes puffed to the point of being shut. His face looked grotesque. Ogre-like. The skin was shiny, stretched beyond its normal elasticity. He was flushed and had huge red welts covering his body.

  ‘Charlie!’ she called again as she ground her fist into his sternum, hoping to gain some response. He was unconscious. She felt his carotid pulse and was relieved to find he had one but unsurprised by its weak, erratic beat. He was fading. Fast.

  Sophie heard the distinctive raspy noise of obstructed breathing. She prised his mouth open and inspected his large swollen tongue. Soon it would totally occlude his airway.

  She dialled triple zero. ‘Yes, I need an ambulance,’ she said, raising her voice to be heard above the rain which was bucketing down, plastering her caramel blonde hair to her head and her clothes to her body.

  Sophie gave the details to the ambulance call-taker while monitoring Charlie’s pulse and breathing. As she talked she was thinking. Adrenaline. Didn’t Charlie usually carry the lifesaving drug?

  She looked around and noticed for the first time the contents of a small toiletry bag strewn on the ground around Charlie. Had he been trying to get to his vital injection when he’d lost consciousness?

  She nearly cheered out loud as she shone the torch on the Adrenipen, which had rolled out of Charlie’s reach just under the car. It was aptly named. Looking like an ordinary pen, inside the barrel a cartridge of adrenaline replaced ink. The nib was a fine needle. It was a simple single-use unit that anyone could be taught to use, even a child.

  She reached over him, extracting it and checking it was ready to go. Still talking to the ambulance call-taker, Sophie plunged the pen into his upper arm muscle and depressed the button on the end to deliver the entire contents into his system.

  Sophie was relieved to feel Charlie’s pulse strengthen but dismayed to hear that the inclement weather had stretched the ambulance service to its limit. Paramedics were being despatched but due to their relative isolation the ETA was twenty minutes. Charlie didn’t have twenty minutes.

  Just then a car engine and a set of headlights intruded into her frantic thoughts. Sophie could have cried she was that grateful. She watched the man get out of his car, the heavy rain obscuring his face, and waved him over.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked, kneeling beside her.

  Sophie turned to explain and stopped, the words dying on her lips. ‘Daniel?’ she shouted above the rain, drips of water hanging off her sodden fringe.

  ‘Sophie?’

  They stared at each other. Years of love, hate, anger, friendship, guilt, bitterness and…yearning filled the space between them.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. ‘I thought you were with John? He’s OK, isn’t he?’ Alarm raised her voice even further. He should be with John.

  ‘He’s fine. I came to talk to you. But,’ he said, looking down at Charlie, ‘it can wait.’ They clearly had an emergency on their hands. He had to concentrate on that. ‘What’s happened to Charlie?’

  Sophie made room for Daniel to assess their patient. Relief to have an intensive care paramedic by her side flooded through her. She could put all the other issues aside if he could. Charlie would die unless they did something.

  ‘Allergic reaction?’

  ‘I’m assuming it was a bee,’ she confirmed.

  ‘How long ago?’

&
nbsp; ‘Not sure. He was ten minutes ahead of me and I’ve been here close to ten minutes. Depends when he was bitten. Twenty minutes tops.’

  ‘He’s lucky you came along.’

  ‘He’s had a hit of adrenaline but he needs more.’

  ‘And some hydrocortisone and an antihistamine,’ he agreed, switching to clinical mode.

  ‘Oxygen would be handy, too.’

  ‘He’s barely breathing and cyanosed,’ Daniel observed as Sophie noticed the blue tinge starting to stain Charlie’s lips.

  Ambulance is still fifteen minutes away.’ she said, using the torchlight to consult her watch.

  Daniel had never wanted his trauma kit more. Here, on the roadside in the pouring rain with no equipment, no drugs and no shelter, there didn’t seem much hope. But he did have a fully qualified emergency nurse by his side, which was an asset he knew you couldn’t put a value on.

  He had to think of her like that. As a nurse. An asset. A card he held to help save Charlie’s life. Because if he thought of her as Sophie, his Sophie—the girl he’d taught to climb trees, to ride a bike and where to kick a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer—he would be of no use to Charlie.

  He shook his head, flinging water droplets into the air that joined the others belting down from the sky. Damn the rain! Damn the bad visibility. And damn Sophie. Damn her for still being as beautiful as she was in his dreams.

  Daniel put his head right down to Charlie’s mouth, concerned that the laboured breathing they were both so attuned to, despite the noise of the rain, had stopped. It had!

  ‘He’s stopped breathing.’

  ‘Damn it, Charlie! Don’t do this to us.’ Sophie gave their patient a shake. She pulled a resus mask out of her first-aid kit and fitted it over Charlie’s nose and mouth.

  ‘I don’t think you’re going to be able to oxygenate him that way,’ said Daniel, adjusting Charlie’s neck for her so she could hold the mask in place properly. ‘His airway is totally obstructed.’