A Mommy for Christmas Read Free Page B

she said over the weekend that he was the sort of man who wanted all the answers, and when I spoke to her yesterday after you’d discussed the operation with her she told me he’d want to know the truth.’
    â€˜How much of it?’
    â€˜Not enough to terrify him,’ she said, and something flickered in his eyes. ‘Just give him the bare bones, and let the oncologist and onco nurse fill him in on the treatment plan and likely course of events. It’s their department, not ours.’
    â€˜Is his wife here?’
    â€˜Not at the moment. She’s gone home—she’s coming back shortly.’
    â€˜Right. Where is he?’
    â€˜Bay two, bed four.’
    â€˜Notes?’
    She arched a brow and handed him the notes, and he took them and glanced at the results, then shut the file and walked away, pausing to wash his hands and rub them with alcohol gel. He took his ring off to wash it before putting it back on, and she was relieved to see that he was fastidious and she didn’t need to keep an eye on that, at least.
    But she couldn’t stop herself keeping an eye on that ring, and she found herself wondering about him again as he replaced it and twisted it round, just once, thoughtfully, before squaring his shoulders and heading towards their patient.
    Crazy. She was wondering altogether too much. She watched him walk up to Mr Symes and pull the curtain a little to screen him from his neighbour, then shake his hand, his face serious. He didn’t let go of his hand, though, didn’t distance himself as he delivered the news, and she stood there and watched the man’s face through the gap in the curtain as it all sank in, and wished it could have been different.
    He spent several minutes with him, and then came back to the nursing station, his eyes bleak.
    â€˜OK?’ she asked, and he nodded.
    â€˜It wasn’t exactly unexpected. He said he’d had an idea that was what it was, so he wasn’t expecting a miracle, but that sort of news is always a shock. I think he just needs time for it to sink in before we tell him much more, or it’ll go straight over his head.’
    â€˜We can go through it again. I’m sure we’ll have to, to answer all his questions.’ She sighed. ‘It’s such a waste. If only he’d reported his symptoms sooner, before it’d had time to metastasise.’
    â€˜But you don’t, do you?’ he said flatly. ‘Even if you know—even if you’re a doctor—you just assume it’s IBS or something you ate and it becomes part of life to have an irregular bowel pattern, because nobody wants to believe that it can be anything sinister.’
    There was something odd about his voice, and that bleak look in his eyes was even bleaker. He sucked in a breath and straightened up, his eyes going blank. ‘So—we need to contact the onco nurse and the oncologist, get some treatment set up for him asap.’
    â€˜I’ve done it,’ she told him. ‘The oncologist is on his way down. I’d like you to speak to him and tell him exactly what you’ve told Mr Symes, and I’d like you to be there when he talks to them. His wife’s on her way. I’ve asked her to join us, so she can be involved in the discussion.’
    He nodded. ‘Good. Thanks.’
    He was about to say something when she caught sight of the oncologist striding down the ward towards them, and she opened her mouth to greet him and was cut off by his exclamation.
    â€˜James? What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked, shaking his hand warmly.
    It was the first time she’d seen James smile with his eyes, and the change was astonishing. ‘Working—locuming, as of yesterday. How are you? I’d forgotten you’d moved up here. How’s it going?’
    â€˜Fine, great. What about you? I haven’t seen you for ages, not since—well, last September, I suppose. I