Amy Ruttan - Safe in His Hands

“Mentlana, Genen, this is Dr. Devlyn. He’s the specialist I told you both about.”

Genen stood and came over to grasp Quinn’s bad hand, shaking it firmly. Quinn didn’t wince, even though the man had a strong grip.

Quinn approached Mentlana and was surprised by her measured gaze. This woman was picking him apart with her eyes and he felt like a slab of meat.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tikivik.”

“And you, Dr. Devlyn. Charley wasn’t wrong. You are cute.”

He arched his brows and held back the grin threatening to erupt.

“Ahem.” Charlotte cleared her throat from behind him and now it was his turn to stifle a laugh. Craning his neck, he looked back at her. She was conveniently staring at the ceiling, but her blush was evidence of her embarrassment. He liked the way the pink bloomed in her creamy white cheeks.

Focus .

“Well, thank you for the compliment. I’d like to do an ultrasound, now, if that’s okay?” he asked, steering the subject back to the examination. But he planned to use Mentlana’s little disclosure of information to get him a manlier color of scrubs. Right now he had a job to do. Now was not the time for frivolity or personal feelings. “Do you have a full bladder?”

“When don’t I?” Mentlana replied. “Please, before I burst.”

“I’ll get the ultrasound machine,” Charlotte said.

Charlotte wheeled the machine over and then dimmed the lights, refusing to meet his gaze.

So, I still make her uncomfortable .

That thought secretly pleased him.

Getting to work, he uncovered Mentlana’s belly. “Sorry. This is a bit cold.”

“That’s not cold, Dr. Devlyn. Outside is cold.”

He grinned, but didn’t engage in any further pleasantries. He had a consult to complete. Quinn placed the probe against her abdomen and began to adjust the dials to get a clearer picture. Genen leaned forward, his eyes transfixed on the image on the monitor.

“Well, from what I can see, your placenta, though previa, is fully attached and not bleeding.”

“That’s a relief.” Genen kissed his wife’s hand. “And the baby?”

“The bleeding is not being caused by the baby. I have to run some more tests to determine the severity of the CCAM, but other than that, his heart is beating and he’s moving well. His other organs are forming satisfactorily for a gestational age of twenty-one weeks.”

“Thank you, Dr. Devlyn. I appreciate it,” Mentlana said.

“I want you on bed rest, though.” He turned to look at Charlotte. “I’m sure Dr. James will agree with my assessment.”

“Yes,” Charlotte said. “I think we’ve had this discussion before.”

“For how long?” Mentlana’s gaze traveled nervously between him and Charlotte.

“For the remainder of your pregnancy. With your pulmonary embolism and placenta previa alone, it’s for the best,” Charlotte said, brushing back Mentlana’s hair.

Mentlana nodded. “Okay.”

“We’ll call you when I’m through analyzing your labs and diagnostic images.” Quinn wiped the sonogram gel from her abdomen and then turned back to the machine. “Until then, take it easy.”

“Sounds good, Doctors.”

Quinn saved various shots of the baby’s heart and other organs to determine whether or not he would have to do the surgery in utero. It would be better if he could wait until the baby was full term to deliver it via Caesarean and do the operation on the newborn.

He’d done that surgery several times since his hand had been damaged.

If the baby could wait until its birth, by then he might be able to figure out a way to get Mentlana to Mount Hope, where his surgical team could assist him. Even Iqaluit would be better than here.

Charlotte may be a competent physician, but she was no surgeon.

She could’ve been great if she’d only come to New York with me .

Quinn stood up and left. He knew Charlotte followed him, and so did the collective gaze of the mob huddled in the waiting room as they passed to get to Charlotte’s office.

Once they were behind the closed doors he wandered over to the window and wrinkled his nose in dissatisfaction at the swirling snowstorm, which had caught up with them.

Then again, it would make a nice photograph and he was glad he’d brought his camera. Since his father’s death, he had been indulging in his secret passion for photography. Something his father had always stated was a waste of time.

He was on sabbatical, as his father had just died when Charlotte had called, and he’d planned on taking a trip to India to photograph scenery. Instead, he was up in the High Arctic and not getting paid much to be there.

The money didn’t matter to him.

His father would roll over in his grave if he knew, and he already knew how his mother felt about this excursion.

“You don’t have time for a charity case, Quinn. You have to prepare to take your father’s place!”

God. He hated winter. It probably stemmed from the fact he’d been forced into endless hours of hockey practice by his father, when all Quinn had wanted to do was take photography lessons. Photography hadn’t been manly enough for his father, whereas hockey was the sport of champions.

“Don’t they have winters in Toronto?” Charlotte asked, breaking the silence.

Quinn glanced back at her. “Pardon?”

“The way you’re scowling at the snow.”

Quinn shrugged. “You know I hate winter.”

“How could I forget?”

“I’m not the only Canadian who does. Think about all the snowbirds that go to warmer climes every winter.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “You want me to picture you as an old man in a RV?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

“I’m sorry about the scrubs.” A devilish smile played across her lips.

“You’re not in the least. You enjoyed watching me give the locals a fright.”

Charlotte laughed and he couldn’t help but join in. “I’ll see if George has any spares.”

“Much appreciated.”

“What do you think of Mentlana’s condition?” she asked, mercifully changing the subject.

“Your assessment is correct, though I don’t know the severity of the CCAM yet.”

“How long will it take you to determine that?” she asked, her voice tight and her lips pursed together in a thin line. He could see she was stressed about Mentlana.

Charlotte always got over-attached to people.

“A few days. I want to be absolutely certain. I sent the scans to your computer and I’ll email them to my laptop later. I have an internet stick, because I figured there’s no Wi-Fi up here.”

Charlotte nodded. “Wise move.”

Quinn moved away from the window and took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. As soon as he sat down he noticed the little frame with the sonogram picture was gone. He didn’t search the room for it as he didn’t want Charlotte to know he’d seen it. Apparently she’d hidden it. It irked him that she was hiding it from him.

Like it had never existed.

Like they had never existed. And that saddened him.

He shook that thought away.

“I’m glad it was just an irritated cervix.” Charlotte sat across from him, her back ramrod straight, her fingers laced in front of her.

“There are no pools of blood darkening on the scans. The fetus is thriving, despite the CCAM. I take it they knew the gender beforehand. I hope I didn’t make a blunder with that.”

“They knew.”

Quinn nodded. “I’m hoping we can get Mentlana to twenty-five weeks before I even think of doing in utero surgery to repair the lungs—that way, if we have to deliver, the baby has a better chance of survival.”