Jennifer Taylor - Gina's Little Secret

As a doctor, he knew it was possible. False memories could be implanted in a person’s mind; it was a proven fact. But why would he want to do such a thing? Surely he wasn’t so desperate to ease his loneliness that he would choose to latch onto a total stranger?

That was another memory, the fact that he was lonely. Marco let it settle in his mind then dismissed it as he did every single time. He wouldn’t allow himself to wish for more than he had. He’d had everything a man could have dreamed of once and lost it. He couldn’t and wouldn’t go through that agony again.

His heart began to pound as he looked at the woman standing beside the bed. Maybe he couldn’t recall where they had met but he knew— he just knew —that they had! In that second he realised how vital it was that he regain his memory as quickly as possible. He had to find out why Gina was pretending not to know him.

The evening wore on, bringing with it the usual mix of the mundane and high drama. Gina had worked on AAU for almost two years and had seen it all before, but that night seemed very different from all the others. She was so conscious of Marco’s presence that her senses seemed acutely heightened. The noise level was extremely high; the number of visitors per bed did need reducing; waiting times were too long—people needed to be seen by a specialist far sooner than was currently happening.

She sent Julie off to clear the ward of excess visitors. Two per bed was the designated limit and she intended to stick to that. While Julie was doing that, she phoned all the departments that were supposed to be sending someone down to see a patient, refusing to accept the usual excuse that they were short of staff. As she politely reminded them, AAU was for acute cases only. It wasn’t an overflow for the various wards. She had just finished when she heard a monitor beeping and Rosie came rushing into the office.

‘The man in bed seven can’t breathe!’ the student gabbled at her.

‘Have you put him on oxygen?’ Gina asked, getting up. She didn’t say anything when Rosie shook her head. She would run through the emergency procedures again with her later, after they had dealt with this crisis. Hurrying into the ward, she picked up the oxygen mask and swiftly fitted it over the patient’s nose and mouth. ‘Just try to breathe normally, Mr Jackson. That’s it, nice and steady now. Good. You’re doing great.’

She checked the monitor, noting that his pulse rate was much faster than it should have been and that his blood pressure was too low. Philip Jackson was forty-four years old and had been admitted via ED after complaining of being short of breath. His symptoms had disappeared since he had been on the unit and Miles Humphreys had concluded that the man had suffered nothing more serious than a panic attack. Miles had overruled her suggestion that Philip should remain there overnight for monitoring and had discharged him. Philip had actually been waiting for his wife to collect him when this had happened.

Gina bit back a sigh as she turned to Rosie. Miles wasn’t going to be happy about being proved wrong. ‘Can you ask the switchboard to page Dr Humphreys, please?’

She picked up the patient’s notes as Rosie hurried away. The best way of dealing with Miles, she had found, was to be totally clued up about every aspect of a case. There was nothing of any significance in the notes that ED had made so she delved further into the file, frowning when she discovered that Philip Jackson had undergone surgery to repair a hernia three months earlier. It hadn’t been included in the patient’s recent history, but could it have a bearing on his present condition?

Miles arrived a few minutes later. Gina’s heart sank when she saw him striding down the ward because she knew he was going to give her a hard time. Why wouldn’t he just accept that she didn’t want to go out with him? You couldn’t make someone want to be with you, as she knew from experience. Unbidden her gaze went to Marco and she felt heat flow through her when she discovered that he was watching her. She hurriedly turned away, forcing herself to concentrate as Miles demanded to know what had happened.

‘Mr Jackson has had difficulty breathing again.’ She kept her gaze on the patient but she could feel Marco’s eyes boring into her back. Had he remembered who she was? she wondered sickly. It was obvious that his memory was starting to return, so it could happen any time. What was she going to say if he asked her about her life? Could she simply ignore Lily’s existence, pretend that she didn’t have a daughter?

‘I asked you a question, Sister. If it isn’t too much to expect then I would like an answer.’

The sarcasm in Miles’s voice cut through her musings and Gina jumped. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’

Miles’s expression darkened. ‘I asked if any of the staff were present when the patient started to complain of shortness of breath.’

‘No,’ she replied truthfully. ‘Rosie came to fetch me when the monitor started beeping.’

‘I see. It appears that things are getting rather slack around here. If you’d been keeping a closer eye on your patients, Sister Lee, this might not have happened.’

Gina forbore to say anything. She knew that Miles would love it if she argued with him. The fact that he had discharged Philip Jackson didn’t matter, it seemed. She waited silently while Miles examined him. Although Philip was responding to the oxygen, his blood pressure was still low. He also complained of having a pain in his chest which was worse every time he breathed.

‘Keep him on oxygen for now and we’ll see how he goes,’ Miles instructed after he’d finished. ‘I’m still not convinced it isn’t another panic attack.’

‘According to his notes, Mr Jackson had surgery to repair a hernia almost three months ago,’ Gina pointed out levelly. ‘Could that have any bearing on what’s been happening recently?’

‘Certainly not.’ Miles’s tone was scathing. ‘If there was a problem following surgery, it would have shown up before now. I suggest you stick to nursing the patients, Sister, and leave the diagnoses to those of us who are qualified to make them.’

Gina’s face flamed. It was galling to be spoken to that way. The visitors at the next bed had obviously heard what Miles had said because she could see the sympathy on their faces. However, before she could say anything another voice cut in.

‘Sister has raised a valid point. It is an established fact that a pulmonary embolism can occur up to three months following surgery.’

Gina swung round, her eyes widening when she saw the grim expression on Marco’s face. He wasn’t looking at her, however; he was staring at Miles. His deeply accented tones were icy as he continued.

‘I suggest you send the patient for a scan to rule out that possibility.’

A rush of heat ran up Miles’s neck. ‘I assure you that there is no need for you to get involved, Mr … um …’ Miles stopped, obviously at a disadvantage because he didn’t know Marco’s name.

‘Andretti. Dr Andretti,’ Gina told him, placing just enough emphasis on Marco’s title that Miles couldn’t fail to notice it. ‘Dr Andretti is an expert on trauma care,’ she added sweetly.

‘Oh, I see.’ If anything, Miles went even redder. ‘Thank you, Dr Andretti. Rest assured that I shall bear your advice in mind,’ he blustered.

Marco’s expression didn’t soften. ‘You would be better off sending the patient to Radiology rather than waste time thinking about it. If it is a pulmonary embolism then time is of the essence.’

‘I … ahem … yes, of course.’ Miles hurriedly scribbled an instruction to that effect and thrust it into Gina’s hands. ‘See that Mr Jackson is sent for a scan immediately, Sister.’