He grinned, reaching for the ignition, and then thinking better of it and leaning back in his seat, taking a sip from his own drink. ‘My pleasure. Anyway, I’m intrigued to know whether you’re actually going to drink that.’
Kate peeled the plastic top from her beaker, squinting at her drink. ‘Why, what have you put in it?’
‘Only what you asked for—an extra shot of espresso, whipped cream and caramel. Just one sugar, this time. It sounds...interesting.’
‘Ah. So you’re a “don’t put flavours in my coffee” type, are you?’ His medium-sized cup, alongside her large one, indicated that he probably was. Kate took a sip from her beaker and rolled her eyes in an expression of defiant bliss.
Ethan chuckled and started the car.
* * *
It had been a relief to tell Kate where he stood. Letting her know that Sam was the single most important thing in his life now and hearing her obvious acceptance of that had cleared away his doubts and allowed him to concentrate on the matter at hand.
A and E was crowded and so was the minor injuries clinic. Kate seemed to be sticking close by his side, nursing her arm against her chest, and Ethan reckoned it must be really hurting her. He decided on a quieter place, away from the noise and activity, and steered her towards the lift.
‘This is your office?’ She looked around as he opened the door and ushered her inside. ‘It’s very tidy.’
‘I don’t spend much time in here. Not much chance to make a mess.’ Ethan wondered what Kate thought of the straight lines and utilitarian order. Her own surgery was neat and comfortable but one wall broke the pattern, an exuberant mass of photographs, obviously added piecemeal as and when people provided pictures of the animals she’d treated.
It was a sobering thought. Last night, her free spirit seemed to have been crushed under the weight of shock and distress. This morning, it was as if she was undergoing some internal struggle. He’d seen flashes of that delicious exuberance, but she was still frightened and bemused, still trying to cope by putting everything back in its proper place.
‘Is this your son Sam?’ S
he was looking at the framed photograph on his desk, tucked neatly behind the phone.
‘Yes, that’s him. He’s five now.’ The framed photograph was just over a year and a half old, the last one that Jenna had taken of him, and Ethan had stuck a more recent one of Sam in the corner of the frame.
‘He’s a beautiful little boy.’ She was studying both photographs carefully. ‘You must be very proud of him.’
‘Yes, I am. He’s got a great sense of humour, and he’s kind.’ Sam’s dark hair and eyes were like Jenna’s.
‘Does he want to be a doctor when he grows up? Like his Dad?’
‘No, he has bigger fish to fry. He wants to be a superhero and save the world.’
She gave a little laugh, putting the photograph back down again, tilting it carefully so that it was in the exact same place she’d found it. ‘That’s close enough to being a doctor, don’t you think?’
Saving the world wasn’t exactly Ethan’s thing; he confined himself to doing the best he could. The photo on his desk was a reminder of that. Sam was smiling at his mother. They’d been a happy family. Two weeks later, Ethan had left for work, too hurried to do anything other than take Jenna’s assurances that the urinary infection she had was a little better. That night he’d stayed at work and the following day Jenna had been taken into hospital. By that time, the sepsis had too tight a hold on her.
‘Let’s have a look at your arm, then.’ He turned his mind to things that were still possible to change, watching as Kate pulled her jacket off painfully.
She got tangled in the sweater as she pulled it over her head, and he leaned forward to help. As he pulled it off her arm, she caught her breath in pain.
‘That’s really hurting you.’
She nodded, as if making a shameful admission. ‘It does hurt a bit.’
‘Let me see, then.’ He gently rolled up the sleeve of her shirt. The arm was swollen from wrist to elbow, the skin bruised and inflamed.
‘And you didn’t notice this last night?’ Ethan couldn’t help the gentle reproach.
‘It hurt a bit then, too.’
And she’d pretended that it was nothing, the same as Jenna had. The thought clawed at his heart.
‘All right. I’m going to want an X-ray.’
‘It’s not broken.’