"What do you think, Mrs. B?"
Noel proudly corralled the Clinical Lead and displayed jazz-hands in front of the finely decorated Christmas tree. The brazen symbol of the winter season that had crept upon them fit beautifully in reception but Connie was off-put by how quickly time had flown by; it seemed like only yesterday that she realised she carried a precious little life inside.
She hurried beyond the receptionist and steadily chased Jacob up the stairs with one hand on the bannister to assist her balance. "Staff Nurse Masters," she beseeched his name and prayed it would slow him down but to no avail. He had already scaled the staircase before she had even reached the halfway platform. "Jacob." All shift, they had played the real-life replica of cat and mouse, the way he persistently eluded her attempt to pin him down and rationalise the secrecy that shrouded her unborn child. Thankfully, he paused on the first floor and Connie breathlessly approached him from behind.
He pivoted on the spot, and his eyes artlessly fell to her mid-section. He wondered why and how he, and presumably the entire department, could have been so blind, in their failure to witness what should have been ostensive to doctors and nurses of their calibre. If anyone bothered to look closely, the baby bump was quite prominent, even if she had concealed it meticulously and Jacob estimated that she had reached the twenty-week mark. "Let's keep it professional, shall we?" His words were unnaturally lukewarm and very similar to the cold shoulder she had shown him once or twice before. He stood an entire head and shoulders above her and it was representative of the moral pedestal he possessed. "I haven't called Sam, if that's what you're worried about."
She refrained from the offensive response that such action wouldn't have been out of character for him. In any case, she had presumed as much, since she had received neither phone call, nor surprise visit from Sam. Grateful, Connie permitted him the briefest of smiles that was left unreturned. "Thank you." The act of kindness and loyalty was unexpected; she had deposited seventeen missed calls to his home screen in the space of the week, every one of them paid no mind. "Jacob, I know what you must think of me."
"You sure about that?"
There was such malicious intent from him that it scalded Connie. She presumed the source of his venom was the parallel to his own experience with Elle but couldn't help wonder if, perhaps, he was a little bit jealous, too. He had rushed out of the house before she could explain that the conception had been a fifteen minute blip of consciousness on her part, not a revival of an affair with the ever-irresistible Sam Strachan. "Listen, Sam and I -" There was an unquenchable desire at her core that willed her to attest her loyalty to him, possibly the first time Connie Beauchamp had ever felt it necessary to explain herself to anyone. "It only happened once. I was in a bad place -" she impulsively started to deceive him with what wasn't a lie in its entirety. The carnal moment had been fuelled with emotion, predominantly hers; the walls Grace ferociously shut her mother out with had fallen but Connie feared it was only a matter of time before she lost her balance in the act of motherhood; the department had been divided by the staff cuts that threatened lives and livelihoods; and Sam continually immobilised her authority with his position. He was the pariah of the E.D. and so was she, by mere affiliation.
"I don't need to hear this," Jacob spat. It was all too much for his lovesick heart to hear and, even more so, when he spied Elle mid-stride in their very direction. It was near-impossible to circumvent both of the women but he was determined to thwart Elle's attempts to pursue him at work.
"Jacob," Connie bemoaned, as she chased behind the man on a mission to escape. "Why does this bother you so much?" Their relationship had been thrown to the wolves weeks before she and Sam conceived another child, and jealously wasn't his style, or so he proclaimed. "You and I -"
He rotated his body to stare her down into a deep shame. "This isn't about you and me." His tone indicated that the underlay of his resentment should have been obvious to her. "You lied to Sam. Exactly the same way Elle lied to me. You separated your kid from their father before he or she was even born, man. That's what bothers me." Jacob vanished into the distance and Connie scowled, when her eyes met those of the consultant she disliked most. Guilt was the pertinent emotion Elle displayed, so much so that Connie walked by without sour repartee. This was one infected wound Elle would have to lick all by herself.
"Uh, Mrs. Beauchamp," Ethan anxiously trailed his superior, as she wandered past reception for the second time.
"What is it, Dr. Hardy?"
"Your endoscopy patient," he reminded her of the sketchy female patient she had treated, "She left."
"What?" Connie snarled, her tone harsher than it had been in recent weeks toward Ethan. He had advanced tremendously well from the nervous wreck that had written a letter in confession of his sin. Her spiritual reinforcement had been a literal lifeline. "Dr. Hardy, she is an extremely vulnerable patient. You do not simply allow her to walk out." She rolled her eyes, dissatisfied by how dense he could be.
Charlie happened upon her vitriol and raised an eyebrow, "With all due respect, Connie, she all but sprinted out the door after you abandoned her for whatever that little spat of yours with Jacob was about." Her eyes viciously narrowed at the accusatory tone of voice. It was one of those times when it seemed as if Charlie Fairhead was hidden in the walls, the eyes and ears of the hospital. "She waited for over thirty minutes and nearly bowled me over when she realised you wouldn't be there."
Connie shrivelled her nose and checked her wristwatch, convinced that it couldn't have possibly been thirty minutes, but the clock didn't lie and neither did Charlie Fairhead; and she had been determined to track Jacob down hours before she finally stumbled upon him. Embarrassed that her personal life had overshadowed her professionalism, Connie sheepishly loomed toward her most trustworthy paramedic. "Iain, I need you to send a unit back out to Turpine Road." His face shrivelled at her explanation, "My patient might be there."
"Might be?" Iain repelled backward, "We barely have enough units for the blue light calls, Mrs. Beauchamp, I'm sorry."
Connie prayed for what little patience she could muster. "Charlie, have Alicia cover my patients in minors." She was damned, if she would let her worth ethic be compromised. "I'll check the address myself."
With that, Charlie and Ethan - and Jacob, from a safe distance - watched her hastily exit the E.D. with her car keys in hand. All three had learnt it was better not to dispute the decision she deemed fit. Nearly two hours later, all three men bustled around the department, careful not to stray too far from the double-doored entrance, in case Connie surfaced. At last, Iain led the cavalry that returned the queen to her castle. "Connie Beauchamp, 49 years old. She fell one storey when the floorboards collapsed. Her fall was broken by an old mattress below and her neck was cleared at the scene."
"Connie." Jacob sprinted to her side and helped Iain accelerate her into bay 3, at the command of Ethan.
"GCS 13, she's hypotensive and tachycardic -" Iain reeled off the relevant statistics for the trauma team, who had waited on standby for the arrival of a second ambulance. The nine-month old child and mother Connie had rescued were already swarmed by their own team. Charlie, Ethan and Jacob followed Iain's countdown to move her onto a bed. "She also appears to be in her second trimester; estimated twenty weeks." That detail was the one to monopolise the attention of the team most.
"Twenty three." Connie removed her nasal mask, and breathlessly corrected him. "Twenty three weeks." She forced Charlie to look her dead in the eye and spoke as plainly as if he had known about the baby's existence from the start. "Get me an ultrasound, Charlie."
"She needs a CT scan," Elle advised, not fully focused on her own patient.
"No," Connie barked, typically oppositional of whatever input her competitor offered. "This baby comes first." She raised her voice to ensure Charlie listened to her above Elle, who questioned the likelihood of trauma to the head, due to the fall. "There's some tension in my lower abdomen but no cramps. It could be Braxton Hicks, it could be pre-term labour; I need that ultrasound."
In his experience, the former option was unlikely at such an early point but preferable to the latter option, which threatened the life of her unborn child. His experience also informed him that a distressed mother resulted in a distressed baby and Charlie nodded his head at Ethan, to confirm that he supported Connie. "Let's perform an ultrasound down here and then upstairs for that CT scan."