Capturing the Single Dad’s Heart (2 page)

Though maybe he was only being scratchy with her because he was so frustrated with how things were going outside work, and that wasn't fair of him. It wasn't Erin's fault that his ex-wife had dropped a bombshell on him only a week before he'd started his new job and he'd been running round like a headless chicken ever since, trying to sort everything out. And it definitely wasn't Erin's fault that he hated himself for being such a failure.

‘I'm sorry,' he said. ‘You're right—it's like the new boy stamping everywhere to try and make an impression.'

‘I didn't say that.'

‘You were thinking it, though.'

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘Can you blame me?'

‘No—and actually, it isn't that at all. I apologise. I shouldn't bring my baggage to work.'

The hostility in her grey eyes melted in an instant. ‘Apology accepted. And sometimes,' she said quietly, ‘it helps to have someone to talk to—someone who isn't involved with the situation and won't judge you or spread gossip.'

She was offering him a shoulder to cry on, even after he'd been combative towards her in a meeting involving what was clearly her pet project? That was unbelievably generous. Then again, he wasn't that surprised. He'd already noticed Erin's name at the top of all the internal memos organising a team night out or a collection for someone's birthday or baby shower. He had a feeling that she was one of life's fixers.

Well, his life couldn't be fixed right now. He wasn't sure if it ever could be. ‘Thanks for the offer,' he said, ‘but I don't really know you.'

She shrugged, but he could see the momentary flash of hurt on her face. ‘Fair enough. Forget I said anything.'

He felt like a heel, but he couldn't even offer anyone friendship at the moment. Not until he'd sorted things out with Caitlin and established a better relationship with her. And he had no idea how long that was going to take. Right now it felt like it was never going to happen.

‘Let's do the ward rounds,' he said. ‘We have Kevin Bishop first. He's forty-five, but he has the spine of a sixty-five-year-old—it's a really bad case of stenosis.'

‘Is that from normal wear and tear,' she asked, ‘or is it job-related?'

‘Probably a bit of both. He's a builder. He has two worn discs, and the sheath around his spinal cord has narrowed,' Nate explained.

‘Which would put pressure on his spinal nerves—so it sounds as if the poor guy's been in a lot of pain,' she said, her face full of sympathy.

‘He's been taking anti-inflammatories,' Nate said, ‘but he says they don't even touch the pain any more.'

‘So you're looking at major surgery and weeks of rehabilitation?' she asked. ‘If so, Mr Bishop could be a candidate for the sensory garden.'

‘No, no and no,' Nate said. ‘He won't be here for long. I'm planning to use an interspinous spacer device this afternoon rather than doing a laminectomy.'

‘I've read about that,' she said. ‘Isn't there a larger risk of the patient needing to have surgery again in the future if you use a spacer rather than taking a slice of bone off the area putting pressure on his spinal cord?'

‘Yes, but there's also a much lower risk of complications than you'd get from taking off the bit of bone that rubs and causes the pain, plus it's just a small incision and he'll be out again in a couple of days. I'd normally use the procedure for older patients or those with higher risks of surgery,' Nate said. ‘Kevin Bishop is still young but, given that he's overweight and has high blood pressure, I think he's higher risk.'

‘Fair enough. So how exactly does the spacer work?'

Nate could see that she was asking from a professional viewpoint rather than questioning his competence; he knew that Erin was a neurologist rather than a surgeon. ‘We'll put a spacer into his lower vertebrae. It'll act as a supportive spring and relieve the pressure on the nerve. It gives much better pain relief than epidural steroid injections, plus the spinal nerves aren't exposed so there's a much lower risk of scarring.' He paused. Maybe this would be a way of easing the tension between them after that meeting. ‘Provided Mr Bishop gives his consent, you can come and watch the op, if you like.'

‘Seriously?' She looked surprised that he'd even offered.

‘Seriously.' Was she going to throw it back in his face, or accept it as the offer of a truce?

‘I'd really like that. Thank you.' She smiled at him.

Again Nate felt that weird pull of attraction and reminded himself that this really wasn't appropriate. For all he knew, Erin could be in a serious relationship. Not that he was going to ask, because he didn't want her to think that he was interested in her. He didn't have the headspace or the mental energy right now to be interested in anyone. His focus needed to be on his daughter and learning how to be a good full-time dad to her. ‘Uh-huh,' he said, feeling slightly awkward, and went with Erin to see his patient.

He introduced her swiftly to Kevin Bishop.

‘I've reviewed the scans of your spine, Mr Bishop, and your blood tests are all fine, too, so I'm happy to go ahead with surgery today,' he said. ‘Would you mind if Dr Leyton here sits in on the operation?'

‘No, that's fine,' Mr Bishop said, looking relieved. ‘I'm just glad you're going to do it today. I'm really looking forward to being able to tie my own shoelaces again, and to stand up without my legs tingling all the time.'

‘It's been that bad?' Erin asked sympathetically.

Mr Bishop nodded. ‘The pain's been terrible. Rest doesn't help and the tablets don't seem to work any more. My doctor said I'd have to have surgery—I was dreading the idea of being stuck in hospital for weeks, but Mr Townsend said that I'd only be in for a few days.' He gave her a weary smile. ‘I just want to be able to play football with my kids again and get back to my job.'

‘The surgery will make things much better,' Nate promised. ‘I know we talked about it before, but I'd like to run through the situation again to make sure you're happy about what's happening.'

Mr Bishop nodded.

‘Basically what happens is that the nerves in your spine run down a tunnel called the spinal canal. You've had a lot of wear and tear on your spine, and that makes the spinal canal narrower; that means it squeezes the nerves when you stand or walk, which is why you're getting pain. What I want to do is put a spacer between two of the bones in your spine, and that will relieve the pressure and stop the pain. Now, you haven't eaten anything since last night?'

‘No, though I'm dying for a cup of tea,' Mr Bishop admitted.

Nate smiled. ‘Don't worry, you'll get your cup of tea this afternoon. I'll get the pre-op checks organised now and I'm going to operate on you at two. The operation's going to be under a local anaesthetic, but you'll also be sedated so you won't remember anything about it afterwards. You'll be lying face down during the operation on a special curved mattress; that will reduce the pressure on your chest and pelvis, and also give me better access to your spine.'

‘How long will the operation take?' Mr Bishop asked.

‘It should be about an hour or so, depending on what I find—but from your scan it looks pretty straightforward.'

‘That's great.' Mr Bishop smiled. ‘I still can't believe I'll be able to go home again in a couple of days. I thought I'd be stuck in here for weeks.'

‘You're not going to be able to go straight back to work or to drive for the first few weeks after the operation,' Nate warned, ‘and you'll need to do physiotherapy and exercises. They'll start about four weeks after the op—and in the meantime it'll be better for you to sit on a high, hard chair than a soft one with a low back.'

‘And no bending or lifting?'

‘Absolutely. Listen to whatever the physiotherapist tells you,' Nate said. ‘This is a newish procedure, Mr Bishop. I do need to tell you that, because it's so new, there's a very small possibility the spacer might move in the future or need replacing.'

‘If it takes the pain away, I can cope with that.'

Nate talked Mr Bishop through the likely complications and all the possible consequences of the operation, then asked him to sign the consent form. ‘I'll see you later this afternoon,' he said with a smile.

* * *

Later that afternoon, watching Nate perform in Theatre, Erin was spellbound. His instructions to Theatre staff were clear, he was polite as well as precise and he talked her through every single step of the operation, explaining the methodology and what it would do for the patient.

With their patient and in Theatre, he was a completely different man, she thought. Not the cool, critical and judgemental stranger he'd been in the meeting. This man had deft, clever hands and really knew his stuff—and he treated everyone around him as his equal. She noticed that he made the time to thank every member of the team at the end of the operation, too.

This Nate Townsend, she thought, was a man she'd like to get to know.

And she understood now why so many of her colleagues had dubbed him the sexiest surgeon in the hospital. The only bit of his face she could see clearly was his eyes—a gorgeous, sensual dark blue. And the combination of intelligence and clever hands made a shiver of pure desire run down her spine.

Which was totally inappropriate.

She was here to observe, not to go off in some ridiculous, lust-filled daydream.

‘Thank you for letting me observe, today,' she said when they'd both scrubbed out. ‘That was really useful. I can talk to patients with spinal stenosis about their options with a lot more authority now.'

‘No problem. And if you have any questions about the procedure later, come and find me.'

He actually smiled at her, then, and she caught her breath. When he smiled like that—a smile that came from inside, more than just politeness—he was utterly gorgeous.

And he was probably involved with someone. Given that he kept everyone at a distance, she'd bet that his home life was full of complications. And none of those complications were any of her business.

‘See you tomorrow,' she said, feeling slightly flustered.

‘Yeah.'

* * *

Once Nate was happy that Kevin Bishop and his other patients from Theatre that afternoon had settled back on the ward and there were no complications following surgery, he finished writing up his notes. And then he braced himself for the drive to his mother's house.

Guilt flooded through him. What kind of a father was he, to dread picking up his own daughter? But being her full-time parent—the one with total responsibility—was a far cry from being the part-time dad who saw her for a few snatched days in school holidays and odd weekends. Before Caitlin had come to live with him, they hadn't spent long enough together at a stretch to run out of things to talk about. Now, it was the other way round: he had all the time he could've wanted with her, and not a clue what to say.

As he'd half expected, Caitlin wasn't in the mood for talking.

‘How was your day?' he asked as he pulled away from the kerb.

Her only answer was a shrug.

Great. What did he ask now? Clearly she didn't want to talk about school or her friends—he didn't even know whether she'd made friends, yet, because she always sidestepped the question whenever he asked.

Food would be a safe subject, surely? ‘Do you fancy pizza for dinner tonight?'

A shake of her head. ‘Your mother already cooked for me.'

As part of her protest about being forced to move from Devon to London, Caitlin had shut off from Sara, her paternal grandmother; she avoided calling Sara anything at all, just as she'd stopped calling Nate ‘Dad'. He had no idea how to get round that without starting another row—and he was trying to pick his battles carefully.

By the time he'd thought of another topic, they were home. Not that Caitlin considered his house as her real home, and he was beginning to wonder if she ever would. Though neither of them had any choice in the matter.

‘Do you have much homework?' he tried as he unlocked the front door.

‘I've already done it. Do you have to be on my case
all
the time?' she demanded.

It took her five seconds to run up the stairs. Two more to slam her bedroom door.

And that would be the last he saw of her, that evening.

He didn't have a clue what to do now. Stephanie had made it clear that it was his turn to deal with their daughter, and being a full-time dad was as much of a shock to the system for him as it was for Caitlin. Of course he understood that it was hard starting at a new school and being away from the friends you'd known since you were a toddler, but Caitlin had been in London for a month now and things still hadn't got any better.

He'd rather face doing the most complicated and high-risk spinal surgery for twenty-four hours straight than face his teenage daughter. At least in Theatre he had some clue what he was doing, whereas here he was just a big fat failure. He didn't know what to do to make things better. When he'd tried asking her, she'd just rolled her eyes, said he was clueless, stomped upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.

Why was parenting a teenage girl so much harder than the job he'd trained for more than ten years to do?

And how was he ever going to learn to get it right?

He grabbed his mobile phone and headed out to the back garden. Hopefully Caitlin would be less likely to overhear this particular conversation if he was outside; he didn't want her to misunderstand and think he was complaining about her. And then he called his ex-wife.

‘What now?' was Stephanie's snapped greeting.

He sighed inwardly. Caitlin had definitely inherited her mother's hostile attitude towards him. ‘How are you, Steph?'