Finding Her Prince. Robyn Donald

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       Chapter Three

      Cindy had clocked in from lunch after her unexpected encounter with Nathan and was now back to work. The afternoon stop in the NICU was next on her work sheet. Other than Dr. Charming going out of his way to talk to her in the cafeteria, it promised to be an ordinary afternoon. Then everything changed. And it all happened so fast.

      One minute Cindy was running a long-handled dusting tool over the linoleum floor, the next Nathan was there with a tiny baby. He was calmly issuing orders like a general in the thick of battle.

      The common sense move was to get out of the way even if directions to do just that in the event of a medical crisis hadn’t been drilled into her. Cindy had been employed at Mercy Medical Center for nearly two years and had seen her share of medical situations but never one involving Nathan Steele. She knew what he did, had seen his medical practice partner in action, but she had never actually witnessed him saving a little life. And she had a bad feeling that her life was about to change. She couldn’t help thinking that darn raffle ticket had somehow altered fate to put her in his orbit.

      From her protected position against the wall she could hear the team talking and knew the baby boy was a twenty-five-weeker born just minutes ago by C-section. That made him about four months premature. He was already intubated, and they were using a bag to force air into his lungs. The person bagging the baby was her friend, Harlow Marcelli, who worked in the Respiratory Therapy department.

      Cindy couldn’t really see what the staff was doing to the baby, but Nathan was taller than everyone and the strain and intensity on his face were clearly visible. When bodies parted, she noticed that he was using two fingers on the tiny chest, compressions for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

      After listening with the stethoscope, he said, “Let’s get him on a ventilator. IV line stat and electrodes for EKG. I need to surf him.”

      She made a mental note to ask what that meant.

      Meanwhile, the troops moved to follow his orders, and moments later there were tubes and machines in place. Tracings on the monitors were blue, green and pink—each to distinguish a different function to be watched.

      “I need blood gases,” Nathan said.

      Instantly Harlow moved, like a runner off the block at the sound of the starting pistol. In a few minutes, Nathan looked at the readings and nodded.

      “He’s a fighter. I think the little gladiator is stable for the moment. Watch him. I want to know if anything changes. I’ll be right outside.” He looked at the staff who’d fought with him. “Great job, everyone. I’m going to talk to the dad. Mom’s still in recovery.”

      Cindy moved slightly to her right, to see through the double glass doors and out into the hall. The father was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, blonde and blue eyed, with terror all over his face. She couldn’t hear what was said, but as Nathan talked some of the fear drained from the man’s expression, leaving your garden-variety worry in its wake. When the man glanced over, she could also see love for the tiny little life fighting to survive. The gladiator, Nathan had called him.

      Just last night he’d told her that if he couldn’t see or touch something, he didn’t believe it existed. How could he not see the love in that father’s eyes?

      “He’s pretty awesome, isn’t he?”

      Cindy jumped at the sound СКАЧАТЬ