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‘We think he’s got glandular fever. If he has, adding in the fact that he’s underweight, then his recovery from today’s surgery is going to be a lot slower than expected,’ Fiona replied, barely keeping control of a sudden spurt of annoyance at these parents’ attitude. They hadn’t considered Shaun’s overall health, or how it could affect other children in the hospital.
Tom put a hand on Fiona’s arm, squeezed lightly in warning to take it quietly. ‘I’ll get one of the nurses to take some bloods and send them to the lab.’
Then Shaun’s mother said the only thing that could appease Fiona.
‘Please don’t think too badly of us. Shaun gets such a hard time at school about his deformed hand that we’d do anything to make it near to normal again. Some days I have to drag him to school, and it breaks my heart to force him out of the car and in through the gates.’
‘That’s why I am a plastic surgeon,’ Fiona muttered as she strode through the hospital with Tom. ‘It’s so hard on kids when their friends treat them differently.’
‘Is that why you chose this specialty in the first place?’ Tom peered down at her from his lofty height.
‘I don’t think I’d thought about it like that. The delicate work and amazing results fascinated me at first. The need to help children overcome their problems so they can cope with a difficult world came later.’
‘For me it’s the whole picture. Helping all the family. Take Shaun’s parents. They’re distraught with worry over not being able to do enough for Shaun. You can see the hurt in their faces.’
Fiona struggled with her sadness. ‘We know how that feels. We couldn’t do anything to save Liam.’
‘And we’re doctors.’
They stopped and turned to face each other. They both reached a hand to the other, their fingers interlinked in a gentle squeeze before letting go.
‘It was very hard to accept—all my training came down to absolutely nothing when I needed it the most.’ Fiona heard the tremble in her voice.
‘I think we both felt the same, and that’s possibly when we began going our separate ways.’ One of Tom’s eyebrows lifted in query. ‘That sense of being powerless seemed to flow over into every other part of our lives. No wonder we didn’t know what to do about our marriage. Does this answer your question about what went wrong?’
‘I’m beginning to see it now. It was a horrific time.’
They walked slowly, quietly, each lost in thoughts of that time. Then Tom forced his mind back to the present and his patient.
‘Mr and Mrs Elliot are struggling to pay for Shaun’s surgery. They work every hour they can to raise the money. They’ve given up holidays and other things to see he gets the treatment he needs.’
‘What about the public health system?’ Fiona asked. ‘He must qualify for that.’
‘He was on the waiting list.’ Tom felt a spurt of anger at the system. ‘This case is classified non-urgent, so Shaun would have had to wait up to two years.’
Fiona flicked her gaze around to meet his. ‘That’s crazy. Think of the damage done from other children tormenting him all that time.’
‘You don’t have to tell me a thing.’ Tom thought about Shaun’s parents and the anguish he’d seen on their faces when he’d first met them. Shaun came before everything else in their lives. A picture filled his head of Shaun’s dad, watching over his son early that morning before the boy was wheeled into Theatre. There had been tears in the man’s eyes, tiredness dragging at his large muscle-bound body from working long, hard hours.
These parents were always there for their son. Not after their jobs. Not after helping their colleagues. Before those things. Unlike him. He’d always put his career first. He’d believed that being a paediatrician warranted his total dedication. But had he had to put it before Fiona and Liam?
If he had the time again would he do it differently? Definitely. He’d hug Fiona and Liam both every morning and every night. He’d be there every night.
A pager buzzed, jerking Tom back to the corridor and to Fiona, walking beside him. He flipped it off his belt and read the message, trying to refocus his mind away from the startling revelation he’d just had. ‘Jarrod Harris wants to see me. I’m sure he’s going to try and persuade me to let him go kayaking with the other haemophiliacs tomorrow, broken arm and all. Hard to have to dampen his spirit.’
‘He’s a great kid. What are you going to say?’ Fiona asked.
‘Would I be unreasonable if I said no?’ His strides lengthened.
‘What about a tandem kayak?’
‘Water and a plaster cast don’t mix well.’
‘Clingwrap works wonders.’ She glanced at him. ‘If Jarrod hears about your reluctance to let him go he’ll be trying to prove just how confident he really can be.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ He pushed through a door and held it open for her. As she slid past him, he added, ‘You think I’m being unfair?’
‘Jarrod came here for new experiences, remember?’
‘I’m being responsible.’ Or over-protective? Again?
‘You’re being too careful. Again.’
Same thing as over-protective.
She hadn’t finished. ‘Give the kid a chance to work this out for himself with a few well-chosen facts thrown in by you. He’s old enough to be careful.’
‘Yeah, right. Careful enough to fall out of a tree.’
‘Do you buy cotton wool by the bale for these kids?’ The moment the words were out of her mouth she stepped back from him, her fingers touching her lips. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I feel for the boy and I want to put his case to you.’
Tom jammed his hands deep into his pockets. ‘I’m sure Jarrod’s quite capable of putting his own case, but since you have I’ll approve his trip. That make you feel any better?’ Actually, he liked that she cared enough to speak her mind.
‘I could take him, if you’d lend me your vehicle. Then I can keep an eye on things.’
He held down a laugh. She wouldn’t let up until she got what she wanted. ‘Medical staff will already be there, but maybe you could drop him off and stay until he’s on the water.’
He’d given in when he’d meant to keep Jarrod away from the river. The boy had come for fun, among other things, and who was he to stop him?
Fiona’s smile felt like a reward.
Fiona watched Tom stride away. He didn’t seemed too put out about Jarrod’s trip. He’d changed his stance quite quickly. She’d had a moment of panic when she made that thoughtless comment about the cotton wool, but Tom had shrugged it off.
She turned towards the staffroom and the outside door that led to the cottage.
‘Fiona?’ Tom called softly.
Had he changed his mind again? ‘Yes?’
‘Let’s have a meal in the village tonight. It would be fun to go out, and we really need to clear up a few issues.’
Go out with Tom? Yes, please. And sitting in a public place, surrounded by other people, would be far safer for her emotions than sharing his small kitchen, where tension sizzled between them.
‘Fiona?’ He took a step back towards her.
‘Yes, that would be fine.’ It would be marvellous. Her tummy did flips. Maybe they could relax with each other enough to talk openly about what went wrong. Then, maybe, she could move on and not look back.
Yeah, right. She was beginning to feel that she might never want to leave this place—and Tom.
‘Then I’ll see you later.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s ten to six. I’ll be another hour yet.’
When she lifted her eyebrows in enquiry, he added, ‘The joys of being the boss. There’s always plenty to do.’
‘Then I’ll find something to help out with until you’re ready.’
But first she’d take a shower and change her clothes. Not that she’d brought anything more elegant than well-worn jeans and faded shirts, but a clean set would be an improvement. And no doubt surprise Tom.
> Just before seven Tom went in search of Fiona. He’d had enough of paperwork, and as the thought of an evening with his ex-wife kept distracting his concentration he hadn’t got as much done as he’d have liked. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a blunder, suggesting a meal out together. They might end up arguing and dragging up the pain from the past.
A shiver ran down his back despite the warmth of his merino jersey. Maybe they should discuss legalising their separation over dinner. A divorce. The next shiver rocked him. Was that what he really wanted? Wanted or not, it had to be the next phase in their relationship. There was nowhere else to go with it. They’d gone the distance, even though it had been a very short marriage, and it hadn’t worked out. They were incompatible. Or were they? Strange, but he was enjoying having Fiona around the place—despite the sudden and difficult questions she occasionally threw at him. Face it: he had once loved Fiona deeply, so he had to have some residual feelings for her. But nothing as strong as he used to feel. Did it? He gulped. Surely he didn’t still love her? He shook his head. No, that notion was way outside the square.
