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‘Jacob’s pleased to be taking her home.’ What he really wanted to say was that last night had been special, but he wasn’t sure what the next step was. Six years alone was a long time, and it wasn’t easy to suddenly let someone into his space. Especially someone he’d loved as much as he’d loved Fiona. Still loved her.
The pen dropped through his fingers to the desk. How did people start again? Did Fiona even want to? Not once since she’d arrived had she given any indication that she did. But would she?
‘I’m sure he is. It has been a long few days for him, too.’ Fiona seemed very interested in a spot on the wall behind his head.
Her beautiful face tightened the knot in his stomach and made him forget what they’d just been saying. He searched the top of his desk, saw the file named ‘Sophie Clark’. Mentally he banged his head.
‘Jacob has been patient with his daughter, letting her vent her distress, understanding her need to fit in with her peers. His love for her shines through even in the most difficult moments.’ Tom stood up and reached for a medical book on top of the filing cabinet before adding, ‘You helped them both immensely.’
Over the days Fiona had drawn Sophie out of her shell, made her see that a scar did not mean the end of having fun with friends, or being whoever she wanted to be. Fi had shown her own brand of patience; taking her time, knowing when to be gentle, when to put a bit of bite in her words to make Sophie stop and think. It had worked. Anyone only had to look at Sophie to know that. Fiona had put everything into her case and the results were outstanding.
He stopped, his hand holding the book. She’d done that throughout the week with all her patients. She kept trying to do that with him, but he only blocked her. Why wasn’t it as easy for him to tell her that by coming here she’d helped him finally come to terms with Liam’s death? That he’d missed her and wanted her back in his life? Why was everything so damned hard?
Loud knocking at the door jerked his mind back into the real world. Sophie and her dad were here.
‘Hi there, Dr Tom, Fiona.’ Sophie bounced into the room ahead of her father and dropped onto a chair.
The change from the shy, sad teenager he’d met a few weeks ago still astonished him. While Sophie’s face remained swollen, and the bruising had turned a grey-yellow shade, it wasn’t yet apparent how much difference the surgery would make to her appearance.
Sophie babbled on. ‘Fiona, I’m going to be a teacher when I’ve finished school. I just loved looking after those little kids. They’re so cute. It’s cool fun reading stories and making up games to play with them. And they’re so honest. They talk about their scars like there’s no big deal.’
Fiona raised a thumb in acknowledgement. ‘Aren’t they right about that? It’s what’s on the inside of a person that really counts. All the good stuff. And you’ve got that in bucketloads.’
Tom tensed. His feelings for Fiona had always been strong. He’d loved her so much. His gaze shifted to her, watched her face become animated as she listened to Sophie’s excited chatter. And his heart began breaking again. He still loved Fi just as much as he always had. Maybe even more. How did he convince her to stay and try again? He swallowed. Clenched his hands so that the nails dug into his palms.
And looked up to find Fiona focused on Jacob, who was telling her, ‘Much like yourself, Dr Fraser. I want to thank you so much for what you’ve achieved with my daughter. And I’m not talking about the surgery—although we’re very grateful for that, of course.’ Jacob’s smile could have lit up the whole village.
She looked uncomfortable, being thanked for something she’d trained for and obviously enjoyed doing. All the reward any doctor really wanted had to be the eagerness for life that now glowed in Sophie’s eyes. The girl had been through the school of hard knocks and come out the other side.
Fiona washed her hands. ‘Let me look at your face before you go. How far are you travelling tonight?’
‘Dad’s taking me to a posh restaurant in Christchurch and we’re going to stay at a big hotel. Then it’s all the way back to Timaru tomorrow.’
Tom’s attempt at a chuckle missed, big-time. ‘A posh restaurant? What happened to fast food?’
‘That’s where we’re really going. Dad’s been promising all week.’
Jacob raised an eyebrow. ‘Anything for a spot of peace.’
After a quick examination, Fiona told her, ‘Time to go home.’
Sophie threw her arms around Fiona and hugged her hard. ‘I’m going to miss you. Can I write to you and let you know what everyone at school says about my new scar?’
‘Of course you can. Send any mail here, and hopefully the office will know where to send it once I’ve decided what I’m doing next.’
Tom felt a shard of ice stab his heart. Reality was setting in. The end of the week loomed and so did Fiona’s departure.
Sophie grinned. ‘Don’t you have a cell phone so I can text you?’
Fiona tapped her forehead. ‘Duh, I’m always forgetting that I’ve got one, not having had one while I was overseas. No coverage in most of the places I’ve been.’
Tom grimaced as he watched his wife write down her number. He didn’t want her going back to those places. But it wasn’t up to him where she went, what she did.
‘Bye, Dr Tom.’ Sophie waved from the door.
Returning her wave, Tom slid further down in his chair. Tiredness crept over him. Not the usual raw ache to his body that lack of sleep and too much worry gave him, but a quiet, muscle-numbing tiredness. His eyes sagged shut. Sealing in images of Fi: in his arms last night, operating on a skin graft, laughing and playing lions with the children, crying over Liam’s photo.
Her voice came through the images, softly. ‘You look exhausted. I’ll see you back in surgery.’
As he dragged a hand over his face and sat up, he heard the office door click shut behind her. All he could think was that he wanted her back—so very, very much.
Fiona pushed the front door to the cottage shut and stood listening for any sounds that might indicate Tom had returned home. All day in Theatre he’d been abnormally quiet, preoccupied. Because of her? Last night?
She’d filled in the uncomfortable silence by explaining in depth to Evan the procedures she was performing. It was the second time Evan had come to observe.
Tom hadn’t turned up for the game of lions with the little ones. He hadn’t been in his office when they’d been called to talk to Shaun’s parents about his blood results. She’d had to wing that one alone.
The boy did have an underlying liver problem—one that meant more hospitalisation for the lad. She’d done her best to cover for Tom, explaining he was tied up with another patient and crossing her fingers that she wouldn’t get caught out in her fib.
But Mr and Mrs Elliott had been far too concerned about this new development with their son’s health to notice. They’d been stoic in their reaction to the news, almost as though they fully expected bad news all the time. Fiona had wanted to hug them both and tell the
m that with the right treatment and a lot of patience Shaun would eventually gain good heath. But who was she to make promises like that? Not when she knew intimately how children did die.
Instead she’d told them, ‘Shaun is in the best care with Tom as his paediatrician. You’d go a long way to find a better one, and he won’t hesitate to bring in the right specialists if they’re needed.’
Shaun’s father had sagged against his wife momentarily. ‘More double shifts at the factory, then. Just as well I work for a very understanding boss.’
‘Talk to Tom. He might be able to swing some funding. He understands your situation.’ Darn it—so did she.
As she’d left the shaken family a worm of an idea had begun wiggling around her mind. All to do with what she could achieve if she stayed around Hanmer Springs.
First she had to face Tom again. She’d fooled herself into thinking everything would be okay between her and Tom this week, at least as friends, if she gave him a few days to adjust to her presence. She’d really believed that, and after last night her hopes had soared beyond her expectations. But judging by his withdrawal this morning she couldn’t have been further from reality if she’d booked a trip to Mars.
Briefly she’d considered trying to find accommodation in the village, so that Tom could have his cottage to himself. But why bother? He spent most of his time at work—nothing new there. If they weren’t getting back together then they should finalise their break-up. There would only be the paperwork to do anyway.
Now her fingers shook as she poked at the fire, bringing it back to life in the chilly cottage. Then she plugged in the kettle. It could come to the boil while she took a very hot shower. Later she’d head into the village for a meal. Not that she felt at all hungry, but she had to go through the motions. And give Tom some space.
After her shower she rubbed at her skin with a towel, trying to remove the feel of Tom where he’d touched her last night. As her hand hovered over her stomach her blood slowed. Oh, my goodness! They hadn’t used any protection.
