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Tom left the dining room and went to find Fiona. He knew he’d mishandled the situation. He should have returned her calls. At least one of them anyway. The fact that he didn’t want her to hear his anguish in his voice was an excuse. Not a good one. She’d have known how he felt watching his goddaughter struggling for her life.
Why did he find it so hard to just come out and say what he felt? Had he not finally acknowledged to himself that he wanted Fiona back in his life? He needed thumping over the skull with a sledgehammer. He’d missed one opportunity after the other this past week.
‘Dr Saville, can we have a word about Shaun’s condition?’ Shaun’s parents stood in front of him. ‘We’re really worried about these latest results.’
Shaun’s mother started crying, and Tom swore under his breath. It wasn’t these people’s fault that he’d made a hash of his personal life. They were worried sick about their son, and entitled to his attention, but just for once he’d like to ask them to come back later—when he’d sorted his life out. On a long breath he spoke to them. ‘Come along to my office and I’ll run through everything with you.’
And I’ll see Fiona next.
Sounds familiar, mocked a little voice in his head. His jaw ached as he tried to concentrate on listening to the parents’ concerns and tried to allay their fears. They had a million questions that went on and on. Why couldn’t he focus on them? Because Fiona kept jarring his mind. He had to deal with Mr and Mrs Elliott first, then he’d be free to do what he really wanted to. Find Fiona.
Putting his patients before anyone else again. Putting Fi second.
The words slammed into him. How often had Fiona said that to him in the past? He knew it was true. Work always came first, even when it wasn’t urgent.
In the background he heard a vehicle on the drive and glanced out of the window. A taxi slowed, then sped up, heading to his cottage.
His heart banged against his ribs. His mouth dried. No, the taxi couldn’t stop at the cottage. It did. The driver got out and picked up a pack from the doorstep, put it in the car. The pack was followed by a laptop and a briefcase.
Fiona was leaving him. His heart stopped. She couldn’t. Not now—not without hearing him out.
But she had given him plenty of opportunities. He’d ignored all of them, too caught up in trying to protect his battered heart. Not once had he conceded that Fiona needed a fair hearing.
Fiona clambered into the back of the taxi. She didn’t stop to look around at the hospital. She didn’t glance up this way to his window. She just went.
That horrible void where his heart should be returned with a crash. Fiona was his soulmate, his best half. What a goddamned idiot he’d been.
So do something. Don’t sit on your backside, feeling sorry for yourself. Go after her and get down on your knees and beg her to stay.
With a muttered apology to Shaun’s parents he charged out of his office and through the hospital to the cottage. Where had he left the car keys? How long would it take to untie the Cessna and turn over the engine? Where had he put the goddamned keys? Please, if someone was looking out for him at this moment, could they do something to slow Fiona down until he caught up with her? Make it impossible for her to get the pegs the plane was tied to out of the ground, or put grime on the spark plugs so that she’d have to remove them and clean them before the engine would turn over. Anything. Just keep her in Hanmer Springs.
He threw papers off the table onto the floor, searched his windbreaker pockets and tossed the offending garment aside. Where were the damned keys?
Fiona slammed the mallet sideways at the peg in an attempt to loosen it. The frozen ground had a firm grip on all the pegs, but slowly, one by one, she removed them. Her fingers were chilled and she had to keep blowing on them in an attempt to warm them. Who knew where her gloves were? Anyway, the ache from the cold was nothing like the pain squeezing her heart.
She heard a vehicle approaching but didn’t stop to see who it could be. No one for her. Tom certainly wouldn’t be tracking her down. He’d be in his office working. And now that she’d decided to leave she wanted to get going. Twang. The final peg refused to budge. Twang. She hit it again. And again. Through her oozing tears she aimed and swung. And missed.
‘Don’t go, Fi.’ Tom’s voice. Pleading with her.
Don’t go, Fi. Like she really wanted to go. But there was nothing to hang around for. More aborted conversations? Another night of wonderful lovemaking? No, she didn’t need those, so it was definitely time to go. She swung the mallet, missed again. If she didn’t hit the peg soon she wouldn’t be going anywhere. She smudged the tears across her cheeks with the back of her hand before tightening her grip on the mallet.
Two boot-clad feet appeared in her line of vision. She stared at them. Why had he come? Now? When they’d had all week for this?
‘Fi, please stay. At least until you’ve heard me out.’
Her eyes blurred again. She’d been waiting all week to listen to him. ‘Why now?’
‘Because I’ve wasted the week and I don’t intend letting this last opportunity disappear without telling you how I feel.’
She raised her head to peer up at Tom. ‘About?’
‘You. Us. Our future.’ Fear clouded those grey eyes.
She straightened up. Could she begin to hope they might be able to sort this out? ‘Go on.’
He reached for the mallet, gently removed it from her stiff fingers, dropped it on the ground. His eyes never left her face. ‘You’re needed here.’
She was needed? That was it? Nothing about the two of them getting back together? About how he felt about her? Disappointment gripped her, a tight band around her chest. ‘No, Tom, I’m not needed. Sure, I fitted in well for the week, but I suspect no more than any of your visiting specialists. There’s no place here for me.’ Surprising how calm she sounded, when inside she felt as though she was in a food blender.
‘Oh, yes, there is. You bring the place alive in a way no one else does. The hospital has been different all week.’
The blender sped up. ‘The hospital needs me. Not you?’
She shook her head and bent to pick up the mallet. This time she hit it square and the peg loosened enough for her to pull it from the ground. ‘Find someone else for the role of cheerleader.’ She only wanted it if she could have the whole package, and apparently Tom didn’t want her.
She tucked the peg under her arm and turned to stow the mallet in the back of the plane. It landed with a loud thunk, breaking into the silence drawing out between them. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip and she picked up the rest of the pegs and tossed them in with the mallet. Tom’s arrival at the airstrip had rattled her, almost destroying her resolve to leave without making a scene. Not that she’d rant and rave at him. No, she’d more likely spill out all her feelings for him again, and she’d already done that once. Look where that had got her. Some vestige of pride kept her jaws clenched shut. But for how long?
She desperately needed to take off before she said anything, but she still had checks to do yet. No sensible pilot flew without first doing those. The metal screeched as she raised the engine cowling.
Tom came up behind her. ‘I need you.’
‘Pardon?’ She must’ve heard wrong. Surely Tom hadn’t said he needed her?
His hand touched her shoulder, gently turned her round so she had to look at him. She gasped at the raw pain she saw in his face. What were they doing to each other? She loved him, didn’t she? So give him a break, let him tell her what he’d come to say in his own way. Raising a hand, she cupped his cheek briefly. ‘Go on.’
‘My life doesn’t hold a lot of meaning without you in it.’
The tension in her stomach relaxed a little. Hope kicked her heart. But she had to make sure they were on the same wavelength. ‘I thought the hospital gave you all the purpose you needed.’
His head moved slowly from side to side. ‘I thought so too. At least I pretended it did. But this week, seeing yo
u working with patients, hearing your laughter everywhere I go, your perfume teasing me in the cottage, well—’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve been forced to be honest with myself. The hospital means a lot to me, but I can’t cuddle up to it in bed at night. I can’t share a meal with it at the end of a rough day, or tell it my deepest thoughts. It isn’t my wife, Fi. You are. I do need you.’ His eyes beseeched her to believe him.
Warmth flooded through her, turning her cheeks pink, curling her toes. She wanted to throw her arms around Tom and never let go. And she almost did. Then…He hasn’t mentioned love.
Stepping back, she studied him as she absorbed this point. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, live without love. No matter how much she loved him, he had to love her in return or they’d be back in trouble before the sun set on their first week together. ‘I need you, too, Tom, but it isn’t enough.’
She turned to tug the oil stick free, inspected the oil level. Perfect.
‘Fiona, I know I’ve let you down all week. You’ve been trying to talk to me and I’ve avoided that at all costs. Even telling you about Billy didn’t come easily—not after having kept it under wraps all the time I knew you.’
A glance over her shoulder showed him looking so earnest her heart flipped.
‘You surprised me with that, for sure.’ Warmth crept through her again as she pushed the stick back into place. He had tried to explain his reasons for not sharing his bad experiences with her. Now that he’d done that would he continue to be open and frank with her? The warmth faded. Look how he’d stayed out of contact while he was in Christchurch with Maddy. ‘It isn’t enough, Tom. Nothing’s really changed.’ Except her love for him had grown stronger, matured as she’d dealt with their tragedy.
‘You’re thinking of these past days with Maddy?’ The hope in his voice had been dampened with caution.
