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‘Did you sleep last night?’
Carrie gave a wry smile. ‘A little.’
It was marvellous. Charlie knew he held in his hands the ability to keep the centre going. And Carrie had given him the way. ‘It’s amazing! I don’t know what to say…how to thank you.’
He rounded the desk and before either of them could caution against it swept her into his arms, enfolding her in a warm embrace.
Carrie hung on, most definitely swept away. This was where she belonged. How unfair was life?
The door barged open and they sprang apart guiltily. ‘Charles! What is the meaning of this?’ Ignatius Wentworth demanded.
Carrie froze and looked from father to son. She could see all the veins standing out in Charlie’s father’s neck. But Charlie looked pretty angry also, a nerve twitching at the angle of his jaw. She edged closer to him.
‘Exactly what it looks like,’ Charlie said calmly, gathering Carrie to his side and placing an arm around her back, his hand resting on her shoulder.
Ignatius looked from one to the other. ‘I thought you were just friends. You can’t be serious.’
‘Perfectly.’ Charlie smiled down at the woman he loved and stroked the skin at her nape.
‘But…Veronica.’
‘We’re divorced.’
‘You can get her back.’
Charlie laughed. ‘I don’t want her back. I want Carrie.’
Carrie’s heart thundered as Charlie’s father gave her a once-over.
‘You want to be a father to another man’s child? Preposterous!’
The slow stroke of Charlie’s thumb on her neck was reassuring and she lifted her chin and looked Ignatius Wentworth straight in the eye.
‘I would be Dana’s father with pride.’
Carrie looked at him, startled. Was he just saying that to annoy his father? He looked dead serious.
‘You can do better than this.’
Charlie felt a flare of anger scorch his cheeks and burn in his stomach. His finger stilled its rhythmic movement. ‘I would be very, very careful what you say, Father.’
Carrie shivered at the steel she heard in Charlie’s voice. She saw surprise register in the older man’s eyes, replaced with a slightly bewildered look.
‘Charles…please. You could be a top-class surgeon. Have a brilliant career. Why are you wasting your life down here with these people? You could have your choice of specialties.’
Carrie cleared her throat. What was wrong with this oaf? Couldn’t he see that what Charlie did was a specialty?
‘With all due respect, Dr Wentworth, community medicine is a specialty and a very worthwhile one, too.’ Carrie’s voice was shaky and Charlie’s father was looking at her like she’d just answered the headmaster back.
She pushed on anyway. ‘And your son is a brilliant doctor. He may not cut open chests or find cures for cancer, but he’s the life force in this community. He’s the man these people come to if they’re sick, if they’re dying, if they’re beaten, if they’re in trouble, if they’ve got nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat or even if they’ve just lost their way. He’s got grand plans for this place and he’s just the visionary these people need. You want him to forge a brilliant career? Well, he is. It may not be in a glamorous field but you’d better believe he’s the best there is. Any father should be proud to call him his son.’
Charlie was speechless. So was Ignatius. They both stared at her. There was silence in the room for a few moments. Ignatius recovered first.
Ignoring Carrie, he said, ‘We will talk about this at dinner on Sunday.’
‘No, Father. We won’t.’
Ignatius glared. ‘You’re refusing to come?’
‘No. I’ll be there all right. And so will Carrie and so will Dana. You get one chance, Father. One. If you so much as raise the subject of my career or Veronica, I will never come to dinner again. Ever. My days for tolerating your speeches, of keeping the peace, of taking the easy road are over.’
For a moment Ignatius turned redder and Carrie thought he was going to explode. But then she saw a light dawning. Ignatius was taking it in—the determination in his son’s eyes, the firm grip Charlie had on her, their apparent solidarity. Her pulse hammered madly in her throat. Was Charlie just using her to get to his old man?
‘Very well. Of course we would be delighted to have guests on Sunday.’
Carrie wasn’t fooled. It was said too stiffly. But she was playing some bizarre part here where she hadn’t been given the lines so she decided gracious acceptance was the way to go.
‘Thank you, Dr Wentworth,’ Carrie murmured.
