Their Marriage Miracle (9 page)

‘He said something about one last Monday, so I gave him cold mixture and he said it went away.’ Reluctantly Mrs Elliott answered Fiona’s question.

‘You should’ve informed us before he had surgery.’

‘Now, look here. What does it matter? It didn’t affect his operation.’ Mr Elliott’s cheeks reddened. ‘It’s taken months for us to get the money together to come here. We weren’t going to stay away for a bit of a cold.’

‘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.

Loud giggles were coming from the games room as he neared the door. Peering in, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Sprawled on the carpet, with four little children crawling all over and around her, lay his wife. She was telling a story about a lion, interspersing the tale with loud, slightly odd roars that sent the kids off into fresh bouts of giggles.

As he watched, Tom’s heart clenched with a fierce longing. A longing for what he didn’t have. Children. His own family. A future beyond the walls of this hospital. He’d made this place his whole life, and now that life felt empty. There was more for him out there, and he wanted a slice of whatever was going.

He gasped. Where the hell had
that
come from? This place kept him fully occupied. There were no spare hours for anything else. Anyone else.

But something’s missing.

His eyes followed Fi as she played with the youngsters, a full and genuine smile on her lovely face. His heart rolled over. He hadn’t seen that particular smile for a very long time and it made him feel soft and warm inside. Did he want that slice of life to be with her?

Liz, a nurse, spoke quietly beside him. ‘The children adore Fiona. She’s a natural with them.’

‘Kids have always been attracted to Fiona for her larger-than-life personality.’ Which had quietened down somewhat.

‘She certainly empathises with them.’

‘You’re right. Each of these children has been admitted today for plastic surgery tomorrow, yet here they are having pure fun, with no sign of fear or nerves about their operations. Fiona’s treating each child with so much care, being gentle with them, so they’re building up trust with her.’

He continued to watch Fiona. Absorbed in the story and the
game, she seemed unaware of her appearance, and oblivious to the mess her hair was getting into as one little girl grabbed handfuls to use as a mane. Another difference caught his eye. She’d changed her shirt, probably in preparation for their meal in town. Now that shirt was wrinkled and crushed.

Should he make a sound, let Fiona know he was here? The moment she sensed his presence the spell would be broken and his heartbeat could return to normal.

It took some effort getting used to this new image of the woman he’d been married to. Where had the glamorous little black dresses gone? It astonished him that she hadn’t packed one for the week. One? A case full. His lips curved into a smile. Fi. It had been so long. He’d missed her.

The wonder on her face as she lifted a little girl above her head transported him back down the years to when Liam had been only weeks old. He’d often seen a similar, but more intense look on Fi’s face as she’d cradled their son in her arms. He blinked, but the picture didn’t go away. He could see her breastfeeding Liam, awestruck at caring for her child in the most basic of ways. She was born to be a mother.

Why had it happened to them? Why had their son gone? He gulped, swallowed a lump, surreptitiously wiped his eyes. He’d never get an answer to that question.

‘Tom, come and join us. I need some help with these lion cubs.’ Fiona caught and held his gaze above the children.

He shook his head, trying desperately to get his emotions under control.

‘Tom.’ Her voice was low and insistent even as she tickled another child. ‘We need a father lion.’ Her hand reached out towards him.

‘No. You carry on. You’re doing a great job.’

‘Come on. We’ll do this together.’

And he understood she wasn’t only referring to the game. She’d read his pain so easily.

Tom grimaced as he approached the laughing group. He’d been caught in a bad moment. But he tried to pick up on the infectious good humour of the children. ‘I don’t do a good roar.’ Like he’d ever tried.

‘Give it a go.’ Fiona touched his shoulder.

His first attempt got stuck behind the lump in his throat. But one look from Fiona and he was down on his hands and knees, trying again. Astonishingly, he managed some semblance of a roar this time. So now he was a male lion, teaching his cubs to hunt. The things this woman could get him to do.

‘The louder the roar the better, according to these cubs.’ Fiona grinned, sending his heart to do that funny clenching thing it had been doing on and off for hours.

‘Great. What will my staff think of me rolling around on the floor like a complete dork?’ He smiled back.

‘That you’re not as toffee-nosed as they thought.’ Her wink took the sting out her words.

‘My nose is not made of toffee,’ he told a little girl who was looking at him all perplexed. ‘Dr Fiona doesn’t always talk a lot of sense.’

‘She’s funny,’ said one of Fiona’s young admirers.

And clever, and exciting, and warm, and very loving.

The lion roared.

‘I
T
’s good to meet you, Fiona,’ Craig said as he set his menu aside. ‘Tom has mentioned you occasionally when we’ve tried to delve into his dark and secret past.’

‘Yes, I did feature in it for a while.’ Fiona’s smile looked tentative as she glanced at Tom. ‘Secret, huh?’

‘Craig’s exaggerating. He likes to embellish stories.’ Tom sighed. Of course his friends would want to ask questions. They knew he’d once been married, and had lost a son. When he’d learned that Fiona had offered to fill in the week for Jerome they’d been the first people he’d told.

From the moment he and Fiona had entered the restaurant and seen Craig and Kerry being seated he’d known they’d be expected to join them. He’d sensed Fiona’s disappointment at having their talk postponed, but he’d felt nothing but relief.

‘Call me nosey.’ Craig grinned. ‘I like knowing all about my friends, and Tom isn’t very forthcoming at times.’

Tom saw Fiona glance at him knowingly. ‘That’s probably because when we were together I did enough talking for both of us. He couldn’t get a word in.’

Fiona was defending him? What was more, it was about his inability to spill the beans about things that mattered most to him. Was his brain playing tricks? He checked his wine glass but it was still full. His hand moved of its own volition to briefly touch her elbow.

Kerry asked her, ‘Where’d you meet? Across a bed in a ward somewhere?’

‘Almost. Tom was in his final year of specialist training and I was on intern rotation through the paediatric ward. I had my hands full with a frightened three-year-old, kicking and screaming her lungs out. Tom rescued me.’

‘Sounds like when Craig and I met—except he’s a vet and I took my spaniel to him after she’d been struck by a car. I was freaking out and totally panicked about my dog, and the vet just calmed me down with a few words.’ Kerry grinned. ‘Then he started telling jokes and making me smile, all the time treating Polly with such tenderness I knew straight away I had to get to know this man.’

Fiona smiled at Tom. ‘No jokes on the job with Tom. He tended to be quite serious, but great with junior doctors. Plus every female in the hospital wanted to get to know him.’

Kerry laughed. ‘They still do.’

‘That’s enough. What’s everyone having for dinner?’ Tom felt mildly uncomfortable. He’d expected criticism from Fiona, not compliments.

‘The fish and salad for me,’ Fiona answered.

‘What? Not the creamy pasta with chicken?’ She’d used to eat pasta at every opportunity.

‘Too rich for me these days.’ She looked almost sad.

Tom grinned. ‘No wonder you’ve slimmed down so much.’ He’d always loved her soft curves; thinner though she was now, she was still beautiful, but faint hollows in her cheeks made her look a little tired, vulnerable.

‘That’s not when I lost the weight…’ Fiona’s voice trailed away as she nodded at someone behind him.

Tom looked up to see the waitress hovering at his elbow. As she took their orders he wondered what Fiona had been about to say. Had she been ill at some time since she’d left him? Did that explain the physical changes in her? A trickle
of fear set his skin on edge. Fi ill? Please, no. Not that. He knew she couldn’t abide people discussing their health unless it was in a patient-to-doctor situation. She always said she had enough medical talk at work not to want to hear her friends discussing their ailments socially. The same applied to herself. Not that he’d ever known her to be ill. She’d always said she didn’t have time for bad health.

‘Your work with Global Health sounds so exotic compared to Hanmer Springs,’ Kerry said

‘You think so?’ Fiona looked surprised. ‘From the little I’ve seen, this place is paradise. Except for the temperatures.’

‘At least you’ve stopped shivering,’ Tom noted. ‘You’ll feel the cold when we go back outside if you don’t take your jacket off in here.’

‘I’ll borrow yours and put it over the top of mine.’ She caught his eye, and suddenly they both smiled, then spoke at the same time.

‘Like I always did.’

‘You stole my jackets or coats whenever we were out. And they were way too big for you.’

And when he’d put one of those jackets on later there’d always be a hint of Fiona’s perfume on them. For weeks after she’d left him he’d wear a jacket just to have something of her with him. Eventually the scent had faded, disappeared, and he’d been left only with memories.

Craig and Kerry’s laughter broke through his reminiscing, drew him back to listen to Fiona telling amusing anecdotes about her experiences overseas. She continued to enthral them all so that dinner passed quickly.

Tom sipped his wine and smiled internally. Tonight had turned out to be fun. Everyone was relaxed, Fiona had been entertaining, and he’d stopped worrying about what she might want to talk about with him. Yes, this took him back to nights out in the early days of their marriage.

Just then the woman in his mind looked up and he smiled at her. She gave him a slow wink. His gut clenched. In the old days when they were out with other people that wink could have meant,
Aren’t we having fun?
or it could have been saying
Isn’t this so boring? Let’s get out of here.
Tonight he figured she meant they were having fun. Tonight he’d sit back and continue to enjoy his evening, and pretend they were like any other normal couple.

Kerry spooned sugar into her coffee, saying thoughtfully, ‘I can see why you’d want to go back after your leave’s finished.’

Tom’s hand stilled on his cup. Did she want to go back? Of course she would. Anyone listening to her for the last half-hour would know full well how much she’d loved what she’d been doing. Her face had come alive as she’d talked about the people she’d helped and the places she’d worked in. Fiona had found her niche in life. Once Fiona became passionate about something she didn’t let go. Not easily, anyway.

She had let go of their marriage. But easily? No, they’d both struggled to make it work. They’d failed each other because neither had known what to do about the dreadful situation they’d found themselves in.

Fiona explained to Kerry, ‘I’m not sure what I’m going to do next. The last three years have been wonderful, but now that I’m back home I’m starting to realise there are so many things I’ve been missing. Friends, family…’ She hesitated.

What family? Her father? Her mother had died before she and Tom had married. Him? Had she missed him at all?

‘A sense of belonging,’ she concluded.

This was something new. The old Fi had slotted in anywhere by dint of making everything around her hers.

Her eyes slid in his direction. ‘I know I’ve only been here a little over twenty-four hours, but already I can see what you’re doing at the hospital is awesome.’

Warmth crept over him. It felt good to know she approved of what he was doing. ‘Thanks, but it’s not just about me.’

‘True. He needs the rest of us to make tea and coffee and keep the cookie jar in his office full,’ quipped Kerry.

Craig leaned closer to Tom and spoke quietly, ‘Think you can persuade her to stay?’

‘I wouldn’t have a clue.’ Did he even want her to stay? In what capacity? Specialist—yes. He could always put her skills to good use. But how would he cope having her living in the same small village twenty-four-seven? And why was he even considering the idea? He didn’t believe in second chances.

In Theatre the next morning Fiona told Kerry, ‘You can bring Megan round now. I’m done.’

Snapping her latex gloves as she tugged them off, Fiona looked down at the little girl and smiled. The skin graft to repair a nasty burn from a log falling out of a firebox onto Megan’s leg had gone very well. ‘There you go, my little lion cub. That leg should look a lot better in a few days.’

‘I heard about a bit of an African scene in the games room last night,’ Kerry commented as she read printouts. ‘Apparently our boss makes a terrific roar, and looks quite sexy on his hands and knees with his backside pointing skyward.’

‘Who’s been blabbing?’ Fiona asked, amused that the staff had found Tom’s participation in the game she’d made up worthy of gossip.

‘Megan told me all about it while I prepped her. Not the bit about Tom looking sexy. That came from Liz. Of course I asked for all the finer details. Seems you weave a good yarn too.’

‘I’ve had plenty of practice.’ Fiona tried not to think about Tom’s backside—for all of two seconds. His derrière was
very
sexy. She’d always found him physically attractive. Studying him now, seeing the little crinkles at the corners of his mouth,
‘I wish I’d known.’

The scraping sound Tom’s chair made on the tile floor as he stood up screeched across her brain. The hand that touched, held her chin, felt gentle as it tipped her head back so that she looked into the deep, sad pools of Tom’s eyes. ‘So do I, but we can’t undo the past now.’

‘I might have acted differently—might not have given you such a hard time for not talking to me.’ But he had talked to her tonight, ever so slightly—about his friend. About something that had hurt him badly as a child. And still hurt him.

He shifted his head slowly from side to side. ‘Don’t go there, Fi.’ Sadness puckered his mouth.

She blinked, forced herself to look away. Years ago she’d done a lifetime’s worth of crying, had been dry-eyed for nearly five years now. That was why she shouldn’t be thinking of wanting Tom back. Everyone knew that once you got into a relationship with anyone—husband, lover, child, even a friend—there were going to be tears somewhere along the way.

‘You’re right, of course.’ She covered his hand with hers, felt his warmth.

‘For years I blamed myself for Billy’s death. It’s only recently I’ve accepted that more than one thing went wrong that day to culminate in a tragic accident.’

‘Recently?’ Since Liam’s death? She wanted to ask him, but she was afraid he might withdraw from her again and she didn’t want that. Not now, when he’d actually spoken to her about something so important to him.

Right now she was desperate to hold him in her arms and kiss away the pain in those beautiful eyes that she’d fallen in love with such a long time ago.

What held her back? Was she afraid he’d push her away? And if he did? At least she’d have tried. She stepped closer to him, and reached to touch his face. Her fingers moved of
their own accord, tracing his mouth, reliving the memories of the curve of his chin, his cheekbones. She stretched up on her toes and touched his lips with hers. He trembled under her touch, made no move to draw away—or nearer.

She swallowed, pressed her lips closer, savoured him. It wasn’t enough. She slid her tongue across his lips, shivered in the heady mix of wine and Tom.

His hands caught her upper arms, pushed her just far enough away from him to break the contact with her mouth. ‘Fiona, don’t. We—This isn’t right.’

Her whisper croaked through her closed throat. ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I arrived.’

Tom stared at her, his mouth softening before he groaned, hauled her against him, and crushed his mouth to hers. A hard, demanding kiss that touched every cell in her body. A kiss that caressed fires that had been smothered for far too long.

She leaned into him, pressed as close as possible, flattening her breasts against his chest. And she wasn’t close enough. She pushed her thighs against his. Her skin crackled with longing. Her mouth was filled with Tom, his tongue seeking, exploring, tasting. She tasted and explored right back. She’d come home. They belonged together.

Then abruptly Tom was setting her away from him, leaving her blinking like a rabbit in headlights. What had happened? ‘Tom?’

‘Sorry, we shouldn’t be doing this.’ His hands dragged down his cheeks as he stumbled backwards. ‘There’s too much between us to be even thinking about getting close and personal.’

‘I should be the one to apologise. I started it.’ What had she been thinking of, kissing Tom? She hadn’t been thinking at all. There lay the problem.

Tom snatched up his jacket and all but ran out of the room,
muttering over his shoulder, ‘I need to catch up on some paperwork.’

Paperwork? Fiona shrugged. Right, whatever. It was probably for the best. Their kiss had begun to really crank up into something she wasn’t so sure she’d have been able to stop if they’d carried on much longer. Would they have ended up making love? And then what? Tom had made it plain he wasn’t interested in rekindling their relationship. That hadn’t been her intention either when she’d first arrived.

It still wasn’t.

Just do the job and go away, she chanted in her head. Do the job and go away. Forget trying to put the past to rest. It wasn’t going to lie down, so she might as well leave it be.

But her heart was aching.

Tom kicked at a clump of snow on his front step. What he really needed was to get his head read. How could he have kissed Fiona? How could he have let her get even that close to him?

Hold up. She’d kissed him first. A sweet kiss that had sneaked in under his ribs and tickled his heart. Yeah, and he’d been quick to run with it, deepen it, until all his resolve to stay clear of Fiona had just disappeared as fast as the snap of his fingers. He smacked his forehead with his palm. How could he have taken her in his arms and put his lips to hers? Because that first kiss had fried his brain cells, had made him feel as though he’d finally found what he’d been looking for ever since Fiona had left him. That sense of being in the right place with the right person, the one woman who had been able to get beneath his skin and make him feel like he belonged, had returned as quickly as it took to start a kiss.

Stomping along the path heading away from the hospital, he tried to squash the feeling that he was losing control over his emotions. He searched for the inner strength that he always
applied when the hurt and anger and bewilderment he felt around Fiona threatened to topple his world, but tonight he couldn’t put those feelings back in their place. He wanted her! Badly! She hummed in his blood. She stirred him so deeply it frightened him. His pulse thumped in his head.

He wanted to throw caution aside and race back into the cottage where he could lift Fiona against his chest. He ached to replace his lips on hers, to taste her sweetness again, to feel her melt against him. To claim her.