Читать книгу Chistmas In Manhattan Collection - Алисон Робертс - Страница 18

CHAPTER NINE

ANOTHER HOUR WENT past and then another...and still nothing.

Nothing...

No call. No text. No serendipitous meeting as their paths crossed in the ER, which was such a normal thing to happen that its absence was starting to feel deliberate.

Grace knew Charles had finally come to work this afternoon because the door to his office was open and she’d seen his leather laptop bag on his desk when she’d gone past a while back. She’d heard someone say he was in a meeting, which wasn’t unusual for the chief of emergency services, but surely there weren’t administrative issues that would take hours and hours to discuss? Maybe it hadn’t actually been that long but it was certainly beginning to feel like it.

She thought she saw him heading for the unit desk when she slipped through a curtain, intending to chase up the first test results on one of her patients.

Her heart skipped a beat and started racing.

She’d know, wouldn’t she? In that first instant of eye contact, she’d know exactly what was going on. She’d know whether it had been a huge mistake to get this close to Charles Davenport again. To be so completely in love and have so many shiny hopes for a new future that were floating around her like fragile, newly blown bubbles.

She’d know whether she was going to find herself right back at Square One in rebuilding her life.

Almost in the same instant, however, and even though she couldn’t see his face properly, she knew it wasn’t Charles, it was his twin, Elijah. And she knew this because the air she was sucking into her lungs felt completely normal. There was none of that indefinable extra energy that permeated the atmosphere when she was in the same space as Charles. The energy that made those bubbles shine with iridescent colours and change their shape as if they were dancing in response to the sizzle of hope.

‘Dr Forbes?’

The tone in her migraine patient’s voice made her swing back, letting the curtain fall into place behind her.

‘I’m going to be sick...’

Grace grabbed a vomit container but she was too late. A nurse responded swiftly to her call for assistance and her gaze was sympathetic.

‘I’ll clean up in here,’ she said. ‘You’d better go and find some clean scrubs.’ Pulling on gloves, she added a murmur that their patient couldn’t overhear. ‘It’s been one of those days, hasn’t it?’

Helena was in the linen supply room.

‘Oh, no...’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘You poor thing...’

‘Do we have any plastic bags in here? For super-soiled laundry?’

‘Over there. Want me to guard the door for a minute so you can strip that lot off?’

‘Please. I’m starting to feel a bit queasy myself.’

‘Do you need a shower?’

‘No. It’s just on my scrubs.’ Grace unhooked her stethoscope and then unclipped her phone and pager from her waistband. She put them onto a stainless-steel trolley and then peeled off her tunic. ‘What are you doing in here, anyway?’

‘We were low on blankets in the warmer and everyone was busy. I’m due for a break.’ Helena was leaning against the closed door, blocking the small window. ‘Past due to go home, in fact. We both are.’ Her smile was rueful. ‘How come we were among the ones to offer to stay on?’

‘We were short-staffed and overloaded. It was lucky Sarah Grayson could stay on as well.’

‘I know. Well, I’ve hardly seen you since this morning. You okay?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry—silly question. Crazy day, huh?’

‘Mmm.’ Grace was folding the tunic carefully so she could put it into the bag without touching the worst stains. ‘I certainly wouldn’t want another one like this in a hurry.’

Not that staying on past her rostered hours had bothered her, mind you. Or the patient load. She loved a professional challenge. It was the personal challenge she was in the middle of that was a lot less welcome.

‘What are you doing after work? There’s a group going out for Thanksgiving dinner at a local restaurant that sounds like it might be fun. I know you’d be more than welcome.’

But, again, Grace shook her head. ‘I can’t abandon my dog after being at work so much longer than expected. And I need to Skype my dad. I haven’t spoken to him for a while and it’s Thanksgiving. Family time.’

‘Ah...’ Helena’s gaze was mischievous. ‘And there was me thinking you might be going to some glitzy Davenport occasion.’

Pulling on her clean scrub trousers, Grace let the elastic waist band go with more force than necessary. ‘What?’

‘You and Charles...?’ Helena was smiling now. ‘Is that why you were looking so happy first thing this morning? Everybody’s wondering...’

A heavy knot formed in Grace’s gut. People were gossiping about her? And Charles? Had he said something to someone else when he hadn’t bothered talking to her? Or had someone seen something or said something to remind Charles that he would never be able to replace his beloved wife? Maybe that was why he was ignoring her.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said. ‘We’re just friends.’

‘That’s what he said, too.’

‘What?’ Grace fought the shock wave that made it difficult to move. ‘When?’

‘There was someone here earlier this afternoon. A journalist pretending to be a patient and she was asking for you. You’d taken a patient off for an MRI, I think. Or maybe you were finally having a late lunch. Anyway... Charles told her she was wasting her time. That you were nothing more than a colleague and friend. And never would be.’

Was it simply the waft of soiled laundry that was making Grace feel a little faint? She secured the top of the plastic bag and shoved it into the contaminated linen sack.

So she didn’t need to make eye contact with Charles to know that the truth was every bit as gut wrenching as she had suspected it would be.

‘I don’t understand,’ she murmured. ‘Why was he even saying anything?’

‘It’s because of the gossip column. That photo. Any Davenport news is going to be jumped on around here. They’re like New York royalty.’

‘What gossip column? What photo?’

‘You don’t know?’ Helena’s eyes widened. ‘Look. I can show you on my phone. I have to admit, you do look like a really happy little family...’

* * *

Focus, Charles reminded himself. Shut out anything irrelevant that’s only going to make everything worse.

He had responsibilities that took priority over any personal discomfort.

His boys came first. He’d been a little later for work this afternoon, after getting home from the parade, because he’d needed to brief Maria about the renewed media interest in his life and warn her not to say anything about his private life if she was approached by a journalist. He was going to keep the boys away from nursery school for a day or two, as well, for the same reason.

He’d assumed that he’d see Grace at work and be able to have a quiet word and warn her that she might be faced with some unwelcome attention but she hadn’t been in the department when he’d arrived. Instead, he’d been confronted with the reality that interest in the Davenport family’s private lives was never going to vanish. How had someone found out that Grace worked here? Had it helped to deal so brusquely with that journalist who had been masquerading as a patient or had he protested too much?

At least Grace hadn’t been there to hear him dismissing her as someone who would never be anything more significant than a friend but the echo of his own words was haunting him now.

It wasn’t true. He might have no idea how to handle these unexpected emotions that were undermining everything in his personal life that he’d believed would never change but the thing he could be certain of was that his own feelings were irrelevant right now.

He was in a meeting, for heaven’s sake, where his push for additional resources in his department was dependent on being able to defend the statistics of patient outcomes and being able to explain anomalies in terms of scientific reasoning that was balanced by morality and the mission statements of Manhattan Mercy’s emergency room.

He had to focus.

One meeting merged into the next until it was late in the day and he was still caught up in a boardroom. The detailed report of how his department and others had coped in the power cut last month was up for discussion with the purpose of making sure that they would be better prepared if it should ever happen again.

It was hard to focus in this meeting as well. The day of the power cut had been the day that Grace Forbes had walked back into his life in more than a professional sense. It seemed like fate had been determined to bring her close as quickly as possible. How else could he explain the series of events that had led her to meet his sons and remind him of how lucky he actually was? That had been when his barriers had been weakened, he realised. When that curiosity about Grace had put her into a different space than any other woman could have reached.

The kind of determination to focus that was needed here was reminiscent of one of the most difficult times of his life—when he’d had to try and pass his final exams in medicine while the fallout of the Davenport scandal had been exploding around him. How hard that had been had been eclipsed by the tragedy of Nina’s death, of course, but he’d somehow coped then as well.

And he could cope now.

‘We can’t base future plans on the normal throughput of the department,’ he reminded the people gathered in this boardroom. ‘What we have to factor in is that this kind of widespread disruption causes a huge spike in admissions due to the accidents directly caused by it. Fortunately, it’s a rare event so we can’t resource the department to be ready at all times. What we can do is have a management plan in place that will put us in the best position to deal with whatever disaster we find on our doorstep. And haven’t there been predictions already for severe snow storms in December? If it’s correct, that could also impact our power supply and patient numbers.’

By the time his meeting finished, a new shift was staffing the department and Grace was nowhere to be seen.

He could knock on her door when he got home, Charles decided, but a glance at his watch told him that he’d have to be quick. He was due to take the boys to their grandparents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner tonight and he was already running late.

Was she even at home? He’d heard about the staff dinner at a restaurant being planned and, when there was no response to his knock other than a warning bark from Houston, he hoped that was exactly where she was.

Out having fun.

More fun than he was likely to have tonight, with his mother still stressed about renewed media interest in the family and the necessity of trying to keep two three-year-old boys behaving themselves at a very formal dining table.

Maria had got the boys dressed and said she didn’t mind waiting while he got changed himself. A quick shower was needed and then Charles found his dinner jacket and bow tie. The formality was a family tradition, like getting the annual Davenport photograph that would be made available to the media to remind them that this family was still together. Still strong enough to survive anything.

Charles rummaged in the top drawer of his dresser, to find the box that contained his silver cufflinks. He didn’t know how many of the family members would be there tonight but hopefully the table would be full. Elijah would definitely be there. And Zac, who was about to start his new job at Manhattan Mercy.

His fingers closed around a velvet box and he opened it, only to have his breath catch in his throat.

This wasn’t the box that contained his cufflinks. It was the box that contained the Davenport ring. The astonishing pink diamond that Nina had accepted when she had accepted his proposal of marriage. A symbol of the continuation of the Davenport name. A symbol of their position in New York society, even, given the value and rarity of this famous stone.

As the oldest son, it had been given to Charles for his wife-to-be and there was only one person in the world who could have worn it.

Nina.

Shadows of old grief enclosed Charles as he stared at the ring. He could never give it to anyone else.

It wouldn’t even suit Grace...

Oh, help...where had that come from?

Memories of how he’d felt waking up this morning came back to him in a rush. That excitement. The pleasure.

The...longing...

And right now, those feelings were at war with remnants of grief. With the weight of all the responsibilities he had been trying so hard to focus on.

The battle was leaving him even more confused.

Drained, even.

He left the ring in its opened box on top of the dresser as he found and inserted his cufflinks and then slipped on his silk-lined jacket.

He closed the box on the ring then, and was about to put it back where he’d found it but his hand stopped in mid-air.

He had no right to keep this ring shut away in a drawer when he had no intention of ever using it again himself. It could be hidden for decades if he waited to hand it on to his firstborn, Cameron.

He should give it to the next Davenport in line. Elijah.

Charles let his breath out in a sigh. He knew perfectly well how his twin felt about marriage. With his bitterness about the marriage of their parents and scepticism about its value in general, he wouldn’t want anything to do with the Davenport ring.

He couldn’t give it to Penelope, because it was traditional for it to go to a son who would be carrying on the family name. Miranda was out of the question, even if she hadn’t been another female, because of the distress that could cause to his mother, given her reluctance to absorb his half-sister into the family.

Zac. Was that his answer? The youngest Davenport male in his own generation. Okay, Zac had always had a tendency to rebel against Davenport traditions but he was making an effort now, wasn’t he? Coming back into the fold. Trying to rebuild bridges? Was it possible that could even extend to taking an interest in Dr Ella Lockwood, the daughter of family friends and the woman who everyone had once expected Zac to marry? Though he’d noticed Ella hadn’t seemed too pleased to learn that Zac was joining the team, so maybe not. But whatever happened, he hoped his youngest brother would find the happiness he deserved.

Yes. Charles slipped the ring box into his pocket. Even if Zac wasn’t ready to accept it yet, he would know that it would be waiting for him.

He’d have a word with Elijah, first, of course. And then Zac. Maybe with his parents as well. If he could handle it all diplomatically, it could actually be a focus for this evening that would bring them all a little closer together and distract them from directing any attention on his own life. It would also be a symbol that he was moving on from his past, too. For himself as much as his family.

Yes. This felt like the next step in dealing with this unexpected intrusion into their lives. And maybe it would help settle the confusing boundaries between his responsibilities and his desires. Between the determination to protect everyone he had cared about in his life so far and the longing to just be somewhere alone with the new person in his life that he also wanted to protect?

* * *

Grace heard the knock on her door.

But what could she do? Her father had just answered her Skype call and he was so delighted to see her.

If there’d been a second knock, she might have excused herself for a moment but, after a single bark, Houston came and settled himself with his head on her feet. There was obviously no one on the other side of the door now. Maybe it had been someone else who lived in this apartment block. After all, Charles had had an entire day in which he could have called or texted her. Or he could have found her at work this afternoon because she’d certainly hung around long enough.

And he hadn’t.

History was clearly repeating itself.

She had offered him everything she had to give and he had accepted it and then simply walked away without a backward glance.

‘Sorry—what was that, Dad?’

‘Just saying we hit the national high again today. Blue skies and sunshine here in Florida. How’s it looking in the big smoke?’

‘Grey. And freezing. They’re predicting snow tomorrow. It could be heavy.’

Her father laughed. ‘We have hospitals in this neck of the woods, you know. You don’t have to suffer!’

‘Maybe I’ll see what’s being advertised.’

The comment was light-hearted but, as they chatted about other things, the thought stayed in the back of her mind.

She could walk away from New York, couldn’t she? She didn’t have to stay here and feel...rejected...

Grace had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat. ‘I feel a long way away at the moment. I miss you, Dad.’

‘Miss you, too, honey.’ Her father’s smile wobbled a bit. ‘So tell me, what are you doing for Thanksgiving dinner? Have you got yourself some turkey?’

‘No. Work’s been really busy and, anyway, it seemed a bit silly buying a turkey for one person.’

‘I’ll bet that dog you’re living with could have helped you out there.’

Grace laughed but her brain was racing down another track. It couldn’t have been Charles knocking at her door because wasn’t he going to some big Davenport family dinner tonight? A dinner that he had suggested she could also go to but then he’d made a face as if the idea was distasteful.

Why? Did he not enjoy the family gathering himself or was it more the idea that she would hate it because she wouldn’t fit in?

Of course she wouldn’t. As Helena had reminded her so recently, the Davenports were New York royalty and she wasn’t even American by birth. She was a foreigner. A divorced foreigner. A divorced foreigner with a scarred body who wasn’t even capable of becoming a mother.

Oh, help... Going down this track any further when she had a night alone stretching out in front of her was a very bad idea.

‘Have you got some wine to go with your turkey, Dad?’

‘Of course. A very nice Australian chardonnay.’

‘Well...I’ve got something in the fridge. Prosecco, I think. Why don’t we both have a glass together and we can tap the screen and say cheers.’ It was hard to summon up a cheerful smile but Grace gave it her best shot.

She could deal with this.

She had, in fact, just had a very good idea of exactly how she could deal with it. When she had finished this call with her dad, and had had a glass or two of wine, she was going to do something very proactive.

It was ironic that it had been Charles who’d pointed out how far she had come from being someone vulnerable enough to be easily crushed. How strong she was now.

Ironic because she was going to write her resignation letter from Manhattan Mercy. And, tomorrow, as soon as she started her shift, it would be Charles Davenport’s desk that she would put that letter on.