Читать книгу Chistmas In Manhattan Collection - Алисон Робертс - Страница 19

CHAPTER TEN

‘THANKS EVER SO much for coming home, Dr Davenport.’

‘It’s no problem, Maria. You need to get to this appointment for the final check on that back of yours. I hope you won’t need the brace any more after this.’

‘I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. I’ll text you if there’s any hold-up.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve got more than enough work that I can do from home.’

His nanny nodded, wrapping a thick scarf around her neck. ‘The boys are happy. They’re busy drawing pictures at the moment.’

A glance into the living area showed a coffee table covered with sheets of paper and scattered crayons. Two tousled heads were bent as the twins focused on their masterpieces. Charles stayed where he was for a moment, pulling his phone from his pocket and hitting a rapid-dial key.

‘Emergency Room.’

Charles recognised the voice of one of the staff members who managed the phone system and incoming radio calls.

‘Hi, Sharon. Charles Davenport here. I’m working from home for a few hours.’

‘Yes, we’re aware of that, Dr Davenport. Did you want to speak to the other Dr Davenport?’

‘No. I actually wanted to speak to Dr Forbes. Is she available at the moment?’

‘Hang on, I’ll check.’

Charles could hear the busy sounds of the department through the line but it sounded a little calmer than it had been earlier today. When he’d gone to his office to collect his briefcase after the latest meeting, there’d been security personnel and police officers there but Elijah had assured him that everything was under control and he was free to take the time he needed away.

Right now, the voices close by were probably doctors checking lab results or X-rays on the computers. Would one of them be Grace, by any chance?

He hadn’t seen her when he’d been in at work earlier and this was getting ridiculous. It was well into the second day after their night together and they hadn’t even spoken. His intention to protect everyone he cared about by ignoring the potential for public scrutiny on his private life had been so strong, it was only now that it was beginning to feel like something was very wrong.

No. Make that more than ‘feel’. He knew that he was in trouble.

He’d met the Australian dog walker, Kylie, in the foyer on his way in, minutes ago. The one that looked after Houston when Grace was at work.

She’d introduced herself. Because, she explained, she might be in residence for a while—if Grace left before Houston’s owners were due to return.

But Stefan and Jerome had been planning to come back in less than a couple of weeks as far as Charles was aware.

Why would Grace be thinking of leaving before then?

It had only been just over a day since he’d seen her. How could something that huge have changed so much in such a short space of time?

He needed to speak to her. To apologise for not having spoken to her yesterday. At the very least, he had to arrange a time when they could talk. To find out what was going on.

To repair any damage he had the horrible feeling he might be responsible for? He’d tried so hard to do things perfectly this time—to think through each step logically so that he could avoid making a mistake.

But he’d missed something. Something that was seeming increasingly important.

Sharon was back on the line.

‘Sorry, Dr Davenport. Dr Forbes is in CT at the moment. We had a head injury patient earlier who was extremely combative. We had to call Security in to help restrain him while he got sedated and intubated.’

‘Yes, I saw them there when I was leaving.’

‘He was Dr Forbes’s patient. She’s gone with him to CT and may have to stay with him if he needs to go to Theatre so I have no idea how long she’ll be. Do you want me to page her to call you back when she can?’

‘Daddy... Daddy...’ Cameron was tugging on his arm, a sheet of paper in his other hand. ‘Look at this.’

‘No, thanks, Sharon. She’s busy enough, by the sound of things. I’ll catch up with her later.’

He ended the call. Was he kidding himself? He’d been trying to ‘catch up’ with her from the moment he’d arrived at work yesterday and it hadn’t happened. And suddenly he felt like he was chasing something that was rapidly disappearing into the distance.

‘Daddy? What’s the matter?’

The concern in Max’s voice snapped Charles back to where he was. He crouched down as Max joined his brother.

‘Nothing’s the matter, buddy.’

‘But you look sad.’

‘No-o-o...’ Charles ruffled the heads of both his boys. ‘How could I be sad when I get to spend some extra time with you guys? Hey...did you really draw that picture all by yourself?’ He reached out for the paper to admire the artwork more closely but, to his surprise, Max shook his head and stepped back.

‘It’s for Gace,’ he said solemnly.

‘So’s mine,’ Cameron said. ‘But you can look.’

The colourful scribbles were getting more recognisable these days. A stick figure person with a huge, crooked smile. And another one with too many legs.

‘It’s Gace. And Horse.’

‘Aww...she’ll love them. You know what?’

‘What?’

‘I’ll bet she puts them in a frame and puts them on her wall.’

The boys beamed at him but then Max’s smile wobbled.

‘And then she’ll come back?’

Why hadn’t it occurred to him how much the twins were already missing Grace? How much they loved her as well as Horse. He hadn’t factored that in when he’d chosen to distance himself enough to keep his family temporarily out of the spotlight, had he? When he’d left her text unanswered and had told that journalist that they were nothing more than friends.

And never would be.

How many people had overheard that comment? Passed it on, even?

Could that have been enough to persuade Grace that she didn’t want to be in New York any more?

The sinking sensation that had begun with that chance meeting with Kylie gained momentum and crashed into the pit of Charles’s stomach but he smiled reassuringly and nodded.

It was tantamount to a promise, that smile and nod. A promise that Grace would be back. Now he just had to find a way to make sure he didn’t let his boys down.

‘You guys hungry? Want some cookies and milk? And Curious George on TV?’

‘Yes!’

At least three-year-old boys were easily distracted.

Or maybe not.

‘Spider cookies,’ Cameron shouted. ‘They’re the bestest.’

‘I think we’ve run out of spider cookies,’ he apologised.

‘That’s okay, Daddy.’ Max patted his arm. ‘I’ll tell Gace and we’ll help her make some more.’

He had to sit down with the boys and supervise the milk drinking but Charles wasn’t taking any notice of the monkey’s antics on the screen that were sending the twins into fits of giggles.

His mind was somewhere else entirely, carried away by the echo of his son’s words. The tone of his voice.

That confidence that everything would be put to rights when he’d had the chance to explain what was wrong to Grace.

It hadn’t even occurred to either of his boys to suggest that he make them some more homemade cookies. It might be only a superficial example but it symbolised all those things a mother could do that perhaps he couldn’t even recognise as being missing from their lives.

And that longing in Max’s voice.

And then she’ll come back?

It touched something very deep inside Charles. Opened the door he’d shut in his head and heart that was a space that was filled with the same longing. Not just for a woman in his life or for sex. That need was there, of course, but this longing—it was for Grace.

He had to do a whole lot more than simply apologise for leaving her text unanswered when he spoke to her. He had to make her understand how important she’d become to his boys. How much they loved her.

And...and he had to tell her that he felt the same way.

That he loved her.

That the idea of life without her had become something unthinkable.

There was a painful lump in his throat that he tried to clear away but that only made Max look up at him with those big, blue eyes that could often see so much more than you’d expect a small boy to see.

‘You happy, Daddy?’

‘Sure am, buddy.’ Man, it was hard work to sound as though he meant it. ‘You finished with that milk?’

He took the empty cups back to the kitchen. He glanced at his phone lying on the table beside his laptop on his return.

Was it worth trying to find out if Grace was available?

There was a sense of urgency about this now. What if she really was planning to leave? What if she was actually planning to leave New York? Surely she wouldn’t do that without telling him?

But why would she?

He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d spent the night together. He hadn’t even answered her text message.

Okay, stuff had happened and events had conspired to prevent him seeing her the way he’d assumed he’d be able to, but the truth was there was no excuse for what the combination of things had produced. Without any intention of doing so, he had allowed history to repeat itself. He’d made love to Grace and then seemingly ignored her. Pushed her out of his life because something else had seemed more important.

So why wouldn’t she just walk away?

He’d thought he was protecting her by not giving any journalists a reason to pry into her life when there were things that he knew she would prefer to keep very private.

Those same things that had made her so vulnerable to allowing herself to get close to another man.

Why had he assumed that she needed his protection anyway? As he’d reminded her himself, she was a strong, courageous woman and she had dealt with far worse things in her life than the threat of having her privacy invaded.

She had been courageous enough to take the risk of letting him that close.

And somehow—albeit unintentionally—he’d repeated the same mistake he’d made the first time.

He’d made everything worse.

He hadn’t even been protecting his boys in one sense, either. He’d created the risk of them losing someone they loved. Someone they needed in their lives.

Charles rubbed the back of his neck, lifting his gaze as he tried to fight his way through this mess in his head. The view from the massive windows caught his attention for a blessed moment of distraction. It was beginning to snow heavily. Huge, fat flakes were drifting down, misting the view of the Manhattan skyline and Central Park.

Charles loved snow. He’d never quite lost that childish excitement of seeing it fall or waking up to find his world transformed by the soft, white blanket of a thick covering. But there wasn’t even a spark of that excitement right now. All he could feel was that lump-inducing longing. A bone-deep need to be close to Grace.

He’d never thought he’d ever feel like this again. He’d never wanted to after Nina had died because the grief had been crippling and he never wanted to face another loss like that. He didn’t want his boys to have to face that kind of loss, either.

But it had happened. He had fallen in love. Maybe it had always been there, in an enforced hibernation after that first night they’d been together, thanks to the life events that had happened afterwards.

And here he was, possibly facing the loss of this love and, in a way, it would be worse than losing Nina because Grace would still be alive. If she wasn’t actually planning on leaving Manhattan Mercy, and was only thinking of finding a new place to live, he’d see her at work and see that smile and hear her voice and know that being together could have been possible if he’d done things differently.

There had to be some way he could fix this.

If Grace had feelings for him that were anything like as powerful as the ones he had finally recognised, surely there was a way to put things right.

But how?

A phone call couldn’t do it.

Even a conversation might not be enough.

Charles took a deep inward breath and then let it out very slowly as he watched the flakes continuing to fall. This was no passing shower. This snow would settle. Maybe not for long. It would probably be slush by the morning if the temperature lifted but for the next few hours at least it would look like a different world out there.

A world that Grace had been so eager to see.

An echo of her voice whispered in his mind.

‘It’s always been my dream for Christmas. A sleigh ride in a snowy park. At night, when there’s sparkly lights everywhere and there are bells on the horses and you have to be all wrapped up in soft blankets.’

He could have given her that. But how likely was it to be possible now? Christmas was weeks away and maybe she wouldn’t even be here.

He needed a small miracle.

And as he stood there, watching the snow fall, Charles became aware of the spark that had been missing. Excitement about the snow?

Maybe.

Or maybe it was just hope.

* * *

The letter was still in her pocket.

Grace could feel it crinkle as she sat down on the chair beside her elderly patient’s bed.

She could have gone in and put it on Charles Davenport’s desk first thing this morning but she hadn’t.

Because he’d been in the office. Sitting at his desk, his head bent, clearly focused on the paperwork in front of him. And it had been just too hard to know what it would be like to meet his eyes. To explain what was in the sealed envelope in her hands. To have the conversation that might have suggested they were both adults and surely they could continue working together. To be friends, even?

Nope. She didn’t think she could do that. Okay, maybe it was cowardly to leave a letter and run away. She was going to have to work out her notice and that meant that they would be working in the same space for the next couple of weeks but she would cope with that the same way she was going to cope today. By immersing herself in her work to the exclusion of absolutely everything else.

And fate seemed set to help her do exactly that, by providing an endless stream of patients that needed her complete focus.

Like the guy this morning. A victim of assault but it was highly likely he’d started the fight himself. The huge and very aggressive man had presented a danger to all staff involved with his care, despite the presence of the police escort who’d brought him in. Security had had to be called and it had been a real challenge to sedate this patient and get him on a ventilator. Due to his size, the drugs needed to keep him sedated were at a high level and Grace had needed to monitor their effects very closely. Knowing what could happen if his levels dropped meant that she’d had to stay with him while he went to CT and then to Theatre so the case had taken up a good part of her morning.

Charles was nowhere to be seen when she was back in the ER but, even if he had been there, she could have kept herself almost invisible behind the curtains of various cubicles or the resuscitation areas. Patient after patient came under her care. A man with a broken finger who’d needed a nerve block before it could be realigned and splinted. A stroke victim. Two heart attacks. A woman who’d slipped on the snow that was apparently starting to fall outside and had a compound tib and fib fracture and no circulation in her foot.

And now she was in a side room with a very elderly woman called Mary who had been brought in a couple of hours ago in severe respiratory distress from an advanced case of pneumonia. Mary was eighty-six years old and had adamantly refused to have any treatment other than something to make her more comfortable.

‘It’s my time,’ she’d told Grace quietly. ‘I don’t want to fight any more.’

Grace had called up her patient’s notes. Mary had had a double mastectomy for breast cancer more than thirty years ago and only a few weeks back she had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She had refused treatment then as well. While it was difficult, as a doctor, to stand by and not provide treatment that could help, like antibiotics, it was Mary’s right to make this decision and her reasoning was understandable. Very much of sound mind, she had smiled very sweetly at Grace and squeezed her hand.

‘You’re a darling to be so concerned but please don’t worry. I’m not afraid.’

‘Do you have any family we can call? Or close friends?’

‘There was only ever my Billy. And he’s waiting for me. He’s been waiting a long time now...’

Helena had been concerned that Grace was caring for this patient.

‘I can take her,’ she said. ‘I know how hard this must be for you. Your mum died of ovarian cancer, didn’t she?’

Grace nodded, swallowing past the constriction in her throat. ‘I sat with her at the end, too. Right now it feels like it was yesterday.’

‘Which is why you should step back, maybe. We’ll make her as comfortable as possible in one of the private rooms out the back. It could take a while, you know. I’ll find a nurse to sit with her so she won’t be alone.’

‘She knows me now. And I don’t care how long it takes, as long as you can cope without me in here?’

‘Of course. But—’

‘It’s because of my mum that I’m the right person to do this,’ Grace said softly. ‘Because of how real it feels for me. I want to do this for Mary. I want her to know that she’s with someone who really cares.’

So, here they were. In one of the rooms she had noticed on her very first day here when she had wondered what they might be used for. It might even be the room next door to the one that she had stayed in with the twins and fixed Max’s fire truck but this one had a bed with a comfortable air mattress. It was warm and softly lit. There was an oxygen port that was providing a little comfort to ease how difficult it was for Mary to breathe and there was a trolley that contained the drugs Grace might need to keep her from any undue distress. The morphine had taken away her pain and made her drowsy but they had talked off and on for the last hour and Grace knew that her husband Billy had died suddenly ten years ago.

‘I’m so glad he didn’t know about this new cancer,’ Mary whispered. ‘He would have been so upset. He was so good to me the first time...’

She knew that they had met seventy years ago at a summer event in Central Park.

‘People say that there’s no such thing as true love at first sight. But we knew different, Billy and me...’

She knew that they’d never had children.

‘We never got blessed like that. It wasn’t so hard...we had each other and that was enough...’

In the last half an hour Mary had stopped talking and her breathing had become shallow and rapid. Grace knew that she was still aware of her surroundings, however, because every so often she would feel a gentle squeeze from the hand her own fingers were curled around.

And finally that laboured breathing hitched and then stopped and Mary slipped away so quietly and peacefully that Grace simply sat there, still holding her hand, for the longest time.

It didn’t matter now that she had tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn’t sad, exactly. Mary had believed that she was about to be reunited with her love and she had welcomed the release from any more suffering. She hadn’t died alone, either. She had been grateful for Grace’s company. For a hand to hold.

And she’d been lucky, hadn’t she?

She had known true love. Had loved and been loved in equal measure.

Or maybe she was sad.

Not for Mary, but for herself.

Grace had come so close to finding that sort of love for herself—or she’d thought she had. But now, it seemed as far away as ever. As if she was standing on the other side of a plate-glass window, looking in at a scene that she couldn’t be a part of.

A perfect scene.

A Christmas one, perhaps. With pretty lights on a tree and parcels tied up with bows underneath. A fire in a grate beneath a mantelpiece that had colourful stockings hanging from it. There were people in that scene, too. A tall man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Two little mop-topped, happy boys. And a big, curly, adorable dog.

It took a while to get those overwhelming emotions under control but the company of this brave old woman who had unexpectedly appeared in her life helped, so by the time Grace alerted others of Mary’s death, nobody would have guessed how much it had affected her. They probably just thought she looked very tired and who wouldn’t, after such a long day?

It took a while after that to do what was necessary after a death of a patient and it was past time for Grace’s shift to finish by the time she bundled herself up in her warm coat and scarf and gloves, ready for her walk home.

She walked out of the ER via the ambulance bay and found that it had been snowing far more than she’d been told about. A soft blanket of whiteness had cloaked everything and the world had that muted sound that came with snow when even the traffic was almost silent. And it was cold. Despite her gloves, Grace could feel her fingers tingling so she shoved her hands in her pockets and that was when she felt the crinkle of that envelope again.

Thanks to her time with Mary, she had completely forgotten to put it on Charles’s desk.

Perhaps that was a good thing?

Running away from something because it was difficult wasn’t the kind of person she was now.

Charles had told her how courageous she was. He had made her believe it and that belief had been enough to push her into risking her heart again.

And that had to be a good thing, too.

Even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

She had almost reached the street now where the lamps were casting a circle of light amidst a swirl of snowflakes but she turned back, hesitating.

She hadn’t even looked in the direction of Charles’s office when she’d left. Maybe he was still there?

Maybe the kind of person she was now would actually go back and talk about this. Take the risk of making herself even more vulnerable?

And that was when she heard it.

Someone calling her name.

No. It was a jingle of bells. She had just imagined hearing her name.

She turned back to the road and any need to make a decision on what direction she was about to take evaporated.

There was a sleigh just outside the ambulance entrance to Manhattan Mercy.

A bright red sleigh, with swirling gold patterns on its sides and a canopy that was rimmed with fairy lights. A single white horse was in front, its red harness covered with small bells and, on its head—instead of the usual feathery plume—it had a set of reindeer antlers.

A driver sat in the front, a dark shape in a heavy black coat and scarf and top hat. But, in the back, there was someone else.

Charles...

‘Grace...?’

Her legs were taking her forward without any instruction from her brain.

She was too stunned to be thinking of anything, in fact. Other than that Charles was here.

In a sleigh?

Maybe she’d got that image behind the plate-glass window a little wrong earlier.

Maybe this was the magic place she hadn’t been able to reach.

Just Charles. In a sleigh. In the snow.

And he was holding out his hand now, to invite her to join him under the canopy at the back. Waiting to help her reach that place.

Grace was still too stunned to be aware of any coherent thoughts but her body seemed to know what to do and she found herself reaching up to take that hand.

She had been on the point of summoning the courage to go and find Charles even if it meant stepping into the most vulnerable space she could imagine.

Here she was, literally stepping into that space.

And it hadn’t taken as much courage as she’d expected.

Because it felt...right...

Because it was Charles who was reaching out to her and there was no way on earth she could have turned away.