Читать книгу Healing The Single Dad's Heart / Just Friends To Just Married? - Scarlet Wilson - Страница 15

LIEN FINISHED WRITING up the notes on her last patient just as one of the nurses stuck her head around the door. ‘Lien? I know it’s late, but Joe asked if you’d mind dropping in at his house on the way home. There’s something he wants to talk to you about.’

She couldn’t help the way her face automatically curved into a smile. It seemed the nurse noticed too as she gave Lien an amused glance. ‘Okay, then, see you later.’

Lien glanced at her watch. It was late. Regan would likely be sleeping by now. She couldn’t help but be curious. What did Joe want to talk to her about?

She washed her hands and pulled her shirt a little straighter, then walked across the grounds towards his blue door.

She knocked lightly, waiting for only a second before he pulled it open with a tired smile. ‘Come in.’

He was wearing a white T-shirt and some lightweight jogging trousers. From the way he had papers scattered across the table he’d been working on this for some time.

He gestured towards the table, indicating she should sit next to him. In the last few weeks he’d made this place a bit homier. There were now a few pictures scattered around, and it looked like he’d finally got around to buying a laundry basket to get on top of the washing. She could see a haphazardly folded pile of clean clothes sitting on a chair in the corner of the room.

‘Want something to eat?’

She shook her head. She’d been hungry a few hours ago, but the feeling had passed. He held up a tin that she knew was where he kept Regan’s favourite biscuits. ‘One of these?’

‘Go on, then,’ she said. ‘But promise not to tell him.’

Joe smiled. ‘Oh, too late, he has these counted. I’ll need to account for the missing biscuit tomorrow.’

She bit into the chocolate-coated biscuit. It was one that Regan’s grandparents sent every few weeks from Scotland and she was beginning to think she was getting quietly addicted to them.

There was a noise, a bit like a whimper, and Joe crossed to Regan’s doorway. As she watched she could sense his breathing get heavier. It was clear he had something on his mind. She waited a few moments, and when he didn’t move, she crossed over to stand just behind his shoulder.

Regan was curled into a little ball. His lips were moving, as if he were singing some song or nursery rhyme in his sleep.

Joe took a deep breath, his voice so low it was barely a whisper, his eyes fixed on Regan.

‘Sometimes when I’m in my bed at night, I get up and watch Regan sleeping. Then I start to wonder, is there some horrible, secret gene that predisposes you to cancer?’

Lien’s stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. He kept talking, his voice racked with emotion.

‘Both of Esther’s parents died of different types of cancer, and she died of leukaemia. So I look at my little boy and wonder if there’s even a tiny possibility that he might have inherited something that I don’t know about, can’t see, and won’t find out about until it smacks us in the face.’ His voice was shaking now, as were his hands.

She slid her arm through his.

He shook his head. ‘I know it’s crazy. I know it’s irrational. But I can’t help it.’

Her voice was tinged with sadness because she got the impression he’d been hiding these feelings for a while, storing them up, letting them fester, and not sharing them with anyone else. ‘But it’s not irrational, and it’s not crazy, Joe. It’s the thoughts of a man who has already lost his wife, and is terrified he might lose his son.’

She hated the fact they were having this conversation. She could reach out and touch his pain. It was so visible in the air it was practically creating a cloud around his head.

There was also a tiny twinge in her that wondered if this was why he’d asked her here. She’d been bright and happy about the invitation, hoping that—just maybe—it was for something other than work.

But now he was talking to her about his dead wife, and his fears for his son. Her heart ached for him, but she was also trying hard to hide the tinge of disappointment she felt.

She should have been pleased that he felt he could reveal this part of himself to her. But somehow it also gave her the feeling that, no matter what Joe said out loud, his heart really wasn’t ready to move on.

She ran her fingertips along his bare skin. ‘I can’t say much to help, because we do know some cancers seem to run in families. But think back. Think back to the random patients you’ve seen over the years that came in with symptoms. Symptoms that led to a diagnosis of…’ she paused for a second, obviously recalling a few cases ‘…skin cancer, anal cancer, prostate cancer or renal cancer. People with no family history at all. It happens all the time.’

She stopped talking for a few minutes and just let him consider. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to see the things that worry us most.’ She paused and gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘The kinds of things that keep you awake in your bed at night.’

‘What kind of doctor does that make me then?’ He looked pained.

She shook her head. ‘No kind of doctor. Just a worried parent. You don’t have to be a doctor every moment of your life, Joe.’ She looked up into his worried green eyes and gave him the softest smile. They were barely inches apart now. ‘Make room for other things,’ she whispered.

It was almost as if she’d touched a nerve. He jerked. He physically jerked at the impact of her words and she immediately averted her eyes, embarrassed for them both. She moved back quickly to the table and sat down, giving him a few moments to join her.

Her brain was whirring now. She shouldn’t have touched him. How could she explain that it had been done in empathy for how he was feeling?

She wasn’t really that surprised that he was feeling vulnerable right now. He was in a strange country with his son. Yes, they seemed to have settled well, but who really knew what went on inside someone else’s mind?

Clearly not her. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she was beginning to feel a connection to this guy. But after that reaction she was apparently not reading things well. She’d just embarrassed them both. The easiest thing to do was try to pretend nothing had happened.

She shifted a little in the seat. The last thing she wanted to do was sit here in his company after that.

But she still had to work with this guy every day. So she took a deep breath and plastered an interested look on her face, ignoring the little strands of hurt she felt inside.

His phone buzzed with a text and when it flashed up, she saw the screenshot that lay behind it. It was the same photo that Regan had next to his bed. The picture of Esther on the beach, laughing.

Something twisted inside her. She had no reason to be jealous, absolutely none. Of course Regan should have a picture of his mum, but did Joe also need to have it on his phone?

She stared at the array of papers alongside a laptop on the table. ‘What on earth have you been doing?’

As he sat down at the table and started organising his papers her eyes went to one of the pictures Joe had put on the wall. What drew her attention was a large, grand-looking house surrounded by an expanse of gardens. From the view and setting it seemed to be back in Scotland. Joe and Regan were standing in front of the property—it was clearly their family home. She had no idea what house prices were like over there, but one look at the obviously expensive property made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. She’d already seen the house belonging to Joe’s mum and dad, but this must be the house that Joe and Regan lived in. She tried not to calculate in her head how many times this tiny two-bed bungalow could fit into that grand house. What was the English TV series set before the war, where they had staff? It was nearly as big as that.

‘Is that a house or a castle?’ she quipped. Unease spread across her. No, more than that. It was like every nerve in her body was on edge; she could sense the instant hostility and she couldn’t do a darned thing about it. It was like every automatic defence system had just slid into place.

‘It’s not a castle,’ he said with a wave of his hand, then peered back at the screen. ‘At least, I don’t think it was.’

Her skin prickled. She actually wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. She licked her lips. It was funny how being uncomfortable made her mouth instantly dry. ‘Bigger than the average house, I imagine.’ She tried to make her voice sound casual.

He leaned back against the sofa and nodded towards the window and the hospital across from them. ‘Not as big as this place.’

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I’m not so sure.’

He shook his head. ‘Nah,’ he said breezily. ‘And anyway, didn’t you know everyone lives in a castle in Scotland?’

Of course he was joking, but just the way he said those words tugged at something inside her, and not in a good way. History had taught her that only those who had never had to worry about money would make a quip like that.

‘Here.’ He turned a large piece of paper around to face her. He hadn’t thought twice about their conversation. He hadn’t even noticed her reaction.

She bent forward. It was a map of the surrounding areas. It was littered with red and blue dots.

‘What is this?’ She was confused.

‘I decided to take a look at some of our patients,’ he said. His fingers traced across the paper. ‘The ones with the red dots are the patients currently attending that have tuberculosis. The ones with blue dots are the ones we know have multi-resistant tuberculosis.’ He leaned forward so his head was almost touching hers. ‘Look here. This is the biggest cluster.’

She nodded slowly. The information wasn’t a surprise to her, she’d just never seen it laid out this way. Her skin prickled. The district with the biggest incidence of tuberculosis was the one where her parents lived, and in which she’d been brought up.

He kept talking as he moved some papers around the desk. ‘Okay, so you don’t like me going out and doing follow-ups…’ he gave her a slightly teasing smile ‘…but I got to thinking. I’ve checked up on some of these patients. There’s a low uptake of tuberculosis vaccinations after birth. Not everyone is bringing their children to the clinic. What about if we set up a kind of pop-up clinic to try and screen some people for TB, and immunise any kids that have been missed?’

He was clearly brimming with enthusiasm at the prospect. ‘Is this district one I should be worried about? Are the crime rates high there?’ He kept talking without waiting for a response. ‘Because I’ve checked some of the other stats. I know there’s deprivation and poor health. I know one of the biggest issues for the kids in that area is malnutrition. Maybe we could try and do something to address that while we’re there?’

Something swept over her. Resentment. A wave of anger. ‘What, do you want to give them all money to feed their kids too?’

He pulled back, obviously surprised by her outburst. She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Do you think we haven’t tried these things before?’ she asked. ‘Do you think we haven’t tried to find new ways to help the people who need it most?’ Her words came out more fiercely than she’d meant them to, but she couldn’t hide how many buttons his ideas had just pushed.

Joe was looking at her with cautious eyes. He clasped both hands together and spoke carefully. ‘Of course I think you’ve tried different things. But sometimes it’s a timing issue. All I’m saying is maybe it’s time to try again.’ His voice was low. ‘I don’t know the people in these areas the way that the rest of the staff here do. I can only look from an outside point of view. My public health head tells me we have a current hotspot for tuberculosis, and potentially more cases of multi-resistance. Can’t we take a look at this?’

He spoke so earnestly she knew he meant every word of this. She couldn’t help but be oversensitive. She often felt like this when outsiders remarked on the area she’d been brought up in. People made so many judgements. Formed so many opinions.

She struggled to find the right words. ‘Let me think about it. We can discuss it with Khiem and Hoa. Setting up pop-up clinics is more difficult than it sounds.’

Joe pressed his lips together and ran his fingers through his hair. She could tell he was frustrated. He’d probably wanted her to jump all over his idea and tell him it was wonderful. And in some ways it probably was.

He leaned back and stretched his arms out. ‘Regan is hankering after another bedtime story from you. He’ll be sorry he missed you tonight.’

‘Couldn’t be helped,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘We can catch up some other time.’ She gave Joe a softer look. ‘Are your stories really that bad?’

He smiled. ‘Not bad. Just the same. I keep recycling, and Regan’s now getting old enough to realise that.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Whereas you swept in here with your dragons, warriors and magic turtles and blew me out of the water.’

She raised her eyebrows in challenge. ‘Time to up your game, then.’

He shook his head. ‘Oh, no way. I’m not getting into that. You have an unfair advantage.’

‘What’s that?’ The atmosphere between them was definitely mellowing. She was starting to calm down. Gain a bit of perspective. She’d had no reason to act so hurt about earlier. He’d clearly been sad, vulnerable and worried about his child. Over-reacting wouldn’t do either of them any good.

He waved his hand. ‘Untried and untested kids’ stories.’

‘Who says they’re untried and untested? I’ve worked the children’s clinic for a while now. It’s amazing what you can learn when you start telling a chid a story.’

His face changed, becoming more serious, and he nodded. ‘Yeah, sometimes they tell you a story back that makes you want to wrap your arms around them and hide them away.’

Their gazes clashed. Unspoken words. Joe had worked as a general practitioner in Scotland for years. Doubtless he’d encountered child protection issues just like she had here. It was a sobering thought, and she didn’t want to go there.

‘Have you and Regan video-called with your parents again?’

He nodded. ‘Oh, yes. Every Tuesday and Friday. My parents are creatures of habit. If they don’t get their Regan fix they get very testy.’

‘They must miss him.’

He gave a little sigh. ‘Yeah, they do. And he misses them. I don’t think he quite understands the distance. He’s asked a few times if we can go and see them. He was used to seeing them every day, so it’s a big difference.’

‘You must miss them too.’

Joe paused for a second. ‘I do. They’ve been my biggest supporters for the last few years. I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t been there when…’ His voice drifted off and she filled in the blanks by herself. She didn’t need him to say any more. He looked up. ‘They keep asking for you too. You’ll need to come and say hello again sometime.’

She smiled nervously. Something in the air felt quite odd between them. They were working together so well, and she enjoyed his company. Maybe that was it? She was enjoying his company a bit more than any other colleague’s. Maybe that was why she was being so defensive? Self-protect mode kicked in when anything felt remotely personal. She wanted to keep herself safe. And how did you keep your heart safe when there was already an adorable kid tugging away at it, and a guy with the sexiest accent in the world breathing the same air?

He reached over for the biscuit tin again, offering it to her. ‘Hey, you’ve met my mum and dad now. When do we get to meet yours? I’m sure Regan would love to say hello.’

The words came like a bolt out of the blue. It felt like a tidal wave sweeping the ground from beneath her feet. She wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t ready. She swallowed. ‘I…I…’ Panic flooded her. This wasn’t her. She was a professional. She’d had lots of questions or statements thrown at her over the years. None had made her as tongue-tied as this simple request.

She stood up quickly, scattering some of the papers that were on the table to the floor. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve just remembered there’s something I need to do.’ She crossed the room quickly and opened the door, her mouth achingly dry. ‘See you tomorrow.’

The thudding of her heart echoed in her ears as she hurried to her own front door. She’d seen the look on Joe’s face. He’d been totally confused by her actions. But the thought of taking him to meet her parents made her stomach churn in a way she couldn’t put into words.

She’d been down this road before. At medical school she’d known how to dress—designer classics bought from charity shops, clothes that had barely aged from season to season. She had been polite. She’d been able to talk about a vast range of international topics. She’d read widely. All things to hide her background from her fellow students. It had all gone so nicely. Until she’d started dating Reuben.

And he’d wanted to meet her parents. They hadn’t even got that far. As soon as he’d heard where she lived, she’d been dropped like a hot brick. The look of disdain and disappointment that he’d given her had seared into her heart, destroying a little part of her for ever. It seemed as if Joe, despite his humble nature, was from just as rich a family as Reuben had been.

The thought filled her with dread. They were just colleagues, that was all.

But how could Joe meet her parents without judging them? Wasn’t that what everyone from wealth and privilege did? She didn’t want that for her parents. She loved them dearly, and supported the fact they liked where they lived. But anyone walking into the neighbourhood could see the poverty there. It reached out and grabbed you from every faded awning and tumbled litter bin that was strewn across the streets. From the patched-up windows, along with the thin, angular frames of the people who lived there. Malnutrition was a big issue. Overcrowding another.

The area was home to her. Even if it wasn’t the nicest area. She could name most of the families in the same street as her mother and father. Some of these people had cleaned up her grazed knees or wiped her nose when she’d been a tiny kid. She’d been invited to sit at the table of bigger families with a large bowl of food shared out between however many faces were round the table at the time. Sometimes it meant only a few spoonfuls each, but the laughter and chatter around the table had meant that bellies had felt a little less empty.

The thought of walking Joe—the man who practically lived in a castle back in Scotland—down those streets filled her with dread.

Her parents were every bit as polite and hospitable as Joe’s were, and Joe didn’t seem like Reuben in any other way.

But she couldn’t take that chance.

She wouldn’t have her parents judged the way she had been.

Not ever.