A Courageous Doctor

by Alison Roberts

  ‘Oh…’ Joan looked past Hugo and then smiled again. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m sure Lewis can take me home.’

  ‘Of course I can.’ Lewis tipped the bottle he held over Joan’s empty glass. ‘That is, if it’s OK with Hugh.’

  ‘It’s fine. Thanks, Lewis.’

  ‘Maybe you should take Maggie home instead,’ Joan suggested.

  Hugo blinked in surprise. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well…’ Joan’s lips pressed together firmly as she shook her head. ‘Lewis tells me that Donald’s not divorced at all. His wife threw him out last year for a while but they’ve been back together since Christmas.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Lewis confirmed. ‘I had dinner with them only last week. His wife is quite convinced he’s reformed.’

  ‘You should do something about it,’ Joan urged. ‘Before their affair goes any further.’

  ‘You don’t know that they’re having an affair,’ Hugo said quietly. ‘And even if they are, it’s not really any of our business, is it?’

  It was a relief to escape, to drive the few kilometres along deserted roads and then spend time at the hospital being distracted by someone else’s worries. The middle-aged woman who’d been brought in by ambulance was reassured to learn that her neurological symptoms had most likely been caused by a migraine rather than anything more sinister. She was even happier to stay in the hospital for overnight observation. Hugo used the opportunity to catch up on a couple of other inpatients, including Nancy, who still hadn’t come quite right after her bout of pneumonia. Her heart failure was a lot harder to control now and she was getting very little rest because she became very short of breath lying down. He wasn’t surprised to find her sitting bolt upright and wide awake when he stopped by her bed.

  ‘Goodness me, Hugo. What are you doing here at this time of night?’

  ‘I had to come in for an emergency. I thought I’d just pop up and see how you were, Nancy.’ Hugo spoke very quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping patients around them.

  ‘I’m about the same, dear,’ Nancy told him. ‘I don’t really expect to get much better this time, you know.’ Clouded blue eyes gazed at Hugo in the dim light. ‘You’re very dressed up.’

  ‘I’ve been to a party,’ Hugo told her. He had his hand on Nancy’s wrist now, hoping to find her heart rhythm more regular than it had been. It wasn’t and he sighed.

  ‘It can’t have been a very good party,’ Nancy observed.

  Hugo smiled. Nancy could see things a lot of people couldn’t. She was very old. And probably very wise. ‘I felt a bit left out, actually,’ he surprised himself by admitting. ‘Everyone else was in fancy dress.’

  ‘Why not you?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Hugo confessed. ‘I’ve always thought fancy dress was silly. Embarrassing. Tonight I wondered if being sensible was just making me miss out on something.’

  Nancy patted his hand. ‘It would only do that if you were being sensible for the sake of others and not yourself.’

  Hugo pondered this for a moment. Maybe he’d been sensible for the sake of others for so long that it had just become a part of him.

  ‘Being sensible isn’t a bad thing,’ Nancy said softly. Then she smiled. ‘Being silly occasionally doesn’t hurt either. Life’s shorter than you think, dear. You’ve got to make the most of it.’

  Hugo switched off an echo of similar sentiments he’d heard Maggie express as he returned the smile. This was certainly an occasion that called for a sensible approach.

  ‘It’s time you got some rest, Nancy. I’m going to get the nurses to put you on oxygen again and we’ll see if that helps a bit.’

  It was only sensible that Hugo got some rest too. He arrived home shortly after two a.m. but any thought of heading straight to bed dissipated as he noticed how empty the house felt. Maggie wasn’t home yet. Maybe she wasn’t coming home. Perhaps she was, at this very moment, tucked up in some hotel suite with the very unsuitable Donald Hamilton. The cardiologist’s personal life might very well be none of Hugo’s business but he couldn’t apply the same lack of involvement to Maggie. He cared about what happened to her, damn it!

  Maggie was shivering as she let herself into the house. Harem trousers and a bra top were vastly unsuitable attire for the depths of a Central Otago winter. Nice of Hugo to leave the fire going and a light on, Maggie thought gratefully. It was very welcoming.

  Far more welcoming than the expression on Hugo’s face. She was startled to find him standing in front of the fire, his feet planted far enough apart to make him look almost intimidating.

  ‘It’s three a.m.!’ he informed her. ‘Where the hell have you been, Maggie?’

  ‘You know perfectly well where I’ve been,’ Maggie retorted. ‘You were there yourself.’ She rubbed at her bare arms but didn’t want to move closer to the fire just yet. She stared at Hugo. ‘You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I was.’

  ‘What on earth for?’

  Hugo was taken aback by the astonishment in Maggie’s voice. The anger that had sneaked up on him over the last hour now seemed inappropriate but he couldn’t just shake it off. Especially not with Maggie standing there half-naked and looking so damned…attractive.

  ‘There’s something you should know, Maggie.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Donald Hamilton is not divorced.’

  ‘No,’ Maggie agreed. ‘He’s separated.’

  ‘So why is he still living with his wife?’

  ‘Is he?’

  Hugo ignored the warning note. ‘And his kids,’ he added for good measure. ‘Lewis Evans had dinner with them last week.’

  Maggie’s chin lifted defiantly. Donald had been perfectly pleasant company for the evening. She had had fun. Enough fun to distract her from wanting to be with Hugo, in fact. Donald hadn’t even got pushy when she’d declined his invitation to visit his room for a nightcap. His intention to get her into his bed had been transparent and Maggie wasn’t ready to test the distraction level that far but maybe it would have been preferable to standing here feeling like a teenager who had broken curfew and was now about to be given a lecture on morals.

  ‘This is none of your business, Hugh.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I care about you.’

  ‘I care about you,’ Maggie shot back. ‘But I wouldn’t dream of telling you how unsuitable Joan is.’

  ‘That’s because she’s not unsuitable.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’

  Hugo was not going to be sidetracked. ‘At least she’s not married to someone else.’

  ‘Maybe Donald isn’t either, despite what you’ve heard. And even if he is, it’s my business to find out.’ Maggie let her breath out in an angry huff. ‘For heaven’s sake, Hugh. I don’t need protection. I’m not your little sister.’

  The moment’s silence was heavy. Maggie knew it had been a sharp dig but she’d had enough.

  ‘And, in case you haven’t noticed, Hugh, I’m not a child any more.’ Maggie’s feet seemed to move without conscious effort. Suddenly she was standing right in front of Hugo. ‘I’m all grown up, Hugh,’ she said softly. ‘I can do what I want, when I want to. Just like you.’

  Maggie’s feet were still moving. She stretched right up on tiptoe and planted a brief kiss directly on Hugo’s lips. Then she simply turned and walked from the room, pausing at the door to speak into the stunned silence she was leaving behind her.

  ‘Goodnight, Hugh,’ she said calmly. ‘Sleep well.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SLEEPING well was completely out of the question.

  Sleeping at all would have been a bonus. Hugo had never felt quite this disturbed in his life. The kiss had been nothing. A brief touch of lips prompted by Maggie’s determination to prove she was an independent adult. A split second of physical contact that hadn’t even been particularly intimate, and yet it had had the effect of an explosion somewhere deep in the foun
dations upon which Hugo had built his life.

  He couldn’t put his finger on precisely where the damage had occurred. He just knew, beyond any doubt, that something important was now very, very unstable. Analysis that would lead to identification and then repair was vital. However much his body tried to persuade him otherwise, the restful oblivion of sleep was a luxury Hugo couldn’t afford to indulge in right now.

  Maggie probably had no idea that she had vaulted over an unspoken boundary. She had kissed and hugged him countless times in her life after all. It wasn’t as though a chaste kiss on the lips was any more significant than a peck on the cheek. So why did it feel so damned significant? And why, in heaven’s name, did it never feel remotely like that when he kissed Joan? Or any of the other women he’d kissed in his life for that matter? Hugo groaned, a sound of faint despair that was easily muffled by his pillow as he turned yet again in search of comfort.

  He wanted her. There was no denying it now. Maybe the first cracks had appeared when he had recognised what an attractive woman she had become and that he was affected by that attraction. Admitting an attraction was one thing, however. Perfectly understandable. Controllable. The shock of experiencing what could only be considered frank lust was something quite different. And quite unacceptable. And what the hell was he going to do about it? He was living with her. He saw her first thing in the morning with those gold-flecked eyes still clouded by dreams and hair that had yet to be tamed by product. He saw her last thing at night, curled up and looking as much a part of his home as the dogs that crowded her so lovingly now.

  What if he admitted how he felt and suggested it would be better if she moved out? No. Hugo turned again and stared into the darkness towards his ceiling. To admit the desire would be to destroy the level of trust and friendship he had with Maggie. She would be shocked. And she would lose what Hugo had always tried to be for her. A brother. A father figure almost. To resign that position could be enough to send Maggie straight into the arms of the older man already in the wings.

  The thought of Donald Hamilton was enough to cause an unpleasant clenching in Hugo’s gut. Had she kissed him? Was this new and unpleasant sensation jealousy? Hugo forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. No. It was just a deep unease. A conviction that Maggie was heading for trouble just as she had done so often in the past. And if Hugo sent her away he would be able to do nothing to protect her. Nothing to help glue the pieces back together after disaster had occurred.

  He couldn’t ask her to leave and there was no real reason to. This was his problem, not Maggie’s, and he could deal with it. Lust was a transient phenomenon, especially when it carried this amount of heat. It would burn itself out and disappear. If he kept it well enough hidden it would not cause any damage to a relationship that Hugo had no intention of harming.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ Maggie was looking disgustingly refreshed when Hugo entered the kitchen the next morning.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ Hugo lied. He blinked gritty eyes as he looked at the pot Maggie was stirring enthusiastically. ‘What on earth are you cooking?’

  ‘Porridge. I thought it might be just what the doctor would order for a chilly winter morning.’

  Hugo grunted noncommittally as he stepped a little closer and peered at the bubbling contents of the pot. ‘Porridge is a bit boring, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not when you have brown sugar and whipped cream on it.’ Maggie licked her lips and Hugo turned away abruptly.

  It was bad enough that Maggie was only half-dressed in an ancient T-shirt and track pants. The gap between the shirt and pants might be barely noticeable but in conjunction with her bare feet and bright toenails it was far too reminiscent of her belly-dancer’s costume. And the sight of a small, pink tongue wetting expectant lips was way too much to handle after last night’s contemplations. Maybe controlling how he felt was going to be far more traumatic than he had anticipated. How long would it take for lust to burn itself out anyway? Days? Weeks? Months? Hugo slumped into a chair at the end of the table with a sigh he had no hope of suppressing.

  ‘You sound tired.’ Maggie placed a bowl of porridge in front of Hugo and sat down to one side of him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Hugo growled. There were six chairs at this table. Why did Maggie have to sit within touching distance?

  ‘Have some cream.’ Maggie’s finger collected a blob of whipped cream as she passed him the bowl. She popped her finger in her mouth and sucked it clean with obvious relish. ‘Mmm,’ she smiled. ‘Yum.’

  Hugo closed his eyes in a very deliberate blink. Distraction was needed here. And it was urgent. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of the journal abandoned, probably by Maggie, in the centre of the dining table. Fortunately Maggie didn’t notice his haste in grabbing the potential rescue material. She was too busy spooning sugar onto her hot porridge and watching it melt into sticky, brown puddles.

  ‘I really must catch up on some reading.’ Hugo tried to sound casual. ‘And it’s about time I wrote up some of the interesting case histories I’ve collected. I might go through my files today when I’ve finished my ward round.’

  ‘Really?’ Maggie’s expression suggested that it was not an ideal way to spend a Sunday. It probably ranked quite highly on a rating scale for inducing boredom, in fact, but as Hugo watched a spoonful of porridge enter her mouth before he could drag his eyes away he knew it was his only possible salvation.

  If he spent more time at the hospital then he’d be spending less time in Maggie’s company. Hugo finished his breakfast quickly and excused himself. A day away from home was definitely called for. In fact, more than a day might be just the solution he was searching for. The idea gained merit as Hugo drove towards the hospital. He could check out any upcoming conferences that appealed. It wouldn’t be any problem arranging locum cover by the team of GPs in the area and he had accumulated conference and study leave for some time now. It always seemed such an effort to pull himself away from his routine, and that was ridiculous. He was far too young to be stuck in a rut and even if he didn’t enjoy travelling particularly he would appreciate home even more when he returned.

  He could go somewhere interesting. Adventurous, even. Acapulco or Egypt. That would impress Maggie. Might even show her that he had more than a little adventure in his soul. Hugo could just imagine showing her the photos and answering her eager questions. She’d probably say, more than once, ‘I wish I’d been there,’ and Hugo knew in that moment that the plan was a non-starter because he’d wish she had been there, too. The pleasure from the thought of sharing photos was insignificant compared with the notion of actually sharing the trip.

  So what was the answer? Hugo marched along the main corridor of Lakeview Hospital with a heavy tread. He was several steps past a familiar picture hanging on the wall before a new notion presented itself. Could Joan be the answer? If nothing else, spending more time with Joan or even going away with her would be a guaranteed way of letting Maggie know she was safe. Then, even if he inadvertently let signs of his attraction to her slip, she would realise they meant nothing. But that would be using Joan and would a totally unacceptable form of behaviour.

  Unless…

  Hugo’s path towards the medical ward continued automatically as his mind focussed on something entirely unprofessional. Unless he could divert what he felt for Maggie to someone far more suitable. Like Joan. Maybe that was more than half the problem, in fact. He was suffering the effects of a less than satisfactory love life. Hugo had to stifle something like a smile. Being a born-again virgin was not necessarily healthy. If he spent more time with Joan it was quite possible he could fall in lust. She was, after all, an attractive woman and a physical relationship might be just what was needed to tip the balance. Hugo was quite confident that Joan would be receptive. All he needed was an opportunity or two to start turning up the heat.

  By the time Hugo had completed a check on all his patients and spent some time in his office ignoring his filing cabinet he knew just how he cou
ld go about turning up that heat. He’d break the routine he and Joan had established. He could take her out to lunch instead of sharing a sandwich in the hospital staffroom with their colleagues. He could take her out for dinner on a Wednesday as well as Fridays. No, not Wednesday. That was Joan’s painting-class evening. A night out at a club or just a quick drink after work might do it. That would be ideal. He could just drop the suggestion in towards the end of a day. It didn’t have to be blatant. Even a casual invitation would be unusual enough to surprise Joan. She would know instantly that something had changed. That a signal was being given.

  Confident that a feasible resolution was now in progress, Hugo found he could divert enough of his attention to find real distraction in his work. It wasn’t until he had spent a profitable afternoon engrossed in reading some fascinating medical literature and was driving home again that a refinement to his plan came as added inspiration. The signal idea was great, but what would make it perfect would be to be able to do it in front of Maggie.

  That way, the signal would work in two directions. Joan would know that, at last, he was serious about taking their friendship to a new level and Maggie would know that he was no threat. He was not going to use the position in her life to take advantage of her and he was certainly not going to risk losing the gift of what she had brought back into his life.

  And it was a gift. Hugo only had to glimpse Maggie running full tilt along the beach with the dogs in hot pursuit as he turned the Jeep into the woolshed to recognise that truth. Maggie was a link to his past. One that didn’t need to be shut away any more. They could talk about Felicity now and her name was often dropped into a conversation without thought. It was only natural that they both wanted to remember someone they had both loved and now they could do it without the pain. Instead of keeping them apart, Felicity now provided a bond of enormous strength. A bond that Hugo could not possibly have with anyone else.

  Quite apart from that bond, Maggie represented the kind of attitude to life that Hugo had always denied himself. A willingness to take risks. A headlong enthusiasm for living that was a joy to be near. In measured doses it was precisely what Hugo needed in his life. Maggie was a perfect friend and their past association allowed Hugo to embrace the extra dimension it provided for his own life without any threat to the larger picture he had framed for his future.