‘I can see you are, but is this dumb pride thing about the car a matter of declaring your independence to the world?’
‘It might be,’ she said grudgingly. ‘But if it is, I like it. I bought my car with my own money, and after years of being totally dependent on so many people, you have no idea how good that feels. My car’s battered and old but it’s my battered and old. You haven’t sent it to the wrecking yard, have you?’
‘I wouldn’t do that without your permission.’
‘You don’t have it. I want my car.’
She met his gaze head on. There was a moment’s silence, a sort of unspoken battle, and finally he nodded, even conceding a lopsided smile. ‘I understand,’ he said at last. ‘Sort of.’
‘Meaning you still think I’m dumb?’
‘Meaning you’re looking a gift horse in the mouth.’
‘You make a pretty sleek gift horse,’ she said before she could stop herself. Not the wisest remark.
‘Sleek?’ he said, sounding bemused.
‘It’s an impressive suit.’
‘Thank you,’ he said faintly.
‘You’re welcome. How do I go about getting my car back?’
‘I’ll get it for you. But I will clean it.’
‘I’ll let you do that.’
‘That’s big of you,’ he said, and she smiled.
‘Sorry. Thank you. It was an amazing gesture. Really generous.’
‘I would like to do something more for you than cleaning your car.’
‘You can. Don’t tell anyone about the renal transplant.’
‘I won’t, but tell me...how long ago?’
‘Three years.’
‘You talk as if it was a long-term problem.’
She sighed. She didn’t want to talk about it but she’d already snubbed this man. He was a doctor and he was curious, and he’d promised to keep her secret.
‘I had an infection when I was eight, and things pretty much went downhill from there,’ she told him. ‘I had a transplant at fifteen, but it failed. The second one worked. I had it three years ago and it’s been a major, unbelievable success.
‘The doctors are telling me to get on with my life, I’m cured, so that’s exactly what I’m doing. I have my whole life ahead of me and I’m planning to enjoy every minute of it. If you knew the things I’ve dreamed, things I can now do...’
But he was into practicalities, not dreams. ‘Three years...’ He frowned. ‘When did you train as a nurse?’
He was still thinking of her as a renal patient, she thought, and winced. She really didn’t want to go further with this conversation. She hated talking about it, but he wasn’t asking from idle curiosity. It was friendliness and a bit of professional interest thrown in.
He was...nice, she thought. Gorgeous, too. A girl would be dumb to snub him.
‘I trained for ever,’ she said briefly. ‘It took me seven years, in and out of illness, but for the last two years I’ve been a hundred per cent well and working full time. I’m normal, and I want to be treated as normal.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘So that’s where I’m coming from. Accepting a car isn’t normal.’
His smile faded. ‘I’d have given you the car even if you hadn’t had a transplant,’ he told her, seriously. ‘This car is about my need, not yours.’ He paused, as if searching for the right words. ‘There are things in my background that make me a bit of a loner,’ he said at last. ‘I hate being indebted and I feel indebted now. Let me off the hook. Okay, not a car,’ he conceded. ‘Maybe a car’s over the top, but I need to do something. You’ve just arrived at the hospital. There must be something you need. Furniture for your apartment. Shopping vouchers. Something.’
She opened her mouth to say ‘Nothing’—and then she paused.
She looked at him. She really looked at him.
This guy was a surfer and a consultant. Standing here now, in the sunshine, in the car park of one of Australia’s top hospitals, in his gorgeous suit, looking lean, fit and gorgeous, he looked like a guy who had the world at his feet.
He wasn’t. Callie had told her his fiancée was dead.
He’d just said he was a bit of a loner and she knew it was true.
She’d spent a long time in dialysis wards. She’d watched tragedies unfold. She’d seen so many of her renal-patient friends struggle with always being the recipient of help, never being able to give back. Bad things happened, she thought as she watched him, and when bad things happened, good people helped. But it was one of the hardest things in the world to keep on taking.
That was part of what this car was about, she thought. This guy would have done his share of taking, and taking sympathy was especially hard. Sam would have had to take again last night when she’d been the only one there to help. The shock must have hauled him straight back to the time his fiancée had died—and she knew suddenly that he needed to give back in order to right his world. Loner or not, he had to do something for her to repay the balance.
She didn’t know how she knew it but she did. This man was hurting.
She glanced again at the car he was offering. If she was really generous she’d accept it, she thought ruefully, and in a weird way the thought made sense to her. It’d leave him as a loner. It’d give her a good car.
Only she wasn’t generous enough. She wanted her own little car. It meant too much to her.
There must be something you need...
What? She stood in the warm Queensland sun and watched this man with his sun-bleached hair and his crinkled eyes and thought.
‘There is something,’ she said slowly. ‘Something I would really, really appreciate.’
She saw his face clear and she knew she’d been right. He needed to do this.
So say it, she told herself and she did.
‘I’d like you to teach me how to surf.’
* * *
Whoa.
Teach her to surf? Was she kidding?
Last night the thought of buying her a car had seemed brilliant. The girl was a needy new arrival to town and she’d saved his dog. He wanted to do something big for her, to show her how much he appreciated her help, and then he wanted to walk away. If she’d taken it, he could have handed her the keys, felt a warm glow every time he saw her car in the car park and think he’d paid for Bonnie’s life with a bruised cheek and a small dent in his bank balance.
He wasn’t being let off so easily.
He did not want to teach this woman to surf. He didn’t want to teach anyone to surf.
Surfing was his personal space. Since Emily had died he’d surfed almost every day. It was a ritual, a space where he could be totally alone, focussed only on the waves. The surf was the place and time where the demons that had haunted him since Emily had died finally let him be.
He didn’t know why, but he’d loved surfing before he’d met Emily and he loved it even after her death.
He’d taught Emily to surf.
But Emily’s death was nothing to do with this woman, he told himself. That was no reason to knock back her request. Surely he no longer needed to be so isolated, to surf until he was so tired at night that he finally slept, to have time when he could block out the judgement in his head.
She was watching him, waiting for his response. Reading his expression?
‘It’s okay,’ she said quickly, taking a step back. ‘It’s no big deal. I told you, you don’t owe me. Tell Bonnie to visit and give me a big lick when she’s better. That’s all the thanks I need. Now, where can I find my car?’
‘I’ll find someone to teach you to surf.’
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly.
‘I’m not a good teacher.’
‘And I’m not a good surfer, but we both know it’s not about that,’ she said. ‘You do
n’t want anyone in your personal space, just like I don’t want anyone pushing into my independence.’
‘That’s not what this is about.’
‘I think it is,’ she said softly. ‘It’s okay, Sam. Callie told me about your fiancée. You saw my scars, I guess I’m seeing yours as well. So let’s respect them. My dream is to be independent, yours is to crawl into your shell and stay there. So let’s just leave it at that. You don’t mess with me and I won’t mess with you.’
And unbelievably she reached out and touched him lightly on the back of his hand, the faintest of touches, a moment of connection...
‘Leave it,’ she said softly. ‘It was a pleasure to help and that’s it.’
And she turned and started walking away.
‘Zoe?’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Zoe!’ It was practically a yell and she stilled and turned. One eyebrow rose in a faint, quizzical look that was almost a smile. As if she was teasing.
Teasing... It needed only that.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Yes?’
‘Yes, I’ll teach you to surf.’
His words were too loud. They resonated around the car park, and he thought there was no way he could take them back.
He wanted to, but they were out there.
There was a moment’s silence while she watched him. The teasing had faded.
‘That sounds more like, yes, you’ll teach me to walk on nails and you’ll be forced to demonstrate first. It sounds like it’ll hurt.’
‘It won’t hurt.’
‘It sounds like it’ll hurt.’
‘It won’t hurt,’ he exploded, and she took another step back—and suddenly she grinned.
She thought this was funny?
‘I’m pushing your buttons,’ she told him. ‘It’s okay, really. I’m not intending to intrude. I’ve always thought it’d be cool, but I wasn’t even able to swim until two years ago. I’ve been so conscious of infection. But for the last two years I’ve swum every day, pushing myself. That’s part of the reason I moved here, for the sun and the beach. I do want to learn to surf, but you don’t have to teach me. As you said, there are other teachers. You can recommend someone or I’ll ask around.’ She smiled at him then, and it was a kindly smile. ‘Let me know when my car’s ready. See you later, Sam, and thank you.’
And she turned again and walked away, definitely, surely, putting distance between them with every step.
He stood and watched her. She was a nurse in a nurse’s uniform. From the back she looked like any other nurse.
Just a woman. Nothing special.
But she was special. That’s what scared him.
He was being selfish and dumb and emotional and there was no need to be. He could teach this woman to surf. He could give her a few impersonal lessons on the beach, get her to the stage where she could surf in the safe, rookie areas, and then leave her to it. What was the big deal?
She’d almost reached the hospital entrance. She was nothing but a nurse, moving away.
She’d saved his dog. That was all. This was a debt he needed to repay, and he would, whether she wanted it or not.
‘Yes,’ he called out, and she paused but didn’t turn.
‘Nails,’ she called back, and started walking again.
‘It’s not nails. It could even be fun.’
She turned again then and looked at him. She was a hundred yards from him. Distant. Impersonal. A medical colleague.
From here he couldn’t see the twinkle in those gorgeous, violet-blue eyes. From here he couldn’t see if she was still laughing at him.
He suspected she was.
‘Fun?’ she called.
This was dumb, having a conversation so far apart. People were streaming in and out of the entrance. A couple of colleagues looked at Sam and looked at Zoe and then looked at Sam again, and he could see the questions growing.
Get this over with and get out of here.
‘Bonnie will be at the vet’s all weekend,’ he called. ‘First lesson Sunday. Meet me at two o’clock, here.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he called, goaded. ‘And your car will be ready by then, too.’
‘Wow!’
Even a hundred yards apart he could see her face split into a grin so wide it was like the sun had come out. A brilliant sun. Cade Coleman, the hospital’s new neonatal specialist, a guy Sam was only just getting to know but who had already created sizzle among the hospital’s female staff, had just emerged from the entrance. Cade paused and smiled at Zoe’s gorgeous grin—well, who wouldn’t?—and Sam had an almost irresistible urge to stride forward and claim the grin as his own.
To claim the woman as his own?
How dumb was that? Somehow he forced his feet not to move. He needed to climb into his own car and go find the dealer he’d left Zoe’s car with. He also had a long ward round to do before he could spend some time with Bonnie.
‘Two o’clock, then,’ he forced himself to call to Zoe, and she waved and grinned some more.
‘I’ll bring snacks,’ she called. ‘I’m feeling homesick and when I’m homesick I cook. I’ll make lamingtons.’
‘You can make lamingtons?’ Cade demanded, and Sam watched his colleague move in, smoothly smiling, laughing with Zoe. They turned and walked back into the hospital and Sam stood in the car park and thought...he’d just lost something.
That was an even dumber thought. He had nothing to lose.
Except a dog, he reminded himself. He needed to go and see how she was. He needed to haul himself together and remember priorities and put the thought of one beaming smile behind him.
He needed to pay his debt and get the connection with Zoe behind him.
* * *
‘Sam Webster bought you a car?’
Zoe had walked out of the lift, turned the first bend in the corridor—and run straight into Callie Richards. She stopped dead when she saw Zoe, and Zoe had no choice but to stop, too. Who else knew about the car?
‘Yes.’
‘And you knocked him back and now he’s teaching you to surf?’
‘Okay, I give up,’ Zoe said, exasperated. ‘Do you guys have the parking lot bugged for sound?’
Callie chuckled. ‘No need. Don’t tell me Adelaide South is any different. Hospital staff have their own specialist spy network, which beams gossip around the hospital before it even happens.’
‘I guess.’ Zoe gave a rueful grin. ‘Adelaide South was small, though. I hoped Gold Coast City might be more impersonal.’
‘Fat hope,’ Callie said. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Be careful of Cade Coleman.’
She frowned. ‘What?’
‘He’s new, from the States, but he comes with a health warning. Breaker of hearts.’
‘I talked to him for two minutes,’ Zoe said, astounded. ‘I’d have thought you might have warned me about Sam.’
‘I don’t need to warn you about Sam. There’s no way anyone’s going to break through that impervious barrier.’
There was a moment’s loaded silence. Then...
‘Is there anyone else I need to watch out for?’ Zoe demanded. She’d tried—and failed—not to sound snappy but she couldn’t help herself. This woman was a senior physician. Warning nurses about consultants wouldn’t be in her job description. On top of that, Callie normally seemed reserved. Zoe was starting to suspect what was going on, and she didn’t like it.
‘I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business,’ Callie said. ‘It’s just...’
‘Just that you’ve read my personnel records?’ Zoe ventured, and Callie looked a bit nonplussed. Then she shrugged.
‘You’ve come to work
on my ward, Zoe. I check my staff from the ground up.’
‘So you’ve read about my renal transplant—and you think I need looking out for?’
‘Okay, backing off now,’ Callie said, and held up her hands in mock surrender. ‘Yes, I read your records. I was on the selection committee and it’s my job. I knew a transplant wouldn’t impede your work and I put it to one side. But of course I didn’t forget. Then when you came in last night covered in blood, my mother-hen instincts took over.’ Her smile was beguiling, appealing for forgiveness. ‘I don’t normally do the mother-hen thing,’ she confessed. ‘It was a momentary weakness and I apologise. If you fancy Cade Coleman—or indeed Sam Webster—then you go, girl.’
It was impossible to be angry in the face of that smile—and the in the face of an apology for what, after all, was only care. ‘It’s okay,’ Zoe said, her anger fading. ‘As long as the whole world doesn’t know about the transplant. Now Sam knows...’
‘Sam knows?’
‘He saw my scars yesterday, but he’s promised to keep it to himself. If it’s possible in this hospital.’
‘It’s possible. Only the head of each unit has access to records. It won’t go past me. Or Sam.’
‘Thank you.’
‘So are you interested?’ Callie said, relaxing a bit.
‘In who?’
‘Either of ’em.’
‘No!’ Zoe said. She hesitated but this woman had been good to her. Why not say it like it was? ‘I went out with the same boy for more than ten years. He wrapped me up in cotton wool so tight I couldn’t breathe. Now I’m breathing just as hard as I can, and I don’t want a relationship.’
‘Good for you,’ Callie said. ‘Men!’
And Zoe thought of Callie’s comment about working in the women’s refuge.
‘They’re useful, though,’ Callie conceded. ‘Love ’em and leave ’em. There’s a good rule in life. Enjoy your surfing with Sam, and anything else that comes along.’
‘Thank you,’ Zoe said, and watched Callie head round the bend to the lift.
She thought, Yes, I will.
* * *
She shouldn’t have said anything.
The last thing Callie Richards thought of herself as was a mother hen. She had a reputation for staying aloof, and normally she did.
Gold Coast Angels: A Doctor's Redemption Page 5
