Gold Coast Angels: A Doctor's Redemption

by Lennox, Marion

  ‘You do think I got this flu because I had a renal transplant,’ she said, feeling ill as she said it. ‘You don’t want me to work with kids who might be infectious. What sort of nurse does that make me?’

  ‘It doesn’t make you any sort of a nurse,’ he said, and raked his hand through his hair. ‘Zoe, I know it’s unreasonable but how can I stop worrying?’

  ‘You can just...stop.’

  ‘Worrying’s about caring. I didn’t want to care but I don’t seem to have a choice.’

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘Like that’s possible.’ Once again those long, strong fingers raked his hair and she could see his distress. ‘Zoe, I lost Emily because I didn’t care enough. I should have walked into the surf, picked her up bodily and dragged her out of there. She was being unbelievably stupid. She was crazy that night and I was angry and turned away and made the decision not to care.’

  ‘But you did care,’ she said quietly. ‘You cared and you cared, but it was Emily’s life, Emily’s decision, and she had the right to do what she did. Like I have the right to nurse a kid with a cold. Only I’m not stupid, Sam. I know the added risks I have because of my transplant and catching flu isn’t one of them.’

  ‘So flu turns into pneumonia...’

  ‘Pneumonia is a known complication for healthy people, too.’

  ‘You collapsed.’

  ‘So I made a mistake. I suspected I was ill,’ she admitted. ‘I wanted to go to the wedding. I wanted to dance with you.’

  ‘Would you have pushed so hard if you hadn’t had the transplant?’ It was a harsh question—an accusation.

  She lay back on her pillows and glared. She was still weak. She still wanted to have the occasional weep. What she needed right now was to let him hold her, curl up in his arms, let him nurture her, love her...care for her?

  She did not want to be cared for.

  ‘Possibly not,’ she conceded at last. ‘I’ve spent half my life not feeling well. My friends and family have spent half my life telling me not to do things and I’ve spent my life aching to do things regardless. So, yes, I was feeling foul but there was no way I was missing dancing with you.’

  He managed a smile at that, and then he touched her cheek, a feather-light touch that did crazy things to her insides. He’d come to see her between visiting his own patients. He looked gorgeous. He smiled at her and she thought he was melt material and she so wanted to melt.

  ‘You know, I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Zoe,’ he said softly. ‘I never thought I’d say that again—I’d never thought I could. But you’re lovely and cute and brave and funny, and Bonnie loves you and I love what you’re doing with your life...’

  But there was that one word that made her doubts grow even stronger.

  Brave.

  ‘You love that I’m being brave?’ She shouldn’t say it. She’d said enough. Enough, enough, enough. She was risking so much.

  But there were ghosts in her past and one of her ghosts was Dean. Dean had gone to primary school with her, he’d been her friend, he’d been her constant companion.

  Dean had loved the sick kid.

  It had become his identity, Zoe realised. He’d been boyfriend to the sick kid. He’d loved caring for her, he’d loved it when she’d been in hospital and he could spend hours choosing movies for them to watch, hours worrying about her, fielding her friends, telling them to limit their time with her.

  Dean the protector... She’d loved him back, she’d thought, though she’d had to push back the occasional feelings that he was cloying; that he was a barrier to the outside world rather than a conduit. It had only been after the final transplant that she’d realised it was Invalid Zoe who Dean loved. Healthy Zoe wasn’t an option.

  And here was another guy telling her he loved her—because she was brave.

  ‘I’m not brave,’ she muttered. ‘I’m normal.’

  ‘You’re not normal. You’re Zoe.’

  ‘I am normal,’ she said, and suddenly she was yelling, which was really inappropriate because she was in a hospital ward and there were people going past in the corridor and the door was open, but all of a sudden she didn’t care. ‘I’m completely normal. I’m cured. I’m one hundred per cent normal and if you want to fall in love then you fall in love with the normal Zoe and you stop caring!’

  ‘And let you plunge into the surf like Emily did?’

  ‘No. Not like Emily. How can you compare us?’ And then she thought about it. ‘Or maybe yes. Maybe, yes, like Emily. I’m an adult. I should be able to make my own decisions, stupid or not.’

  ‘You don’t think the person who donated your kidney deserves better?’

  She stilled at that. Suddenly it seemed the whole world stilled.

  That was such a question...

  It was a question she asked herself almost every day. She had the answer—sort of. But how to say it to Sam?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, before she could find a reply. He was sorry, too. She saw the flash of regret in his eyes, the wish that he could take the question back, but it was out there in the open, demanding an answer.

  He deserved an answer, she thought, as Dean had deserved an answer. She’d tried so hard to explain it to him and he hadn’t got it. She’d left him hurt, and even her mum’s recent phone call to tell her that he was now going out with Monica, who’d come off her motorbike and broken her leg, hadn’t alleviated the knowledge that he’d been there for her and in the end she’d had to hurt him to set herself free.

  And now she was looking at another man—and the feeling in her stomach was sick and cold.

  ‘You don’t think the person who donated your kidney deserves better?’

  Dean had flung that at her, too, after the transplant when she’d wanted to go dancing. Slightly differently but in the same form.

  ‘Someone died for you, Zoe. You have a duty to take care of yourself.’

  Put the anger away, she told herself fiercely. Just say it. Say what needs to be said.

  ‘If the boy who died—or his parents who made the decision to donate his organs—had wanted his kidney to be kept in perpetuity, they’d have donated it to the museum,’ she managed, trying desperately to keep a lid on emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her. ‘They’d have put it in formaldehyde and kept it safe.

  ‘Instead, they elected to use it to let me live. Live, Sam, not wrap myself in cotton wool. I don’t want to sit in a jar of formaldehyde for the rest of my life. I want to do every single thing that normal people do. There are things I need to be careful of—I know that. I’m following every single one of my doctor’s orders but the last thing he said to me before I left Adelaide was to get out there and have fun. Live life to the full, he said, and that’s exactly what I’m doing, except I know my limitations, which is why I’m saying now that I’m recovering from pneumonia and I’m tired and I need to go to sleep. So if you could leave, please...’

  ‘You want me to leave?’ He sounded incredulous.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Zoe...’

  ‘Sam, I can’t do this,’ she said miserably. ‘I will not be smothered with care. I walked away from Adelaide because I wanted to be free. You’re the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever met—and, okay, I’ll admit it, I’m as near to falling in love with you as makes no difference. I also happen to be besotted with your dog, but I won’t commit to being smothered. I made the decision that I want to be free and that decision still stands. Back off, Sam, and leave me be.’

  ‘You really mean that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He stood and stared down at her, his face tight and strained. For a long moment there was nothing but silence—a silence that held all the hopes of what might have been but also the knowledge of what had to happen.

  Sam was a man who
couldn’t keep fear at bay, she thought bleakly. He was a man who’d loved once and lost. He was a man who, if he let himself care at all, couldn’t help caring too much.

  She was a woman who’d had enough of care.

  ‘You’d throw away what we have,’ he said at last, and he couldn’t disguise his anger, ‘because I care.’

  ‘If I must.’

  ‘That’s crazy.’

  ‘So I’m crazy, but it’s taken me all my life to get this crazy and I’m not going back now.’ She took a deep breath, fighting for control. Fighting to get this right. One part of her was sure she was right. The other was screaming that she was nuts.

  But she needed to ignore the part of her that was screaming in anguished protest, the part that was looking at Sam’s confusion and wanting to say it didn’t matter, she’d love him care and all. For she was not going back to being the Zoe who’d been cared for until she’d felt suffocated.

  Why had she come all this way if she was going to sink back into that same sweet trap now? She would not.

  So say it and get it over with, she thought, and say it fast, before the anger and confusion she saw on his face broke her resolve.

  ‘Sam, you’re awesome,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want this.’

  ‘Because I care.’

  ‘I know it’s dumb but yes. There it is. I’m sorry, but enough.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, and his face was rigid with tension—anger? ‘Maybe you’re right and this is the sensible option. I’m not rational when it comes to relationships any more. I can’t do it without fear so it’s best if I stand back. I’ll wish you luck with your trek in Nepal. I’ll expect emails at every summit.’

  And he stepped away and it almost killed her. He was back to being consultant cardiologist and colleague. He was backing to the door, backing away to return to his patients, backing out of her life.

  But that was what she wanted—right?

  No! But it was too late to back down now.

  ‘You’re wise for the two of us,’ he said, and his voice had changed. The shield had come up again, she thought. He was under control. ‘There’s no surfing for you this Sunday—even you need to admit you need time to get over this—but as of next Sunday we’ll start again. But that’s it, Zoe. Lessons and nothing else. You’re right—it’s the wisest call for both of us.’

  * * *

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  Callie was sitting on the end of Zoe’s bed—actually, she was practically bouncing with incredulous indignation. ‘You have the sexiest doctor in this hospital making a beeline for your bed and you tell him you want to go and climb mountains?’

  ‘He’s kind,’ Zoe said, knowing as an argument it made no sense, and Callie practically gibbered.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. Or was that yelled? ‘He’s kind. He’s toe-curlingly lovely and he’s one of the best doctors we have and he’s kind to his socks.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you interested in him yourself?’ Zoe asked, momentarily distracted.

  ‘A, because I’m not interested in relationships, I’m only interested in sex,’ Callie said bluntly. ‘I’ve had all the intimate relationships I’m ever going to have. But, even if I wasn’t jaded, B, Sam has never looked at me that way. He’s never looked at any woman that way since Emily died. And, C, Sam’s my friend and I’m not messing with that for the world. But kind? Zoe, you have no idea how important that is. To knock back a man because he’s kind...’

  ‘I’m done with kindness.’

  How bad did that sound? Zoe thought. She sounded like a sulky child who didn’t like her chosen-with-love Christmas gift. She was being totally unreasonable. She also knew she could well regret what she was doing for the rest of her life, but still she had to do it.

  ‘You know, getting over a kidney transplant takes all sorts of courage,’ Callie said gently, changing track, and she winced.

  ‘This isn’t about a kidney transplant.’

  ‘I think it is.’ Callie went on, inexorably. ‘Like Sam’s worry is more because he lost Emily. You two have ghosts, but if you worked on it, maybe your ghosts could indulge in mutual trauma therapy while the real Sam and the real Zoe went at it like rabbits.’

  ‘Callie!’

  ‘Just saying,’ Callie said, and hauled herself off the bed. ‘But ghosts are everywhere and they need to be catered for. I have a few of my own that mess with my life. Meanwhile, I need to go—I have patients to see. Uncomplicated kids with their ghosts just forming. But think about it, Zoe. Are you going to let ghosts stand in the way of grabbing Sam and holding on?’

  ‘I suspect you know very well that ghosts can’t be put aside at will,’ Zoe said, watching the shadows on her friend’s face. ‘You don’t hold on to anyone. And coming on to Cade like you did...is that your ghosts?’

  ‘Yeah, now we’re getting personal,’ Callie said, and managed a wry smile. ‘I suspect all our ghosts could have a field day together. Mine and yours and Sam’s.’

  ‘And Cade’s?’ This was better, Zoe thought. Talking about other ghosts than hers.

  ‘Cade’s?’

  ‘You know he’s carrying baggage, and that baggage is striking off yours. The sparks at the wedding—’

  ‘Were the result of champagne and a dare and nothing else,’ Callie said soundly. ‘Cade Coleman is an arrogant low-life and I want nothing more to do with him. Unlike Sam...’

  ‘They’re both just guys,’ Zoe said, gloom descending again. ‘But you’re right, maybe the ghosts are too strong for all of us.’

  Callie left and she was alone with her ghosts.

  She lay and let them drift.

  Her ghosts had made her set rules, she thought. Those rules were important. But had those rules messed with the most important thing that had ever happened to her? Sam?

  ‘I can’t help it,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t be smothered. We’d both be unhappy. It’s best this way.’

  Sure it was. So why did she cover her face with her pillow and close her eyes to try and stop the ghosts from shouting?

  * * *

  ‘Why the long face? You’re better out of it and you know it.’

  Sam and Cade had just spent a fraught two hours with a neonate with a heart defect. Rebecca Louise Hayden was six hours old, and for a while it had looked as if she’d get no older. But finally they’d had her stabilised enough for Sam to speak to her distraught parents and tell them that this was a long road, Rebecca had more surgery in front of her, more challenges, but that he and Cade were cautiously optimistic.

  Now the two men stood over the incubator in the preemie ward, looked down at the scrap of life that was Rebecca—such a big name for a tiny thread of life—and Cade unexpectedly brought up Sam’s love life. Or lack of it.

  How the hell did he know that Zoe had ditched him? Sam thought morosely. But, then, how did anyone in this hospital know anything? Osmosis? Someone should write a thesis.

  ‘Yeah, relationships only cause problems,’ he agreed, and turned to look out the ward window. From the third floor you could see the sea. It was glittering in the afternoon sun and he had an almost irresistible urge to walk out of the hospital and go ride a wave.

  He couldn’t walk away from Rebecca. He couldn’t walk away from his work.

  He had to walk away from Zoe.

  ‘You’re better without them, mate,’ Cade said, and Sam glanced at the guy on the other side of the cot. He thought how hard Cade had worked with him to get this tiny baby to the other side of the survival odds and he thought there was stuff in this guy’s past as well.

  ‘So you’ve had three wives, six kids and five mistresses?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Cade said, and smiled, only the smile was a bit grim. ‘Enough, though.’

  ‘You want to try surfing. It helps.’
<
br />   ‘Nothing helps.’

  ‘Sheesh,’ Sam said. ‘Eight wives?’

  He got a grin. He was starting to like this guy. Cade held the rest of the staff at arm’s length—he seemed prickly and arrogant—but Sam saw the care that went into Cade’s interaction with his little patients and he sensed the arrogance was a shield.

  So many shields.

  ‘You still teaching Zoe?’ Cade asked.

  ‘Um...yeah.’

  ‘You want me to join your surfing lessons?’

  ‘No,’ he said, before his mind could talk sense.

  Cade’s grin grew wider. ‘So you still hold some hope.’

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘You give up and you’re dead,’ Cade said, and his gaze went back to tiny Rebecca. ‘You fight and fight and fight until you can’t fight any longer.’

  ‘And then you come to Australia?’

  Cade’s smile faded.

  ‘Not your business,’ he muttered. ‘Okay, here’s the deal. You stay out of my private concerns and I’ll stay out of yours.’

  ‘I will teach you to surf,’ Sam said. ‘But not with Zoe.’

  ‘I’ll buy myself a board and teach myself to surf.’ Cade put a gloved hand through the incubator port and touched the tiny girl’s cheek—a feather touch—one large finger against a face that was smaller than his palm. ‘Independence...you fight for yourself right from the start. It never stops and the sooner you accept it the better for everyone.’

  ‘Rebecca needed us.’

  ‘So she did,’ Cade said. ‘And we helped and now we back off.’

  * * *

  Zoe’s convalescence lasted more than a week. She had a couple of bad days when she realised she wasn’t eligible for sick leave yet due to still being on her probation period at the hospital. She thought she’d not be paid and she’d end up eating home-brand pasta for a month, but come payday her bank account was healthy. It appeared that because she’d caught flu from giving CPR to a Gold Coast City patient her time off was covered by the hospital. The paperwork had been organised by Sam.