A Doctor Worth Waiting For

by Margaret McDonagh

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to get on, then.’

  With a supreme effort of will he rose to his feet. Aware she was puzzled and unsettled, he left the room and went in search of Aileen, getting the information he needed before making arrangements with Fred. He was going to fight for Kate Fisher.

  Unable to sleep, Kate sat in the dark living room, two sleepy kittens cuddled in her lap. She welcomed their warmth and company. Not for the first time she felt horribly alone but this time it was more cutting, more raw. Conor had gone away. One moment he claimed he cared, the next that he was going on holiday. She cursed her contrariness. She had told him to leave her alone, had said she didn’t want him, and that was the best thing for both of them. But she had never expected to feel so bereft. To need him so much. She was so confused. And scared. Making love with Conor had been a stupid mistake. How had she ever thought she could take one night and it wouldn’t matter? Making love with Conor had been the most stupendous thing that had ever happened to her, the explosion of hot passion indescribable. Her own behaviour had been out of character: she had responded to him with wild abandon and a complete lack of inhibition. Thinking about the things they had done brought a flush to her face and she pressed cool palms to her cheeks, trying to block out the memory of the unimaginable pleasure she had experienced with him.

  Had circumstances been different, she could have settled in her rural Scottish haven, but Saturday night had far-reaching consequences. There would be repercussions, no matter how Conor and her colleagues tried to shelter her. They couldn’t protect her from her own nightmares. People would start asking questions, wondering about her, wanting to know how a supposedly ordinary GP had carried out such a surgical procedure. There would be questions about her past. And Conor would have all manner of questions of his own that she couldn’t face answering. However painful, she had to leave before the past caught up with her. If only she had never succumbed to temptation in Conor’s bed. She had known one night wouldn’t be enough but in her weakest moment she had grasped what he had offered, needing to forget everything else. In the process she had opened herself up to more hurt because she had done the most unforgivable thing of all. She had fallen in love with Conor Anderson.

  Unable to book the flights he wanted, Conor opted for the freedom to move where and when he needed and drove. By the time he reached London on Monday night he was physically tired and mentally exhausted. He parked outside the address he had been given and, taking his overnight bag, he walked up the path and rang the front doorbell.

  ‘Welcome, Conor,’ his host greeted him, stepping back to let him in. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ After shaking hands, Conor followed Kate’s father to a cosy sitting room.

  ‘You must be tired and hungry. What can I get you?’ Tom offered.

  Worried about leaving Kate, Conor ran a hand through his wayward hair. ‘I’m sorry it’s so late. I don’t want to put you out.’

  ‘You’re not, believe me. How about a sandwich and a coffee?’

  ‘That sounds great,’ he admitted with a weary smile.

  ‘Make yourself at home—there’s a cloakroom across the hall,’ the older man said. ‘I’ll be back in a few moments.’

  Left alone, he thought of Kate, wondering how she was coping. He scanned the bookshelves along one wall of Tom’s sitting room before surveying the rest of the room, noticing the photo frames on the piano. He walked across, his heart lurching as his gaze zeroed in on one of Kate. She looked happy, her eyes bright, revealing none of their current soulful pain, as she snuggled up with an attractive young man. A mix of emotions chased through him: gut-wrenching jealousy; aching hurt for whatever had happened to turn this carefree woman into the one who had arrived in Glentown-on-Firth; a determination that Kate would look like this again, would laugh with him and be free.

  ‘Conor?’

  He jumped at the sound of Tom’s voice, guiltily setting the photo back on the piano. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Tom’s gaze flicked to the photograph then back to him, a knowing smile curving his mouth. ‘You’re in love with my daughter.’

  Conor swallowed. ‘I am,’ he agreed, relieved when Tom nodded in apparent approval and set down a tray containing a plate of sandwiches and a pot of coffee.

  ‘So,’ Tom commented once they were settled, ‘I assume something has happened to bring you here in a hurry?’

  ‘Yes. We had an…incident. On Saturday night,’ Conor continued, filling Kate’s father in on the details of the accident—but not what had happened afterwards between Kate and himself.

  Tom’s brown eyes, so like Kate’s, clouded with concern. ‘That will really have spooked her, Conor, and brought back a lot of hurt. She might run.’

  ‘That’s my fear.’ He paused, trying to collate his thoughts. ‘I’ve known from the first that something was wrong. Aside from the gaps in her CV, one look at her eyes told me she was hurting. I’ve tried to encourage her to talk but she won’t. I want to help her but I don’t know her history, what it is that went wrong.’

  ‘I can tell you some of it. The rest I don’t know myself because she’s refused to talk since she came home,’ Tom admitted.

  Conor frowned. ‘Home from where?’

  ‘With Kate it was always going to be medicine,’ Tom explained after a pause. ‘Her goal was always general practice but she met Darren and was swayed by his ambition for a while.’

  ‘Darren?’ He forced the question, glancing back at the photo on the piano, wondering if he had a name for the face.

  ‘I never liked him. Darren was not right man for Kate. He was on the professor’s team, on his way to being a surgeon. James had been impressed with Kate during her initial training and Darren persuaded her to change her career path. At the end of her GP training, she joined the surgery rotation instead of going straight to a GP job as she’d planned. Darren was charming and knew how to get what he wanted. He had grand schemes for a fancy private clinic, was very self-centred and materialistic, but Kate wised up and ended her relationship with Darren.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘My daughter has always been traditional at heart; she’s focused on her career but she’s always wanted a family of her own. She found out Darren had been playing the field around the hospital behind her back, then she discovered him in compromising circumstances with one of her colleagues. That was two years ago.’

  So Darren was the doctor Kate had mentioned. ‘Kate thinks I’m like him,’ he murmured, remembering her distrust and disapproval, her reaction seeing him with Jenny, jumping to the wrong conclusions.

  ‘You’re nothing like him, Conor. I’m sure she knows that deep down but is using it as an excuse to maintain some distance.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He frowned, unconvinced, groaning inwardly when he recalled how he’d been so worried about putting pressure on her by getting too serious too soon that he’d suggested they have some fun, keep it casual—the very thing bound to put her off. Cursing himself for getting things so wrong, he broke off his troubled thoughts as Tom continued with the story.

  ‘The professor has been a mentor to Kate but he was disappointed when she left his team. She returned to general practice but didn’t settle. I wasn’t surprised when she decided to join an international aid agency—she always had strong views about injustice. Her first trip to Africa was hard but rewarding—the second was much worse. Wes, always the adventurous one, the risk-taker, was already there. Photo-journalism gave him the buzz in the field he sought.’

  Puzzled by the turn of the conversation, Conor frowned. ‘Wes?’

  ‘Wesley. My son,’ Tom informed, gesturing to the photo.

  So the guy cuddling Kate was her brother? A surge of relief washed through him.

  ‘Wes often spoke of the terrible need and lack of health care in parts of Africa, and Kate had done her elective there during training, so when this posting came up she took it. She was part of a ve
ry small team in a remote area and they had been there for some weeks when there was an uprising. The fighting was terrible. Wes was there, covering it for his newspaper. As next of kin, the aid agency told me Kate’s group were stranded, under attack, coping with unimaginable casualties, amputations, all sorts. She has never spoken of it.’

  Conor felt sick as he listened, sure it was much worse than Tom knew. Kate had kept the real horror inside her. Saturday’s accident had made her face it again. No wonder it had tipped her over the edge. He wished he was there with her now, keeping her safe.

  ‘Wes was killed. So was Kate’s fellow doctor and untold numbers of civilians and rebels. Kate was injured but she carried on alone, unable to get out. I know from speaking with the agency director that she had to do surgery way beyond her training, that there was no one else to help all those people.’ Tom paused, emotion raw in his voice. ‘When they finally got to her, she was in bad shape, traumatized, when they evacuated her home nearly four months ago. For a while she said she couldn’t be a doctor any more, would never do surgery again. As she healed physically, the prof persuaded her to have a complete change of scene.’

  ‘So she came to us,’ Connor filled in, choked up as he struggled to absorb the enormity of all Kate had been through.

  ‘Yes.’ Tom smiled, his expression clearing. ‘It’s been good for her, Conor. I couldn’t believe the change in her when I came up—it was like beginning to have my daughter back again. She’s bottled everything up inside, about Wes and Africa. It’s not healthy.’

  As he lay in bed later, trying to get some sleep before the long drive back to Scotland, Conor’s mind refused to shut down. He understood the omissions from her CV, the professor’s concern to get her the job, why Kate had been terrified that first day with all the doubts inside her about being a doctor. And losing her brother on top of the other horrors, shutting that grief and trauma inside. He physically hurt at the knowledge of what Kate had endured, her amazing strength and courage. And her pain. So much pain and loss. He couldn’t begin to imagine what she had seen and done and lost. He couldn’t bear to think of her so alone, so scared. She wouldn’t be any more—not if he had his way.

  ‘You have my blessing, Conor, and my gratitude,’ Tom said as they parted company on Tuesday morning, shaking hands. ‘You’re just what Kate needs.’

  ‘I hope so, Tom.’

  Setting off later than he had intended, Conor prayed that he could help Kate before it was too late.

  ‘Fred, could I have a moment?’ Kate asked after final surgery had finished on Tuesday, nerves tightening inside her as he glanced up from his paperwork and smiled, waving her to a chair.

  ‘Of course, my dear. How are you?’

  She lowered her gaze, hating lying to him. ‘I’m fine.’ Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to get things over with. ‘I’m really sorry to cause any difficulties, but I’m going to have to leave,’ she told him, cursing the unsteadiness of her voice.

  ‘Oh, Kate.’ The heartfelt compassion in his words was nearly her undoing. ‘If this is about Saturday, aren’t you being too hasty?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you spoken to James about this?’ Fred asked after several moments of uncomfortable silence.

  ‘No,’ she repeated, suppressing a shiver when she imagined the professor’s reaction. ‘Not yet.’

  Sighing, Fred ran a hand over his bald pate. ‘Why not take a few days off when Conor comes back and think this over more carefully?’

  ‘That wouldn’t help.’ Not with Conor being part of the problem, even the mention of his name spearing her insides with pain.

  ‘Kate?’ Reluctantly, her gaze met his, seeing the kindness and understanding in his blue eyes. ‘Aside from the fact that we don’t want to lose you, do you really feel things are going to be better anywhere else? We all care about you here—why not stay and let us help you?’

  Fearing Fred knew rather more than she had thought, she shook her head. ‘I can’t. You can’t.’

  ‘I’m truly sorry you feel that way.’ He shook his head, his eyes sad, and she felt a fresh wave of guilt. Fred, Aileen, everyone had been so kind to her. ‘If you change your mind, you only have to say. Otherwise, if you’re still sure it’s what you want, we’ll talk again when Conor comes back.’

  ‘Do you know when that will be? Or where he’s gone?’

  She bit her lip, cursing herself for asking, her chest tightening when Fred’s gaze slid from hers. ‘Um, no. No, I don’t, not exactly,’ he murmured, looking evasive, and Kate suspected he did know but for some reason she didn’t understand he had chosen not to tell her.

  Leaving the surgery and returning to the flat, seeking solace in the kittens’ antics, she wondered how she could have made such a mess of everything. She had come there to get her life back on track but had succeeded in making everything a hundred times worse, not only failing to deal with the issues in her professional life but by falling for the one man she felt she couldn’t have.

  Maybe things had worked out for the best time wise, Conor decided as he parked outside the surgery after what had felt an interminable journey. He checked his watch. After nine o’clock. A good thing to catch Kate by surprise and off guard. There was a light on in the bedroom of the flat upstairs and he walked round the side of the old granite building to the door of her flat. He rang the bell, waiting a tense few moments before he heard her light footsteps on the stairs and his pulse rate kicked up.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked, sounding husky.

  ‘Conor.’

  ‘Oh!’

  Her surprise and dismay were evident and when he didn’t hear the bolt being drawn, he stepped closer. ‘Open the door, Kate.’

  He didn’t actually hear her sigh but he could imagine it. Her reluctance was palpable as the door finally opened. Despite the dark circles under her eyes and her paleness, she looked beautiful, her hair mussed, a sleepy bloom on her face. His gaze skimmed down over the baggy T-shirt that fell halfway down her thighs, then lifted to her face, seeing nervousness, confusion and anxiety in her wary brown eyes.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, one hand settling at her throat as if shielding herself.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Please, Kate.’ He remembered the kittens and realised they were a way in. ‘How are Smoky and Willow?’

  Something shuttered in her eyes. ‘Fine. You want to see them now?’

  ‘Please. I’ve missed my girls,’ he told her, holding her gaze, her being the most important of them.

  ‘Of course.’

  As she stepped back he moved inside, locking the door behind him before he followed her up the stairs, looking at her shapely calves and the soft curves of her bare thighs. Upstairs she turned and faced him, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.

  ‘Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Sorry, no.’ He managed a passable attempt at an apologetic smile, deliberately misleading her. ‘You go back to bed. I’ll see to things.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said—’

  ‘I heard what you said,’ she riposted with a frown. ‘I meant, why?’

  ‘Because you’re sleepy and I didn’t mean to disturb you. Off you go and get comfy. I won’t be long with the kittens.’

  She looked grumpy as she stared at him. ‘Lock the door behind you when you go.’

  Kate stomped back to the bedroom. So much for her early night and the hope she might get some much-needed sleep after the turmoil of the last few days. Stupid of her to think Conor was here to see her. She was so contrary. She’d told the man she wasn’t interested in him—what did she expect if she didn’t even know her own mind? Bemused and not a little anxious, she wriggled back into bed and drew the duvet up to her chin. Why was Conor there? Was it for Smoky and Willow? And where had he been? Thirty-six hours wasn’t much of a holiday. She frowned again, hearing him moving about in the kitchen. What was he doing
in there? It shouldn’t take that long to pack up the kittens’ things and go.

  Kate tensed in surprise when Conor appeared in her bedroom, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, and tried to close her mind to how much she still wanted him. It was impossible. Confused, she watched him, wary and uncertain, wondering what he was going to do next. When he handed her both mugs and then sat down on her bed with his back to her and began to take off his clothes, her eyes widened in shock.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘CONOR!’ Kate protested, struggling to avoid spilling the drinks in her agitation.

  ‘Mmm?’

  Shoes hit the floor before his jumper was pulled over his head and tossed aside. Her gaze strayed inexorably to his broad back, the warm, smooth flesh and play of muscle whose feel she remembered too well, her traitorous fingers itching to touch, hot colour staining her cheeks as she saw the faint marks her nails had left on his skin. When his hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, panic surged through her and she found her voice.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like?’ he responded with maddening unconcern, as he shrugged out of his jeans and boxers then drew back the duvet so he could slide in beside her. ‘Shift over.’

  ‘Conor, we are not doing this.’

  They weren’t, she promised herself, fighting the shameful weakness of temptation, scared that he only had to touch her and her resolve would crumble to dust. Ignoring her anxiety, he adjusted his pillow, took one of the mugs out of her hands and leaned back to sip his drink. The nerve of the man left her speechless. Bewildered, she concentrated on her own drink as the silence stretched between them, but she was painfully aware of his nearness, of that ever-present shimmer of desire that crackled between them like an electric current. She could almost hear the thunder of her heartbeat in the silence of the room. Why the hell was she sitting there? She should leap out of this bed right now and demand he leave. So why couldn’t she move? The seconds ticked by until, drinks finished, Conor set their mugs aside. Her pulse skittered as he slid an arm around her, shifting them until her head was resting against him and his fingers were stroking her hair.