by Lucy Clark
‘Sure.’ He turned back to the table and sat a few seats away from her.
CJ blew on the hot tea. ‘So, I called through to the hospital to check on Robert. He’s sleeping soundly. All vital signs are fine.’
‘Good.’
‘I’m glad you were there to help.’
‘You would have been able to handle everything with your hands tied behind your back,’ he commented.
‘Thank you. That’s nice of you to say, but I have to tell you, in my present condition, I definitely can’t move as fast as you. It’s frustrating.’
‘I’m sure it is. Soon, though, it will all be over—’
‘And I’ll be frustrated for a different reason,’ she finished with a wry grimace.
‘I thought you were looking forward to it.’
‘I am. I’m getting desperate to meet my child. To hold it in my arms, to smother it with kisses, but the fact remains that being a single mother is not going to be an easy trick. Then there’s the clinic and what if I need time off after you leave and we can’t get another locum? What if something goes wrong with the birth? I’m happy with my level of medical care, don’t get me wrong, but I just have all these thoughts constantly running through my head and I can’t seem to stop them.
‘What if I go over my due date and I have to be induced? What if I have a reaction to the medication? What if it’s so painful I can’t cope? What if Donna’s at another emergency and I have to deliver the baby myself? What if something’s wrong with the baby? Am I going to be a good mother?’ Her voice had risen to a crescendo and she buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she started to cry.
Ethan was horrified. Not at what she’d said but how concerned she was about everything. He’d had no idea her stress levels were this high and the doctor side of him kicked in, knowing such stress could seriously affect her blood pressure.
‘I was trying to call Donna to talk to her about all of this but she’s actually out at an emergency at Whitecorn Hospital and I also don’t want to bother her every time I have a moment of neurotic weakness. And...and...all of those questions are only the tip of the iceberg because once my anxieties start to warm up, they really get going.’ She sniffed and raised her head again. ‘What if I can’t cope with the baby and can’t return to work—ever? What if I have postnatal depression? What if I can’t do this by myself?’
‘Borrowing trouble won’t get you anywhere.’ He tried to placate her, wondering if he should leave a message for Donna to stop by after the emergency. For the moment, the best thing he could do was to let CJ talk, let her get her frustrations out, because he’d come to realise that she wasn’t the sort of person to bottle things up...unlike him. If she could talk things out, cry a little and release the pressure from her anxious thoughts, then she soon might be able to get some rest.
Tears continued to trickle down her cheeks and she patted the pockets of her dressing gown for a handkerchief. Trying not to feel helpless but also wanting to be helpful, Ethan quickly took the box of tissues from the window ledge and brought them over to her.
‘Thanks.’
He sat down beside her and took her small hand in his. The instant he did that, he realised his mistake. His intention had been to talk to her like any other patient, to reassure her, but all he could now concentrate on was that her skin was so incredibly soft. Ethan rubbed his free hand over his forehead, trying to jump-start his mind. When he spoke, his voice was lower, more intimate than he’d intended. ‘It’s natural to have doubts, CJ. Very natural.’
‘I know, but what if some of them come true?’
‘Then you’ll deal with them.’ His words were direct and filled with hope. ‘One by one. You’ll formulate a plan, you’ll find the help you need, and you’ll get on with things. You’re very well supported in this town. Everyone—and I mean everyone, from the cleaner at Whitecorn Hospital to the store manager at the grocery store—is supporting you.’ He shook his head in amazement. ‘I know I’ve said this before but it really does astound me because I’ve never met anyone who was so well respected and so adored by those around her. You’re a genuinely nice person, CJ.’
‘Wow.’ Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks, but they were tears for a different reason. ‘That is such a lovely thing to say, Ethan. Thank you. You’re a good friend.’ She withdrew her hand from his and blew her nose.
Ethan closed his eyes, remembering a very similar conversation with Abigail. She’d been stressing and he’d placated her, thinking he was comforting her, but he’d been wrong. Her worries had been well founded and he hadn’t done enough to help, because she had kept so much from him, and he hadn’t seen the danger till it had been too late. It was one of the things that ate him up at night and even though the specialists had told him there was nothing he could have done for either his wife or his child, deep in his psyche he couldn’t stop feeling that hadn’t been the case.
Well, he wasn’t about to let history repeat itself. He’d managed to verbally reassure CJ but actions often spoke louder than words. ‘Well, then, friend, why don’t I organise an ultrasound for you? It’ll help put your mind at ease. You’ll be able to see that the baby is OK and I’m sure Donna can arrange a urine test if that will also help alleviate any concerns you might have.’
‘Yeah. OK.’ Another bout of tears leaked from her eyes and he couldn’t help but smile at her overactive emotions. ‘I hate being at the mercy of my crazy pregnancy emotions. I cried at a commercial on television last week but it was a commercial for soup!’ She blew her nose again and looked at him imploringly. ‘You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Thank you, Ethan. Thank you for not making me feel silly and for being so supportive and calming me down.’ It was her turn to reach out and take his hand in hers, holding it tightly, worry and fear still lurking at the back of her mind.
‘That’s my job. Er...not as your doctor,’ he added quickly, ‘but as your friend.’ He was doing his best to ignore her touch, to ignore the way it was creating havoc with his senses. He ignored the tightening in his gut, and at the way his heart was thawing a little more every time she touched him, or stared into his eyes, or mesmerised him with her scent or her laugh or—
‘Aw. How sweet. Thank you for being my friend.’ Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she gave his hand another squeeze before letting it go so she could blow her nose again. Ethan chuckled at her crazy emotions, then shifted back in his chair and sipped his tea. CJ had already broken through several of his defences and now he was the one feeling vulnerable.
He was pleased he’d been able to allay her fears, to help her out. Helping people. It was one of the things that had driven him, especially these past six years since Abigail’s death. He hadn’t been able to help his own wife so he’d developed the insane notion that it was his job to help everyone else. Help them—but still keep his emotional distance. Detached. That was the word his sister had used to describe him.
‘You do good, Ethan, but you’re so detached from reality, from real emotions and situations that you can’t see how badly it’s affecting you. It’s not healthy to go through this life all alone, not connecting with other people.’ His sister’s words echoed in his mind. Melody had been right. He took another sip of his tea, belatedly becoming aware that CJ was watching him—concern in her eyes.
‘Ethan, are you OK?’ she asked softly.
‘What makes you ask?’
‘Well, you’ve alleviated my concerns, I’ve released some emotions and now my brain can function again, and what I can’t figure out is why you’re awake at this time in the morning?’
‘I told you, I’m...not used to my surroundings.’
‘But I’ll bet that when you were an intern, you would have been able to sleep anywhere. All interns do because the hours and work are so long and hard.’
‘And I
was considerably younger and less set in my ways.’ He smiled, hoping the attempt would stop her from asking more questions. Whilst he’d had the urge to share things with CJ, it didn’t mean he actually had to do it. He reminded himself that he liked his life segregated, that work and friendship didn’t mix.
‘So, what’s your place like?’
‘My place?’ He frowned.
‘Where you usually live in Sydney.’ She held out a hand before he could speak. ‘Wait. Let me guess. You have a lovely four-or five-bedroom house located in an inner-city suburb so the commute to the hospital doesn’t take too long. There’ll be enough garage space for not only your play car, which is presently parked in my garage, but also a more sensible, probably dual-fuel car for driving around town.’ Her eyes were alive with merriment as she continued to guess where he lived. ‘Also, the furnishings inside your house would be stylish yet practical and the art hanging on the walls would consist of carefully chosen pieces, some prints by Impressionist painters, and some by local artists because their work really captures your moods.’ CJ nodded. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
Ethan sipped his tea, astonished she was actually quite close, describing the house where he’d lived with his wife. Sadly, he shook his head. ‘Not any more. I actually live in a two-bedroom, inner-city apartment located one block from the hospital. I have the bare minimum of furniture and no pictures on the walls.’
‘What do you mean, “Not any more”?’
‘I used to live in the place you described but I don’t now.’ How had they ended up on this topic? Why had he even answered the way he had? All he’d had to do was say she’d been wrong...but he hadn’t.
‘Why?’
‘The commute time was too long. I wanted to be closer to my patients.’
‘How long have you lived in the city?’
‘Er...’ He cleared his throat and sipped his tea. ‘Six years.’
‘Oh.’ There’d been a defensive thread in his tone and he could tell she wondered if she’d said something wrong.
‘Why is it important where I live?’
‘It’s not important. I was just trying to figure out why you couldn’t sleep here. Now I realise Pridham is probably too quiet for you.’
‘That’s probably it.’
‘Probably? You mean you don’t know why you’re not sleeping?’
Ethan was instantly on guard. ‘Why are you so concerned?’
‘Because I don’t want my patients being seen by a doctor who suffers from insomnia.’
‘I do not have insomnia.’
‘Really?’
He frowned. ‘Are you intent on questioning me because of something my sister told you?’
‘Melody?’ She seemed genuinely surprised with the question. ‘Why would she tell me anything?’
‘You said you spoke to her, spoke to other people at St Aloysius Hospital before I came to work here. What did they tell you?’
‘They told me you were a brilliant surgeon.’
‘They didn’t tell you the rest of the gossip?’
‘What are you talking about? What gossip?’ she asked, clearly perplexed.
Ethan closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. His own paranoia had been his undoing. ‘I’m sorry, CJ. I didn’t mean to snap just now. ‘I...uh...’ He hesitated. ‘Things happened to me and, uh...’
‘I wasn’t prying, Ethan, and I know what it’s like to work in a big hospital where people love to gossip. Believe me, working in a small country town is just as bad.’ She smiled, hoping it might settle him. ‘I was just concerned that you weren’t sleeping. That’s all.’
‘So you don’t know why I’m here? Why I’ve taken the job as your locum?’
‘Because you wanted a break from the rigours of Sydney life. At least, that’s what you wrote in the email you sent me with the application. However, given the conversation we’ve just had, I’m thinking there’s more to it.’
Ethan toyed with his half-full cup on the table before wiping his sweaty palms on his robe. ‘I...uh...’ He paused and took a moment to concentrate on his breathing. ‘I had a mild heart attack. It was just a warning,’ he added quickly. ‘I’m on a forced sabbatical from the hospital.’
‘Oh, Ethan.’ CJ shook her head sadly. ‘I didn’t know. Honestly. No one I spoke to said a word about that. They only told me how brilliant you were. No confidences were betrayed, just as I won’t betray this one.’ She placed one hand on her heart, her gaze filled with genuine concern. For a man who, only a few days ago, had told her he liked to keep his colleagues as colleagues and nothing more, she deeply appreciated him sharing such a personal piece of information about himself. ‘Thank you for telling me. I appreciate your confidence.’ They both took a sip of their teas, CJ mulling over everything he’d told her. ‘So being here is supposed to be a change in pace for you?’
‘Something like that.’
‘I know you’ve only been here a few days, but how are you feeling so far?’
He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs. ‘No tightness of chest.’
‘You were having chest pains? For how long?’ Her tone was inquisitive but professional, as though she was speaking to one of her patients.
‘Professional concern?’
She shrugged one shoulder. ‘I’m a doctor. I diagnose everyone—as do you. It’s a habit.’ When he didn’t immediately answer her question, she prompted, ‘How long have you been having these pains, Ethan?’
‘Increasing in severity for the past six years.’ His words were quiet yet matter-of-fact.
‘Six years!’ CJ gaped at him. ‘What happened six years ago?’
‘I moved to the city. I took up the position of Director of General Surgery. I began back-to-back research projects, which finally ended two months ago.’
‘As well as heavy clinics, admin and operating lists?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s quite a workload.’ CJ finished her tea and placed her cup on the table, her thoughts racing. ‘No wonder your health has suffered but I’m also glad you’re heeding the warnings, that you’re not ignoring them.’ She continued to think, voicing her thoughts out loud. ‘So when you moved to the city, that was from the suburbs?’
‘Yes.’
‘From the house I described? The one with the nice furniture and big garage?’
‘Yes.’
‘You moved from that to a small city apartment?’ Her brow was puckered in a frown as she tried to add two and two, but wasn’t coming up with four as the answer. ‘You said the commute was too much?’
‘I’d taken up the directorship. I needed to put in longer hours.’
‘But why take the directorship in the first place if you knew it would take you longer to comm—’ She stopped, the frown disappearing, only to be replaced by a dawning realisation. ‘You were in a relationship.’
‘Yes. I was married.’
‘The marriage ended, you moved from the suburbs, took up the directorship and lived a block away from the hospital. You threw yourself into your work, almost literally.’
‘Yes.’ Ethan stood and picked up both their cups, taking them to the sink.
‘I understand marriage break-ups. Mine was no picnic and if Quinten hadn’t passed away, we would most definitely be discussing our separation and divorce right now.’
He turned from the sink, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robe. ‘My marriage didn’t break up because my wife and I got divorced, CJ. My wife, Abigail—that was her name... Abigail...’ He clenched his jaw and looked down at the floor before raising his gaze to meet hers. ‘Abby died.’
Time seemed to stand still, the sound of the clock’s second hand becoming duller as she stared at him with a mixture of compassion and pain. ‘That’s the reason I left the suburbs and threw myself into my work. To forget the pain, to forget th
e anguish, to just...forget.’
With that, he turned on his heel and headed to the door that led to his part of the house. A moment later, he was gone, only the sound of the ticking clock filling the silence as CJ sat there, absorbing everything he’d told her.
He was a widower who was still very much in love with the memory of his wife.
CHAPTER SIX
WHY THIS SHOULD matter so much, she wasn’t sure. As CJ shuffled back to her room, brushing her teeth and emptying her bladder in the hope of getting a few decent hours of sleep, she thought back to those moments of awareness she’d experienced since Ethan Janeway had entered her life. Even tonight, holding his hand and feeling the strong, protective reassurance he exuded, had left a residual warmth deep down inside.
He’d stared at her yesterday, when they’d arrived at Whitecorn Hospital, as though he’d wanted to press his lips to hers. She’d been too busy reeling from the fact that she’d actually wanted him to follow through with that urge to even contemplate why he’d looked at her in such a way.
Why had he?’ It made no sense. Was he simply looking for female companionship? If that was the case, why on earth would he consider a heavily pregnant woman? She was uncomfortable all the time and slept in a bed with a plethora of pillows. None of her sexy lingerie fitted her and probably wouldn’t for some time, and soon she would be even more exhausted as the sole parent to a helpless baby. What on earth was attractive about any of that?
* * *
When Ethan woke the next morning, he was surprised he’d actually managed to sleep—again. ‘This might actually become a habit,’ he mumbled after he’d dressed for his first day on the job. Heading into the kitchen, he was pleased to have it to himself. While he ate breakfast, he kept glancing at the door through which CJ might walk through at any moment. Indeed, any little sound had him tensing with anticipation.
He still couldn’t believe he’d not only told her about his heart attack but also about Abigail. Normally, he was a closed book—even with his family. It had taken Melody quite a while to get through to him and he knew his tenacious sister had only kept badgering him because she’d been incredibly worried about him...worries that had been proved correct.
