Back in Her Husband's Arms

by Susanne Hampton

  The maisonette was furnished nicely but it was the antithesis of the home they had shared. It lacked the character of the home they had decorated together. With modern furniture not unlike that in the waiting room at the practice, she would be comfortable and it would be more than adequate for the month.

  * * *

  Tom closed the door to his maisonette, wondering what Sara was doing. Was she eating, unpacking or had she collapsed from the first day on the job? She was actually staying in his side of the maisonette. He had been living there for the last three years as he couldn’t live amongst the memories of the furniture that surrounded him tonight.

  This was actually the house he had intended to offer the locum but he couldn’t let Sara stay there. It was still furnished with all their belongings. For the next four weeks he would be staying in the home he used for storage. He couldn’t let her know that he had kept everything. He didn’t want her to know that he hadn’t been able to give it away but he also couldn’t live amongst it. Not yet. She had moved on...he hadn’t.

  He loved everything they had bought together but that was the problem—they had bought it together. When they had been happy and in love and planning their future. Tom had called his cleaning lady to move his clothes and toiletries and books from one side to the other when he’d found out Sara was working for the month.

  He went to the kitchen to find a fork and then ate his dinner on his lap. He could hear Sara moving about and unpacking through the thin walls.

  Even though it would only be for a few short weeks it felt like she was home. But he knew neither of them had the power to do the slightest thing about changing the paths that would eventually lead them away from one another for ever.

  * * *

  Half an hour later Sara threw the remains of her dinner in the bin. She was hungry and she had picked at the pasta but her churning stomach hadn’t allowed her to finish it.

  She worried about how she would deal with the proximity of Tom. She still loved him. She wondered if he knew it too.

  ‘Damn you,’ she cursed under her breath.

  Why couldn’t he talk about their differences? Tell her the reason he didn’t want children in his life? Was he really that selfish or was there something that made him hate the thought of children? She had tried so hard to understand when they had been married but he’d shut the conversation down every time she’d brought it up.

  She knew his brother, Heath an ENT specialist, hadn’t had any children either. Sara hadn’t spent much time with him as he had lived in Los Angeles with his wife until they’d divorced. It hadn’t appeared to be an unhappy marriage but, like Sara, his wife had wanted children. Sara wasn’t sure if that had been the precursor to her leaving or not. Shortly after the split, Heath had moved to San Francisco to practise. Although she’d seen him with Tom both times he had visited Melbourne, the subject of children had never been discussed. It was like both brothers had decided not to have children and that was final. It was a taboo subject. The elephant in the room.

  Was there something in their past that stopped them from wanting a family? Sara doubted that. Whenever Tom had spoken of his parents, both of whom had passed away before Tom and Sara had begun dating, the memories he’d relayed of his childhood had been happy. He and his brother had shared a love of BMX bikes as teenagers and had then dropped that sport to both study medicine. It appeared a happy upbringing.

  Sara had wanted more than a blanket refusal to discuss the idea of children. She wanted to know the truth but instead came up against his stubborn refusal to talk. She was forced to accept that his stubbornness went hand in hand with selfishness. She still wondered if there was more to it.

  Despite how difficult it was to fight her feelings, Sara knew nothing could happen between them. Tom’s timing was all wrong. She was leaving to start a new life.

  Don’t ruin it, Sara, don’t put your life back on hold, she told herself as she finished unpacking. She knew it would lead to resentment, that she would be sacrificing what she wanted and needed to keep him happy.

  It won’t work with Tom and you know it, she told herself. Then why did she have to feel so at home? A feeling she hadn’t experienced since she had left the same house three years ago. A sense of belonging.

  She put a little hot water in the sink and washed her cutlery and glass. As she dried and put them away in the drawer she decided to take a nice long soak in a bath.

  There was no point in analysing her curious feelings towards Tom, she decided as she slipped into the steamy bubbles and tried to soak away her troubles. It was just reverie and lost love playing games with her emotions. It was over and they both knew it. It was an itch, that was all. Some time later, after almost drifting off to sleep, she stepped from the deep tub, towel-dried her warm body and slipped into her pyjamas and dressing gown.

  It wouldn’t take long to regain control of her feelings, she resolved. She lay back on the sofa and pulled a patterned rug over herself. It was so cold. She looked over at the heater. It was the same old gas style they had next door. And she knew she could never light it. She didn’t want to call Tom and ask for his assistance but she also didn’t want to wake up with chilblains in her toes.

  * * *

  ‘It’s just me.’

  ‘Hi, me.’

  Sara wished for a moment that she hadn’t called. Running her fingers through her short, damp hair, she worried about depending upon him for anything. She pulled the rug and her knees up under her chin, perhaps it wasn’t that cold. She’d felt unexpectedly awkward talking to him on the phone, knowing he was next door. It was odd. She felt so at home, knowing Tom was only the other side of the wall.

  Finally, she mustered her thoughts and asked him to come over and help her light the heater. It sounded like a call to a repairman. Businesslike and distant.

  Her fingers and toes were quickly becoming icicles, but two minutes later she heard Tom’s speedy knock.

  ‘Hello, Sara,’ he muttered, as she opened the door. He smiled wryly. ‘How’s the headache?’

  Sara frowned at the question. The way he looked made her fumble over her words and forget momentarily that she had used the headache as an excuse to get away from him. He was standing on her porch in a dark blue dressing gown. It wrapped over low down and exposed his bare, toned chest. His hair was dishevelled and his face was shadowed with fine stubble. His legs were naked and his feet were inside leather slippers.

  ‘Hello...Tom,’ she replied, dragging her eyes back to his. She was so angry with herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been around good-looking men over the years. In fact, she’d dated one or two handsome men. But her reaction was more than that. She suspected that it was being aware, very aware of what lay beneath Tom’s loosened robe that made her feel this way.

  He began shivering, pulled his robe tighter and started to rub his arms vigorously. ‘Could I come inside and light the gas heater before they have to cart me away suffering from frostbite to the extremities?’

  Sara nodded. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry,’ she said, and stepped away from the door, allowing Tom to move past her.

  ‘So you’re feeling okay, then?’

  She closed the door on the frozen night air. ‘I’m fine, truly...actually, I haven’t felt better. The headache’s gone. I just needed to soak in a tub for...’ She paused and glanced nervously down at her watch. ‘Gosh, absolutely ages. But I’m glad I did. I’ll need a clear head tomorrow, I’ve got a full day with minor surgery. Two sets of wisdom teeth to be removed, an exposure of a canine and a few others that I can’t recall off the top of my head.’ She felt her heart racing and couldn’t believe how she had prattled on like a nervous teenager. Why did he do this to her? It wasn’t fair. She just wanted him to light the fire and leave.

  Tom’s mouth curved to a smile. ‘They’re all my patients. So make sure you do a good job, wo
n’t you?’

  Sara was grateful that he had chosen to ignore her ramblings and she took his sarcastic cue. ‘I’ll try really hard not to lose any of them for you,’ she returned drily.

  He walked over to the heater, catching some creaking floorboards on the way. Standing with his back to her, he reached for the box of matches on the mantelpiece. He squatted on the ground and lit the heater. It was old but Sara remembered how quickly it heated the room. She blinked and looked away before she had time to admire his broad-shouldered physique for too long.

  ‘Thank you, Tom,’ she said, as she walked over to warm her hands by the heater. ‘I’m sorry that you had to come over to do that. I never did get the hang of lighting the old heater.’

  ‘Just what a good landlord does.’

  ‘Of course, I forgot to ask how much you would like in rent for the place while I’m here.’

  Tom looked at Sara in silence. She was trying to turn every part of their lives into a business arrangement. He knew why. And he understood she would be leaving when Stu returned. He wouldn’t fight it. But he was glad to have her living close. It was almost like old times. She was all rugged up in flannelette pyjamas and fluffy slippers, her face scrubbed bare of make-up, and she was still the most desirable woman in the world.

  ‘What figure are you looking at?’ she asked. ‘Three hundred, three fifty?’

  Money was the furthest thing from his mind. She was a part of the house and his heart and if she had nowhere else she needed to be, she could stay for ever.

  ‘I’m happy to pay four hundred, if that’s closer to the mark...’

  ‘Sara, I don’t want anything for the place. You are doing me a favour, filling in for Stu...’

  ‘And you are reimbursing me well,’ she cut in.

  ‘I know but that’s immaterial. You can have the place...for a coffee. I need to stay awake to go over some reports so I could do with a short—’

  ‘Short black, no sugar,’ she finished his order. She smiled. It was so easy. It was like the three years had never passed. Here they were together in the house, in their pyjamas. She hated the fact that she wanted so badly to reach out and feel his arms around her. To cuddle up in front of the fire with the sound of the rain on the metal roof. To hold each other till they fell asleep, just like they’d used to.

  She snapped out of it and headed for the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. She looked back at Tom, standing by the fire. Looking so good. It wasn’t fair. He was almost the perfect man. And he was the perfect lover.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MORNING CAME QUICKLY AGAIN. Sara thought she might find it difficult to sleep with Tom only on the other side of the wall but she’d fallen into a deep and restful sleep quickly. Almost the moment her head had hit the pillow.

  Climbing out of bed, she showered, applied light make-up and dressed in camel-coloured trousers and a striped black and camel fine-knit sweater. She intended to throw her overcoat on top before she left. The number to call for a cab to the practice was already on her phone. Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door.

  As she opened the door, she saw Tom, dressed in dark woollen slacks, a black sweater and heavy grey overcoat, his keys in his hand.

  ‘I trust you slept well.’

  ‘Very,’ she told him, as she took a step backwards and held the door open for him to come inside.

  Tom walked in, swinging the keys around his finger playfully.

  ‘Do you intend telling me what the keys are for?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Vanderbilt sold me the house and her car. At ninety-eight, she thought it was better to get off the road. I didn’t argue with her—in fact, I told her it was a wise decision considering all the idiots out there now. And that’s how I came to be the owner of the 1967 Austin Healey in your driveway.’

  Sara forgot about everything as she crossed the room excitedly. She knelt on the armchair and pulled back the lace drapes. With her sweater sleeve she wiped a small circle of fog from the window. There in the driveway was a mint-green Austin Healey, its duco and chrome shining in the dappled morning sun. She hadn’t seen it the night before as it had been too dark when they’d arrived home. Sara adored old cars, old houses and old furniture. They had so much character and history to offer.

  She turned around and beamed. ‘Tom, it’s so sweet of you to let me drive it. I swear I’ll be so careful.’

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ he said with a smirk, as he threw the keys across the room to her. ‘You can drive my Lexus. I’m the only one who drives the Healey!’

  * * *

  A little after eight o’clock Sara pulled into the car park of the surgery in Tom’s late-model Lexus. She’d had a light breakfast of cereal and toast from the contents of the fridge and pantry that she assumed Tom had stocked for her. Marjorie had just arrived and they walked into the building together.

  ‘Not that it’s any of my business, Sara, but tell me, did you decide to move in to Tom’s house?’

  Sara didn’t try to hide her surprise. ‘How on earth did you know about that?’

  ‘Then you did?’ Marjorie smiled broadly as she slipped her car keys inside her bag and patted it closed. ‘Very sensible idea, Sara, very sensible. I think everything will work out quite nicely.’

  Sara wasn’t too sure if she should read anything in to Marjorie’s comments but decided to let it go. ‘It will save me a considerable amount of money over the month.’

  ‘Lisa, his cleaning lady, dusted and polished everything, moved his things and stocked the fridge and pantry for you. Tom certainly makes our lives hectic, but we manage.’

  ‘Moved his things?’

  Marjorie realised that she had said too much. ‘Just some boxes and bits and bobs he stored there.’

  The cover-up worked and Sara didn’t bother asking the woman any more questions. She picked up her pace and headed towards the door.

  ‘I bet you were busy,’ Sara said. ‘Almost as busy as we’ll be today.’ She changed the subject as they rode up in the lift. To move further from the subject of Tom and her living arrangements, Sara asked about the fantastic network of linked computers that occupied most of the front office. Thankfully, Marjorie obliged with a lengthy discussion about her big toys and dropped the subject of her employer.

  Sara had consultations with new patients all morning and was looking forward to the afternoon surgery. Being so busy kept her mind on track and most importantly off Tom.

  She and Marjorie both chose something nice and light from the assorted sandwiches that the lunch delivery girl brought around. The anaesthetist, William North, arrived about one o’clock and so did the part-time nurse, Laura, whom Tom and Stu employed for the days of surgical procedures. After introductions and a friendly chat they were ready to begin the afternoon list.

  ‘Melanie Sanders,’ Marjorie called softly across the waiting room. ‘The doctors are ready now if you would like to follow me.’

  Melanie was seventeen years old and needed her impacted wisdom teeth removed. She had been sitting nervously with her mother.

  ‘Hi, Melanie, I’m Sara and I’m filling in for Dr Fielding for a few weeks while he is at the hospital. So if it’s all right with you, let’s get started and remove those teeth that have been giving you trouble.’

  While Melanie climbed into the operating chair, Sara scrubbed in, slipped on her latex gloves and a pale yellow disposable gown.

  ‘Melanie, Dr North will give you a little shot in the hand, which will make you feel a bit drowsy. You will still be awake and able to follow instructions but you won’t feel any pain, and as a bonus the amnesiac properties of the anaesthetic means you won’t remember anything about this operation when you get home.’

  Laura pinned a surgical bib around Melanie and then William began the sedation. It quickly took effect and Sara
was able to begin the removal of the offending teeth. The X-rays were illuminated on the wall beside the chair. The procedure went well and forty-five minutes, and numerous sutures later, the four teeth had been removed and Laura escorted the patient to the recovery room.

  William and Sara scrubbed and prepared for the next patient while Marjorie prepared the small surgery again.

  The next patient was booked in for a similar removal of wisdom teeth. Luckily, this one was straightforward and he was soon in the recovery room.

  Sara and William took a short break and were about to prepare for their third patient when Marjorie asked her to take a telephone call. It was George Andrews’ mother. And it was urgent.

  ‘It’s Sara Fielding, Mrs Andrews. How can I help?’

  ‘Sara, it’s about George, he’s refusing to have the operation. The other boys he mixes with have filled his head with worries. He’s convinced he could die on the operating table or end up with brain damage or a jaw that has no feeling.’

  Sara rubbed her forehead with the inside of her wrist. It wasn’t the first time she had encountered friends throwing in their unwanted advice and worrying a patient unnecessarily.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Andrews. I’m more than happy to talk to George. I’m sure between the two of us we can convince him he needs to finish his orthodontic treatment and have the operation.’

  ‘I’m not so sure but, Sara, if he doesn’t have the surgery now, I know he’ll never do it. His friends have persuaded him to move up north and work as a jackaroo.’

  ‘You leave it to me, Mrs Andrews. But it’s important for George to undergo the surgery because he wants to. He’ll be an adult in a few months and he should be making his own decisions. Even so, they should be informed decisions not something based on the imaginary fears of his friends.’

  ‘I hope you can convince him because, goodness knows, we’ve tried everything,’ Mrs Andrews confided.

  Sara flipped open the appointment book. Her eyes scanned over the pages. There wasn’t a time free during surgery hours for nearly three weeks and that would be too late. She would have to stay late one evening.