‘Friday at seven,’ Sara told her. ‘Can you both be here then?’
‘I’ll do my best.’
Sara hung up the telephone. At that moment she wished she had the counselling skills of Tom. She knew that she was more than competent, but Tom seemed to have the edge when it came to handling patient anxieties.
With a sigh, Sara pursed her lips and returned to the surgery, where she scrubbed and prepared for the next patient. She studied the X-rays while Laura popped the young girl in the reclining chair. The patient’s canine tooth had developed in the palate, so it needed to be exposed and brought into position.
‘I’m Sara and I will be doing your minor operation today. Has Dr Fielding explained it to you?’
The young girl nodded and opened her mouth. She clearly wanted to get it over and done with. Sara explained what the anaesthetist would be doing and then they were ready to begin.
William started sedation while Sara checked the trays had everything ready for both the surgical procedure and then the bonding of the attachment. When she was quite sure that Josie would be free of pain, she began the procedure of exposing the tooth. Laura was an experienced nurse in oral surgery procedures and assisted Sara to attach the bracket to the exposed tooth. A fine surgical chain was attached to the bracket before being linked to the metal braces.
The bracket held well and Sara was happy that the tooth should move down into position over a few months. It wasn’t long before the patient was resting comfortably in Recovery.
There were four more patients on the afternoon list and it had just passed six o’clock when the final patient left for home. Sara had enjoyed working with William and Laura and thanked them for their work.
‘Any time,’ William said.
‘Ditto,’ agreed Laura, and they both headed off.
Closing the door on the pair, Sara remembered she still had to make some calls about George Andrews.
‘Marjorie,’ she called aloud, trying to determine her location in the rooms.
‘I’m tidying up the recovery room, Sara.’
Sara walked quickly in her direction, talking as she went.
‘Do you recall any young male adolescent, class-three malocclusions who underwent surgical correction around twelve months ago?’ Sara entered the small room as she finished her question.
After fluffing up the last of the generously proportioned cushions that rested on the sofa in the recovery room, Marjorie stood upright. She tilted her head to one side, thinking.
‘I’d have to check. Why do you ask?’
‘The phone call from Mrs Andrews. Her son George now has reservations about the surgery and I thought if he could have a word with boys around his own age who had undergone the operation, then he might feel better about it.’
‘Seems like a swimming idea to me. Are you going to check with Tom before you contact them?’
‘No,’ Sara told her bluntly. ‘I am here in place of Dr Anderson. So any decision I choose to make does not have to be seconded by Dr Fielding. He’s far too busy at the hospital to ask for his opinion on something like this.’
‘Whatever you think is best,’ Marjorie remarked as she slipped past and made her way into the office.
Sara didn’t reply. She knew it had come out a little too assertively but she needed to let Marjorie know that she was running the practice. And she needed to keep Tom as far away as humanly possible. To ensure their contact was limited to the absolute minimum. She had hoped it would be easier by now. But it wasn’t. And now she doubted it ever would be.
She followed in silence and waited for Marjorie to produce the patient’s records.
‘I do know what you to are up to,’ Marjorie said matter-of-factly.
Sara stopped in her tracks. ‘I’m sorry, what did you just say?’
‘That you are trying to be all independent and keep Dr Fielding at bay. But if you need to keep him at bay, that says enough for me.’
‘Not dragging Dr Fielding back here doesn’t explain anything other than the need to allow him to stay focused on his busy schedule at the hospital. He is associate professor after all.’
‘I know how important Tom is to the hospital, Sara, but I think he’s also very important to you. Perhaps you don’t like being too close because you still have feelings for him,’ she said, as she sat down in front of her office desk. ‘Take some advice from me and don’t leave it too late.’
‘Too late for what?’
‘To start living life again,’ Marjorie began, swivelling on her chair to face Sara. ‘I know for a fact that Tom hasn’t been. He’s been cooped up here or, according to Christina, making up any excuse to stay late at the hospital. He has no sign of a social or romantic life. It’s just such a waste when a young person forgets to actually enjoy life.’
Sara was stunned. Perhaps it was his workload and, of course, the PhD would have consumed his time along, with maintaining the practice and keeping up his hours at the hospital. He had probably been doing fourteen-hour days.
She didn’t want to believe that perhaps he was still hurting over the separation. Because if that was the case, surely he would have contacted her during the last three years? Reached out and said he wanted to discuss the unresolved issues in their marriage? But he hadn’t. He was a stubborn man who would not change his mind and negotiate. Neither could she on something so important. Her days of backing down, of putting her needs last were over.
‘Tom’s social life has nothing to do with me, Marjorie. Now, if I could have those records, please. I have some calls to make.’
Marjorie’s smile didn’t mask her doubt at Sara’s remarks as she handed over the patient’s charts in silence. But something about Marjorie’s disposition made Sara realise that the subject was not finished, at least not in the other woman’s eyes. But a busybody receptionist was still the least of Sara’s concerns.
* * *
It was around seven by the time Sara had spoken to both the boys and their families and explained the reason for her call. Thankfully they both agreed and Sara set a date for them to come in near the end of the week. She then called George’s home and confirmed with his mother that he would attend one last consultation.
In allowing the boys to speak with George and for him to see their successful surgical outcomes, Sara hoped it would convince him that the results of the operation outweighed the risks.
After locking up the practice, Sara headed off to pick up dinner from a Mexican takeaway she had spied on the way to work. She vowed to get out to the supermarket the next day. The front porch light was on when Sara pulled into the driveway. It was a welcoming sight. But she could never admit it. Not to Tom. Not really even to herself.
With her takeaway in one hand and her briefcase in the other, Sara made her way up the gravel path. It was cold outside and the warm breath of her yawn made a fine steam in the crisp night air.
‘Hello, there, Doc. Need some help?’ Tom’s familiar voice came closer with each word until he was upon her.
‘No I’m fine, really I—’ she started to say, before she felt him tugging at her briefcase. She struggled to retain ownership and suddenly a warm hand encircled her wrist. It was a powerful grip but tender enough to not bruise her skin. She froze. She didn’t want to have these confusing feelings. His touch was unsettling. It was like a burning torch on her skin that spread a dangerous heat through her body. As much as Sara valued her imported leather briefcase, she didn’t want to feel any part of Tom’s body touching hers.
Her fingers purposely slipped from the handle. The briefcase fell heavily to the ground with a thud and then a crunch as it skidded across the loose gravel. Sara cringed as she imagined the scratches and tears across the fine surface but it was worth the toll to feel his hand finally release its hold on her wrist.
‘What just happened
?’ he asked sharply. ‘Do you dislike me touching you that much, Sara?’
No. I like it too much, she thought. Time had not dimmed her body’s response to him and that was what she hated.
‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ she lied. ‘I’m tired and I want to eat this...’ she held up the paper bag ‘...before it goes cold and soggy.’
‘Well, why not just say so?’ he demanded.
‘You’d manacled me like a prisoner. You didn’t give me much choice.’ It wasn’t true but she couldn’t help her reaction.
Tom didn’t reply. He just shook his head and walked away in silence. Sara wanted to run after him and apologise. She had overreacted and her behaviour had been rude. She realised what she’d done and what she’d said had been wrong. Tom certainly couldn’t be held responsible for how her heart was feeling. Or for the desire he was stirring in her soul. But apologising would only bring him back and she needed to keep her distance. She needed time to sort out her feelings. Sara pulled up the collar of her coat against the cold breeze as Tom slammed his front door shut.
Sara realised she would have to work harder at controlling her feelings if she was going to get through the next month. Without doubt it was going to be the longest four weeks of her life.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MARJORIE HANDED SARA the mail. ‘There’s one addressed to you and it’s from the country,’ she said in an enthusiastic tone.
Sara was surprised. All of the correspondence that she had been dealing with was addressed to either Tom or Stu and all related to patient referrals or reports. But this large envelope was addressed to her.
Curiosity made her reach for the letter opener and open this one first. Out fell a beautiful painting of the sun in glorious shades of yellow and orange. It had a huge toothy smile and the eyes were large blue pools of paint with glitter twinkles.
Sara read the words at the bottom.
To Aunty Sara,
Thank you for giving me my daddy for a whole month.
Love, Bonny
XXX
A few simple, heartfelt words of a child quickly brought a smile to Sara’s face. Dear little Bonny with all her problems had thought to send such a beautiful painting to say thank you.
‘Marjorie, isn’t this the most wonderful picture you’ve ever seen?’ Sara asked, proudly holding up the brightly coloured sheet of paper.
‘Magnificent, Sara. Simply magnificent. We’ll have to put it up on the pinboard in the waiting room.’
‘Just be careful how you attach it to the wall,’ she warned. ‘I’ll be taking this masterpiece with me when I go and I don’t want it to tear.’
It took some time rearranging the other notices to accommodate such a big painting but finally it was done.
‘Bonny’s painting is like taking the sun out of the sky and having it in the room with us. It’s just glorious,’ Marjorie commented, stepping away to admire the decoration.
‘Lucky she doesn’t have her father’s artistic ability.’
The voice made both women spin around in surprise. They hadn’t heard the door open.
‘Stu couldn’t paint to save his life,’ Tom added, before leaving both women and walking into his office.
There had been no ‘Hello’ or ‘How are you?’ No greeting whatsoever. Sara thought he must have decided to keep his distance after their words the previous night. She had such mixed emotions. She was upset with herself for being so rude but justified her lack of manners as a necessity to keep Tom at bay.
‘What are you doing here, Tom?’ she called as she followed after him.
He looked her up and down in an irritated silence. ‘No food going cold? So you have time to talk today?’ His eyes dropped down to the drawer of the filing cabinet that he was rummaging through.
‘I was tired and cold—’ she began.
‘And just a little rude,’ he continued for her.
Sara closed the office door and crossed to him. ‘Fine, I’m sorry. But, be fair, you’ve had bad days in the past and been less than gracious.’
‘When?’
It was an honest question as Tom had never been rude to her in that way. They had disagreed, heaven knows how many times, but he had never been cruel or cold the way she had been to him.
‘Point taken. I’m sorry for the way I behaved.’ She walked to the window and stared outside in silence. She didn’t want to tell him about her feelings as it wouldn’t change anything. She just had to hope they would fade in time.
Suddenly she felt his warm hands kneading the soft flesh of her shoulders. She flinched and had to stifle a gasp. He stood so close behind her, his supple fingers finding the knots of tension and working them into putty. His masculine scent invaded her senses, sending red heat rushing to her cheeks and then flowing through her entire body.
‘I can understand. I guess I threw you in at the deep end here, you must be exhausted.’
His hands on her body felt so good but she had no intention of letting him know that. She mustered a laugh, ‘I never liked that briefcase anyway and you did ambush me somewhat.’
Tom smiled in spite of himself and gently turned her around to face him. They were so close. His soft lips, only inches from hers, were so inviting. She hated it that she wanted to taste him and hold him like she had that night a few weeks ago, and all those years before.
‘I’d better be going,’ he told her huskily, pulling his own feelings into check. ‘You’ve got a full afternoon at the hospital.’
Without saying another word, Tom left.
Relieved that he had gone, Sara collapsed into the chair. She was so glad that she hadn’t given in to her desire to kiss him. Just being near him and not reacting to him was so difficult, but she was determined to break through those feelings. She just wasn’t sure how.
Taking a deep breath, Sara walked back into her office and gathered up her notes and X-rays for the afternoon’s surgery at the hospital.
As Tom left the building he rushed to fill his lungs with the cold air. He had not realised touching Sara would stir feelings so quickly. He was doing his best to remind himself she was leaving and he needed to accept that they had no future together. There was no reason for her to stay. Nothing had changed. They both saw their lives laid out so differently. Sara saw the picket fence and a house filled with children, and he saw his life filled with work. Having children was not in his plans. He couldn’t change and she shouldn’t change. He loved her for being the loving, caring woman she was and it would be wrong to tie her to a life that gave her less than everything she wanted. Everything she deserved.
* * *
Sara drove to the hospital and then parked her car in the doctors’ car park and made her way to the doctors’ lounge on the fourth floor. It was adjacent to the oral and maxillofacial ward. She placed some groceries she had bought at the market on the way to the hospital in the refrigerator, relieved she would have a nice home-cooked meal for that evening. Fresh King George whiting and some vegetables to steam. She couldn’t stomach the thought of takeaway again.
With her dinner safely tucked away, she headed up to Theatre. She scrubbed and gowned and entered to find her drowsy patient already prepared for surgery.
‘Hi, David, I’m Sara and, as Marjorie informed you over the phone, I will be carrying out today’s procedure. If things go as smoothly as I envisage, you will be in Recovery in a little under two and a half hours with a brand-new-looking jaw but a bit of a sore hip for a few days.’
David smiled limply and tried to nod.
‘After that you will be in ICU overnight and then off to a ward for another few days.’
‘We’re ready, Sara,’ the theatre sister told her.
‘Count slowly back from ten, David,’ the anaesthetist said, and after a few moments David drifted off to sleep u
nder the brilliant theatre lights. The nurse draped David in sterile green sheeting and prepared the surgical sites with antiseptic solution.
Sara checked the X-rays again on the viewer and then looked over towards the surgical trays nearby. ‘Today we’ll be undertaking a chin augmentation of this young man. We start with an intra-oral incision extending from canine to canine.’ There was a first-year intern present so she briefed him on the procedure. ‘I am aware of the risk to the long root apexes of the canine teeth and the associated nerve so will move cautiously.’
The operation took just over three hours. There was a short break when David was taken off to Recovery. The staff then rescrubbed and in fresh gowns and caps they returned for another three operations. The first was the release of an adult tongue-tie, followed by removal of the remaining upper and lower teeth of an elderly patient in preparation for full dentures, and the last was a complicated lower-jaw reduction and rhinoplasty. It was almost seven o’clock when they finished and the last young woman was wheeled into Recovery.
Sara thanked the staff for their skilled assistance. She then changed into her street clothes and visited the two patients in ICU, before dropping into the wards and checking the two other less serious cases. They were all progressing well. Sara reassured the concerned families that the patients all looked bruised and swollen but they were fine and then she decided to have a quick cup of coffee before heading home. She was almost dead on her feet after seven straight hours of surgery.
She had just sat down in the doctors’ lounge, savouring the wonderful aroma of steaming coffee in her mug, when Tom and another doctor appeared, apparently in search of similar refreshment.
‘Jake, have you met Sara? She’s been kind enough to fill in for Stu while he’s up on the farm.’
Sara watched as the man shook his head and walked towards her with his hand outstretched. She purposely avoided eye contact with Tom. She also noted that he hadn’t referred to their relationship or history at all. She was just there to help out.
Back in Her Husband's Arms Page 8
