by Barbara Hart
‘There’s not a lot to say, is there?’ said Helen in exasperation. ‘You’re always doing this to me, Andrew. Just when I think I’ve got you out of my system, you turn up and cause havoc with my emotions, with my life.’ She waved her arms expansively. ‘By all means have your coffee, but as for the discussion about “us”, leave me out of it!’
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken a word, making himself a coffee, bringing it to the table and sitting down facing her. ‘I was operating this morning, as I’ve just said, and I discovered something.’
‘You’ve come here for a medical discussion? You want to talk about an operation?’ Helen put the flat of her hand against her forehead in an over-dramatic gesture. ‘You never cease to amaze me! It’s a consultation he wants!’ she said, as if addressing an invisible audience.
Andrew pressed on. ‘Margie Whittaker was the theatre sister. She told me that she’s dating Patrick. Your Patrick.’
Helen took a couple of moments to digest this information.
‘That’s nice,’ she said. ‘I’m glad about that.’
‘She told me that you’d broken off your engagement,’ said Andrew, keeping his fingers crossed under the table.
‘Yes.’ Helen paused. ‘You see, I didn’t love him. You were right all along. I hope that makes you feel pleased.’
‘It makes me feel very pleased,’ admitted Andrew.
Helen narrowed her eyes. ‘You mean to tell me you’ve come round here to gloat?’
‘Of course not!’
Helen leaned back in her chair and gazed out of the window into the garden. ‘It certainly looks that way to me,’ she said. ‘And now you’ve had it confirmed that I can’t marry Patrick because…well, you know why, I suppose you can’t wait to get back to America to live with this woman in Chicago. The one you’ve been having an affair with.’
He looked astonished. ‘Who? What woman in Chicago?’
Helen banged her empty cup down on the table. ‘Lori Martin, that’s who! She even sent her daughter over to make sure you came back!’
Andrew threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘You think I’m having an affair with Lori?’
‘Well, aren’t you?’
‘No!’ He grinned at her. ‘Is that what you thought?’
‘Yes! And I might have guessed you’d deny it! Well, I’ve seen the evidence.’
‘What evidence?’
‘Those photographs. I saw them on your desk!’
Andrew was puzzled. ‘I haven’t got any photographs of Lori.’
‘Yes, you have! And she’d written all lovy-dovy stuff on the back. “Happy Memories of Chicago from Lori.” I saw it with my own eyes.’
‘You mean that picture of a woman golfer?’ said Andrew, comprehension dawning.
Helen nodded mutely.
‘That wasn’t Lori,’ he said. ‘That was the woman who sued me for medical negligence.’
‘Woman golfer?’ said Helen. ‘I thought you’d been sued by a man.’
‘No, it was a woman. A lying, cheating rogue of a woman. Lori was the lawyer who defended me.’
Helen’s jaw dropped.
‘Lori hired a private detective to get material that could be used to back up our case,’ explained Andrew. ‘The patient had both knees operated on and I’d made it a condition of doing both at the same time that she would rest and refrain from playing golf for many months—until I gave her the all-clear to do so. She signed a form to that effect. Then we discovered a video that proved that the woman had played golf a very short time after the operation. No wonder it failed!’
Helen remained speechless as Andrew explained further how the video uncovered by the detective had been accurately dated because at one point a clubhouse could be seen in the background. On the roof was a digital clock showing the time, temperature and date. What Helen had seen on Andrew’s desk were stills taken from the video and sent to him by Lori.
‘The “Happy Memories” line was Lori being ironic,’ he said. ‘The last thing those golfing pictures brought back was happy memories!’
Helen was visibly relieved. ‘I was convinced you had a woman in Chicago and that you were possibly waiting for her to get a divorce. I once bumped into Mary Oberon in New York and she said that you were using a lawyer who was associated with her husband’s law firm. His practice, she told me, specialised in divorce. I put two and two together and came up with the wrong answer!’
Andrew stood up and walked the couple of steps to her side.
‘Perhaps now you’ll come up with the right answer.’ He raised her to her feet and slipped his arms around her waist. ‘Will you marry me, you stupid woman?’
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS New Year’s Eve and the ice rink in front of the Rockefeller Center was filled with skaters enjoying the holiday atmosphere and the crisp winter air.
The skaters were being watched by a good-natured crowd of tourists and native New Yorkers who were leaning over the rails and spilling out onto the broad pavement.
Among the crowd of onlookers was a young woman from Iowa who was spending the New Year holiday with friends in the city. She was minding their small child, who was dressed like an Inuit, while they were skating. She lifted him out of his buggy and held him up so that he could see the colourful scene below.
‘Look, Robert,’ she said, ‘there’s Mummy and Daddy! Can you see them skating? They’re waving to you.’
Jane took the hand of the nine-month-old and waved it for him.
‘That’s a clever boy,’ she said as he began to get the idea and started to wave enthusiastically on his own. ‘We’re having a great time, aren’t we?’
Down among the skaters, Helen and Andrew were also having a great time as they glided hand in hand across the ice in the magical setting of the world’s most romantic ice rink.
‘You’re a really good skater,’ said Andrew admiringly.
‘I learned as a child at Milchester Ice Palace,’ replied Helen.
‘I might have known it! Is there any sport you’re not brilliant at? Please, tell me there is!’
‘I’m no good at golf,’ she said, trying hard to concentrate on avoiding bumping into the other skaters.
‘In that case, I challenge you to a game,’ joked Andrew. He waved again to Robert and Jane. ‘Do you think our son and his godmother would object if we did another circuit of the rink? It’s pretty cold standing around up there.’
‘They’re both warmly wrapped up,’ said Helen. ‘Let’s do one more time round and then head back to the apartment for a hot toddy followed by a New Year’s Eve celebration meal.’
‘New Year’s Eve!’ said Andrew reflectively. ‘I remember saying that I’d bring you here on New Year’s Eve—and here we are.’
‘I’m not sure at the time that I believed it would happen,’ said Helen. ‘Now that it has, I still can’t quite believe it. In fact, I’m finding it hard to take in everything that’s happened in the past few months…getting married, moving from Milchester to New York.’
‘Only for a couple of years, and then back home to England,’ said Andrew.
The both smiled broadly at each other, a picture of complete happiness.
‘It’s been an amazingly eventful year all round,’ said Andrew. ‘It started so badly for me, searching all over for you, not knowing where you were. And by the end of the year I’m the father of a gorgeous little boy and married to the woman of my dreams.’
‘That’s not how you put it in your proposal!’ she said jokingly, as they both stepped off the ice.
‘Didn’t I?’ said Andrew innocently. ‘I think you must have misheard me.’
Helen grinned and gently touched his face. ‘Idiot,’ she said.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-5710-1
THE DOCTOR’S LOVE-CHILD
First North American Publication 2002
Copyright © 2002 by Barbara Hart
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