by Sue MacKay
‘Give me the easy job, why don’t you?’ A slight smile hovered on Rita’s lips.
Tori did better with her smile. ‘You like your food, then, John?’
Rita didn’t give him a chance to answer. ‘Oh, yes. You’d think with his job he’d live on lettuce but, no, not a chance. Until now. He is going to be living so healthily it will be embarrassing.’ Tears slid down her face. ‘Everyone’s been absolutely wonderful, but I just want to go home, take John back to where everything’s familiar.’
Tori nodded. ‘Unfortunately he should probably rest a few days at least before making that long haul back to Sydney.’
Ben had the answer. ‘As soon as the doctors say John can move, you’re going to London and my apartment. You’ll be comfortable there, and there’ll be less stress with no language issues.’
‘Phew, that’s a load off my mind.’ Rita looked infinitesimally happier. ‘Can I bring the kids over to join us? They won’t be a problem in the apartment, I promise.’
‘Those scallywags will have a blast. I’ll book the flights later today.’
John raised a thumb. ‘Good.’
‘You’ll have to go by train to London. There’s no flying for John for a little while.’
Again John nodded, but, then, he’d already know that. ‘Rita.’ He spoke softly. ‘She needs a break.’
‘On her way. You’re going to have to put up with Tori and me for the next few hours. We’re the official babysitters.’ Ben pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down to prove he wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Want me to read you a bedtime story?’
‘The only ones I can think of aren’t appropriate in the current company.’ John gave him a feeble smile.
‘Go to sleep, buddy. You need it.’
‘You don’t need to hang around, watching over me. There are more than enough nurses doing that already.’
John’s voice faded in and out, like he was half-asleep already.
‘That’s why I’m staying. To share the nurses,’ he quipped, his gaze already drifting across to Tori, who was talking with Rita. There wasn’t a nurse in the hospital, or any other woman anywhere, who could snag his attention. There was only one woman he was interested in, had ever been in love with, and she was only a few feet away. Might as well be on the other side of the world for all the good that was doing him.
But Tori had agreed to spend time with him, to see how they got on.
‘She’s the one, isn’t she?’
And he’d thought John was falling asleep. ‘The only one,’ he admitted quietly.
Just admitting it to his friend showed how out of control his emotions had become. Tori did that to him. Had done it right from that first glimpse of her in the department all those years back. From that moment he’d been hooked. Nothing that had happened later on had changed a thing. He’d never stopped loving her, no matter how hard he’d tried. He’d been fooling himself all along so that life was easier to cope with. Sure, he’d thought he’d made progress, could go along for months without thinking about her, then she’d be there in the front of his mind, beckoning, refusing to go away. Despite what he’d told her, he’d never fallen out of love with her.
He hadn’t trusted her love as much as he should’ve, but he’d always believed he’d been doing the right thing by Tori when he’d left her.
He shoved the fingers of one hand through his hair. ‘Was I right? Or was I wrong?’ he whispered to himself.
‘I don’t know the details, but from what I’ve seen these past few days I’m thinking wrong.’
No problem with John’s hearing, then. ‘You and me both.’
Tori was hugging Rita. They’d bonded so quickly and easily. Tori had always had a big heart, and yet she’d never had many close friends. Just Diane and Lynley, the two girls she’d grown up with.
I want her back. So I can’t stuff it up this time. Slowly, slowly.
‘You’ve got a few days so make them count.’
‘John, you’re meant to be going to sleep, not sorting out my life.’
‘I’ve just learned how quickly life can change. Don’t let Tori get away—not without giving your absolute best shot.’
Ben swallowed hard. So said the man who’d nearly left them for ever last night. What would he have done if John had died? He’d have been beyond devastated. Just as he’d been when he’d pushed Tori out of his life. ‘I’ll make you a deal, buddy. You get some sleep and I’ll start with being up-front with Tori about a few things.’ When she got back from accompanying Rita to the room the hospital staff had found for her.
The gleam in John’s eyes almost made Ben feel guilty for not mentioning he’d already made a move with Tori, that he’d kissed her and they’d agreed to spend time together. But even as his best friend, John wasn’t going to be privy to everything going on in his head—make that in his heart. Not when getting closer to Tori was still most likely to turn belly-up. How could they have a relationship when living at opposite ends of the world? He felt John’s hand on his.
Then his buddy was saying, ‘I haven’t said it yet, but thank you. I wouldn’t be...’ John couldn’t get the rest of his sentence out.
‘Don’t go there. Anyway, Tori had as much input.’ They’d worked together, each doing their job without hesitation. The only focus had been to save John, and they’d succeeded.
He and Tori working together. Surely that had to be a sign. A good one.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘THIS IS LA DAME DE LA COEUR,’ Marc Dupont told a tiny girl made to look even smaller by the big bed she lay in.
Marc had heard about her talk at the conference, and after checking John’s obs had invited Tori to visit the children’s ward with him. Since she’d canned the idea of sightseeing, she was happy to oblige.
‘Maelee, say hello to the doctor.’
The pale child glanced back and forth between Tori and her specialist. Her laboured breathing spoke of heart disease. ‘Bonjour,’ she finally wheezed.
‘Bonjour, Maelee.’ Tori shifted closer to the bed and crouched down so she wasn’t towering over the girl. ‘I am from another country far away, New Zealand.’
From Maelee’s bewildered expression her pronunciation wasn’t even close.
Tori tried again. ‘I look after sick girls and boys back at my home.’
Thankfully Marc interpreted her diabolical accent and Maelee’s eyes lit up. ‘You want to see me?’
With Marc’s help Tori chatted to the little girl and gained her confidence. ‘How old are you, Maelee?’
‘Six.’
Six. Too young to be dealing with this. ‘What do you like doing when you’re at home?’ What would her child have liked to do at this age? She or he would’ve been six now, too. Would they have pestered me for a horse, like I did my mum?
‘Computer games.’ She paused to get her breathing under control. ‘But I want to ride my bike, like my friends can.’
You poor wee pet. Pulling out her phone, Tori showed Maelee a picture of Dean Cox. ‘This boy has a sore heart, too.’
‘But he’s laughing and waving.’
‘That’s because we’ve made him better. He was going home when that photo was taken.’
Maelee stared at Dean. ‘I like him. I want to go home.’
Tori knew the child was having surgery for a faulty aortic valve in the morning. ‘You need to get better first. That’s what Dean had to do.’ Then she asked, ‘Can I listen to your heart, Maelee?’
‘Oui.’ Maelee instantly hauled up her pyjama top and exposed her skinny chest. ‘It’s going bang-bang-bang.’
Taking the stethoscope Marc handed her, Tori listened to the erratic beating of the girl’s heart. Meeting the specialist’s eyes, she nodded. This was a very sick child, and after surgery tomorrow she’d be spen
ding the next few days in the intensive care unit where John was currently laid up.
Gently pulling Maelee’s top down, Tori asked, ‘Can I tell Dean about you? I’m sure he’d like to send you a message.’
Maelee nodded, and Tori typed a quick message to Dean about the little French girl.
The brief message had hardly gone and Dean was answering.
Hi, Heart Lady. Why are you in a hospital? Aren’t you coming home?
He should be sound asleep at this hour. Dean’s mother would be growling at her for disturbing her son. It would be after midnight back in New Zealand. Her smile turned to worry. Was Dean having sleep issues again? Before she’d operated he’d always been exhausted and yet unable to sleep well. She replied.
Of course I’m coming home. I want to see you again. Do you have a message for Maelee?
Tell her to be brave and that she’s going to get better soon, like me.
After passing on Dean’s message, Tori followed Marc out of the ward to discuss tomorrow’s surgery. ‘Why did it take so long for Maelee to get specialist treatment?’
‘Her mother ignored the signs, and it wasn’t until Maelee became ill at school one day that the nurse picked up on her breathing and heart rhythm. The faulty valve is congenital due to the mother having had rubella during her pregnancy.’
‘The mother didn’t follow up on getting her baby checked after birth?’
Marc shook his head. ‘She says she did, but Maelee’s symptoms didn’t present until she was nearly five.’
The child should’ve been monitored right from birth, but not knowing the full details of the case Tori didn’t say a word. Anyway, it was more likely the mother hadn’t been vigilant than the health system failing Maelee. ‘I’ll see her when I visit John in the afternoon,’ Tori told Marc. ‘If you’re happy with that,’ she added hurriedly.
‘Very happy. Merci.’
Tori headed back to Intensive Care, but before going in she sent an email to her clinic head nurse.
I’m concerned about Dean. Seems he might not be sleeping properly. I’d like you to arrange for him to come in for a check-up with Conrad ASAP.
Conrad had joined her clinic six months ago for post-grad work and was talking about moving to England when the year was up. Tori didn’t want him to go as he’d become such an asset to the clinic. His medical skills were invaluable and the children adored his jokes and games.
She sighed. Get over it. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t known he’d be moving on. But having to take on yet another new, and most likely temporary, doctor always had everyone on edge for the first few days. In some cases, first few weeks. Not that she could fault Conrad’s thinking. He wanted to get as much experience under his belt as possible before settling into a full-time practice. Another sigh trickled over her lips.
‘What’s with all the sighing?’ Ben asked from behind her.
Tori almost leapt off the floor, she’d been so engrossed in her thoughts about home. Home—the clinic really was her home. She mightn’t have a bed of her own or a wardrobe there, but she spent most hours of the day and night in the place. Just like old times. She hadn’t cut back on those hideous hours at all, instead using them to hide from reality. Shock rippled through her. She didn’t have a life outside work.
‘Tori, have I grown a wart on my nose?’ Ben chided.
Shaking away the revelation that had slammed into her, she said, ‘Just keeping tabs on a patient back home.’ She explained to Ben about the email and Dean, ignoring the bouncing exclamation in her head... You don’t have a life other than as a cardiologist. You don’t have a life other than as a cardiologist. What had she been saying? Patient. Dean. Tori then mentioned Conrad. ‘He’s too good to let go, but I can’t find the incentive needed to keep him with us permanently.’
‘It’s not unusual for newly qualified residents to head overseas for work experience,’ Ben agreed. ‘Have you thought of offering him a place for when he returns?’
‘Tried that, thinking I could lock him into one year away, but he’s reluctant to tie himself down. I’m being silly. It’s not like I have trouble getting doctors to work with us.’
‘But you hate change.’ Ben grinned.
Laughter bubbled up, banishing her despondency. ‘You haven’t forgotten anything, have you?’
His grin widened as he rolled his eyes. ‘Why can’t we go to the movies on Sunday afternoon, Tori?’ Then he mimicked her. ‘I like going on Saturdays, that’s why. It’s what I’m used to.’
She flicked his arm with the back of her hand. ‘I never.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Okay, maybe I did like routine, but movies only on Saturdays? I don’t think so.’
‘In the interests of not having an argument I will resist the temptation to remind you of other similar...’ he flicked fingers in the air ‘...routines we lived by and instead will invite you to join me for a walk through the old city area. I hear there’s lots of wonderful art and antiques there.’
‘You got me.’ Then she hesitated. ‘What about John? Is Rita back?’
‘John’s sleeping and Rita’s happy, sitting with him.’ Ben took her hand in his and turned them in the direction of the elevators. ‘Let’s go and find you some old art thing to take home for your apartment.’
‘Old art thing? Very classy, Mr Wells.’ But she had been intending to look at the antiques in the hope of finding a piece of porcelain to add to her growing collection.
‘Absolutely, Tori.’ His fingers squeezed hers gently.
At least he hadn’t said Mrs Wells. She should pull away from his hand. Would do so in a minute. But not just yet. It had been too long since she’d had physical contact with Benji—she wouldn’t count a kiss and a few other touches over the last few days—and she was learning how much she’d missed that. Not that she hadn’t known, of course she had, but to touch him, have his hand in hers brought back memories of other intimacies. Intimacies she’d enjoyed. All this from a hand touch. Yes, Benji was getting to her—again.
His name is Ben. Ben, not Benji. Sure. Of course.
* * *
‘I love that one.’ Tori pointed to an urn tucked in the corner of a shop two hours later. ‘I want to buy it.’
Ben stared at the nearly four-foot-tall urn and shook his head. ‘Of course you do. Have you booked a spare seat on the plane?’
‘Don’t be difficult.’ But it wouldn’t be the easiest thing to get home. Not only big, but fragile to boot. ‘I wonder if they package and deliver?’
‘The extra seat might be cheaper,’ Ben noted, even as he shifted a small chair to give her better access to her heart’s desire.
‘It’s beautiful.’ She sighed. Not the small piece of porcelain she’d been thinking of finding. ‘It’s going to look perfect in the entranceway.’ The multi shades of blue in the floral design would look stunning against the cream walls and the duck-egg-blue tiles of her foyer.
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ Ben was studying her urn. ‘I only hope it survives the trip.’ He headed to the man watching them from behind a wonderful carved wood counter and began trying to explain the situation.
Tori left him to it and sat on the chair to study the urn. Running her fingers lightly over the surface, she felt a thrill tingle up her spine. What an amazing souvenir to take home from France. If it was at all possible. Surely the shop owner would be used to sending his precious antiques all around the world? She’d be devastated if the urn arrived in pieces.
‘Seems anything is possible,’ Ben leaned down to tell her.
Turning her head, her eyes locked with his. ‘Truly? That’s wonderful.’ She should be looking away, but for the life of her she couldn’t drag her gaze from his twinkling caramel eyes. Eyes full of laughter and charm and— Love? For her? Couldn’t be. ‘Ben?’
‘Madame, you want this urn to go to New Zealand?’
Tori jerked back and stared around to find the shop owner watching her with amusement. ‘Y-yes,’ she stuttered. ‘Is that possible?’
‘It is. It will be very expensive for the freight,’ the man told her.
‘I expected that.’
‘You haven’t asked how much this will all cost,’ Ben reminded her.
Too late. The man would have to be comatose not to see that she’d pay just about anything to have it, and was probably upping the price right then. ‘What’s the price of the urn?’ she asked anyway, because she did need to know sometime.
The man’s English was clear and precise and they soon reached agreement on the price and then arranged freight and the insurance to cover any mishap on the way.
Back out on the street Ben said, ‘I need a drink after that.’ He took her hand again—she was getting used to this and liking it—and tugged her across the road into a wine bar.
After ordering sparkling water for her and beer for himself, Ben settled onto the chair opposite her. ‘I thought you’d have moved out of that apartment once I’d gone.’
It’s where my memories of you were freshest at the time. Memories I needed to get through long and lonely days, and to remind myself we had been in love once.
Memories that had helped her through the post-miscarriage blues a little, and at other times had dragged her down even deeper. ‘It was in the perfect location and had everything I’d always wanted for my home so I had no reason to sell and move.’
The fact Ben had left her was more than enough reason, according to her friends, and they’d never understood why she’d hung on to the place. Sometimes when she’d been struggling to come to terms with his departure she’d questioned herself, had once gone as far as making an appointment with a real estate salesperson, which she’d cancelled at the last minute. She hadn’t needed the added stress of selling, finding another home and moving.
