The buildings were just a little shabbier, houses more crammed together. Restaurants were fewer and the cars parked on the street were changing from ridiculously expensive to something that the average man might be able to afford.
His phone rang as he approached the clinic. He hadn’t thought to check what the hours of the clinic were but as the lights gleamed in the distance it was clear that people were still inside.
He glanced at the screen as he pulled the phone from his pocket.
Gibbs.
His breath caught in his throat.
His finger paused over the green light. It would be so easy to push the phone back in his pocket and ignore the call.
It would be even easier to answer and just automatically say yes to the next mission. That’s what he’d always done before.
After his panic attack last night he’d more or less left himself open to scrutiny by Gabrielle. She would ask. She would pry. She would try to fix him.
In a way it was ironic. He’d come to Mirinez to support her. To help her in a difficult situation. He didn’t like it when things were reversed.
He could jump on a plane right now and be in another country in a matter of hours. Forget about all of this. Pretend it had never happened.
His footsteps slowed as he pressed answer and put the phone to his ear. ‘Gibbs, it’s Sullivan. What is it this time?’
‘Sullivan, it’s great to get you. Listen, I know you’re just back but I’m a man short for a specialist mission in Syria. We need an experienced surgeon and your language skills would be a huge bonus.’
Sullivan could feel an uncomfortable prickle on his skin, like a million little insects crawling all over him. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, his mind spinning.
Yes, yes, of course I’ll go. It’s just one more mission. I’m needed. I can make a difference.
A bead of sweat ran down his brow. He wiped it away angrily.
I can sort this other stuff out later. I’ll take a proper break after the next mission. I’ll take some time away then. I’ve lasted this long.
‘So you would leave probably some time in the next twenty-four hours. No need to ask where you are. I’ve seen you in the press. Such a shame about Gabrielle. We hate to lose her. She’s one of the best doctors we’ve got for TB. I’ll need to find about flights from Mirinez. What’s the name of the airport there?’
He stopped walking. He couldn’t breathe now. He wasn’t having another panic attack, but saying no just wasn’t in his blood—not in his nature.
He tried to breathe out, to get rid of the choked feeling in his throat. His first thought had been that his father would never say no to a mission. He may not have been a doctor but as a commander, captain, then an admiral the US military had been in his blood.
He’d already stopped walking but now his feet were rooted to the ground. A cold breeze swept over him, chilling him more than it should.
But his father had said no. Of course he had. When his mother had died his father had refused to be stationed anywhere without his son. It just hadn’t really occurred to him before now what his father might actually have said no to.
Gibbs was still talking incessantly. ‘Sullivan? Sullivan? Have we got a bad signal?’
Sullivan sucked in a deep breath. ‘No.’
‘No? You can hear me?’
‘No, we don’t have a bad signal. And, no, I’m sorry, I can’t come. I’m not available.’
‘You’re not? But...’ Gibbs sounded so stunned he just stopped in mid-sentence.
Sullivan still really, really wanted to say yes but he kept talking. ‘Sorry, Gibbs. I’ve worked for almost three straight years. I need some time off. I need a break. I have a few things to sort out. I’ll get back in touch with you when I’m ready to come back.’ He closed his eyes as he kept talking. ‘I will come back. I want to. I’ll let you know when.’
He pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call. He wasn’t quite sure what else Gibbs would have said, but he knew he didn’t need to hear it. He could claim a poor signal at a later date if need be.
What was important was he’d said no.
He stared at the phone for a second, then pressed the off switch. His hand gave the slightest shake. The urge to phone back was strong.
He looked over at the lights on in the clinic. He could see lots of people through the windows. Was the clinic usually this busy at night?
He strode across the road. He’d talk to Gabrielle soon. He’d tell her what he’d done, then figure out what came next.
For now, there were patients. And he was a doctor.
* * *
The waiting room was packed. She had two nurses working with her at the clinic. They were used to being here—she wasn’t. The equipment in the community clinic was embarrassing, some so old it was falling apart. The prescription medicine cabinet only had the bare essentials. The computer system was antiquated. All things she would deal with.
It seemed that Sullivan had already had these thoughts. She’d found a list he’d started in the room he’d been working in.
It was long.
She’d worked in countries all over the world with less-than-perfect equipment—she just hadn’t expected to find it here in Mirinez. A luxurious tax haven.
Her desk was covered with mounds of paper. ‘What on earth are you doing, and who are all these patients?’
Sullivan was standing in the doorway, pointing out to the waiting room full of patients.
She ran her fingers through her hair. It had long escaped from the ponytail she’d tied on top of her head. She sighed and gave her eyes a rub. She was going to ask him for help. She had to. But was that fair?
‘The case you thought was TB?’
He nodded as he walked across the room and stood at the other side of the desk.
She nodded her head. ‘Oh, it’s definitely TB. But when I took a history I realised I’d just opened a can of worms. I’ve found another five definite.’ She rummaged through her paperwork. ‘Twelve probable.’ She held up her hand again. ‘And about another twenty still to review.’
Her phone buzzed and she ignored it. He must have caught the expression on her face. ‘Something else going on?’
She couldn’t. She just couldn’t tell him that. Probably because if he asked her a single question about her brother she was likely to dissolve into floods of tears. She had to be strong. She had to keep on top of things. How could she help Sullivan if she couldn’t control her emotions?
She shook her head. ‘Nothing I can’t deal with.’
He picked up some of the paperwork. ‘What do you need?’
Everything about this was wrong. That was the question that she should be asking him right now, not the other way about. But what was worse was that she had to accept his help, even though she knew he needed help himself.
‘Patient histories. Detailed patient histories. Chest X-rays read. Chests sounded. Treatment decisions—and maybe even a few admissions to hospital.’
She winced. ‘My language skills haven’t exactly helped. My Italian just isn’t good enough. I don’t speak Greek at all. As for Japanese? I just don’t have a clue.’ She was embarrassed to admit it. ‘I’ve got one of the security guards out there, taking a history, because he knows a bit of Greek.’
Sullivan just gave a nod. But something was different. She could tell. When he’d been thrown into the breach in Narumba, into an area he’d been totally unfamiliar with, he’d been enthusiastic and motivated for the task. He hadn’t worried about being a fish out of water. He’d just got on with things.
This time he just looked resigned to the fact he had to help. There wasn’t the passion in his eyes. There wasn’t the same cheeky glimmer.
She stood up and walked over, placing her hands
on his chest.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m putting you in this position today. I know this isn’t a good time.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he snapped, then visibly winced at his own words and stepped back.
He looked wounded. ‘Do you think I’m not capable of doing the job?’
She shook her head fiercely. ‘Of course I don’t. You’re one of the best doctors I’ve ever worked with.’ She couldn’t hide the passion in her voice. She looked into his hurt pale green eyes. All she wanted to do was pull him closer, to wrap her arms around his neck and feel his heartbeat next to hers.
She lowered her voice. ‘I want to keep working with you, Sullivan. I hope to keep working with you for a very long time.’
Her voice was trembling. It felt as if she was wearing her heart on her sleeve.
His gaze locked with hers. She stopped breathing. She just didn’t know what would come next.
Her phone buzzed again and she could almost see the shutters coming down in his eyes. He picked up a pile of the paperwork. ‘Let me deal with the Italian, Greek and Japanese patients. The histories and exams won’t take long. I’ll let you know if I have any queries or want to admit someone.’
The phone buzzing was incessant. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to go away.
He frowned. ‘Is there something else?’
She shook her head automatically. ‘No. Thanks so much for your help with this.’
He nodded and walked out the room.
Her heart squeezed inside her chest. Why did none of this feel right? She felt so torn. A country to serve. A man who deserved her support and love.
Why was it so hard to do both?
* * *
It was the oddest feeling in the world. He was talking to patients in multiple languages and taking patient histories. He listened to chests, reviewed X-rays, prescribed treatment regimes. He listened to their social problems around overcrowding and suitable housing and made multiple notes for Gabrielle.
He just had to look at her to know how much he wanted to be with her. But that only emphasised the numbness around his heart. It was almost as if it were encased with a wall of ice.
He wanted to think, he wanted to feel, he wanted to love. But now he’d realised how long he’d ignored his underlying grief, it had brought everything else to the surface. He had to move on.
He wanted to take the steps so he could plan for the future—plan for a future with Gabrielle.
He just couldn’t find a way to put the words in his mouth. There were so many barriers. All his experience, all his medical training and he couldn’t find the words. The weirdest thing of all was the fact that he knew that if he were the patient sitting in front of himself now—even though it wasn’t his specialist area—he’d know exactly what to advise. It felt ironic that he actually had some insight into himself.
It was like everything had been brought to a head. Now he’d reached the point of realisation he had to act.
He signed his last prescription and checked the final set of notes.
He had to talk to Gabrielle. He had to tell her what he was going to do.
He loved her. He had to tell her that too.
But no. In order to feel free to love her, he had to deal with the things he’d pushed aside. The thought of going home made him feel sick. He’d avoided the place for so long and he’d built it up in his head so much that the thought of going back filled him with dread.
It was ridiculous—irrational—and he knew that.
How could he love Gabrielle when there was so much standing in his way?
And what if he couldn’t shake off the aura that had surrounded him for the last few years? It didn’t matter that he loved Gabrielle—was he truly worthy of her? Could he stand by her side and help her shoulder the burden of her role?
The truth was he wasn’t sure. He had doubts. Not about Gabrielle, just about himself.
Was he really living up to the expectations that his father would have had of him? His insides coiled. He was letting down his father. He was letting down Gabrielle.
Right now, he couldn’t give her any false hope, make any false promises.
The best thing he could do right now was leave.
He stood up and looked around the clinic. It was finally quiet.
He could hear Gabrielle’s voice coming from the other room. She must still have a patient with her so he would have to wait until she was finished.
He tidied his paperwork and walked along the corridor. But Gabrielle’s room was empty except for her. She was pacing back and forth, the phone pressed against her ear. ‘What? How much? Have you spoken to the lawyers? What about the draft press statement that I prepared?’ As he watched, a tear slid down her cheek. ‘What do you mean, I’m not allowed to talk about it?’
She brushed the tear away angrily as she continued to pace. ‘Is that what this has come to? I can be sued for how much?’
She stopped pacing. Her face was pale. He walked across the room towards her and put his hands on her shoulders, his expression asking the question for him.
She looked stricken but as soon as she realised he’d been listening she turned her back and walked away.
It was like a door slamming, being shut out completely. The person he wanted to reach out and actually talk to was obviously overwhelmed by something else entirely.
She didn’t need any more pressure. She needed someone who could support her in the role she was struggling with. The last thing Gabrielle needed was a weight around her neck like Sullivan Darcy. At least that was how he felt at the moment.
What did he know about running a country?
He stepped back. The best thing he could do right now was give Gabrielle the space she needed to feel out her role.
He wanted to be the person by her side, but he didn’t feel ready to offer her what she deserved. And whatever it was she was dealing with, it was obvious she didn’t want to share it with him.
He gritted his teeth as she stood with her back to him, talking quietly.
He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with himself.
He’d never felt like this about someone before and was almost overwhelmed by how much it took the breath from his lungs.
He wanted to be better for her.
She was still struggling with being Head of State. It could be that she’d decide this was a role she couldn’t fulfil. He’d love her whatever her decision was. She wasn’t Princess Gabrielle to him. She was just Gabrielle. And he’d take her in whatever form she came.
If she’d have him. But right now—this second? What could he offer her?
He took a deep breath.
It was time to take the steps to get better.
It was time to go.
* * *
The call took for ever. It seemed the palace legal advisors were very nervous about the outcome of the Prince Andreas situation.
She was furious. Frustrated. She didn’t want to keep secrets. She hated being told that saying a single word about what had happened could lead to the palace being sued for millions.
She glanced over her shoulder. She felt so torn.
She wanted to deal with this. She wanted everything out in the open. She wanted Andreas held accountable for his actions. She wanted to be able to tell Sullivan what was going on.
Andreas should be punished. Those items didn’t belong to him. Those jewels weren’t his to take. And the money—the diverted funds—definitely weren’t his to take. If she could climb on the plane to Bermuda right now and grab him with her own hands, she would.
But there was also a sinking feeling in her stomach. He could never come back now. The role of Head of State and Princess Gabrielle would always be hers.
It was a change of a whole
mindset. A change of her life’s ambitions.
But working alongside Sullivan towards the end of this week had made her realise that she could make the adjustments she needed. It might be tricky. It might be tough. But if she worked hard at the balance she should be able to work as a doctor as well as fulfil the role of Head of State.
But deep down she knew she wanted to do that with Sullivan by her side.
Working in the community clinic made her even more determined. She could see the holes in their current systems. She could work to change things and improve the healthcare for the general population. She didn’t doubt Sullivan would want to help her with that. She would never ask him to give up his missions. Part of her ached that she wouldn’t be able to do them any more.
But maybe he would be willing to combine time with her and time with Doctors Without Borders. If they both wanted to, they could make this work.
The lawyer was still talking incessantly in her ear. She couldn’t take another minute of this. She needed to talk to Sullivan. She cut him off. ‘Check into our extradition treaties. I have no idea about them—but we must have some. Bermuda is a British overseas territory. If we don’t have one, see if we can request Andreas’s expulsion or lawful return. Find a way to make this work. If you need me to speak to the Governor, I will.’
She hung up the phone.
She needed to deal with this as quickly as possible. She wanted to spend time with Sullivan. She wanted to show him the same support that he’d shown her. It was obvious he’d been pushing things away for a long time. He needed someone by his side. Her heart and head told her that should be her.
She walked out of the office, her footsteps echoing through the clinic in an ominous way. ‘Sullivan?’
The space seemed completely empty.
She glanced into the empty consulting room opposite her and walked through to the waiting room. One of the security staff was standing at the main door. ‘Do you know where Sullivan is?’
He looked over his shoulder. ‘He left ten minutes ago.’
Her stomach clenched. Something about this seemed wrong. It was the picture she had in her mind. The expression on his face. One part hurt, one part blankness.
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