Rescued by Dr. Rafe

by Annie Claydon

  He had been about to ask Mimi to assist him, but apparently he was going to have to juggle scissors, tape and a dressing pad on his own. That wasn’t what worried Rafe. What worried him was the feeling that he and Mimi weren’t so much working together as working in close proximity to each other.

  He disinfected the wound and dressed it, then broke open the blister pack, taking the first of the antibiotic tablets out. ‘Take this one now. Then three times a day for the next week. It should start to feel better in a couple of days, but if it gets any worse call us again.’

  ‘Wasn’t me as called you the first time.’ Now that Toby was reassured about his leg, a mischievous sense of humour had begun to surface. Mimi remonstrated with him and, after another short battle of wills, it was time to pack up and go.

  ‘You know him?’ Rafe asked as he settled back behind the wheel of the car.

  ‘Yeah. He broke his hip about three years ago, up at his grandson’s farm, and Jack and I attended. I went to see how he was doing in hospital, and he had all the nurses wound around his little finger. When he got better, he turned up at the ambulance station with two bags of home-grown strawberries, one each for me and Jack.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘They were. They had a real flavour to them, not like the ones you get in the supermarket.’ Even though they were alone in the car, Mimi’s smile wasn’t for him. It was for Toby and the strawberries, and maybe for Jack. She must be missing Jack.

  Rafe reminded himself that he shouldn’t need her smile in order to work effectively. Despite all their good intentions, he and Mimi just weren’t functioning as a team and they needed to address that. Quickly, if Toby was to be believed, because the sun was going down. He leaned back in his seat, trying to think of some way to broach the subject casually.

  ‘So, marks out of ten. What would you give us?’ Rafe accompanied the words with a smile, hoping that it would soften them. ‘I reckon ten out of ten for individual performances, and a lot less for teamwork.’

  She coloured suddenly. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, how many marks out of ten do you give me for teamwork?’

  Mimi shrugged. ‘Can’t we leave the psych assessments until later?’

  Something in her tone made Rafe press the point. ‘I’d say one. Two if I was being generous. How many marks do you give yourself?’

  She turned her gaze on him, luminous in the gathering dusk. Her eyes, wide and dark, seemed almost to be pleading with him.

  ‘I...I probably don’t deserve any more than one. But I can do better.’ Her words were almost a whisper.

  She looked so deflated, so hurt, that he instinctively reached out for her, stopping only a moment away from touching her hand. The problem was almost entirely of his making and he’d blundered in, trying to fix it. And somehow all he’d managed to do was to wound Mimi.

  ‘It’s me that needs to do better, not you.’ Mimi looked as if she was on the edge of tears and the impulse to comfort her was almost irresistible.

  None of his old coping strategies were going to work. Rafe knew that he needed to try something new.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  * * *

  She was doing it again, judging herself, doing herself down, before Rafe got the chance. And now he wanted to talk? Somewhere in the universe, something very big must have jolted out of alignment because Rafe didn’t talk.

  Even though she’d cursed him a million times in her head for not sharing how he felt, now that he’d offered she didn’t want to hear it. The thought that Rafe’s list might be far more damning than anything which Graham might have concocted terrified her.

  ‘You want me...?’ She couldn’t even say it.

  ‘I’ll give it a go if you will.’ His voice was suddenly tender. ‘We’re both so busy doing our own thing that... Well, neither of us has put a foot wrong with a patient yet, but that might be only a matter of time. I want to do better, and I’d like you to help me.’

  There wasn’t enough air in here. Her heart was labouring and her head was spinning.

  But he was right. They had too much baggage, and it could so easily blind them to something important.

  ‘We...can’t do it now.’ She needed some time to think.

  ‘No. Later?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘It’s eight o’clock...’ It would take them at least another two hours to get through the calls they already had. She would rather have the option of going with him to a pub or a coffee bar, but they’d barely make it before closing time. ‘Are you staying in town tonight?’

  ‘I’ve got one of the on-call rooms at the hospital.’

  That wasn’t going to work either. The last thing that Mimi wanted was to be overheard by anyone there. She needed to be clear about what she was offering, though. ‘Before you go back there, you can come to my place. Just...half an hour.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE MOOD HAD lightened between them. It was eleven o’clock before they had worked through the list of calls they had to make, but they’d done it. There had even been a couple of bad jokes, which they’d both laughed far too loudly over in an attempt to prove that they were at ease with the situation. Rafe knew that, in reality, about the only thing that they shared any more was the certain knowledge that what lay ahead of them wasn’t going to be easy.

  He was about to swing into the parking space to one side of the cottage, and then realised that this was no longer his home.

  ‘Where can I park?’

  ‘Use the hardstanding. My car’s at the hospital.’

  He should have thought of that and offered to take her there, so she could drive it back here, but it was too late now. He manoeuvred the heavy vehicle into the tight space and switched off the engine.

  ‘Is this okay? If you’re tired...’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She seemed to have screwed her courage up for this, and he knew Mimi didn’t back down. She got out of the car, and made a dash for the porch, unlocking the front door and not looking behind her as she disappeared inside. Rafe followed her, trying not to drip too much water on to the hall floor.

  When they’d rented this place together, the decor had been gloomy and tired and Rafe had asked if he could apply a few licks of paint. The landlord had agreed willingly, and he and Mimi had chosen a cream colour for the walls, with an oatmeal-coloured carpet to match. She’d hung a few pictures and suddenly the place had become clean and welcoming.

  Now, it was like a different place altogether. She’d ripped up the carpet and laid a wooden floor instead, and the walls were painted a faded plum colour, which suited the age of the cottage perfectly. An old dresser, which looked as if it had been lovingly restored and polished, stood in place of the flat-pack hall table.

  She took off her coat and motioned for him to come through. Rafe followed her into the kitchen. Here, the new cabinets he’d put in were gone too, the wooden doors replaced with shiny white ones. No better, no worse. Just completely different.

  ‘Hang your coat here. It’ll dry off a bit.’ She pulled a chair that he didn’t recognise away from a table he didn’t recognise, and put it close to the old wood-burning stove, which was about the only thing that still remained from when he’d lived here. Rafe imagined that it had gained a reprieve only by dint of being too large and too heavy for Mimi to disconnect and drag out of the house.

  He sat down, watching as she took cups from the cupboard and boiled the kettle. Rafe had taken nothing with him when he’d moved out, just his clothes and personal belongings, reckoning that the least he owed Mimi was to leave the home that they’d built together behind for her. She hadn’t wanted it, though. Even the cups and the tea towels were different.

  ‘You’ve made a good job of the place.’ His first instinct was
still to hide his feelings and pretend that nothing had happened, but he was trying to do things differently. If he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell her how much it hurt to see how ruthlessly she’d expunged any sign that he’d ever been here, he could at least acknowledge that there was a change.

  ‘Thanks.’ She looked around the kitchen thoughtfully, seeming to decide that saying nothing was her best option.

  ‘So you’ve been studying, renovating the cottage and looking out for Charlie.’ Rafe imagined that every penny she earned and every moment of her time must have gone into those three things. ‘Anything else? You must have had at least five minutes’ spare time since I saw you last.’

  Her face broke into a sudden smile. ‘It was six minutes. And I wasted them quite shamelessly, eating chocolate in front of the TV.’

  A faint echo of the life they’d had together here smacked Rafe squarely on the jaw. The evenings when she’d raided her not-so-secret chocolate stash and curled up on the sofa with him, feeding him the odd square as they talked. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  She threw the tea bags into the cups and made the tea, giving each one a perfunctory stir before carrying them over to the table. She seemed to be about to sit down and then had second thoughts, clearly unwilling to go to the lengths of sharing a table with him just yet.

  He should give a bit more. Something about his own life, perhaps. ‘I’m working at the new emergency care unit at Hartsholme Hospital.’

  Surprise registered on her face. ‘I heard about that. I gather there’s some groundbreaking work going on there; I didn’t realise you were involved.’

  ‘I was looking for a challenge, a chance to push the boundaries a bit, and I found it. I’ve been there four years and it’s all been good.’

  She nodded. ‘I was wondering... Your mother...?’

  ‘She’s well. In full remission.’

  Suddenly, Mimi’s smile held nothing in reserve. ‘I’m so glad to hear that.’

  ‘Thank you. She and my father moved up to Scotland a few years ago, but I talk to her regularly. I’ll tell her you were asking...’

  She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. ‘She probably doesn’t even remember me. I’m just pleased to know she’s okay.’

  Rafe remembered what Toby had said and looked her straight in the eye. His chest tightened suddenly, as if his body was instinctively trying to strangle the words that he was determined to say. ‘What is it? What are you not saying?’

  She took one controlled breath, as if she was trying to steady herself. ‘The job you had, before Hartsholme. It fell through?’

  ‘No. I was covering for someone on maternity leave. It lasted longer than I thought.’

  ‘And your parents? They suddenly decided to up sticks and move?’

  He could see the way this was going, but he couldn’t stop it now. ‘No. They’d planned to go when my father retired. The cancer delayed it a bit, but...’

  She turned her back on him, planting her hands on the counter top, her head bowed. Something that sounded like a sob escaped her lips. ‘Rafe... How could you...?’

  This was a far cry to the indifference she’d shown when he’d left. Then, she’d accepted his reasons without question, but now she knew that they were excuses, given because he didn’t know how to tell her the truth. The thought that maybe this was truly how she felt made him shiver with guilt.

  When she faced him again her face was twisted into a mask of anger. Somehow that was worse than the tears he’d expected, because he knew now that her fury disguised an awful, unknown hurt.

  ‘Get out.’

  There was only one thing he could do. Only one thing to say.

  ‘No.’

  * * *

  Mimi stared at him. Now was a fine time to suddenly decide he wanted to stay around. ‘I said...’

  ‘Yeah. I heard. Not until you listen to what I have to say.’ His jaw was set in an immovable line.

  ‘I don’t want to hear it, Rafe.’ She felt breathless, almost giddy with rage. ‘I was never good enough for you, but you know what? I’m over it. This is my house, and my life. If you want to pick holes in it, then you can go and do it on your own time.’

  ‘What...?’ Shock registered on his face. ‘What on earth do you mean, not good enough?’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know.’ She’d vowed she wasn’t going to do this, but it was all too much. The feelings were flooding out with as much force as the water that had separated her from Jack. ‘I’m not a doctor, or a lawyer like your sister. My mum and dad didn’t live in a big house, and I didn’t go to private school.’

  ‘You think I care...’

  ‘Well, clearly you do. You didn’t even let me try to help when your mother became ill; you just got in the car and went over there on your own.’

  ‘But you had enough on your plate. Charlie...’

  ‘Don’t make my brother into an excuse, Rafe. You just shut me out. After all you did to help me cope when Charlie was injured...’ She felt tears well in her eyes. ‘How do you think it made me feel when you turned your back on me when I tried to help you?’

  He didn’t answer. Probably didn’t have an answer, because he wouldn’t have thought of that. In the silence she felt her heart begin to slow, and the burden of things left unsaid shifted slightly. Maybe she should have told him this before.

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’ He was looking at her steadily but his hands were trembling. The thought that she’d finally goaded him into some kind of reaction was a bitter triumph because it was all too late now.

  ‘Don’t...’ Suddenly her legs felt as if they were going to turn to jelly, and she leaned back against the counter top. ‘You can rewrite history all you like, Rafe. Don’t ask me to countersign the last page.’

  ‘Fine. Now you listen to me.’ He was on his feet now, pacing restlessly.

  ‘No...I don’t want to.’ Now that the rush of anger was subsiding, the feeling of loss was tearing at her. Along with a horrible feeling that Rafe could talk her round if he really wanted to, because he’d always been able to.

  He came to a halt opposite her. When she looked away, she felt his fingers brush her arm. ‘Look at me.’

  She didn’t move.

  ‘All right then. Just listen. I wanted to accept your help but I just didn’t know how. I was brought up to cope, not talk. Never to talk, because that was a sign of weakness in a man.’

  ‘All you had to do was ask, Rafe...’ She looked up at him and the pain in his face silenced her.

  ‘It’s not that simple. My own father, the one who taught me how to behave, was failing my mother when she needed him most. He couldn’t deal with not being able to make everything right for my mother, and he just shut down. I was doing the exact same thing. I was keeping everything bottled up inside, and I was failing you.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference. And telling you...’ He shook his head. ‘Like I said. I was brought up to believe that talking about things was a sign of weakness.’

  ‘And leaving fixed everything, did it?’ In a strange way she supposed it had. When Rafe was around she’d filled the silences with her own fears and they’d thrived on that fertile ground. When he’d left she’d filled the void in her heart with ceaseless activity. She’d stopped measuring herself by what the men in her life thought of her and found ways to feel proud of herself.

  ‘I think it did. Look at what you’ve achieved.’

  ‘And... You? Your mother...?’

  ‘I had to learn how to deal with things better and how to give my mother the support she needs. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. My father...’ He turned away from her, flexing the tension out of his shoulders. ‘He learned to text.’

  ‘And...texting helps?’<
br />
  ‘Yeah. When something’s up he texts either me or my sister. Both of us if it’s bad. We call Mum and she gets it off her chest, then she goes and tells Dad what she wants him to do.’ He shrugged. ‘Seems to work for them.’

  ‘They’re happy with that?’ Somewhere, at the back of her mind, Mimi could hear an insistent voice. If Rafe’s father could change, then why not him?

  ‘Happy as clams.’ He gave a wry laugh. ‘Very understated clams. My dad’s not all that different; we just found a way to work around it.’

  He walked over to the stove, picking his coat up. ‘I should go.’

  ‘Wait.’ She’d told him to go. She’d wanted him to go. But the haunted look in his eyes had changed her mind. ‘You haven’t finished your tea.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He put his coat back over the chair and sat down. ‘There’s one more thing...’

  ‘No. Please, Rafe, no more...’ She’d had enough for one night. More than enough. She couldn’t process it all yet.

  ‘Okay.’ He picked up his tea and sipped it. It was probably cold by now, but that seemed not to matter to him. Just being in the same room, without tearing chunks out of each other, felt calming.

  ‘What did you...?’ She pressed her lips together. She’d told him ‘no more’.

  ‘What?’ He turned his blue eyes on her and suddenly the question seemed important.

  ‘What were you thinking? Coming here tonight? Coming here at all, for that matter; you must have known we might bump into each other.’

  ‘I knew how stretched the emergency services are here, and I really did just want to help. I reckoned on dealing with bumping into you if and when it happened. And tonight...’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps it’s only fair that if you’re going to hate me, it’s for what I did, not what I didn’t do.’

  Mimi was about to tell him that she did hate him, but something stopped her. Maybe she didn’t after all. She turned away from him, pondering the question, and in the silence his phone started to buzz insistently.

  She heard his quiet sigh of frustration. Then he picked the phone up from the table in front of him.