He’d say sorry, Hamish decided, just bite the bloody bullet and tell her that he’d found out about her twin, tell her…
Charlotte’s mewing cat broke his introspection and Hamish got up to feed her—or him, he could never quite remember—but food wasn’t on Maisy’s mind. Instead, he rubbed his massive body against Hamish’s legs and miaowed more loudly as Hamish glanced at his watch.
‘Was that the problem?’ Hamish asked as he filled his water bowl and plonked it down, watching as Maisy lapped furiously. ‘She’s got a cheek, forgetting to give you water considering how much she guzzles…’ he started, but didn’t finish. Seeing her lying exhausted out on the stretcher yesterday, standing in the kitchen last night, popping out headache tablets, her flushed face as she’d gulped water from the tap, hearing her footsteps as she’d clattered up the stairs to get to the loo all through the night, the utter weariness in her voice as she’d contemplated the massive task that lay ahead over the next couple of days.
She wasn’t just upset—Charlotte was ill.
Only she didn’t know.
Reaching for his car keys, punching numbers into his mobile, he called his sister and then the hospital, told them something urgent had come up and that for now they’d just have to cope without him…because something urgent had come up. Calling real-estate agent after real-estate agent as he ignored the speed limit, it took his most authoritative doctor’s voice and eventually a shouting match to extricate the address of a house on acreage, owned by a Ms Josie Porter, that settled on Monday and praying that he could get to Charlotte soon.
He’d thought the very worst of her.
And all the time she’d been doing her very best.
CHAPTER TEN
‘HANG in there, young lady!’
Seeing her lying on the bathroom floor, and gently rolling her on her side, Hamish popped on a mask and turned on the portable cylinder of oxygen he’d brought. Even though he had to call for help, even though his arm was bleeding from breaking a window to get in, Hamish dealt with the necessities first.
He’d diagnosed her diabetes at the house, could smell the ketones her body was producing on her breath, didn’t really need to do a blood sugar to confirm his diagnosis. But he followed procedure, an IV line already in and hanging from the shower, insulin already drawn up, before the reading came through, then delivering her the first of the drugs she so desperately needed, before punching in the emergency number and summoning assistance. Then he quickly strapped up his arm, watching her all the time and wondering, with limited supplies, what more he could do.
What would Charlotte want him to do?
Seeing this funny, proud independent woman lying on the floor, where she had clearly been for hours, it wasn’t that hard a question to answer.
He’d better cope with the real necessities!
Racing through the house, he located her bedroom, knowing it was hers in an instant, not from the photos on the wall or the bags in the door but from two twin beds in the room, imaging the agony she would have silently endured, watching the charity shop take them the following morning.
Opening her little overnight bag, Hamish pulled out some fresh knickers and leggings and paused for a second at the door…
Maybe she had been fishing for him to come and help her, Hamish thought. Maybe in her own roundabout way, she had, for once, been asking for help.
‘This isn’t how it looks,’ Hamish muttered to himself, wrestling off her damp jeans and dressing her in clean knickers and leggings, and doing a quick tidy-up of the floor, relief flooding him when finally the sound of sirens could be heard.
The sound of boots crashed through the door and raced up the stairs and Hamish called out to them. Nameless paramedics changing over oxygen cylinders and attaching her to monitors as Hamish told them all he knew.
‘What’s the story?’
‘Newly diagnosed diabetic.’ Hamish gulped. ‘Hyperglycaemic coma—she has ketoacidos. I took a blood glucose. I think she’s been lying here for hours.’
‘When did you find her?’
‘Twenty minutes ago.’
‘You’re sure about that?’ The paramedic frowned, and rightly so. A patient this sick, one who had been lying there so long, should surely appear a little less dignified!
‘I cleaned up a bit.’ Hamish, met the paramedic’s eyes. ‘I’m a consultant at Camberfield, I mean Northern District Emergency. Believe me, she really is as bad as she seems…’ Staring down at Charlotte, he didn’t notice the paramedic’s eyes widen in recognition.
‘Sorry, Doc. I didn’t realise it was you.’
‘Just worry about her,’ Hamish urged, stepping back a bit as they set to work, feeling completely useless as he stood in the hall and they negotiated the stretcher out of the bathroom.
‘Just move back a bit, Doc, would you?’
Which he did. He stood at the door of her bedroom and stared at the two single beds that had been and surely always would be her world, swearing that if he lived to a hundred then that was what he would do…worry about Charlotte and make sure that she was happy.
‘I should have called an ambulance the second I guessed.’
‘And told them to break into her mother’s home on a hunch…’ Helen was screwing in yet another IVAC around Charlotte’s bed. Adding yet another drug to yet another intravenous line as Charlotte lay there, still unconscious, lips raw and cracked, her face dry and flushed under the oxygen mask, her body wrapped in a space blanket to conserve her temperature as they struggled to get her blood sugar down and balance her dangerously abnormal electrolyte and bicarbonate levels.
‘A bit more than a hunch. I’m an emergency consultant—she’s been guzzling water and running to the loo every five minutes, it should have been obvious she had diabetes. I thought she was flushed because she’d been out s—’ He snapped his mouth closed, hating how cheap he’d thought her.
‘Doing her blessed salsa dancing!’ Helen laughed. ‘She’s as mad as anything—do you know, she begged me to come along with her? Said it would fun. I’m sixty years old and she was telling me to dress like a tart—put on high heels and a sexy skirt…’
‘That’s Charlotte! She doesn’t know when to give in…’ Hamish laughed but it changed in the middle and he had to actually grit his teeth together to stop himself breaking down.
‘It was actually a lot of fun!’ Helen corrected as Hamish wilted—that wild group of friends and lovers he’d envisaged so, so pathetically wrong. ‘She’s hardly been here five minutes and she’s got a whole group of us going out dancing—even Mike the old porter comes along when he can. Did you not read the notice she put up, inviting us all along? I never thought I’d go, let alone have such a laugh, but heaven knows we could all use one, working in this place. I told her I’ll be back at it next week when I finish nights! Hey, Charlotte…’ she spoke into her ear, ‘we might have to give it a miss next week—but as soon as you’ve got all your regime sorted, we’re going out dancing again!
‘Come on, now,’ Helen said to Hamish as his face started to crumple. She summoned another nurse to Charlotte’s gurney. ‘We’re going for a coffee, and don’t even think of arguing.’
He didn’t.
Since he’d found her on the floor, he hadn’t left her side, willing the paramedics to hurry, cursing the fact the local hospital had closed down and working on her in the helicopter as she had been airlifted to his hospital. And not once had she opened her eyes, not once had she given any sign that she could hear him.
But this time round he knew that maybe she could.
This time he knew that there was hope, that with the right treatment, which she was getting, this woman he loved was going to be okay.
‘Now, forgive me for being nosy…’ Helen handed him a steaming mug as she gave herself permission to boldly cross the line. ‘I’m assuming there’s a bit of romance in the air between the two of you.’
‘Leave it, Helen.’
‘I will not,’ Helen
chided. ‘Did you break up? Is that why you thought she was out with another young man?’
‘We didn’t break up because we were never together,’ Hamish muttered.
‘Well, excuse me for getting it wrong.’ Helen patted his knee. ‘But lately I’ve never seen you looking better—well, not since Emma was here anyway. And more relaxed,’ she added, ‘and chatting about young Bailey doing so well, like any proud father.’
‘I’ve always been a proud father.’
‘You just didn’t have a moment to notice!’ She stood up to go. ‘Till Charlotte arrived, that is!’
‘We were sort of…’ Hamish’s voice halted her in the door. ‘Well, one night…Oh, just leave it.’ He gave a shrug of irritation. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Of course I wouldn’t—you think I’ve never had sex! Five kids and I’ve no idea how they got here—and forty years working in Emergency and hearing tales that would make your hair curl, yet I still believe that everyone’s a virgin on their wedding night. So don’t even try telling me, Hamish! Don’t even try talking about it or asking someone you trust for a bit of help!’
‘Close the door,’ he groaned, embarrassed and appalled and scarcely able to believe he was about to discuss his rather sparse sex life with Helen, of all people. But what the hell, Hamish decided. She was a woman, wasn’t she? And right now he needed all the help he could get in dealing with the most complicated one of them all!
‘On Sunday her horse—I mean, her pony—had to be put down.’
‘Poor pet—she must have been beside herself.’
‘She didn’t seem it.’ Hamish shook his head. ‘She was just, well, Charlotte. And then there was the house fire and then she did seem upset and the next thing…’
‘I get the picture.’
‘She dumped me the next morning.’ He gave a dry, mirthless laugh. ‘Greeted me with that happy smile and basically told me she had been having a rough night and I had been a better option than a sleeping tablet.’ As Helen gave a dubious frown, Hamish relented a touch. ‘Well, not in so many words.’
‘But that was how you took it?’
‘Believe me, the message was pretty clear!’
‘Did you not stop to think that maybe she was just getting in first?’ When Hamish frowned, Helen elaborated. ‘Before you dumped her.’
‘Why would I dump her?’ Hamish shook his head.
‘Guilt over Emma. I mean, it’s only been eighteen months…’
‘As if I don’t know that,’ Hamish answered. ‘You know, I never in my lifetime expected to feel this way again. Okay, maybe I did feel a bit guilty, but to tell you the truth I haven’t had time to really think about it—I haven’t stopped for breath since Charlotte came into my life. Why would I dump her when I’m crazy about her? Why would I get rid of the best thing that’s happened to me in ages?’
‘You told her all this, I assume?’
‘She didn’t give me a chance!’ Hamish barked, and then softened. Helen was, after all, only trying to help. ‘Charlotte’s…complicated,’ he attempted, but how could he tell Helen what he’d found out when he wasn’t even supposed to know himself? How could he explain what he didn’t yet understand?
‘Did you ever ask her out for a good old-fashioned date?’
‘Sort of. I tried a couple of times—asked her if she wanted to share a take-away on Friday…’ Hamish attempted, realising as he said it how vague he had been. ‘You’ve no idea how hard that was to do, Helen.’
‘She was out dancing on Friday—you should have come along.’
‘I thought she was out partying with hundreds of other men at a rave!’ Hamish groaned.
‘Oh, it was a rave!’ Helen winked. ‘Best Friday night out I’ve had in ages. I’m surprised she didn’t ask you.’
‘She did.’ Hamish swallowed. ‘Well, sort of.’
‘Did you ever stop to wonder how hard that would have been for her? The notice has been up for a while now and you haven’t shown a shred of interest in coming along.’
‘I didn’t even read it,’ Hamish said glumly.
‘There’s a good case for virgins on their wedding nights!’ Sounding far more like the old Helen, she stood up. ‘Sex is the easy bit, Hamish, feelings are the ones that take a bit of working. But you lot…’ Banding anyone under forty, and especially Hamish, with the hormones of an adolescent she wagged a finger at him. ‘Well, you just jump on in without even bothering to talk. I suggest you give it a try.’
And he would, but not yet.
For now he sat through the night in Intensive Care. The receptionist had finally located her next of kin and he rang her mother, angry with Josie and disappointed for Charlotte that Josie took his reassuring words rather too literally, that by the end of the conversation Josie had, instead of trying to book a flight from Queensland and heading for the airport, decided to ‘wait’ and see how things looked in the morning.
And later, when things were looking up, when Charlotte, still groggy, had definitely turned the corner—he headed to Belinda’s to say sorry for dumping his little boy on her again and to have a quick, longed-for cuddle with Bailey, glad, so glad and so very, very lucky to have a family that actually cared—a sister who a couple of weeks into a new job would ring in sick and look after her nephew, without asking for information, just accepting that her brother needed her to. Heading for home, he rang Trevor to check if everything was in order at the house and what, from this end, he could do. Then he fed the pets and walked the dog then packed her a little bag. Heading back to the hospital, he managed a wry smile as halfway out of the drive he turned back and added lipstick and her perfume to the toiletries—utter essentials where Charlotte was concerned.
Waiting, waiting for their time to talk.
Wondering what, if anything, Charlotte would have to say.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘WON’T be a sec.’ Charlotte smiled briefly up at him as he walked in—and he watched as she insisted to the nurse that she do her own blood sugar, pricking her finger without even a wince. ‘Seven,’ Charlotte dictated, boldly checking her drug chart for the sliding scale of insulin she had been written up for until her blood sugar stabilised. ‘So no need for anything for now.’
Hamish could only roll his eyes at her audacity.
Six hours out of Intensive Care and she was sitting up in bed in that nightdress, wearing lipstick and running the show.
‘You’re looking better.’
‘I feel it!’ Charlotte nodded. ‘I’m going to start giving myself insulin tomorrow!’ She even made it sound exciting. ‘Thanks so much for coming to get me…’As he sat on the bed beside her, Charlotte swallowed hard and took his hand. ‘I didn’t say that very well.’ Staring up at him, she took a deep breath. ‘Thank you for saving my life—I’m very glad that you did.’
‘I’m very glad that I did, too,’ Hamish said, and he meant it—and not because he was a doctor and life was precious, not even because he loved her, but because the world was nicer place with people like Charlotte in it. And even if what they had shared could never be sustained, even if it had only been transitory, his world was a better place because of it.
‘I should have worked it out myself,’ she said. ‘I was in the loo every five minutes, drinking gallons, and I felt awful. I just thought I had flu or something. It was all so quick. I guess I was upset, what with…’ Her voice trailed off but Hamish wasn’t going to let her leave it there.
‘With?’
‘Scottie and everything.’
‘The house fire…’ Hamish prompted, and she nodded.
‘Us?’ He was scared to look at her, but he did so, holding his breath until finally, hesitantly she nodded.
‘I guess.’
And as relieved as he was that she nodded, it was Hamish who hesitated before going on.
‘The little twin boys coming in must have been hell for you.’
He watched her still dry tongue bob out, watched as she dragged it over lips th
at, despite several layers of lip-gloss, were still chapped and sore, before carefully selecting her words. ‘It was awful for everyone.’
‘But hell for you.’ Tears actually sparkled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. ‘I know about Cassie.’ When she didn’t say anything, just held onto his hands, Hamish spoke on. ‘Well, I don’t know about her, but I found this.’ He pulled a picture out of his pocket and placed it on her lap, watched as she closed her eyes rather than look at it. ‘Bailey got into your boxes…’ Hamish started then checked himself. Lies had no place here. ‘That’s not true. I actually found a picture of Cassie the other night. I thought…’
‘That I’d lied to Andy.’
‘I thought that you’d lied about a lot of things—only you don’t lie, do you?’
She shook her head then changed her mind and stared at him. ‘Just once.’
‘When you weren’t at home, I knew something was wrong, I just couldn’t work out what. I know I shouldn’t have gone through your private things…’
‘You were snooping?’
‘Yes,’ Hamish shamefacedly admitted, confused when she smiled.
‘That’s okay. I snoop all the time. Can’t help myself!’
‘I thought she was you.’
‘She is.’ Finally Charlotte opened her eyes and picked up the photo—stared at two incredibly similar yet very different faces, her slender finger tracing her sister’s. ‘Or was. To tell you the truth, sometimes I don’t know where Cassie starts and I finish.
‘Does that sound mad?’
‘Maybe to someone who never had a twin.’
‘Where do we go when we die, Hamish?’ Charlotte asked. And though he’d had his share of difficult questions, this one took the cake. ‘All that love, all that energy, all that passion…’
And suddenly he did know what she was talking about, suddenly Charlotte was voicing the question he’d asked of himself long and late into the night.
And for the first time he could take a stab at answering it.
The Single Dad's Marriage Wish (Bachelor Dads) Page 13
