The Nurse Who Stole His Heart

by Alison Roberts

  Towards the shower. Preferably a cold one.

  Or maybe a swim would be more effective. Grabbing a towel and a dry pair of swimming shorts, Luke headed out into the soft light of dawn and jogged along the track to the beach. He dropped the towel without pausing and kept running until the water was deep enough to slow his momentum and then he dived and started kicking. By the time he surfaced and could use his arms, he was swimming as hard and fast as he had been yesterday, in an attempt to wash tension from his body and calm the kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions in his head.

  When he started to tire, he rolled onto his back and floated on gentle undulations of the deep water and watched the sun climb over the ragged mountaintops.

  He never saw the sun rise in London. Rarely noticed a sunset either. And he never, ever went swimming because he could only do that in a pool and the smell of chlorine was one he associated with grief because that had been the scent of Jane’s skin when he’d arrived at the emergency department that dreadful day.

  This was, indeed, a very different world.

  A fantasy?

  But it felt real. He could feel the water around his body and he could see the clear blue of the lightening sky that heralded another perfect day. If he turned his head he could see the curve of that gorgeous beach with the twisted shapes of the old fig trees near the bottom of the cliffs, and if he let his mind wander just the tiniest bit he could see Anahera standing on the sand, waiting for him.

  The image was real enough to start him swimming towards the shore, but as he stood up and shook the sea water from his eyes he could see that he was alone on Sunset Beach.

  Of course the image had been a fantasy. Anahera would be at home with her family, caring for her daughter and getting ready for work. Getting on with a life that was so far removed from his own life that her words came back to haunt him.

  ‘The real tragedy was that they loved each other so much but couldn’t find a way to be together all the time because they came from such different worlds...

  ‘I needed to come home...I needed my family...’

  She’d been right. It was a fantasy because it was too much to believe that real life could deliver this kind of paradise.

  It wasn’t the setting. Luke draped his towel over his shoulders and took in a last glance of the dramatic beauty around him before making his way slowly back to the bure and the luxury of the shower. Everyone could visit this kind of tropical paradise that travel agents loved to advertise with huge posters in their windows to lure in Londoners in the grey depths of winter.

  That it was paradise for him had nothing to do with being on a remote island.

  It had everything to do with being with Ana.

  And she belonged here. She needed to be here. How could he even think of taking her away from the sun? To a place where the scent of flowers might fade from her hair and her skin and that light in her eyes that was like a personal sun might begin to dim?

  Would it make it all the harder to go home if they made the most of the few days they could have together now?

  As if he had a choice...

  A wry smile curled Luke’s lips as he flicked the shower on and reached for the soap that had yet another scented reminder of Ana to release.

  It didn’t really matter if it made things harder. They were going to be unbearable for a while anyway.

  * * *

  ‘So that’s it.’ Sam spread the pages he had just collected from the printer on the staffroom table in front of where Luke was sitting. ‘The whole plan for the rollout of the clinical trial. We’ve covered every island and hopefully we’ll get a good cross-section of the population to sign up.’ He grinned at Luke. ‘Not a bad day’s work, is it? Could I interest you in a beer?’

  ‘Sounds good.’ The glance Luke sent in Anahera’s direction was hopefully casual. ‘You going to have one, Ana?’

  ‘Why not?’ Anahera opened the fridge and took out some cans. ‘It’s been the longest day. Too quiet...’

  They only had a couple of inpatients and there’d been no dramas. Nothing to push the awareness of that empty bed in the intensive care room to the background. Nothing to break the sad silence that seemed to echo in the corridors and wards. It would be nice to sit here for a few minutes and celebrate something as positive as the start of a trial that could prevent future tragedies from fatal cases of encephalitis.

  ‘We still need to map out the epidemiological study that you want me to do.’ Sam popped the tab on his can and took a gulp of the cold beer. ‘And what about the tea-leaves stuff? Do you want to leave that to me, too? Or there’s always Keanu... Hey...’ Sam grinned at Anahera. ‘I forgot to tell you that Keanu’s coming back next week.’

  ‘Is he? Is Caroline coming with him?’

  ‘Are you kidding? As if they’d let each other out of their sights right now...’

  She couldn’t help catching Luke’s glance as she smiled. She knew how that felt—not wanting to let someone out of your sight. And then her smile faded as she hurriedly looked away. It hadn’t just been the empty bed she’d been so conscious of all day. Knowing that Luke was in the hospital, working with Sam, had been in her mind just as much. The day had been so long because she’d been counting the minutes until they might be able to have some time alone together.

  Time that she would have to use to tell him the truth.

  Anahera stared at the can of beer she was holding so tightly the chill from the metal was seeping into her hand. It was time that would spell the end of life as she knew it but her mother had hit the nail on the head. Sometimes you simply didn’t have a choice and the only thing to do was the right thing.

  It took a moment to tune into what Sam was saying to Luke.

  ‘So it was Keanu’s father who started the first research into the tea but it all stopped when he died.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Got killed in a rock fall, apparently. Keanu was just a toddler but he’s grown up knowing how special his dad was. There’s a big picture of him in his graduation gown in the entrance to Atangi School. He was their brightest star back then, and the Lockhart family funded him to go to the mainland to get his degree.’ Sam nodded with satisfaction. ‘I reckon Keanu would see the project as a way of honouring his dad’s memory. He’d love to be involved.’

  ‘I’d still like to see where the bushes grow and take some photos. I’d like to take some leaves back to London, too, and get the experts to analyse them to see what makes them different.’

  ‘I could help you collect them. I know where the bushes grow.’ Anahera’s brain was buzzing. French Island was the place they’d really started talking to each other. It would be the ideal place to have an even more significant conversation, wouldn’t it—except that would mean having to wait. ‘We couldn’t do it tomorrow because it’s Tane’s funeral but the day after that, we could visit the island.’ She was speaking fast because this felt like a plan coming together. The first step in putting things right. ‘We’d have to take a boat, though. We couldn’t justify a helicopter when there isn’t a clinic happening.’

  ‘Make a day of it,’ Sam suggested. ‘Take a picnic. Take Hana with you. Hey...take Bugsy with you. He loves a boat ride.’

  * * *

  Luke found himself smiling as he listened to the conversation. It sounded like a great idea. How amazing would it be to be out with Anahera and her gorgeous little girl, with a dog bounding along beside them?

  Like the perfect picture of a family outing...

  Another image for the fantasy gallery he’d be able to treasure for the rest of his life?

  Anahera didn’t seem so keen on the idea, though. Weirdly, she was looking...nervous?

  Sam was still on a roll. ‘Speaking of Hana, don’t forget she’s due for her vaccination.’

  ‘What?’ Anahe
ra’s eyes widened. ‘You want to start the encephalitis trial with Hana?’

  ‘I’m talking about her four-year vaccination. The one for diphtheria, tetanus, whooping cough and polio. And the MMR, if she didn’t have it at eighteen months.’

  The colour had suddenly drained from Anahera’s face, and Luke stared at her in astonishment. Was it that big a deal for her to take her daughter to an appointment that involved a painful injection? She was a nurse, for heaven’s sake—she knew how important vaccinations were.

  Sam was taking another pull of his beer and didn’t seem to notice her odd reaction. ‘Did she have the MMR at eighteen months? You were still in Brisbane then, weren’t you?’

  ‘I’ll find the records for you. She’s not due for ages yet.’

  ‘Two weeks isn’t ages. I noticed the reminder on my calendar this morning.’

  Luke was still staring at Anahera and barely listening to Sam. It wasn’t just her face that was pale. Her hand was squeezing that can so hard her fingers looked white. Any harder and...yes...the can crumpled and a whoosh of foamy liquid spilled over her hand and onto the table.

  ‘Oops...’ Sam scooped paper out of harm’s way.

  Anahera leapt up to grab a tea towel.

  Luke was aware of an odd buzzing in his head like static as his brain finally caught up with what Sam had said. He didn’t stop to think before saying something. He wasn’t actually aware he was saying it aloud.

  ‘Hana’s only three and a half.’

  ‘No...’ Sam was tapping the sheaf of paper in his hand on the table top to straighten the edges. ‘She turns four in a couple of weeks. Vailea’s already talking about the cake she’s going to make, isn’t she, Ana?’

  For the longest moment the only sound in the room was the last edge of the papers being tapped.

  The moment was more than long enough for Luke’s brain to focus on a few simple calculations.

  Calculations that lead to a blindingly clear result.

  Anahera had lied to him.

  Hana was six months older than he’d been led to believe. Anahera hadn’t hooked up with someone as soon as she had moved to Brisbane. She’d already been pregnant when she’d left Wildfire Island.

  Hana had to be his daughter...

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘ANA? ARE YOU OKAY?’

  It was the concern in Sam’s voice that made Anahera realise that she was frozen to the spot, the tea towel dangling from her hands while the foamy puddle on the table spread out and started dripping from the edge. She looked up slowly but her gaze didn’t connect to Sam’s. It was drawn, inexorably, to Luke.

  The shock on his face was only to be expected but the darkness behind it was far more disturbing. Anger? No, it was worse than that. It looked more like...devastation.

  In her peripheral vision she could see Sam’s head turning to look at Luke, too, and even someone who had only a fraction of his intelligence and compassion would have realised that something major was happening between Anahera and Luke.

  ‘I...ah...I’d better go and file these papers so I don’t lose them.’ Sam took a step towards the door but then hesitated, and this time Anahera looked at her friend directly because she knew what he was thinking. She was in trouble and he would do whatever she wanted him to do to help.

  The almost imperceptible shake of her head told him that she didn’t need him to stay. That this was something she had to deal with by herself.

  She was still staring at the door after he left, too afraid to look back at Luke, so his quiet words made her jump.

  ‘I’m right, aren’t I? Hana is my daughter.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her response was no more than a whisper.

  ‘Were you going to tell me?’ His voice was cold now. So cold that Anahera felt a shiver trickle down her spine.

  ‘Yes...’ She gulped in some air. ‘Today. But...but then...then I thought that if we were going to go to French Island together that would be a better time but...’ The words were tumbling out with desperate haste. ‘But you liked Sam’s idea of a picnic and taking Hana and that wouldn’t have been...’ Her voice cracked, and Anahera knew that she wasn’t going to be able to hold her tears at bay.

  The urge to throw herself into Luke’s arms so that he could hold her while she sobbed out the overwhelming mix of guilt and apology and...yes...relief was so strong she could feel her body leaning into the movement.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  The words—and the tone—were a brick wall that Anahera slammed against. Her balance had tipped enough for her to need to catch the back of a chair and the support was comforting enough to make her slip into the seat.

  ‘You lied to me, Ana.’

  There was a note of outrage in his voice. Disappointment that was so personal it was a direct body blow. She’d been right to fear that he would hate her for what she’d done.

  ‘No...’ It wasn’t that she was trying to contradict him—more like she was trying to ward off what she knew had to be coming next—but her response drew a huff of disbelief from Luke.

  ‘No?’ A chair scraped as Luke pulled it out and dropped himself into it. The tension in his body seemed to be transferred through the tabletop like the faint aftershock of an earthquake. ‘Oh...right. You told me the truth, didn’t you? That Hana was born in Brisbane. That her father was a doctor. That—what was it you said exactly? That her father wasn’t in the picture because there’d never been any chance of a relationship with him?’

  ‘I didn’t think there was. I thought you were married. Living in London. I didn’t know...’

  ‘And whose fault was that, Ana?’

  ‘Mine.’ She had to hide her tears so she put her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. ‘Mine...’

  ‘And the only relationship you thought to consider was one you might have yourself? Did it not even occur to you that I might have had the right to have a relationship with my own child? My daughter?’

  The sound that escaped Luke now was—horrifyingly—close to a sob. And then he was completely silent, as though the enormity of what he’d just found out was only now sinking in.

  The silence went on. And on. But all Anahera could do was wait. To wallow in the revelation of how selfish she’d been.

  How wrong...

  * * *

  He had a daughter.

  Something was swimming through the shock of the discovery and the disbelief that he hadn’t been told. A feeling Luke couldn’t identify clearly because he’d never experienced it before.

  Maybe it was a very personal kind of amazement. He had a daughter. A small person who carried his genes. Who was a part of himself. A child who was about to reach the milestone of being alive for four years and he knew nothing about her, except that she was beautiful.

  And she loved butterflies.

  And he could have gone back to London and carried on with the rest of his life and never known that she even existed.

  ‘How could you do that?’ The words burst out and he wasn’t surprised that they made Anahera flinch.

  The pang of disappointment in himself that he’d scared her might well come back later to haunt him, but in this moment he didn’t care.

  ‘When you knew the truth, you still didn’t tell me. How could you have been with me last night...?’ The memory of how it had felt to hold her in his arms—to make love to her—was trying to swamp him. Like a drowning man, he had to kick hard to reach the surface.

  ‘It was all a lie, wasn’t it? You can’t tell someone you loved them more than you thought it was possible to love anyone but...but know that you’re doing something like this to them...’ He stared at Anahera’s bent head, willing her to look up and meet his gaze.

  ‘I thought I knew you,’ he said sadly. ‘But I don’t, do I? And
you know what?’ The scraping of his chair on the floor was as harsh as his tone as he stood up. ‘I don’t think I want to any more.’

  The need for distance was imperative—before he said something he knew he would regret. Something cruel that would make her feel a fraction of the pain he was feeling right now.

  But he hesitated for a heartbeat.

  ‘Why, Ana?’ He closed his eyes on a sigh. ‘Just tell me why. The real reason, not that cop-out about history repeating itself. Why didn’t you tell me when you had the chance? When we were sitting on that cliff and I asked...I asked about Hana’s father? When I said...’ His breath came out in an incredulous huff as he opened his eyes again. ‘When I said he must have been over the moon to have a daughter like Hana. You could have just said that he didn’t know he had a daughter and I would have put two and two together.’

  Luke ran stiff fingers through his hair and ended up holding his head as if there was too much inside and it might explode.

  ‘Why?’

  Finally, Anahera raised her face and looked directly at him. Her eyes were so dark they looked like bottomless pools. And they were so full of fear Luke felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  Her voice was so strangled it sounded nothing like her. ‘I thought you might take her away from me.’

  Unbelievably, there was a new pain to be experienced. One that held the threat of a chasm he really, really didn’t want to see into.

  ‘I loved you, Ana.’ It was even painful to try and swallow. ‘How could you believe that I would have done something to hurt you?’

  * * *

  Loved.

  Past tense.

  It was no more than she had expected, but she hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

  Anahera watched Luke walk out the door of the staffroom and knew that she hadn’t ever really known what loneliness felt like until now.

  Luke’s parting words had been a mutter about needing space. Or time to think. She’d barely heard them because the implications of that choice of tense had been crowding into her head with the singsong kind of ‘I told you so’ taunt. And her heart had been dealing with the sensation of the distance between them increasing as he’d moved towards the door. Of a bond being pulled beyond capacity and snapping with a vicious whip-like crack that was leaving blood to well in its wake.