Children's Doctor, Meant-To-Be Wife

by Meredith Webber

  ‘So you offered to be the replacement mum.’

  Something in the way he said it—not sarcastically, but knowingly somehow—reminded Beth that even when she’d loved him most, he’d still been able to infuriate her.

  ‘You’ve got a problem with that?’ she snapped. ‘Going to give me a lecture about keeping a professional distance between myself and my patients? Some worldly wisdom about not getting too involved?’

  She heard him sigh and glanced his way, catching a look—surely not misery?—on his face.

  ‘Would you listen?’

  His voice was soft—gentle—and it coiled itself inside her, squeezing her lungs and winding around her heart, snaring her so effortlessly in the net that was her love for Angus.

  ‘No!’ she snapped again, because she didn’t want to believe he could still do this to her—or admit it to herself if he could. ‘And for your information, if I’ve bonded especially with any of the kids it’s not with Robbie but with Sam—the little boy who ran away from the cart last night. He’s the cheekiest little devil, in remission for the second time from acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, but with so much fight in him that if anyone will beat it, he will.’

  Then she sighed, relaxed, and smiled at her passenger.

  ‘Actually, I love them all. I love being part of their lives, even if it’s just for a short time. They’re so grown up somehow, kids who’ve had bad things happen in their lives—so mature for their ages in some ways, but still little kids in other ways.’

  ‘Softy!’ Angus teased, touching her cheek with the pad of his thumb, tracing a line towards her jaw. ‘Of course you love them all.’

  The wandering thumb edged towards her lips, brushed them briefly, then moved away, leaving Beth a silent, heart-skittering mess.

  How could Angus still reduce her to this state?

  Did he know the effect he was having on her or was he just being Angus?

  And how could she allow herself to be reduced to a helpless puddle of desire from one touch of his thumb?

  Pathetic, that’s what she was.

  Hopeless!

  The maturity she thought she’d found in three long years, gone with a smile and a touch of a thumb…

  She pulled up at the medical centre, where people returning from the hotel had already gathered, awaiting orders from Charles. Mike Poulos was on the deck, looking anxious as he spoke to his wife, Emily.

  ‘You have to tell Charles,’ he was saying, loudly enough for anyone to hear. ‘If he knew you were pregnant, he’d be the first to tell you to keep away from here.’

  ‘Husband and wife?’ Angus asked, and Beth nodded, although this was the first she’d heard of Emily being pregnant.

  ‘Will you introduce me to them?’

  The question was unexpected, but Beth could see no reason not to, so she led Angus up the ramp. Doctor Beth and colleague Angus—exactly how things should be! Though Angus’s wanting to meet the pair seemed to indicate an interest in their problems—something the Angus she had known would have avoided at all costs. It was tantamount to emotional involvement—the very thing he’d been teasing her about just now.

  And he had been teasing, not lecturing…

  ‘Mike, you were at the meeting so you know who Angus is. Emily, this is Angus Stuart, he’s a pathologist and epidemiologist. He’s working with Charles on the quarantine.’

  ‘Angus Stuart?’ Emily said, raising an eyebrow at Beth.

  ‘My ex-husband,’ Beth managed, although the ‘ex’part sliced into her throat like a razor. ‘Angus, meet Mike and Emily Poulos.’

  She stepped back as Angus moved closer to the couple.

  ‘We couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,’ he said, ‘and you’re right to be concerned, Mike, but if by some million-to-one chance it is bird flu, it’s unlikely that it would pass from human to human. There has only been one possible example worldwide where that might have happened. In all other proven cases it has come from contact with infected birds.’

  ‘It’s still a risk for Emily to be working here,’ Mike said, his stubborn Greek genes pushing him to protect his woman.

  ‘Not if she’s careful. All staff will be wearing masks and double-gloving, although gloves should never take the place of hand-washing. Looking at the symptoms the patients are showing, if it’s more serious than bad flu, it’s likely to be some kind of viral encephalitis, which is very serious and very dangerous itself, but again, although the underlying infections that cause it—mononucleosis, herpes, even measles—are contagious, the encephalitis isn’t.’

  Mike nodded but didn’t look any less happy and Beth guessed he wouldn’t be unless he could wrap Emily in cotton wool for her entire pregnancy.

  ‘Dr Beth, Dr Beth!’

  Beth turned at the cry and saw Cameron, one of the little boys in the cancer group, racing towards her.

  ‘It’s Danny, he’s sick. On the track near Stella’s cabin.’

  Angus, Emily and Mike were forgotten. Pausing only to check that the cart they used for emergency trips had its first-aid box and emergency gear strapped on behind, Beth climbed behind the wheel and spun the cart in the direction of the beach. Garf came flying from nowhere and landed beside her as she moved off.

  Susie, the hospital physio, over here for the camp, came racing up the path as Beth neared the junction.

  ‘Seizure,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t come out of it. Alex Vavunis is with him—said to check you had oxygen and diazepam on board.’

  ‘I’ve both,’ Beth assured her as Susie turned and trotted by the cart. ‘Who was there when it happened? Is someone timing it?’

  ‘Benita, the nurse in charge of that group, was with him. She called for help when he didn’t come out of it. Alex and I were close by.’

  ‘Alex is involved in paediatric neurology, isn’t he?’ Beth said, remembering talk about the man. ‘Best person Danny could have around,’ she added, when Susie nodded.

  She saw the group and drove close, stopped, then brought the oxygen bottle and first-aid box from the cart to where the child lay. Alex slipped the mask over the child’s nose and mouth and started oxygen, then, while Beth guessed Danny’s weight—he was very small for six—and calculated how much drug he’d need, Alex slid a cannula into the child’s vein, making an often difficult task seem simple. Once he was satisfied the line was secure and the drug was flowing into Danny’s bloodstream, Alex glanced at Beth for the okay then lifted the child, Susie carrying the oxygen bottle and holding it while Alex settled into the cart, the limp child in his arms, the oxygen bottle placed between his legs.

  Beth drove steadily back to the medical centre, where it seemed even more people had gathered. But she went straight to the ramp at the rear, so Alex could carry the little boy into the closest room, the one where Jack Havens was recovering from the mystery virus.

  ‘You’re not on duty,’ Charles reminded her, as she emerged from the room after settling Danny into bed. He was wheeling towards the room, no doubt having heard of the emergency. Angus was beside him, the two men looking as if they’d already bonded in some way.

  Both work-obsessed, Beth guessed.

  ‘I’ve asked all the staff not on duty to leave the medical centre,’ Charles told her. ‘Keep your mobile phones or pagers handy as we’ll be contacting you about rosters for the flu vaccine as soon as Jill and I have that sorted.’

  He turned to Angus.

  ‘You’ll be around? I want to check out this child then get straight onto these rosters but once that’s done I’d like to talk to you about further measures we should take.’

  ‘I came straight from breakfast and don’t have my mobile on me, but I’ll walk Beth back to her cabin. You can contact me there.’

  Beth opened her mouth to protest but as most of her mainland colleagues were still hovering around the bottom of the ramp, she shut it again.

  Why had he said that? Angus wondered. He could just as easily have waited here, at the centre, maybe sat with the lit
tle boy whose mother couldn’t come, but—

  ‘I just want to check on Robbie before I leave,’ Beth said, and although he’d been thinking of the child himself, and Beth had denied any special bond, Angus was still concerned by her connection to him.

  She slipped away, but he followed, meeting a harassed-looking woman on the way.

  ‘Jill Shaw,’ she said, offering her hand as well as her name. ‘Director of Nursing at the hospital over on the mainland. I gather you’re Beth’s ex-husband. Good of you to help out like this.’

  Angus shrugged off her thanks, taking in the shadows beneath her grey-blue eyes, and the lines of worry creasing her face.

  ‘I understand the little girl who is sick is related to you.’

  ‘Related to Charles,’ Jill said, twisting a ring on the third finger of her left hand—an opal ring, the stone shooting fire as she moved it. ‘She’s our ward—well, sort of.’

  Jill was so obviously distressed, Angus touched her shoulder.

  ‘It’s hard, watching a child you love suffer,’ he said quietly, and the soft eyes lifted to his face.

  She saw something in it that seemed to settle her. She found a smile and touched his hand.

  ‘It’s more than hard,’ she said, ‘but thank you for your understanding.’

  She whisked away, leaving Angus with the feeling that he hadn’t quite understood the conversation, and doubting, for all her thanks, that he’d helped at all.

  But Beth was coming out of Robbie’s room, and he forgot the worries of a woman he’d just met to concentrate on his own concerns, the main one being that he could still feel such a strong attraction towards his ex-wife.

  He watched her as she stopped to speak to a nurse, studying her, thinking, as he always had, how this woman had caused such havoc in his life.

  It had been three years—surely he’d moved on. Surely—inner wry smile—he’d beaten the drug!

  What he’d actually done had been to lose himself in work and though that was normal for him, for the past few years he’d pushed harder, worked longer hours, leaving himself little time for thoughts not connected to whatever project he had in hand.

  Going to the US had helped, working in Atlanta’s Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. It had been an opportunity granted to few, and he’d relished it—and worked even harder over there…

  ‘He’s sleeping, and peacefully,’ the woman he’d been pondering about said calmly, smiling at him so the tiredness disappeared from her face and her eyes shone with simple pleasure.

  Of course he still felt attracted to her, he excused himself, she was the most genuine person he had ever met, and that, added to an undeniably sexy body, was irresistible.

  At least to him—

  Or any man?

  She was chattering on about Robbie and the other little boy, Jack, while Angus tortured himself over the possibility of there being another man in Beth’s life. A man who might even now be waiting for her in her cabin.

  Although surely she’d have said something—objected to his suggestion of waiting there.

  ‘You don’t have to walk back with me,’ she announced, so perfectly on cue he immediately assumed there was a man.

  Which, contrarily, made him determined to stick by her side. She was an innocent for all she’d been married. Any man could con her. His protective instincts went on full alert…

  ‘I have to wait somewhere,’ he said. ‘And I’d like to see where you live.’

  She slowed her pace and turned towards him.

  ‘Why, Angus?’

  Such a simple question but the equally simple answer—because he still cared about her—would sound ridiculous.

  ‘Just to see,’ he said, aware of how lame he sounded, but, tired though she must be, she smiled.

  ‘It’s not so different from the flat I had when we first met,’ she told him. ‘The kind of place that will make you reel back in horror. Junk everywhere—not all mine, because some was already there—but I’m still a magpie and beachcombing yields such unlikely treasures I hate to part with any of them.’

  They were walking along a narrow path, in the dense shade of the huge soft-wooded trees that grew among the palms and ferns all over the island. Birds chattered above them, reminding Angus of the seriousness of the situation in which he found himself, but for the moment, walking with Beth through the cool shadows, it was hard to think of doom or disaster. He found instead a contentment he hadn’t felt for three long years.

  ‘See,’ she said, as they came into a clearing and he saw a wooden hut, the timber silvered by time and sunlight, wide French windows open at the front so the deck and living room were one. A faded red and white canvas chair was pulled close to the edge of the deck, beside a table that appeared to have been made out of half a barrel. And on it were scattered shells, large and small, and pieces of driftwood in silvery, sinewy shapes.

  In the far side of this deck a woven hammock, green and purple, hung temptingly, while inside an ancient old couch was brightened up with a rainbow of cushions. Angus felt a hand close around his heart.

  Then squeeze!

  Beside the couch was a little cane chair—child size—a colleague had given them for Bobby…

  He shook away the memory of the little boy—his little boy—sitting in the chair and considered colour instead.

  Beth’s love of colour!

  He thought back to his apartment in the city, the one Beth had moved into when they’d married. A very expensive interior designer had decorated it for him only a year earlier, modern, minimalist grey, white and black. Functional!

  When Beth had first moved in she’d brightened it with soft mohair throws, magazines strewn across the coffee-table, or huge bunches of vivid flowers, but as time had gone on, she’d come to confine her love of colour to Bobby’s room, although an orange throw she’d left behind when she’d moved out still hung over his black leather lounge.

  Apart from her touches of colour, she hadn’t changed anything in his apartment, and he hadn’t needed to ask why. Beth’s only desire had been that he be comfortable, and he’d accepted her unobtrusive way of making sure that happened without ever questioning whether she was happy or whether making him happy had been enough for her…

  ‘Would you like a coffee? You didn’t finish your breakfast. I’ve cereal and fruit if you’d like some, but I take most of my meals at the medical centre or the camp, so I don’t keep much in the way of food here.’

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ he growled, then regretted his tone of voice as her startled gaze fixed on his face.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Thinking of other people—me—first,’ he said, grumbling now rather than growling. ‘You always do it! You’ve been up all night, you must be exhausted, and emotionally upset as well because you have connected to that little boy, yet you’re offering to make me coffee. Worrying that I didn’t have breakfast. I’m willing to bet you haven’t eaten either. And you’ve lost weight—you’re way too thin. This was a stupid idea, running away like this to an island—’

  ‘Angus?’

  It wasn’t so much his name as the smile that accompanied it that stopped his grouching. The smile was soft and gentle, loving even, and it hurt his chest as if it had pressed against a bruise.

  ‘You always get cranky when you’re hungry. Sit down. I’ll get us both some cereal, although I suppose it’s closer to lunchtime, but it’s all I can offer. And tea? I’m making a pot. And I will rest later, but I did sleep during the night. It’s just not the same, is it, the sleep you get sitting up?’

  Beth hoped it didn’t sound as if she was prattling on but if it wasn’t bad enough having Angus in her home—her sanctuary—here he was saying things that made her think he still cared about her, cared about her health and welfare.

  Weird!

  Although he was a very caring person once you got past his rather stern, remote exterior.

  And when his mind wasn’t on other things, like work.
<
br />   Although surely his mind should be on work now—on this possible pandemic…

  She poured muesli into cereal bowls, sliced pawpaw from the tree just outside her door onto it, added milk then made a pot of tea. Angus, who had mooched around her tiny, cluttered living room, picking up a shell here, a glass float there, was now in the nook that served as her kitchen, so close she bumped into him as she turned to get a tray.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, grasping her elbow to steady her.

  ‘That’s okay, it’s a bit cramped,’ she managed, although her skin burned where his hand had been and it took all her willpower not to throw herself into his arms and lose herself and her tiredness and her worry over Robbie and the other patients, in the strength of his arms and the warmth of his body.

  Really, after three years you should be doing better than this! she scolded herself. But she doubted if a thousand years—a million—would stop her feeling the way she did about Angus.

  It’s physical, she tried to tell herself, but she wasn’t very convincing. The physical appeal was only part of it—loving him was the hard part. Loving him and knowing her love wasn’t returned. Oh, he’d been fond of her, and he’d loved Bobby, but…

  She fought the memories, managing to put the bowls, spoons, cups and the teapot on the tray. He picked it up and carried it, without asking, out to the deck, moving a few shells so he could set it down on the table.

  Angus looked around, saw her other deck chair folded by the wall. He picked it up, feeling slightly smug, unfolded it and set it opposite the one she used.

  Surely if she had a man living here, even overnighting occasionally, she’d have two chairs on the deck, Angus decided as he settled cautiously—he knew these darned things could fold up on you in an instant—into the chair.

  Then he took in the surroundings for the first time and realised he could see the pure white sand and green-blue water of the lagoon through the fringed fronds of young coconut palms.