Healing the Single Dad's Heart

by Scarlet Wilson

  Her mother watched everything with wide eyes before finally starting to talk rapidly, gesturing towards Joe.

  Joe’s eyes were taking everything in. He still hadn’t asked her any questions. He’d just come in and tried to assist. She watched as his gaze settled on a photograph in the corner. It was her. Dressed in her cap and gown when she’d graduated from university.

  She saw him stiffen, the jigsaw pieces falling into place in his mind. He turned towards her, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. ‘Are these your parents, Lien?’ he whispered.

  She automatically bristled becoming defensive. ‘Yes, this is my mother and father.’

  He reached into his bag and pulled out a tympanic thermometer. He held it up. ‘Will you let your father know what I’m going to do?’

  Tears pooled at the sides of her eyes. She had been so busy with the hospital the last few days she hadn’t had time to see her parents. When her mother had phoned in a panic to say her father was unwell she’d just run from the hospital. She knelt beside her father’s fragile body on the lumpy sofa and spoke quietly to him, before nodding to Joe to put the thermometer in his ear. It beeped a few seconds later and Joe turned to let her see the reading.

  As suspected, her father’s temperature was high. She’d already heard the crackling and wheezing in his lungs. The pulse oximeter showed his saturation level was low. Joe turned the oxygen tank on, and gently placed a filtered mask over her father’s face.

  ‘How soon can we get him to the hospital?’ he asked.

  She smiled tightly, mirroring the feeling in her chest. ‘He won’t go.’ She let out a sharp laugh. ‘He hates hospitals. He always refuses to come. I treat him at home for just about everything.’

  She gestured to Joe’s bag. ‘I’d probably have had to go back to the hospital to collect some supplies.’ She took a breath. ‘Thank you for bringing them.’

  Joe gave a nod. He pulled out some paperwork. ‘Well, I guess you shouldn’t really be prescribing anything for your father, so let me write the prescriptions.’ He automatically started charting things on the paperwork. She watched the chamber on the IV drip, drip, drip the antibiotics into her father’s vein, praying that this medicine would make a difference to him.

  He was dangerously stubborn—always had been. He meant it when he said he didn’t want to go into hospital. Any other person with an infection like this who refused to be admitted for treatment would probably die. She was pulling out all the stops for her father. Of course she was. But so was Joe.

  The unlikely doctor from Scotland had made his way through the back streets of Hanoi to help her. To be by her side.

  She wanted to believe that this meant something. She wanted to believe he wasn’t just being a good colleague. The one part of her life she’d kept hidden. Now, for all her polite conversations, he could see exactly where she came from. But what if, deep down, he was just like Reuben and the thought of spending time with someone from such a poor background made him turn and run in the other direction?

  Everything she knew about him said that wouldn’t happen.

  Every patient interaction, the way he responded to his son, his ideas for taking medicine to the people who needed it. It all told her he was an entirely different man from the one she’d spent time with before.

  But those nagging self-doubts always persisted. It was like a tiny, insidious voice, whispering away inside her brain. No matter how much she tried to rationalise and push them away, they remained.

  She hated them. She hated the fact they were there. She hated the fact that something that had happened years ago still had an impact on her life today. She was brighter than that. She knew so much better than that.

  Reuben wasn’t even a shadowy memory any more. He was a real, live, breathing person who she saw every week. She’d faced him down. She’d spoken to him. She’d even put him in his place. But still those horrible feelings of inadequacy persisted.

  Would she ever get away from this? Would she ever be able to shake this off?

  Joe continued to work away quietly, watching the monitors and her father’s condition. He nodded gratefully when Lien’s mother brought him some jasmine tea that she’d made.

  He didn’t even look at her, and the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. Was he embarrassed by her background?

  She looked at her watch. Time was ticking past and it was close to midnight. ‘Maybe you should get back to the hospital,’ she said quietly. Then her head flicked up. ‘What about Regan? Who’s looking after Regan?’

  ‘Hoa,’ he replied swiftly, ‘and Khiem is taking care of the patients.’

  He looked up and met her gaze. ‘Everything is under control, Lien. This is where you need to be, and I’ll stay as long as you want me to.’ His voice was steady, soothing, like a warm blanket spreading over her shoulders.

  He’d been asking to speak to her all week. Even now, he was letting her know that she was still in charge, and he’d only stay as long as she wanted.

  He hadn’t even tried to argue, or persuade her father about the admission to hospital that was clearly needed. She could tell from his face he didn’t think this was the best idea, but it was clear he was going to respect her father’s wishes and, in turn, hers.

  With the storm raging outside, the temperature in the room had dipped. Lien’s mother pulled out some blankets, tucking one around her father, then handed one to Lien and one to Joe.

  She looked at Joe curiously and asked him his name. It was one of the few phrases that Joe had managed to conquer while in Vietnam. He gave Lien’s mother a tired smile. ‘Joe,’ he replied as he shook her hand.

  Lien’s mother cast her eyes back to Lien as she shook her head, putting both her hands over his. ‘Joe,’ she repeated thoughtfully. ‘Ah, Joe...and Regan?’

  There was no point pretending that her mother didn’t recognise the name. Lien looked hurriedly at Joe. ‘I’ve mentioned you,’ she explained.

  ‘You have?’ He seemed shocked and she couldn’t be surprised about it.

  ‘I wish you’d brought us to meet them,’ he added. ‘We would have liked that.’

  He said the words without a hint of criticism but with some disappointment. His gaze stayed on hers.

  He didn’t understand. He truly didn’t understand her reservations and worries. He just looked hurt. As if she hadn’t wanted to introduce him to her parents because there was something wrong with him, not with her.

  Her father groaned and she moved quickly back to his side. ‘Rest easy, Dad,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be a long night.’

  She pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and settled on the chair next to him, kicking off her shoes.

  The rain thudded against the fragile window frame, already a few drops leaking in around the edges.

  Joe stretched out his legs in front of him.

  ‘Do you want to leave?’ she asked, her stomach clenching.

  He shook his head. ‘Regan will be fine with Hoa.’ He gestured towards her father. ‘My patient is here. This is where I’m staying.’ He raised a weary eyebrow at her. ‘Unless I get thrown out.’

  She wanted to smile. She wanted to smile because at one of the worst moments of her life he was here, and he was by her side.

  But as she listened to the gurgling from her father’s chest she knew the last thing she could do right now was smile.

  It was going to be a long, long night.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT TOOK DAYS for Lien’s father to get better. Pneumonia wasn’t easy for anyone to shake off, let alone a patient with an existing chest condition with no real reserves.

  Joe made arrangements with Lien so that both of them checked on him morning and night. At first she’d been surprised. But Joe could see the strain she’d put herself under. He wouldn’t let any colleague do something like this alone. So between them the
y ensured the IV antibiotics were given, his observations checked, and they kept his oxygen supply topped up.

  Joe had managed to exchange a few short conversations with Lien’s mother. The woman was delightful, and seemed amused by his determination to conduct some of their conversations in Vietnamese.

  By the end of the fifth day, Lien’s father finally started to look a little better. His eyes fixed on Joe in a curious manner, and he managed to ask a few questions between coughs. All were signs of improvement.

  He liked them. It was clear they didn’t live in the best part of town. Their house was small, with most of their possessions showing signs of wear and tear. But they were a proud couple—particularly of their daughter. They spoke of her frequently when she wasn’t there. He could feel a real sense of determination about them. Somehow he already knew that any offer of help their daughter made would usually be refused. He learned that her father had worked in a factory for years but had been paid off when his health had failed. Her mother worked shifts in another place and frequently came home looking tired.

  Joe knew better than to comment. His heart ached for Lien. If these were his parents, he would want to help too. But, he knew, in the same set of circumstances, his own parents would be equally proud.

  It was a bitter-sweet cycle. They’d worked hard to support their daughter when they could, but wouldn’t accept anything in return.

  After five days he went to find Lien at the clinic. He needed that final chance to talk to her. He’d given her space like she’d asked, but he didn’t want to leave Vietnam without telling her how much she meant to him and Regan, how much they both loved her.

  One of the nurses gave him a wave. ‘She’s with a patient. She’s putting in a chest drain. Why don’t you take a seat in the office and I’ll tell her you need to see her when she’s finished.’

  Joe nodded and sat in the office, his brain churning over what to say. He’d got it so wrong the last time. He couldn’t afford to do that again.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the screensaver. Esther. He smiled. It had been there so long—for the last four years. He’d thought he would always want to look at it, to remind himself of the woman that he loved.

  Yes, he would always love Esther. But he loved someone else now too. Moving on was done in lots of little stages. He thought back to the day at the lake. They’d asked someone to take a picture of the three of them on the red bridge. The first picture had them all standing smiling. The second picture that had been snapped had been much more impromptu, and had caught them laughing when he had pretended something had jumped from the water.

  It was a moment in time. And it was his favourite picture he had of them all.

  It was time for a replacement. That was the picture he wanted to look at every day. Life, love and laughter.

  * * *

  She felt jittery. She had to do this. She’d known this for the last five days. He’d been good enough to help with her father, and the least she could do was thank him for his assistance. But it was so much more than that.

  The thing she was dreading. This was goodbye and her heart was already breaking.

  She paused at the doorway, trying to steady her breathing before she went in. Joe was looking at his phone. Looking at the picture of his wife.

  All the sadness and wistfulness rushed from her body. If she’d had any hope that this was going to be anything other than goodbye, it dashed out of the room like a bullet train.

  Her insides coiled. This man she loved. This man who had stolen her heart and asked her to go to Scotland with him was still looking at a picture of his dead wife. Before, she’d tried to rationalise things. The time for that was over. Now she was just mad.

  ‘What do you want, Joe?’ she asked coldly as she strode into the room.

  He turned, appearing surprised by her tone, and placed his phone on the desk.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you. We leave in a few days and I can’t go like this. I just can’t.’

  She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ He held out his hands and looked confused. ‘Why? Because I love you, Lien, and I don’t want to go home without telling you that.’ He put his hand on his heart. ‘Regan and I, we love you. You feel like part of us. Walking away from this feels awful. I can’t imagine not seeing you every day. I can’t imagine not working with you every day. I hate how things are between us right now. Tell me what I can do. Tell me what I can do to make things right. To make things better.’ He stepped closer and reached out to touch her. ‘Please, Lien. Tell me what to do. You’re breaking my heart.’

  * * *

  It was all too much. All the things that had been nagging away inside her just bubbled to the surface, erupting before she could stop herself. All she could feel right now was rage. A few moments ago he’d been looking at his dead wife, and now he was telling her that he loved her. Lien just couldn’t think straight.

  ‘I won’t do this,’ she said, her voice shaking. She shook her head. ‘I don’t even really mean those words. But I won’t be anyone’s second best. I can’t be with someone who still belongs with someone else.’

  Now she’d started she couldn’t stop. ‘I don’t want a bit of you, Joe. I want all of you. Yes, I’m selfish. No, I’m not prepared to share you with your dead wife and that sounds much more insensitive than I mean it to. You had a life. You had a child together. I respect that. I respect the memories that you have, and want you to share those with your son.

  ‘But I can’t be holding your hand, kissing your lips or sharing your bed and thinking for a second that your mind is with someone else.’

  She pressed her hand over her heart. ‘You told me you were ready. Ready to move on. But are you? Are you really ready? Because you’re saying the words, but it’s as if your heart isn’t quite there yet.’ She shook her head. ‘I was a fool. I wanted this. Even though it took me by surprise.’

  He looked stunned by her words—as if she’d swept his legs out from under him.

  She took a deep breath. ‘In a way—not just this—other things have helped me make up my mind. Your life back home. It’s totally different from my life here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He still looked stunned.

  She shifted uncomfortably. ‘The house, the place your parents live, the place where you live. It’s obvious—’ she tried to choose the right words ‘—that you’ve all done well.’

  Joe frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

  She sighed. She couldn’t look at him right now. She didn’t want to see that look on his face. That one of quiet revulsion. That one of not being good enough.

  ‘You don’t get it. You’ve lived a comfortable life. Not everyone does that.’

  He frowned. ‘I know that. I work in one of the worst areas of Glasgow city centre. Deprivation levels are high. Poverty is everywhere. What is it you’re trying to say to me, Lien? That I don’t know? That I don’t understand? Every time I see a sick kid in my practice I have to take in all the things that affect them. A damp house. The chaotic lifestyle of a parent.’ He stopped and shook his head. It was as if something had clicked inside his head. ‘No, no way. This is about your parents’ house? Where you were brought up?’

  She stepped forward and lowered her voice. ‘It’s not my past, Joe. It’s my present. It’s every part of me, and part of them. I’ve already experienced people rejecting me because they thought I wasn’t good enough. And it’s impossible to shake that off. My heritage is in my DNA. My childhood will shape the future of my adulthood. We know that now. We know that poverty and malnutrition in early childhood impacts on the health of adults. Even if I have money now, and do well, my body remembers. I don’t know what’s around the corner for me.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t get it. You just don’t get it.’

  The furrows in his brow were deep. His face was incredul
ous. ‘You want us not to be together because of your upbringing? Where does this come from, Lien? Why on earth would you think that matters to me? Because I look as if I have a posh house back home? Because my mum and dad have one?’

  He shook his head and stepped forward. ‘I have a “posh” house because Esther and I had life insurance. When she died, I decided to put some money away for Regan’s future and use the rest to buy the biggest house I could find. Something that didn’t remind me of her at every turn. It doesn’t mean anything, Lien.

  ‘How on earth could you think I’d care about where you lived? Your mum and dad are two of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They are so, so proud of you, but they’re also proud of themselves. I get it, Lien. I do. I know you want to help them more than they’ll let you. But the most important thing was what struck me the moment I stepped through the door of their house. Maybe there wasn’t money when you were a kid. Maybe you were hungry, and I’m sorry about that, but you had two parents who clearly adore you.

  ‘We both know that for a child’s health it’s the most important thing. A loving, stable environment is the one thing that supports a child’s brain development. Research shows it’s the biggest thing that counts and you have that in spades. But if you didn’t? That wouldn’t matter to me either, because I love you, Lien, I know you. I don’t care about everything else. I care about the fact that I want us to be together.’

  She was holding her breath. He’d jumped all over the fears she’d held for most of her adult life. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about wealth and money.

  Something passed across his eyes. ‘Reuben.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘This is about that pompous ass, Reuben, isn’t it? He treated you like that. He did that to you.’ Joe started pacing. ‘I never liked that guy. I heard the whispers, I knew he was your ex, and anyone can see that you don’t want to be in the same room as him. That’s why.’ He shook his head again. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me the truth, Lien? Why did you think you had to hide your background from me? Why on earth would you think I would care about something like that?’