‘Bye, then.’ Wendy leaned down and kissed Ross lightly on the cheek. She tried to ignore the tingling sensation in her lips as she walked away. Tried to ignore the smell and taste of Ross’s skin that lingered and might never again be available to the extent she desired so much. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and didn’t let herself hesitate at the door to look back, because if she did she would be lost and there would be no way on earth she could convince Ross that he didn’t need to put any more effort into pushing her away.
Ross could still feel the touch of her lips on his cheek. He could still smell the scent of her skin as she’d leaned fleetingly close enough to touch him. The strength of his longing to hold her and kiss her was overwhelming. She had neglected to pull the curtain closed when she had left. If she looked back from the doorway she would be able to see that longing written all over his face. And if she came back he would be lost. There was no way on earth he could summon the strength to redo what he had just attempted.
But Wendy went straight through the door without turning so much as a hair.
And for the first time in his adult life Ross Turnball felt the trickle of tears on his face.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘ROSS TURNBALL?’ Wendy stopped searching for the laboratory test request form in the trays beneath the nurses’ station counter. ‘Are you a relative?’
‘Yes.’
Wendy looked more closely at the woman. She was probably in her early fifties, though her greying hair and lack of make-up made her look older. Her curiosity prompted a lapse in her customary professional tact. ‘Are you his mother?’
‘No. I’m his sister.’ Fortunately, the woman did not appear to be offended by the error. ‘Can I see him?’
‘He’s not in the ward right now.’ Wendy glanced at the wall clock. ‘He should be back by lunchtime. That’s half an hour or so away.’
‘Where is he?’
‘His physiotherapist has taken him outside somewhere, I think. He’s doing some wheelchair skills on sloping ground this morning.’
‘So it’s true, then? He’s never going to walk again?’
‘We don’t know that.’ Wendy frowned. She had never seen this woman before and Ross had never mentioned having a sister. For a close relative she didn’t appear to be very well informed and Wendy decided she would give out no more detail than she had offered to the journalist who had rung earlier that morning, looking for an update on Ross’s story. ‘Is Ross expecting you to visit?’
‘Doubt it.’ The woman looked away from Wendy’s direct gaze. ‘I haven’t seen him in more than ten years.’
‘Visiting hours are not till 2 p.m.’ Wendy had no intention of revealing Ross’s whereabouts. He might well need warning to prepare for this visitor. ‘You’ll have to come back then.’
‘I can’t do that. I’m only over from the Coast for the day and I’ve got shopping to do. I thought you said he’d be back in half an hour.’
‘I can’t guarantee that. Ross might well be seeing his occupational therapist before he returns to the ward. Lunchtime is pretty flexible here to fit each patient’s rehabilitation programme. You might be in for a long wait but I can show you where the relatives’ room is, if you like.’ At least the woman would be out of sight when Ross returned and he could choose whether or not he wished to see her. Wendy had the distinct impression that there was a lot of family history she knew nothing about and this reunion had the potential to be more like an attempted reconciliation with goodness only knew what possible emotional repercussions.
‘I don’t want to wait.’ The woman fished in the large handbag she carried and withdrew a small, unwrapped box of chocolates. She put them on the counter and pushed the box towards Wendy. ‘Tell him I called, would you?’
‘Sure.’ There was no card to accompany the gift. ‘What’s your name?’
‘He’ll know who I am.’ The woman turned and walked away, leaving Wendy staring after her.
Debbie glanced up from her position in front of the nurse manager’s computer. ‘What was that all about?’
‘I’m not sure. Seems a bit odd. Ross has never said anything about having a sister and she looked old enough to be his mother.’
‘Perhaps she is. Maybe it was one of those arrangements where Grandma brings up the teenager’s accidental baby as a sibling.’
‘Hmm.’ Wendy crouched again to look for the requisition form. ‘What colour are the forms for thyroid-function tests?’
But Debbie wasn’t listening, having turned to answer the phone on the desk beside her. ‘Yes, she is,’ she said a few seconds later. ‘Just a minute, please.’ She held the receiver out. ‘Phone for you, Wendy.’
Wendy straightened and stepped towards her colleague, reaching out to accept the phone. ‘Wendy speaking.’
The line was silent but it felt as though it was still connected. ‘Hello?’ Wendy tried again. ‘Are you there?’
The click was disconcerting. Someone had been on the line and they had terminated the call. She put the phone back on the desk and frowned at Debbie. ‘That was weird.’
‘Who was it?’
‘I have no idea. They didn’t say anything and then they hung up.’
‘It was a guy,’ Debbie informed her. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe he just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.’
‘Not funny, Debs. What did he say exactly?’
‘Just “Hello, is Wendy Watson there?” Maybe he got cut off. He’ll probably ring back in a minute.’
Wendy shrugged. The ending of the call had come across as being deliberate and carefully timed so that she wouldn’t hang up first, but she had no intention of letting it bother her. ‘Thyroid-function tests?’ she reminded Debbie.
‘They’re on the standard blood-screen check. The white ones.’
‘Cool.’ Wendy opened her patient’s notes to peel off an ID sticker to label the form.
‘How’s Ross doing?’ Debbie seemed reluctant to return to her data entry task.
‘Great. He can wiggle the toes on both feet now and he’s not getting any of the hypotensive symptoms that made the transition to the wheelchair difficult.’
‘He’s been in the chair for over a week now, hasn’t he?’
‘Ten days today.’ It felt longer. Ten days of adjusting to the change in their relationship were taking their toll. Moving from being lovers to being friends was so much harder than moving in the opposite direction.
‘I guess he’s on the list for a motel soon.’
‘Not that I’ve heard.’ The transition units set up within the grounds of Coronation Hospital were like motels. Patients and their families could test their independence in a step between hospital and going home. They could practise using the kitchen and bathroom facilities, the bed and the living-room furniture. Ideas for adaptations needed at home could be finalised and theoretically it was then only a small step to discharge. Ross, however, was showing no signs of being ready to try out a motel.
‘It’ll be a few weeks away, I think,’ Wendy added. ‘He’s only beginning to recover the kind of upper-body strength he needs to start being properly independent.’
‘I’ll bet you can’t wait. How long has it been since you guys had any time alone together?’
‘Way too long.’ Wendy was unaware of the poignant smile that followed her words.
Debbie chuckled. ‘Well, you’ll get some time really alone once he gets a motel.’
‘Mmm.’ Wendy ignored the innuendo. It seemed amazing that nobody had picked up on the radical change in her relationship with Ross. Surely someone would have noticed how incredibly awkward it had been in the first few days when they had both been struggling to establish acceptable ground rules? They had both been self-conscious about avoiding physical touch and equally hesitant about dealing with the frequent and often heavy silences that had punctuated their rather stilted conversations. Had it not become so much easier in the last few days Wendy would have given in to her su
spicion that their new relationship was simply not feasible.
Debbie couldn’t fail to pick up the less than enthusiastic undertone of Wendy’s response. ‘I know it’s not easy,’ she said sympathetically. ‘The transition times are always stressful. Ross went through a bad patch when he first came out of ICU. Then he had the scare of that embolus, and going from bed rest to mobility in a chair is a biggie. He’s not the only patient who goes through mood swings but he does seem to have been a lot happier in the last week or so.’
Seemingly right on cue, a peal of laughter was heard nearby in the corridor. A rich chuckle that Wendy had not heard coming from Ross since before the accident. The accompanying female giggle was also easily recognised. The sound made Debbie smile.
‘It’s good that he gets on so well with Sally.’
‘Mmm.’ Wendy dropped the completed requisition form into the appropriate tray and slotted the patient’s notes back into the trolley. ‘I’m on lunch,’ she said more brightly. ‘Are you coming?’
‘No, I’ve got to finish this. Why don’t you drag Ross away from Sally and have a picnic outside? It’s a lovely day and the patients all have the usual sandwiches for lunch.’
It was a lovely day. Wendy collected her own sandwiches and apple from her locker and debated whether to head for the staffroom or visit Ross. Now that she was working on the wards for a few weeks she saw a lot more of him throughout the day but it was casual and often fleeting contact. And Debbie was right. Ross had seemed much more relaxed lately. He was focussed on his recovery and showing signs of being more positive about the future.
Did that have anything to do with the rapport Ross had with his physiotherapist? Wendy paused to fill her water bottle from the cooler, smiling in response to Patrick Miller’s greeting as he walked past with another consultant.
‘How’s Harry?’ she queried. ‘Any news?’
‘She’s looking like a beached whale,’ Patrick said proudly. ‘Any day now.’
Harriet Miller was expecting twins. The Millers already had three children and their relationship was something of a legend around Coronation Hospital. Harry had been a nurse here herself until the death of her husband shortly before the birth of her first child. Patrick had been well established in his role of medical director by the time Harry had returned to work two years later. The circumstances of Harriet’s first marriage were also common knowledge. She had fallen in love with a patient. A paraplegic patient who had probably had the same kind of mobility level that Ross was currently experiencing.
The thought was disturbing. What was it Ross had said? Something about things being very different if their relationship had started after the accident—if they hadn’t known how good it had been. That he hadn’t discounted the possibility of a sexual relationship in the future—it just wouldn’t be with her. Ross was a patient of Sally’s. They got on well…and Sally had never known Ross prior to his accident. The wave of jealousy was unfamiliar enough to require analysis for identification. Wendy shook off the unpleasant emotion, only to find something almost as disturbing. Was her campaign to establish a non-threatening friendship as a means to stay close to Ross about to backfire?
There was no alternative that Wendy could imagine working, however. If she put any pressure on Ross he might actually see Sally as a means of definitively crushing any hopes Wendy was harbouring for a future with him. But if she allowed any more distance to develop she could be creating a ripe environment for a new beginning for Ross—with someone else. It could be as delicate a balancing act as negotiating the toughest rockface. Wendy pulled herself back mentally to the analogy that had made her think this journey had a chance of success. Sally was a high wind, maybe. Or a slide of scree. A complication that might require a modification of technique but couldn’t be allowed to cause a distraction from the goal.
Spending her lunch-break with Ross having a picnic and friendly chat suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. Besides, she had a message to pass on, didn’t she?
‘Hi, Ross.’ Wendy made sure that her cheerful smile matched her tone. ‘I wondered if you’d fancy a picnic outside.’ She waved her packet of sandwiches. ‘It’s such a nice day.’
‘I know. That’s where Sally and I have been for the last hour.’
Sally and I. Wendy tried to maintain her smile as she greeted the physio.
‘Do you want to try a transfer from chair to bed, Ross?’ Sally seemed in no hurry to leave.
He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t make it. My shoulders are still aching from that hill.’
‘OK. Have a rest, then. I’ll pop back later when I’ve finished my list for the day.’
Later? After work maybe? Wendy cleared her throat. ‘You had a visitor while you were out, Ross. A woman.’
Wendy had his attention now. ‘Who?’
‘She wouldn’t tell me her name. She said she was your sister.’
A flash of something like shock crossed Ross’s features in the short silence that followed. ‘I haven’t seen Janice in more than ten years.’
‘She left a box of chocolates for you in the office. No card, though, and she said she was only in town for the day so she couldn’t wait.’
Ross shrugged. ‘I’m glad she didn’t. I don’t think I’d want to hear her opinion on whether or not I deserve my new status. Why don’t you keep the chocolates in the office? You guys can have them.’
The silence was heavier this time. Sally looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m off, then, Ross. I think you should go and catch some more sunshine with Wendy. You don’t have to push yourself if your arms are too tired.’
It was the first time Wendy had pushed the wheelchair and, judging by his rigid silence, Ross was hating it as much as she was. It felt as though she was patronising Ross by demonstrating her own physical fitness and it couldn’t fail to reinforce the reasoning on which Ross was basing his decision to end their relationship. Instead of being alongside, encouraging and supporting Wendy, Ross was being reduced to a childlike dependency. Things became even more strained when she began to deal with the cling film on the sandwiches intended for Ross.
‘I can do that by myself, you know. I’m not totally disabled.’
‘Sorry.’ This picnic might not have been such a good idea after all. Mood swings might be inevitable, but it had been Sally Ross had shared a joke with only a few minutes ago, and it was Wendy he was now sitting with in a faintly grim silence. Wendy turned her face to the warmth of the sunshine and tried to muster a safe topic of conversation to break the silence. The kind of conversation they’d begun having in the last week or so. Safe topics in which they could share plans and provide encouragement for each other.
Like friends did.
Wendy was still thinking about entering the famous Coast to Coast race across the south island that she and Ross had planned to do as a team. It wasn’t that she had any particular enthusiasm for the challenge any more but it seemed like a good way to show Ross that he wouldn’t hold her back from the kind of physical pursuits she had always enjoyed. He seemed perfectly happy to give her the benefit of his experience in training programmes.
‘The number of Ks you’re doing a week is great but you need more cross-training. Swap a run for a twenty-K cycle and get some kayaking time in.’
Ross was toying with the idea of moving back to the original career he’d had as a surgeon until he’d tired of city life. He told Wendy he would be using his brain in a period of retraining and there had to be specialties that would be suitable. Wendy had agreed wholeheartedly.
‘Hand surgery would be perfect. The surgeons have to sit down to operate and dealing with the kind of microsurgery needed for nerve and blood vessel damage would be a very worthwhile challenge.’
Safe topics.
Separate topics.
The sunshine was relaxing Wendy a little. She swallowed her bite of sandwich and decided to take a risk.
‘Janice looks a lot older than you. I made the mistake of asking if she was your mother.�
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Ross gave a short bark of laughter. ‘She would have hated that. She never quite forgave my mother for the embarrassment of producing a baby when Janice was sixteen. She thought people would assume it was hers.’
‘Was she the oldest in the family?’
‘No. She had an older brother, Richard. He’d left home by the time I came along.’
It was an odd choice of words. Surely Richard was also Ross’s brother? ‘How old was your mother when she had you?’
‘Forty-two.’
Wendy smiled. ‘You must have been a bit of a surprise, then.’
‘You could say that.’ Ross put his half-eaten sandwich down. ‘It took a very long time for me to find out why it had been such an unpleasant one.’
Wendy waited, sensing that Ross had more to say. He looked up after a long silence.
‘I’ve never told anyone about this before.’
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Wendy said quietly.
‘I’d like to.’
‘And I’d like to listen.’ Wendy was surprised to find she felt shy. As though she were meeting Ross for the first time. Perhaps, on a different level, that was precisely what was happening.
‘My dad ran a timber-processing plant,’ Ross began slowly. ‘He employed a lot of people on the coast which made him a fairly important local figure. He also had to travel quite a lot and often made lengthy overseas trips to find and develop contracts. Sometimes he’d be away for two or three months at a time.’
Ross took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. ‘Janice and Richard had left home by the time I was old enough to notice, and even when Dad was home it was a pretty lonely existence. Mum was very involved in community affairs—holding up the family’s prestigious social position.’ Ross gave a short huff of laughter. ‘I think I spent more time with the family dog for company than any people.’ Glancing up, he caught Wendy’s frown and smiled.
‘Hey, it wasn’t that bad. We lived just out of Hokitika and I had the bush on my back doorstep. I learned to love being outside and I never felt lonely because I’d never known it to be any other way.’
Doctors at Risk Page 8
