A Return, a Reunion, a Wedding

by Annie O'Neil

  Mmm... She felt good. Each and every ounce of her.

  He began unbuckling his belt as her free hand swept along the length of his erection—then abruptly stopped.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked against her lips, his body primed for her to fling the damn phone away so they could get back to devouring one another.

  ‘It’s the hospital. They want me to phone in.’

  He could already hear her calling. And just like that the volcanic heat in him turned icy cold.

  * * *

  Jayne started at the sound of footsteps. She’d thought she had the small churchyard to herself, but it appeared that Monday afternoon was rush hour at the cemetery. A rush hour of two.

  She looked up.

  Her breath hitched in her throat.

  Sam.

  They’d not really talked since that super-awkward lust-fest she’d destroyed by taking that call from the hospital. It had been gut instinct.

  Hospital rings. Jayne responds.

  She’d tried to explain. Had insisted he would’ve done the same if a patient had been in need... But at the end of the day he’d left without saying anything.

  Of course it was more complicated than her simply taking a phone call. Perhaps he’d come to the same conclusion she had. The phone call had been a cruel divine intervention, pointing out the obvious: they weren’t meant to be together.

  She’d gone into the surgery that morning, as discussed, but when her last patient had left the building she’d needed to come out here and see her sister. Offer amends. Ask for forgiveness.

  ‘Thought I’d find you here.’

  Sam’s voice wrapped around her like a cashmere blanket. Soft and protective.

  ‘Well... I figured it was safer than visiting the lane where it happened, so...’

  He nodded.

  She shot him a grateful smile. Despite the complication of feelings pinballing between her heart, head and gut it was comforting to have Sam here.

  It was the first time she’d been in Whitticombe on the anniversary of Jules’s death. She’d thought she wanted to do it alone, but it was nice to know there were other people thinking of Jules as well.

  Would her parents benefit from this? Seeing their daughter’s grave and the flowers those who had also known her had left?

  Jayne gave Sam a grateful smile as he nestled the potted plant he was carrying at the base of Jules’s grave, then stepped back to where Jayne was kneeling and sat on the ground.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  She shook her head. ‘’Course not. The flower’s lovely.’

  ‘It’s an aster. I thought it suited Jules’s personality.’

  ‘What?’ Surely the aster was a symbol for patience. If there was one thing her sister hadn’t been, it was patient.

  ‘It means star,’ Sam said into the silence.

  She started. ‘But that’s—’

  ‘Greek. I know about the patience thing, but it also stands for love of variety, and the Jules I remember loved variety.’

  Despite herself, Jayne laughed. ‘That was definitely Jules, all right.’

  Sam’s laugh blended with her own, and as their eyes met she knew he was here for all the right reasons.

  He crossed his legs and leant back on his hands, his long fingers disappearing in the thick early summer grass. ‘She would’ve liked a patient I had today.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Jayne picked a dandelion and plucked at the petals.

  ‘Definitely. An eight-year-old girl who’s as devoted to her trampoline as Jules was to racing around the lanes on her bike. A real adrenaline junkie.’

  Jayne tried not to sound stiff as she asked, ‘Why was she in?’

  ‘A tib-fib break after a particularly enthusiastic somersault session on the trampoline.’

  Jayne sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Did her parents not have one of those protective guards around the springs?’

  Sam nodded. ‘That and more. They had it dug into the ground so she wouldn’t fall off. They had protective padding. They even had padding for her. But Carlee is her own spirit.’

  ‘Which means...?’

  Sam reached over and gave Jayne’s knee a squeeze. ‘It means Carlee is probably going to be a familiar face up at Grandpont’s A&E.’

  ‘The hospital up the road?’

  ‘One and the same.’ He smiled. Not gleefully, of course, but nor was it grim.

  She wondered if that was how his grandfather had thought of Jules. A live wire who, no matter how much padding she had, would have found herself at the wrong end of a poorly calculated risk at one juncture or another. Which might mean...

  No. She could have stopped Jules. Laid out the rules more clearly. End of the road and no further.

  Sam picked his own dandelion and began plucking off the petals one by one.

  She loves me...she loves me not...

  He abruptly ripped off the rest of the petals and sprinkled them on the grass. ‘I’m sorry things got a bit hot and heavy the other day.’

  ‘Hey. No need to apologise. It takes two to tango.’

  They weren’t looking at one other, but she could feel the energy buzzing between them tighten.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he said eventually. ‘I know there’s a lot of awkwardness to sort through, but with the surgery being so busy, and Maggie needing your help, it’s been a Godsend.’

  She tapped his foot with her flower. ‘I feel like we’ve spoken more honestly in the past two weeks than we have in years.’

  Sam laughed. ‘To be fair, we haven’t really talked since we split.’

  True. She’d been too frightened to. Too scared to confess to Sam that she was the reason they were kneeling at the end of this grave. She should have trusted him enough to tell him. She knew that now.

  After a few more moments of silence Jayne stood and stretched. ‘Guess I’d better get back and check on Maggie. The kids’ll be back soon, moaning about whatever gruel I manage to dish up for them.’

  Sam’s eyes lit up. ‘Hey, want to take a look at the Old Barn on the way?’

  Jayne’s felt a whoosh of anticipation unfurl in her heart. ‘Absolutely!’

  * * *

  Sam couldn’t believe how nervous he was. He knew the house was beautiful. He and his architect father had spent years designing it. And they’d paid even more attention to detail once they’d started putting it together. The exact tiles. The precise woodcuts. The perfect window frames. He knew every inch of the place in detail.

  It had been a true bone of contention with his wife.

  ‘You love that house more than you love me!’

  He’d protested. Of course he didn’t. The house was a thing...she was his wife. He’d told her she was being ridiculous, but when she’d gone the house hadn’t felt any different. Which, of course, was when he’d realised it had never really been their home.

  As Sam and Jayne turned the corner into the cobbled barnyard Jayne’s hands flew to her mouth. He watched as she soaked in all the details. The peaked roof. The dark beams standing out against the golden sandstone.

  Her eyes practically glittered with delight. ‘Oh, Sam...it’s perfect. It’s exactly how I imagined it.’

  In that moment he realised just how right his ex had been. He hadn’t built this house for her. He’d built it for him and Jayne.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GRETA GRINNED AS Sam whistled his way into the surgery the next morning. ‘Well, would you take a look at who the lark brought in?’

  ‘An early night and a perfect cup of coffee works wonders.’

  It was the truth. After Jayne had left he’d made himself a light supper and spent the evening reading medical journals. Lately, his time at home had felt like filling a void until he could go to work again. Last night he’d really enjoyed being in the hou
se.

  He’d loved seeing it through Jayne’s eyes instead of seeing it as the time-waster his ex had pronounced it to be. The poor woman. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered how they’d ever thought they were right for one another.

  You wanted to be her knight in shining armour.

  She’d wanted stability. Village life. A guy with old-fashioned values. He’d given her all those things and married her with the absolute best of intentions. With love.

  But in the end the love he’d had to offer her hadn’t been enough. Hadn’t been on the same scale as the love he’d had for Jayne.

  The thought dropped a lead weight in his gut, and he was relieved when Greta handed him a full patient list. Jayne was taking Maggie to the hospital, so he wouldn’t have that extra pair of hands he’d come to rely on a bit too quickly.

  A few hours, a stack of paperwork and a dozen patients later, Greta rang through. ‘You all right if I squeeze in an extra patient this morning?’

  ‘Absolutely! Send him in.’

  ‘Dr Sinclair...?’

  ‘Ah! Mr Sedlescombe.’ He got up and ushered in the elderly maths teacher. ‘Come on in. Here, let me grab you a chair.’

  He took one of the man’s canes and held on to his elbow as his former teacher eased himself into the chair.

  When Sam sat down again he did a quick scan to see if there was anything visibly wrong. A bit of dry skin on the backs of his hands... There was an aqueous cream for that. His eyes were the slightest bit watery... Nothing too out of the ordinary for an older gent.

  ‘So, Mr Sedlescombe, what can I do for you today?’

  ‘Well, it’s a tad embarrassing.’

  ‘Nothing to be embarrassed about here. You know as well as I do that anything you disclose to me in this room will stay right here.’

  ‘Well...’ The old gentleman, whose blue eyes still glinted brightly, leant on one of his sticks and threw a quick glance at the closed door. ‘I suppose you’ve heard about my upcoming retirement party?’

  ‘I certainly have. It’s going to be part of the fete, isn’t it?’

  Mr Sedlescombe’s thick silver hair caught the light as he nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. They’re unveiling a long-service plaque for me and the new village AED, if I’m not mistaken. A geriatric and a heart-starter. What a double bill!’ Mr Sedlescombe winked.

  Sam laughed. ‘I’m sure it’s more coincidence than a message from above.’

  ‘That may be... But what I’m wondering about is...’ He dug into his pocket and pulled out a blister pack of little blue pills.

  ‘Oh!’

  Sam’s eyebrows near enough shot off his forehead. After a morning of arthritis pills, earaches and blood pressure tests, he certainly hadn’t expected this. It was one of the reasons he loved his job. Constantly kept him on his toes.

  ‘So you’re interested in a bit of lovemaking after your retirement party?’

  ‘Something like that. But the AED has got me thinking...’ He pushed a newspaper clipping onto Sam’s desk and tapped it. ‘Says here I might have a heart attack if I take these pills.’

  Sam quickly scanned the article. ‘Well, this poor chap appears to have taken more than the recommended dose.’ He picked up the blister pack. ‘Mind if I have a look?’

  A quick scan revealed they were on the level. He’d obviously ordered them through the post, but they seemed legitimate enough. Sam would be happy to prescribe some through the local pharmacy, but something wasn’t sitting right... Sometimes being a GP was a bit like being a detective. A detective with particular sensitivities about people’s health and emotional state. Their generational leanings... Social class...

  Mr Sedlescombe had taught maths at the village school for as long as Sam could remember. He was often in the local light opera performances. He made a mean Christmas punch. There were some dots he was failing to connect...

  ‘Mr Sedlescombe. Is there something else that’s bothering you about taking these pills?’

  The elderly gentleman stroked his chin, then finally met Sam’s eye. ‘Please, call me Terry. And, well... I know this isn’t strictly how things are done in the medical profession...diagnosing by the internet and all...but the truth is I was hoping to give them to Vera.’

  ‘Your wife?’ Vera, the retired English teacher at the village school, had had a stroke a couple of years back, but regular appointments indicated that everything was pretty much back to normal. ‘Why?’

  ‘She thought they might help her.’

  The penny dropped. ‘Have you been looking into clinical trials about memory loss?’

  Relief flooded Terry’s features. He’d clearly been uncomfortable disguising the real reason he’d come in.

  ‘Okay. So, what we’re really talking about are the clinical trials that are being done on vascular dementia?’ He’d read about them too. They were testing people in their fifties and sixties who had had a stroke or were experiencing memory loss. ‘If I remember correctly, they’re about increasing blood flow by dilating blood vessels?’

  Terry nodded. ‘Vera ordered these things.’ He picked up the packet. ‘She did it in my name, so luckily I was the one who opened them up when the post came. I was hoping if you agreed with me that taking these pills is the wrong thing to do, I could dissuade her from taking them.’

  ‘Perhaps the best thing to do would be to bring Vera down here and we can all talk about it. These aren’t the pills they’re using in the trials and... Well, it’s still a trial.’

  Terry nodded in agreement. ‘I know. That’s what I told her. But she won’t come down. No offence to you or your grandfather, but she’s taken a notion that she’d like to talk to a woman.’

  There was a female GP in the next village, who came in once a week to take appointments for just such a reason, but she and her husband had decided to pack up a caravan and drive across Mongolia for the summer. Sam had been so busy he’d not had a chance to find a suitable replacement.

  An idea struck. ‘Do you remember Jayne Sinclair? We were in the same maths class.’

  Terry’s forehead crinkled as he thought back. ‘Of course I do. The twin who lost her sister.’ His gaze drifted to the church spire, which was visible through the window. ‘Her poor parents...not quite sure how they stuck around after that.’

  Sam nodded. There it was again. Disbelief that Jayne’s parents had stayed in the village.

  He was struck by the fact that people still remembered Jayne as ‘the poor sister who survived.’ What a cross to bear. No wonder she wanted to live somewhere else. The past was shackling her to the worst time in her life.

  An uncomfortable feeling tightened in his gut. Was he guilty of the same thing? Had he ever really sat down and thought of her as a leading paediatric surgeon? A woman getting on with her life the best she could?

  Maybe he’d been so busy reeling from rejection he’d refused to look at things from her perspective. It was obvious from her reaction to Stella’s death that she took her work incredibly seriously. Stepping away from the surgical ward to ensure she only gave her patients her A-game must have taken some serious strength.

  It was something he prided himself on when it came to his own patients. Being there for them with nothing less than his best. So why hadn’t he been able to do the same when it came to his personal life?

  The answer was as plain as the hand in front of his face.

  He’d tried to fix Jayne by insisting they keep following their dreams. The engagement, the wedding, Stream’s Edge Surgery, The Old Barn... He’d completely missed the fact that everything had changed for her the day her sister had died. Just as he’d missed the signs from Marie that he wasn’t including her in the life he’d become so determined to live. The life he’d planned to live with Jayne.

  What a pattern! Truly loving someone meant being there for them. Good times. Bad tim
es. It didn’t mean trying to jam a person into a predetermined mould. People were malleable. They changed. Love had to be every bit as flexible.

  Just as Terry was trying to be with his wife as they approached old age.

  He shifted in his chair and gave Terry a We can do this smile. ‘Jayne’s in town for a spell. Now, she’s not a GP, but she is a highly respected doctor. I’m sure she would be more than happy to speak with your wife.’ He glanced at his watch. Jayne should be back from the hospital by now. ‘I can ring her right now, if you like. See if she’ll pop in some time this afternoon?’

  Another wash of relief softened his maths teacher’s features. ‘You’d do that for me?’

  ‘Of course, Mr—Terry. It would be my pleasure.’

  After Sam had reassured himself that everything was okay on the health front for Mr Sedlescombe, he showed the gentleman out of the office. He was completely surprised to see Vera sitting in the waiting room. Her eyes lit up when her husband appeared, bright with expectation. Terry whispered something in her ear and her eyes shot over to Sam. She gave him a brisk nod and a hint of a smile.

  Crisis averted.

  As he called in the next patient a familiar satisfied feeling filled his chest. This was why he did what he did. Now, if he could just convert that to his personal life maybe there’d be some way to see if he and Jayne could find an opportunity to give each other a second chance...

  * * *

  ‘Everything go all right at the hospital?’

  Jayne nodded. ‘Yup. Well, as good as can be expected. Maggie isn’t taking it quite as easy as they’d like, but the babies are still where they’re supposed to be. I’ve tied her to an armchair and put on a reality show on extreme cake baking. I’m hoping it will hold her interest for the next hour or so.’

  ‘Tied her to a chair?’ Sam deadpanned.

  ‘Yeah.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s how we roll in London Town. Now, about Mrs Sedlescombe...’

  She was feeling strangely nervous. She prided herself on the personal touch with her own patients, but it wasn’t as if she’d learned about split infinitives from any of them. Talking to her former English teacher’s wife about whether or not to take erectile dysfunction pills for memory loss felt...intimate. A bit like going through her granny’s underwear drawer. Something you didn’t really do.