by Lucy Clark
Her words were firm, direct, and yet he detected a hint of desperation—as though she really did not want him anywhere near her. Did she hate him that much?
‘I’ve already bought a house in the district.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We start moving in tomorrow.’ His words were rolling from his mouth quite fast. ‘I wanted you to hear this from me, not from any gossip or the rumour mill.’
‘We?’
She clenched her jaw, and a moment later he could have sworn he saw her eyes brim with tears. Were they tears of anger or tears of joy? He hoped it was the latter, but was pretty sure it was the former.
Clara immediately looked down at the ground, as though she were wishing it would open up and swallow her. When she spoke her voice was polite. Too polite. And when she lifted her head, she didn’t quite meet his gaze.
‘Thank you for letting me know, Dr Arterton.’
With that, she turned and continued on her way back to her retrieval team.
Virgil wanted to call out to her—to let her know where he’d be living, to invite her to dinner so she could meet his daughter. He wanted to gather her into his arms and never let her go. He wanted to rectify the mistakes from his past, to ask for forgiveness and beg her to give him another chance. Even the small amount of time he’d spent in her company had reignited the desire he’d had for her in the past. Of course he did none of that, because her reception of him had shown him exactly where he stood—far, far away from her.
The hopes he’d had, the plans he’d made, the way he’d wanted to find a way to get her back into his life, had all come crashing down.
Clara hated him.
CHAPTER TWO
‘TODAY I THINK I’ll have...’ Clara surveyed the mouthwatering row of different fudges, trying to decide. ‘Peppermint chocolate.’
‘Coming right up.’ Marni cut the fudge and placed it into the mixer.
This was Clara’s favourite time of the day. She watched as Marni operated the machine that would mix the ice-cream with the fudge, producing the most scrumptious taste Clara had ever experienced.
‘There you go.’
Marni handed over the small bowl filled with the dessert and Clara paid.
‘Thanks.’
Clara eyed the dish she now held so protectively in her hand. As always, she would have at least one spoonful before leaving the shop. She swirled the spoon around the edge of the bowl and scooped some up. Her lips parted in anticipation and the spoon slipped between them.
Clara closed her eyes. ‘Mmm...’ She could feel her body begin to relax from the pressures of her rigorous medical practice. ‘Heaven!’
The small pieces of the fudge mixed with the smooth, creamy ice-cream as she swirled them around in her mouth before swallowing.
‘It really is the small things in life that can bring you so much joy.’
Marni laughed. ‘Enjoy. I’ll see you later.’ She moved off to serve other customers.
As Clara stepped out of the shop, she heard one of the new customers saying, ‘What was she eating? It looked delicious.’
Taking slow steps, she placed another spoonful into her mouth, then stopped at the kerb to enjoy the flavours. There were at least thirty different varieties of fudge at Marni’s shop, and Clara had sampled each and every one of the them at least fifty times over.
She was so busy focusing on her delicious dessert that she almost walked into a man pushing a pram with a toddler in it, and the pregnant woman beside him. The woman looked to be in her second trimester, and the pang of envy which always ripped through Clara when she saw a pregnant woman came swift and fast.
She skirted around the young family, neatly avoiding the collision, and scooped another spoonful into her mouth, willing the sensation to calm the feeling of emptiness she’d carried with her for almost six years.
She would never be able to give birth to a child.
She pressed the button for the pedestrian crossing, eating more ice-cream while she waited for the lights to change. And then she saw him. Virgil Arterton. So he had come. He was here. He was back in Loggeen and he would be working at the Specialist Centre and Victory Hospital.
She’d held out a vain hope that after their brief conversation in Melbourne he would change his mind, that somehow a strange twist of fate would cause his plans to be altered.
When she’d returned to Loggeen after the retrieval exercise, she’d checked with her colleagues and discovered that Virgil had spoken the truth. The two of them would be working in the same building as well as the same hospital.
Thankfully, their paths shouldn’t cross when she was doing her twice-monthly stints in the Emergency Department at Victory Hospital, given that Virgil was a qualified general surgeon and would be using the hospital to hold public clinics and operate on his patients. In fact, she was hopeful that their paths would rarely cross, and that when they did they would be able to nod politely to each other and go about their business.
Gone were the days when she had pined over him. Clara was in control of her own future, and right now she was more than happy with the way her life was turning out. Good general practice, helping people at the Specialist Centre and in the ED, as well as going out with the retrieval teams when necessary. Her family lived close—her brother and his family even lived in the same building as her—and although her parents were presently overseas, enjoying another long cruise, the Lewis family was a close-knit one.
Yes, she was more than happy with her life—and, as such, there was absolutely no room for Virgil Arterton in it.
A car horn beeped, bringing her out of her reverie. It was then she realised that the light had turned green, indicating it was safe for her to cross the road, but like a ninny she’d simply stood there, speculating about Virgil, while a bowl of ice-cream and fudge melted in her hand.
Crossing the street, she walked up the paved pathway to the doors of the Specialist Centre. After they’d whooshed open, Clara continued walking through the lobby to her consulting rooms. Pushing open the glass door, she was met by her ever-smiling receptionist, Jane.
‘You’ll never guess who was just in here!’ she gushed as Clara placed her bowl on the desktop.
‘The King of Persia?’ she growled, preoccupied with her anger.
Now she had one more thing to add to her dislike of ‘him’. One glimpse of Virgil Arterton and she’d lost all enjoyment of the confection she loved so much. She spooned some more into her mouth, hoping to recapture the sensations again. Nothing.
‘Oh, what flavour did you get today?’ Jane asked, eyeing the greenish tinge to the ice-cream. ‘Peppermint chocolate,’ she guessed, before Clara could say a word. ‘I thought you had that last week?’
‘Does it matter?’ Clara snapped, then immediately apologised. ‘I’m sorry, Jane. When’s my next patient due?’
‘You’ve got another ten minutes before Mrs Holden comes in.’
Clara walked through to her office and put the bowl on her desk. ‘Coffee?’ she asked Jane.
‘Sure—if you’re getting some.’
‘Hey, I’ve got ten whole minutes to spare and I’ve got the best dessert in the world sitting on my desk. I may as well go the entire way and have a hot cup of coffee instead of sculling a lukewarm one.’
‘Talk about spoilt.’ Jane grinned. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you who was here. The most dashingly handsome and gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. He was really tall—about six feet four inches, I’d say—with the most wonderful thick black hair that I could just run my fingers through for ever, and—’
‘Hypnotic blue eyes?’ Clara finished, trying desperately to ignore the way the description was permanently burned into her memory. She shook her head, annoyed with herself for describing his eyes as ‘hypnotic’. Why hadn’t she just said ‘blue’? ‘Virgil Arterton.’
‘You know him?’ Jane’s eyebrows rose to meet her fringe.
‘You could say that.’ Clara shook her head dejectedly and sighed. ‘Milk, no sugar—right?’
‘Yeah. But, Clara...’
Clara didn’t wait to be questioned. She stalked to the communal kitchen, which was shared by the staff at the medical centre, and started to make coffee for herself and Jane.
Cedric Fowler, the local obstetrician, was sitting at the table with a smile on his face.
‘You look happy, Cedric,’ Clara stated.
‘Our new general surgeon was just in here. Actually, he asked after you.’
‘He did?’ Dread instantly washed over her. ‘Why? What did you say? You didn’t tell him anything, did you? Did you tell him I wasn’t here?’
The words tumbled out of Clara’s mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and annoyance.
It wasn’t that she was afraid to see Virgil. Rather, she was sceptical about working in such close proximity with him. She needed Virgil to be professional about their relationship—not blab about their past to all and sundry. She’d done everything she could to move forward with her life, to put her past behind her, and the last thing she needed was Virgil digging it up again, telling people they’d been a couple, reigniting the old gossip.
‘Uh...’ Cedric eyed her in confusion. ‘You weren’t here, Clara. Besides, didn’t the two of you used to know each other? I thought you were at med school together?’
Darn Cedric and his perfect memory. ‘Yes. Yes, we were close friends. And then we weren’t—aren’t.’
Cedric’s frown increased. ‘I hope whatever it is that exists between the two of you won’t interfere with—’
‘We’re both professionals, Cedric,’ Clara interrupted, reassuring him.
‘Good, because we need Virgil here consulting as our resident general surgeon. We’re lucky to have a man as widely published as him agree to come to Victory Hospital.’
Clara smiled politely at Cedric and nodded once more. She’d grasped his meaning. GPs like her were found everywhere—yet established and successful surgeons like Virgil usually worked at larger hospitals in capital cities, not in smaller cities or outer suburbs.
‘There’ll be no drama between Virgil and myself,’ she promised as she returned her attention to making coffee.
‘That’s good to know,’ a deep voice said from the doorway.
Clara immediately closed her eyes as an unbidden wave of desire swept through her at the sound of Virgil’s modulated tones. Darn the man! She hadn’t even looked at him and already her body was betraying her. Well that was OK, she quickly rationalised. It was OK to be attracted to him—after all, he was a good-looking man. However, she knew the real Virgil—the man behind the façade—and she knew there was no way she’d ever be able to trust him again. Therefore the attraction, and the way he could cause goosebumps to tickle their way across her skin with the sound of his voice, meant nothing. Nothing!
‘Ah, Virgil, you’ve returned,’ Cedric said. ‘You didn’t forget anything, did you?’
‘No.’
Clara could hear the two men shaking hands.
‘Just needed a quick word with Clara.’
‘Right. I’ll leave you to it,’ Cedric said, before exiting the small room and closing the door behind him.
Clara felt completely trapped. She was standing at the bench where the coffee things were and Virgil was near the door. There was a table and chairs between them. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to see him. She most certainly didn’t want to talk to him. But what she wanted didn’t matter.
Cedric was right. The Specialist Centre needed Virgil to consult here. It would allow a lot of patients to have their surgeries at Victory Hospital rather than having to travel to Melbourne for treatment. She needed to be professional. She needed to be cool, calm and collected. She could do it. She could work alongside the man who had broken her heart and shattered her world to pieces. She was strong. She was different now. She could do this.
Turning slowly, she consciously unclenched her jaw and wrapped a mental shield around herself. The Arterton charm had been known to break through all the barriers she could erect, and she had vowed never to leave herself that vulnerable again.
Their eyes met and held for a second. Jane’s description of him had been accurate. He was devastatingly handsome. He was dressed in denim jeans and a white polo shirt. His hair was as dark as midnight, with a hint of grey at the temples, but it was his lovely blue eyes that had always been able to make her knees go weak and her heart skip a beat.
‘Clara.’ Virgil smiled. ‘Good to see you again.’
She nodded in his direction, but didn’t return his smile. ‘Virgil.’
Considering his presence had once again shaken her foundations, she was pleased that at least her voice sounded calm and controlled.
‘Can I talk to you a moment, please?’
Clara closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘What do you want, Virgil?’ The question was soft, but she knew he’d heard her.
‘I wanted to make sure you were OK with me working here.’
‘It’s a bit late to consider my feelings now.’
‘True,’ he acquiesced as he sat at the table. ‘But had I given you a choice—if I’d run my plans by you—chances are you would have said no, you didn’t want me working here.’
‘Well, you’re here now,’ she stated as she crossed to the fridge and removed the milk.
She was positive she could feel his eyes watching her every move. The subtle sway of her hips beneath the navy cotton skirt. The rigidity of her spine under the light blue shirt.
With her back still to him, she asked, ‘Just out of curiosity, what are your reasons for moving here?’
She collected two cups and spooned in some instant coffee and sugar. The actions were automatic, but after putting three sugars into her own cup, when she usually only had one, she knew she wasn’t concentrating on anything but awaiting Virgil’s response.
‘Well...besides wanting to be nearer to you and to spend time with you—’
‘Whoa!’ She turned to face him, teaspoon upheld in her hand. ‘Wait a second. Nearer to me? Spend time with me? What planet are you living on?’ She scowled. ‘You may be quite comfortable cheating on your wife, but I am most definitely not happy to be “the other woman”—so you can forget about it.’ She shook the teaspoon at him as though that would help to prove her point.
‘How did you know I was married?’
‘I bumped into Misty Fox from med school about three years ago. She told me that you’d got married—which surprised me, because I was pretty sure one of the reasons we broke up was because you didn’t want to get married and have a family. You wanted to focus on your career. You didn’t want me cramping your style.’
‘I never said that last bit.’
‘It was implied. So clearly your career’s going well, and you found someone you wanted to marry, so why on earth would you want to spend more time with me?’
‘Clara, can we sit down and just talk?’
‘No. I have a clinic and I need to make coffee for myself and Jane.’ She busied herself with adding hot water to the cups and starting to stir them.
‘I’m not married.’
He seemed to blurt out the words and she glared at him over her shoulder.
‘You just told me you were!’
‘No. I asked how you knew I was married.’ He shook his head and stood. ‘I’m a widower.’
‘Oh.’ She slowly exhaled, the anger she’d been holding so close starting to wane a little. ‘I’m sorry, Virgil. That must be difficult for you.’
‘She died in a car accident—with her lover.’
‘Oh!’
Car accidents
... They really had a way of changing things.
‘Clara, it’s true my career is going great—so great that I can choose where I want to go. And I’ve chosen to come back to my old stomping ground of Loggeen.’
‘But why? Seriously, it can’t be because of me—so why?’
‘It’s a great place to raise a family.’
‘You have children!’
She couldn’t believe the pain that pierced her heart at this news. Not only had he broken her heart all those years ago, declaring he didn’t want to be with her because he needed to focus on his career, but the reasons he’d given—that he didn’t want to get married and have a family—meant the truth of the matter was that he hadn’t wanted to have those things with her.
Clenching her jaw, she tried to keep her voice neutral. She’d promised Cedric that she would be professional, and by golly she was going to be as professional as possible.
‘I’m very happy you’ve chosen to raise your family here. It is a great part of the country, with a lot of good schools.’
‘I have one child, Clara. Her name is Rosie and she’s three years old, so not quite ready for school.’
‘And you’ve moved her here because...?’ She tried hard to keep the pain from her voice.
‘Because she’s young enough to make a fresh start.’
‘I see. Well, I hope you’ll be very happy working here at the Specialist Centre.’ She picked up the coffee cups, holding them in front of her like a barrier. ‘As far as we’re concerned, I think it’s best if we just forget the past and continue on like the professionals we are.’ She took a step forward. ‘Would you mind opening the door for me, please?’
‘Don’t be like this.’
She forced a smile. ‘Like what?’
‘Like...like an automaton.’
Clara sighed with exasperation. She was standing near the door and so was he. It had been a mistake to move closer to him, because now all her senses were attuned to every little thing about him. The scent surrounding him was the same spicy aura she’d always equated with him.
