Did he mean to bury himself in work for ever? Part of her wanted to discuss the situation with Hannah but she was loathe to divulge Kyle’s feelings to anyone, even one of his closest friends. It would be a breach of his trust and confidence. But she was also concerned about the strength of her own feelings for Kyle, and didn’t want to have to explain those away to Hannah. Or anyone. She couldn’t even explain them to herself. All she knew was that she reacted to Kyle as she never had to anyone else, and the urge to help him was too strong to resist. What she didn’t know was how to achieve that aim.
When an opportunity arrived on the Friday of her fourth week at Glenside, she knew it was a big risk, that it may backfire on her and make Kyle angry, but the chance was too tempting to miss. She had stayed back with Kyle after surgery had finished to run the regular well-woman clinic, a drop-in service run on an informal basis and which presented various problems and issues.
‘My husband and I are new to the area. We moved here for his job,’ Alicia Martin explained, her hands clenched nervously in her lap. ‘He…We want to think again about starting a family.’
Alex noted the hesitation, the way Alicia had changed ‘he’ to ‘we,’ and wondered if the young woman was feeling under pressure from her husband. In her early twenties, she seemed unusually edgy, and Alex glanced at Kyle, remaining in the room in case her help was needed.
‘And is that what you want, Alicia?’ Kyle asked, clearly picking up on the same feeling she had experienced.
‘Yes. No. I’m not sure,’ the woman fretted, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I’m scared.’
Sitting down next to her, Alex offered her a tissue. ‘Scared of having a baby? Of being a mother?’
‘We tried once. Two years ago. I lost my baby. I had a miscarriage at eleven weeks.’
The emotion-filled words hung in the air. Suddenly the room was thick with tension and Alex couldn’t help glancing at Kyle, seeing the pain in his eyes, the way he tried to distance himself, his body rigid, a muscle pulsing along his jaw. Aching for both patient and doctor, Alex took a breath and stepped in.
‘That must have been an appalling experience for you and your husband.’
‘I’m not sure I’m ready to try again.’ Alicia shredded the damp tissue between her fingers. ‘I still can’t forget what it was like. I still miss my baby. What if it happens next time? I couldn’t do it.’
Alex nodded, understanding the young woman’s concern but eager to reassure her. ‘Just because you’ve had a miscarriage once, it doesn’t automatically mean you will have another one.’
‘I feel it’s my fault,’ Alicia whispered, reaching for another tissue.
‘It is not your fault, Alicia. No one is to blame. You have nothing to feel guilty about.’ Alex knew she was talking as much to Kyle as to their troubled new patient, and she tried to draw him into the conversation. ‘Isn’t that right, Dr Sinclair?’
His dark blue gaze fixed on her and Alex swallowed, unable to judge his mood. ‘Yes. Yes, that’s true. We often have no explanation for why these things occur,’ he allowed, his voice rough.
‘The figures show that one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage, and there could be all manner of reasons for it to happen quite beyond your control,’ Alex continued, nervous as she wondered how Kyle was reacting. ‘Sometimes, as hard and cruel as it seems, it is simply nature’s way. It is painful, unfair and deeply distressing, but it is no one’s fault.’
‘People keep telling me I should snap out of it, move on…forget. I’ll never forget,’ Alicia stated on a sob.
Alex reached for her hand. ‘Of course you won’t. And no other child will replace the one taken from you. There is no time limit on grief, Alicia, no right or wrong, only how you feel. You are bound to experience all manner of emotions, from guilt to anger to isolation, and everyone has different needs, different desires about whether to have another baby straight away or never to have another. Everyone recovers or reaches acceptance at their own pace. Your baby will always be in your heart but in time, when it is right, you’ll be able to try again if that is what you and your husband want, together. But that’s a decision only you can make.’
‘I don’t feel I ever had closure,’ The woman explained now, wiping her damp cheeks with a tissue, and out of the corner of her eye Alex saw Kyle stiffen, as if the sentiment resonated with him too. ‘One minute the baby was there, the next it was gone. There was nothing to see, nothing to do.’
‘One thing you could think of doing is having a small ceremony.’ Alex glanced at Kyle as she made the suggestion, seeing the bleakness in his eyes mixed with confusion and what she feared was a thread of anger.
Alicia cleared her throat. ‘A ceremony. Like in a church or something?’ She frowned, indecision in her voice.
‘No, it doesn’t have to be anything like that. Just you and your husband. Or alone, if that is what you need,’ she added, pressing on, willing Kyle to listen, to understand. ‘Whatever you are comfortable with. It’s a way of saying goodbye, of coming to terms. You can get a special box and put things in it—something you bought for the baby, a photo from a scan, if you had one.’ She paused for a moment, scared that had been too personal for Kyle. Avoiding his gaze, she ploughed on. ‘You can even write a letter telling your baby how you feel, that you will always love him or her. Anything. Either you can put the box away to keep for the future, or you can bury or burn it. Whatever feels right for you. But it’s a way of letting go, of accepting the awful thing that has happened to you, that it isn’t your fault, there is nothing you could have done differently to change things. You’ll never forget, but you can go on.’
Silence filled the room after she had spoken. Alicia sat quietly, apparently lost in thought, but Kyle had turned away from her, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles whitened. Alex wished their patient wasn’t present so that she could go to him, comfort him, hold him—but she didn’t dare, frightened she had already gone too far, taken too big a risk in pushing him, challenging him to confront his emotions.
When the tension became so thick Alex thought it would suffocate her, Alicia shifted and managed a watery smile. ‘Thank you, you’ve helped a lot. I think my husband and I need to talk much more about our feelings, maybe have a little ceremony or something as you suggest, and then make some decisions about where we go from here. Dr Sinclair, perhaps my husband and I can come back together and see you again when we’re ready, just to check things are OK?’ Alicia finished, looking and sounding stronger, more determined.
‘Yes, of course.’ Kyle’s voice was uneven, and Alex found her heart was thudding as he turned, still not looking at her, offering Alicia a semblance of a smile as the young woman rose to her feet.
‘Thank you again—both of you.’
As Kyle murmured something, Alex showed Alicia out, nerves jumbling in her stomach as she walked back down the corridor. Should she go and talk to Kyle, explain herself? She peeped in at his door but he had swung his chair round, his back to her, and she could just glimpse the scan photo back in his hands. Tears pricked her eyes. She would leave him be, to think. Hopefully he wasn’t so angry with her that he would sack her. Creeping away, she tidied everything up and then collected her belongings. Hesitating again, feeling cowardly, she called out goodnight and let herself out of the surgery, facing a lonely journey home in the dark, more worried about Kyle left alone with his painful memories.
Thoughts of Kyle plagued her the next day, and she felt edgy as she went about her chores. It had only been three months since she had lost her father—three months, one week, four days…not that she was counting. But she realised there were all manner of things she, too, had been putting off, unable to face dealing with, like sorting out his clothes, deciding what to do with his possessions, carrying out necessary improvements to the house. It wasn’t easy. It affected her deeply just seeing his empty chair by the fire in the living room. This house had been home all her life, where she had always f
elt loved and cherished and understood, a place that had been a sanctuary for both her father and herself when her mother had died and they had drawn closer together, needing each other.
She could start with small things, like throwing out the old threadbare carpet in the L-shaped hall and exposing the gorgeous slate tiles that matched those in the kitchen. The walls needed painting too. It would be easier dealing with the hall before tackling any of the rooms. She already had the tins of paint, it was a matter of getting on with the job. Her decision made, she set to work, her emotions all over the place as both her father and Kyle continued to occupy her mind.
Her stomach was rumbling, complaining she had put off lunch long enough when she heard the sound of a car arriving outside followed by a door closing and footsteps approaching the front door which she had left open to ventilate the smell of paint. Frowning, she set down her paint brush as the bell rang and walked round the corner to discover the identity of her unexpected visitor. Her eyes widened and her heart pounded as she found herself looking at Kyle.
Why on earth had he called in at her house? She tried to judge his mood, but his fathomless blue eyes revealed none of his thoughts. A myriad emotions churned inside her, and she stifled a groan when she realised what a mess she looked. Just great. Unlike Penny, who always managed to look glamorous, even in her uniform, she herself never looked as polished. Now Kyle had to see her in raggy old jeans and a paint-spattered, shapeless shirt. It could have been worse, she told herself wryly; at least she wasn’t wearing her fluffy pink pig slippers! Aware she had streaks of paint on her face, and the unsightly bandanna she had tied over her hair for protection, she met Kyle’s deep blue gaze, embarrassed and nervous. She saw momentary amusement there and, to her surprise and alarm, what looked suspiciously like a brief flash of masculine interest. Oh help. It was far better when she was worrying whether he was angry enough to sack her.
‘I—’ Words failed her and she stammered to a halt. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by.’ The deep, husky voice had its usual effect, setting her blood racing in her veins and bringing a tight knot of desire to her stomach.
‘No. No, of course not.’ She felt ridiculously flustered and uncertain. ‘What can I do for you?’
He regarded her for a few moments in silence, as if trying to remember himself why he had come. Sighing, he ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, dislodging a couple of wayward locks which fell across his forehead. ‘I wondered…Hell, Alexandra, I don’t really know. I just needed to talk,’ he admitted, such confusion and loneliness in his voice that her heart melted and it was all she could do not to fling her arms around him and hug him tight.
‘Sure.’ She stepped back to let him inside. ‘Sorry about the mess. And the paint fumes. I was just about to stop for lunch. Have you eaten?’
‘No.’
‘Then come through,’ she invited, alarmed at the shakiness of her own voice, and the awareness curling through her as the house seemed to shrink with the intimacy of Kyle’s presence.
As Kyle squatted down on the slate-flagged kitchen floor to introduce himself to Max, her father’s elderly Border collie, Alex washed up and fussed around preparing them something to eat. Questions chased through her mind.
Why had he come?
What did he want to talk about?
How long could she manage to hide how she felt about him?
CHAPTER SIX
KYLE attempted to keep his focus on the dog but couldn’t stop himself watching Alexandra as she moved around the kitchen. She looked amazing. Aside from the smart but correct suit she had worn to the interview, he had only ever seen her in her nurse’s uniform. Today she was grubby and tousled, wearing old clothes and no make-up, but to him she had never looked more lovely. She was always so natural and unaffected. He loved that about her. A total contrast to Penny, with her lashings of make-up and constant preening, self-absorption and cloud of sickly, cloying perfume. Alexandra never seemed to consider herself at all, which was wonderfully refreshing. Right now she looked adorable in her work clothes, a few streaks of lemon-coloured paint on her flawless skin, her grey eyes darker than usual as she turned to face him. The brushed plaid shirt, knotted at her waist, was baggy and hid her luscious shape, as her uniform always seemed to, but those jeans…Wow!
His gaze slid down and his mouth went dry. Long legs encased in faded denim that had to have been sprayed on, the way the material lovingly hugged the rounded swell of her rear and moulded the curves of her thighs. This was not some skin-and-bone model but a real, honest-to-goodness, flesh and blood woman. Alexandra was totally feminine, totally sexy. He could feel the rapid thud of his pulse, and was sure she must hear it, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away. He noted a few frayed rips in the soft denim which afforded a tantalising glimpse of golden skin, and he nearly moaned aloud in protest when her fingers unknotted the ends of her shirt and shook it out so it dropped halfway to her knees, cutting off his delectable view. Trying to blank the hunger that must be reflected in his eyes, his gaze slowly slid back up to meet hers, finding her flustered and nervous, even white teeth nibbling the sultry fullness of her lower lip.
He wanted to do that—he ached to kiss her, to taste her, to nibble her all over. This was ridiculous. Straightening, irritated with himself, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tried to get his wayward thoughts back under control. For the last eighteen months, since the pain of everything had overtaken him, he had focused on work and lived like a monk. Now, when he least expected it and least wanted it, his libido had returned with a vengeance—for a woman who, by all accounts, had a fiancé cooling his heels in England and who was also possibly juggling a local boyfriend as well. Someone, somewhere, was having a laugh with his life.
‘Home-made soup and bread OK?’ Alexandra asked, looking self-conscious as she pulled the bandanna off her head and released the short, springy waves of dark blonde hair from their confinement, ruffling the strands with her fingers.
‘Sounds good, thanks.’
Wanting to know if her hair was as soft and silky to the touch as it looked, Kyle resisted temptation, watching as she turned away and set a pan to heat on the Rayburn before cutting slices of fresh granary bread, setting them on a plate on the table along with some cutlery, glasses and a jug of water. Now he was here he didn’t know what to say, couldn’t even explain how he had found himself at her door, driven to come by some unconscious need to be with her.
‘Please, take a seat,’ she invited him politely.
Feeling awkward and uncertain, he took off his well-worn leather jacket and hung it over the back of one of the wooden kitchen chairs before sitting at the table, helping himself to water. ‘Any news of the injured cat you found?’ he asked after a moment, eager to break the electric silence that was growing uncomfortably between them.
Leaning against the worktop, she smiled. ‘Yes. The x-ray showed he’d broken the hip joint, probably after being knocked by a car. Alistair did an operation and removed the femoral head—you can do that in cats, because they’re so light and they manage really well without a proper joint. The cat was neutered and I brought him home within a few days, since when he’s been slowly finding his feet and settling in with the assorted cats outside. He’s still very wary and shy of people, but he’s eating well and hardly limping at all now.’
‘That’s great.’ Her smile did crazy things to his insides, warming places he thought had frozen for ever. ‘I’m sorry again for interrupting your decorating.’
‘I was glad of an excuse to stop. It’s not one of my favourite jobs.’
The admission was accompanied by an endearing wrinkling of her nose that made him smile. ‘Have you much to do?’
‘A fair bit. The whole house is looking tired, but frankly I’ve been putting DIY jobs off.’ She paused, her eyes darkening, her voice husky with emotion. ‘I haven’t been able to face all the changes, the tidying up and sorting of things I have to d
o since my father died.’
‘I can’t imagine what it must be like, not having parents still around.’
‘It was just Dad and me for so long after my mother died when I was still a child. We were very close, and I miss him. So, tell me about your parents. You said they had a farm?’ she asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
He saw the suspicion of moisture filming her eyes before she turned back to stir the contents of the pan on the hot plate, a delicious aroma teasing the air. Kyle swallowed, hating to think of her sad and hurting. ‘In Ayrshire, yes. I grew up there. The farm has been in the family for three generations. It’s dairy mostly, although my parents and brother have been diversifying more of late, what with things in farming being so difficult right now.’
‘Did you never want to be a farmer?’ She glanced over her shoulder, a glimmer of mischief lightening her expression and all but kicking him in the gut.
‘I enjoyed the life, but I couldn’t imagine myself doing it full time. Which was just as well as my older brother, Graeme, was far keener than me, and the place couldn’t have supported all of us.’
She nodded and took a sip of water. ‘So you went to medical school. That must have been a struggle.’
‘Financially it was,’ he admitted, shocked anew at how easy it was to talk to Alexandra.
‘And that’s where you met Conor?’
‘Yeah.’
They had been two young men out to take on the world for the first time and eager to have some fun, Kyle recalled with a wry smile. Only both of them had struggled for money, and all their time and energy had been consumed working every moment on their studies and in various jobs to pay their way. Conor’s family background had been unstable, while his own parents had little spare cash to help him, so he and Conor had needed to earn their keep. They had also shared a flat, shared food, clothes and anything else needed to keep them going and see them through the years of training. As for fun…Well, any oats sown had been a mere handful and not very wild ones because Conor had found himself a steady girlfriend—who’d subsequently dumped him just before they qualified—while for Kyle there had been some casual dates but there had always been Helen waiting in the wings.
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