Second Chance with Her Island Doc

by Marion Lennox

  He stood, looking helplessly at her. His hand reached out for her—and then fell away uselessly.

  ‘Anna, thank you. I’m sorry. I need to... You need...’

  ‘We both need,’ she told him, and something seemed to settle. Something solid. Something sure. He’d do what he had to do, this man. He was honourable. Dependable.

  He was loved.

  ‘Go to your mother,’ she said softly. ‘It’s her need that has to take precedence now—but know that I go with you.’

  And before she realised what she intended herself, she reached up and kissed him lightly on the lips. It was a feather touch, no more, a kiss given before he could react or reject, and then she was stepping away. ‘Do what you need to do, Leo,’ she said, and amazingly her voice even sounded sure. ‘But go with my love. And know that I’m here for you and I will be here for you. For however long it takes.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE FINAL PART of the opening of the medical centre took place the next morning. Anna had told the trustees that she needed a party, and Carla had set her straight on what else was needed.

  ‘You’re opening a medical centre and you want island acceptance? A blessing is non-negotiable.’

  So at ten o’clock Anna was sitting at the back of the island’s main church. She’d suggested she not come—this should be the islanders’ dream rather than hers—but Carla had been adamant on that score as well.

  ‘You can’t give it away for twenty years and they know it. They need to accept you.’

  ‘Will they ever?’

  There was no answer, so all she could do was stay as inconspicuous as possible. As she waited for the service to begin Carla sought her out and tried to drag her down the front but she was having none of it.

  ‘Leo’s mother?’ she asked Carla.

  ‘She’s a little better,’ Carla told her, her face lighting up. ‘I dropped by an hour ago. You must have done her good last night. When I left she was even saying she wanted to come here! Today! I have no idea if that’s possible, but Leo’s coming. He says he couldn’t speak yesterday so he wants to speak today. Anna, my son’s down at the front. Come and sit with us.’

  ‘Please, no.’

  So she was left. She’d found a seat in a nook behind a pillar where she had to peer sideways to see. The people around her cast her curious glances but left her alone.

  That was how life was for her. The islanders were outwardly courteous, but always wary.

  With no one to talk to she focussed instead on her surroundings. The church was ancient, and impressive.

  ‘It was built for ceremonial occasions by the Castlavarans,’ Carla had told her, ‘but it’s been neglected for generations as the Castlavarans lost their faith and the islanders had no funds to keep it up.’

  It looked beautiful today, decorated with sheaves and sheaves of the island’s wild roses, but the flowers barely disguised the need for repair.

  How could she present restoration to the trustees, she thought. ‘I need a church for my present happiness?’

  And then the service started. It was a simple service, a blessing on what was being done, prayers of thankfulness for what had happened two weeks ago, hopes for what the medical service might mean to the islanders in the years ahead.

  Might, she thought. Might? Still distrust.

  And then Leo stood to speak.

  The congregation had been a little restless, clearly there because they felt obligated to be but not ready to be too invested in what still might not come to pass. But the moment Leo stood, the stillness was absolute.

  He had their absolute attention. Their absolute trust.

  He should be the castle patriarch, she thought yet again.

  And then he spoke, quietly, strongly, well. He spoke of a long-ago dream. He spoke of the near miracle of what he saw happening. He spoke of his hopes for what Anna was doing, of his pride in what had already happened, and his trust in what she was doing into the future.

  He almost had her forgetting the distrust. He spoke simply, his emotion struggling to be contained. There was thankfulness in his voice, but also deep weariness. She could see it on his face, a man whose responsibilities had stretched him thin. This was a man who was there for every islander. A man who never turned from what had to be done.

  Including the gut-wrenching decision not to take comfort in her body, not to let himself love her.

  She knew it. As she sat there and watched, as she listened to what was indeed a personal thanks to her, she accepted their combined story for what it was—one of sacrifice. She’d been deeply hurt, but for Leo that pain must have been just as deep. There were so many things he’d given away.

  She’d pressed Carla about Leo’s love life once, and Carla had given a mirthless chuckle.

  ‘Our Leo? When would he have time to do some courting? There are plenty of island girls who’d take him with joy, but his head’s been taken up with the medical needs of this island.’

  But it can’t have been entirely, she thought. Not for all these years. She of all people knew how Leo responded to a woman, how much joy he’d found in her body. There must have been opportunities to marry one of his own.

  One of his own. The phrase resonated as Leo finished outlining plans for the future, as he sought her face in the crowd and managed a smile, a smile of weariness and gratitude and acceptance, and as the congregation stood to sing.

  One of his own. She wasn’t one of ‘his’. She was a Castlavaran.

  But she wasn’t.

  Anger was suddenly her overriding emotion. A child’s bad-tempered shout suddenly came to her, heard in some long-ago surgery when she was asking to see a spotty chest. ‘No! Can’t make me!’

  No one should be able to make her something she wasn’t.

  So what was she, then? A Raymond? Her mother had married briefly, but the name was all she had of the man who’d fathered her. Her tentative approaches to meet him had been met with rebuffs.

  So if she wasn’t a Raymond and she wasn’t a Castlavaran, then what?

  Things were clearing. The resentment she’d held for so many years was gone and in its place...determination.

  Donna’s words hung over her. ‘If I could see a way...’

  Would there ever be a better time?

  Would she ever feel this brave again?

  And before she could change her mind she started moving out toward the aisle. She had to edge her way past a sea of curious islanders to reach it.

  Leo was still standing beside the priest. The priest looked curiously down the aisle as he felt the stir of movement. He saw Anna.

  And Leo... He, too, stood still.

  Waiting.

  Dear heaven, could she do it?

  She had this one chance, she thought. If not now, then never.

  ‘Help me, Donna,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Help me say it.’

  * * *

  For Leo this felt almost like an out-of-body experience.

  He’d sat last night with his mother, half expecting her to slip away in the night. Then Anna had come and Donna had stirred and demanded answers to questions he’d rather not think about. And then she’d demanded he dress her and carry her to the church.

  And astonishingly she was here now, wrapped in blankets, surrounded by his aunts and cousins. They’d appropriated a nook to one side so Donna could watch and listen from her wheelchair. When he’d come forward to speak he’d been aware that his mother’s eyes were bright and inquisitive, seemingly more alive than he’d seen them for months.

  She couldn’t last much longer. Her body weight...her fluid intake...impossible. But that she was here this morning was a miracle.

  And now here was Anna.

  She should have been seated in the front pew. He’d thought that as he’d entered and seen her, far up the back, trying to be
invisible.

  She’d be feeling that she had no place here.

  He’d helped her feel that way, and he hated it. But as he looked around the sea of faces in the congregation, out to where his mother sat, once again came the knowledge that his way had been right. It was still right.

  In time, given the medical services they deserved, the islanders could come to depend on him less, shifting loyalty to a myriad of other places. But for now he was still the Doctor. The man who’d persuaded them to have their children vaccinated, to eat less salt in their diets, to stop putting honey on their babies’ pacifiers. He was the man they’d helped educate, who they’d supported to be here for them in times of trouble. The man they still needed to trust.

  The man who’d had to turn away from his need of Anna.

  But now Anna was out in the aisle, making her way steadily toward the front.

  Toward him.

  The entire church seemed to take a collective breath.

  Anna had dressed conservatively in a soft grey suit and white blouse. Her curls were caught back into a demure knot. Her outfit was entirely appropriate for this community where women of a certain age still covered their heads.

  It’d be a crime for Anna to cover her head, he thought inconsequentially. It was even a shame that her hair was confined to a knot. Those blazing curls deserved to be free.

  Free. The word seemed to stick in his head and stay.

  She wasn’t free. Because of her commitment to the island she was trapped in the castle as surely as he was trapped in his lifestyle. If she walked away she could still command living expenses, she’d still be fabulously wealthy, but she couldn’t justify all the things she was doing ‘for her pleasure’. The things she was doing to make his island safe.

  She’d reached him now. He’d taken the two steps down from the altar and for a moment he thought she intended to walk past him. Her eyes looked steely, determined. He wasn’t sure what she was doing but by her position on this island no one would gainsay her right to do it.

  But instead of stepping past, she paused and placed a hand on his arm. It was almost a caress. No, it was a caress, and why it grounded him...why it made his world seem to settle...

  ‘Stand by me,’ she said simply. ‘Leo, I need you.’

  And she took the final steps upward to the dais, leaving him to follow or not. As he willed.

  The congregation was all islanders. That was where he belonged. But he looked back at her and saw determination and resolution. But also something more. A deep vulnerability, a hurt that had never been assuaged.

  He stepped back to her.

  She met his gaze without smiling and nodded, and then they both stood and faced outward. He stood so their shoulders were touching, not sure where this was going but suddenly sure that this was where he needed to be.

  He watched her bite her bottom lip, a gesture he knew well. The gesture of a woman about to launch herself into the unknown.

  And then she spoke.

  ‘I ask your indulgence,’ she said softly. ‘The indulgence of all of you. Father, do I have your permission to speak?’

  The elderly priest spread his hands, looking bemused, but he nodded. No one said no to the Castlavaran.

  Anna bowed her head briefly in thanks, and then continued while Leo stood, stunned. He had no idea what was happening.

  But now she was speaking to the congregation.

  ‘I had no plans to speak today,’ she said. Her voice was quiet but steady, and the acoustics of this ancient place meant it rang out over the sea of listeners. ‘I felt I had no right. This medical centre should belong to you, the islanders, not to me. I see myself simply as its guardian for the next few years.’

  There was a murmur at that, and it wasn’t a great murmur. It was the sound of muted resentment that such a guardian was needed.

  But Anna wasn’t done. Indeed, those first few words seemed to have steadied her. She waited until the murmurs faded and then continued.

  ‘But what I have to say now concerns that guardianship,’ she said simply. ‘It concerns all of us, so I ask your indulgence.’ She took a deep breath and forged on.

  ‘Last night I sat with Donna Aretino,’ she told them. She glanced outward then at the sea of faces—and Leo saw her shock as she realised that Donna was here. But somehow she managed to smile at Donna and then she kept right on speaking.

  ‘Most of you realise how ill Donna’s been,’ she told them. ‘And last night, sitting with Donna, I saw things clearly, things that affect me, that affect you, that affect the island life that Donna represents. So at this time, at this blessing of all we intend to do, I need to ask a question. A question of all of you. First, though, a story.’

  She had them all. The murmurs had gone. Every gaze was fixed firmly on the woman by Leo’s side.

  ‘You know that Katrina, my mother, was born a Castlavaran.’ She was keeping it simple, keeping it slow. ‘She left this island because she hated what her father and her brother were doing, but her grief at leaving Tovahna was profound. She married my father, an Englishman. I was born as Anna Raymond and my mother never spoke of Tovahna again. In my childhood, though, she taught me what she called her secret language. Your language. She sang me your songs. Her love of this island came through. And then at medical school I met a man who spoke your language as well. This man was your Dr Aretino. And I fell in love.’

  Somewhere up the back of the church a baby gurgled but the gurgle was cut short. The hush that followed was absolute. Leo wondered what the mother had done to so skilfully quieten her child. Every ear was straining to hear, his own included.

  What was she doing?

  ‘And your Dr Leo loved me.’ She said it strongly, surely, and he knew by the steadiness of her voice that ten years of bitterness and resentment had disappeared. ‘We had six glorious months together before he asked me to marry him and I said yes. But then my mother returned from overseas and Leo realised who she was. A Castlavaran. From that moment I became a Castlavaran in Leo’s eyes. I know now the damage the Castlavarans have done to this island. I know, too, the damage they’ve done to Donna, to this gentle lady who, miraculously it seems, is here today. I also know the hurt they’ve caused to Leo himself. I understand why he had to walk away from our vow to wed.’

  There was another stir then. This was news to the islanders. A long-ago love affair... Leo looked out over the congregation and saw the faint withdrawal. They didn’t like this. The connection of a man they’d trusted...

  Trusted...past tense?

  Anna must have sensed it, too, he thought, but she was forging on. He was still standing beside her, his shoulder still touching hers. As the stirrings of distrust began he thought maybe he should step away but he couldn’t. What she was saying was truth, and on this day, in this place, there seemed no space for anything else.

  ‘So Leo finished his training without me, and then came back here, to his people,’ she continued. ‘As you all know. He’s given his heart to this island, to you, his community, and of course to you, Donna. To his family. Though after all this time maybe every islander is his family. The Aretinos have been islanders since time immemorial. They’ve been fishermen, farmers, parents, grandparents, friends, part of the fabric of Tovahna. There’s been care and respect and love for generations. All the while, the Castlavarans have cared for no one but themselves—and here I am, seemingly a Castlavaran, with no place among you.’

  That created another murmur, but this time there was a tinge of confusion. Agreement, too, though. Anna was an outsider.

  He felt her flinch. The flinch was tiny, momentary, but it was enough and he couldn’t bear it. He took her hand and he held it.

  That was a statement, too. The murmur this time was louder, more disapproving. He wanted to say something but it felt like a band across his chest was tightening. This was an impossible situation. It
had been impossible for years. Nothing could change it.

  Except he was holding Anna’s hand. He should let go but he couldn’t. There were moments in time when the impossible became inevitable. There’d be consequences, he thought, but quite suddenly he knew that letting this woman go was the new unthinkable.

  And Anna was still speaking. Her fingers curved around his and held on, as if finding strength there for what she wanted to say, but there was nothing weak about the voice she used, or the words she was uttering.

  ‘But families change,’ she said. ‘Names die out. The name of Castlavara died with my uncle. There’s no one of the name Castlavara on the island any more.’

  ‘But you’re the Castlavaran.’ It was a brutish fisherman, a man in his seventies whose boat had been impounded decades before for drifting too close to the part of the beach that had been declared for Castlavaran use for centuries.

  ‘I’m not.’ Anna’s voice rang back, strong but not angry. Simply sure. ‘You know I was born a Raymond. My hair, my skin, are my father’s, and my name is my father’s. I do have, however, Castlavaran powers and for the next nineteen years there’s nothing I can do about that.’

  ‘You’re doing all you can.’ That was Carla, calling out from the front pew. ‘You’re giving us so much.’

  ‘I’m not giving,’ Anna said. ‘I’m returning. And I want to return so much more. But you’ll all know there’s much I can’t do. The Trust prevents it. In nineteen and a half years, though, the Trust will end and the island will pass into the control of the islanders. Your land will be your own. That’s a promise I can make, I do make, but with Leo’s help I can do so much more.’

  ‘Like what?’ It was the belligerent fisherman again.

  ‘Like become one of you.’ She spoke softly now, tentatively. Every islander had to strain to hear, but the acoustics of the church were such that each word still hung there. ‘And that’s what I need to be, an islander with islander concerns. The Trust says castle funds can be used for my comfort and enjoyment. That’s how we got the castle medical centre. It’s supposedly for my personal enjoyment because I’m a doctor, and how can I enjoy myself without a top-quality medical centre?