Their Marriage Miracle

by Sue MacKay

  He swung around to scan the pool, found the children from the hospital at the other end clustered around Evan, one of the interns, who was organising them into teams.

  ‘What game can these kids play, considering they’ve got haemophilia?’ Fiona asked beside him.

  ‘There’s the problem. Contact sports are out, but how to stop them? We try to organise a version of volleyball, where each player has to stay within their designated space. See those squares painted on the bottom of the pool? The local council did that for us. But it’s hard to keep the children in their allocated square. Their parents tell me I worry too much.’

  ‘Guess they’re used to having to cope with any resultant bumps.’ Fiona watched one of the boys diving under the water to drag a friend beneath the surface.

  ‘Looks like they’re about to play bull rush. At least racing each other through the water should be safe from bumps and bangs.’

  ‘Let’s join them and have some fun.’ Fiona slid into the water, her tee shirt billowing momentarily before absorbing the water and sinking close to her skin, hugging her curves.

  His mouth dried. What was it about this woman that always affected him so easily? It seemed that some things never changed.

  Someone yelled, ‘Come on, Dr Tom! Bet you can’t beat me to the end!’

  A simple race should be safe. ‘An ice cream says I can!’

  Hauling himself back onto the side of the pool after the race, Tom sat dangling his feet in the water. He could watch over everyone from here. But it was Fiona that his eyes kept returning to. Time and tragedy had not dimmed her beauty. Her small frame might be slighter than he remembered, but her muscles were still toned and her arms tanned deep walnut. Her dark blonde hair had faded to almost white, no doubt from the sun.

  She had said something about wanting to talk to him. Caution snagged his gut. He didn’t do talking. But, watching her laughing with young Jordan, he began to wonder if he’d be missing out on something important if he didn’t try.

  ‘That surgeon of yours is good with the kids.’ One of the fathers sat down beside him. ‘See her playing like that and it’s hard to imagine she’s a plastic surgeon. Maybe she had a thing for embroidery as a kid.’

  ‘Fiona? Needlework?’ Tom spluttered. ‘Don’t be fooled by her appearance. When Fiona wants to have fun you’ll find her white water rafting, parachuting, or flying a plane. You will never find her embroidering.’

  But then a memory teased the edge of his mind, grew vivid. Fiona bent over an aged cream-coloured robe, carefully repairing a small tear in the generations-old family garment. She’d done it for Liam to wear at his christening. The christening they’d never had. Pain slid in under his skin, wrapped around his heart. His son had died too soon. Years too soon. No parent should outlive their child.

  A cry from across the pool snapped through his mind. He jerked his head up, searched the pool. In the middle, Fiona pushed through the water towards two lads, Morgan and Baden. With his heart in his throat, Tom dropped into the pool and swam to join them.

  ‘What happened?’ he demanded.

  ‘It’s okay, I just banged my arm on Morgan’s head,’ Baden tried to reassure Tom.

  But he wasn’t taking the boy’s word that everything was all right. ‘Get out of the water so I can take a look. You too, Morgan. Out,’ Tom ordered. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

  Fiona hoisted herself out of the water and turned to give Baden a hand. With the boys out, and Fiona checking Baden, Tom concentrated on Morgan. For the second time that day they were working together, and it felt good.

  Evan brought across the medical bag that went on every outing. It contained, amongst the usual medical requirements, a supply of clotting factors and vitamin K to cover such events as this.

  ‘Do we know which factor Baden needs?’ Fiona asked.

  ‘Type A,’ Baden told her.

  ‘There are notes in the bag.’ Tom fingered Morgan’s head, then reached into the bag for vials of Vitamin K, handed one to Fiona.

  Baden didn’t seem at all perturbed by the sudden turn of events. ‘I’m used to it,’ he said in reply to Fiona’s query about how he felt. ‘It was an accident anyway.’

  ‘Let me check you out first, okay?’ Her fingers were moving carefully over his arm. Within minutes both boys were back on their feet, laughing and teasing each other over who had the biggest bruise as they headed to the changing room.

  Tom tried to relax. But inside he was winding up tighter and tighter. The boys were so unconcerned about the whole thing. Didn’t they understand the seriousness of any little knock?

  Fiona spoke quietly beside him. ‘Baden’s right. It was an accident.’

  ‘It still shouldn’t have happened.’

  Her fingers brushed his hand at his side. ‘Their parents probably spend a lot of time trying to create a normal life for them, while at the same time worrying themselves sick about accidents. The kids have come here for a wonderful experience and that’s what they’re having.’ Her hand gently squeezed his as she continued. ‘You’ve done that for them. By the nature of their condition there’s already plenty of discipline in their lives. With what you’re doing here you’re giving them confidence to try other things. You mustn’t take it away in the same breath.’

  His hand closed around her fingers. The tension ebbed as her words sank in. Because she was right. Sometimes he worried too much. He gulped. He was their paediatrician, not their parent. Out of the blue Fiona had done that for him. The ground tilted beneath his feet, and he felt afraid. If she had the power to put him back on track so easily then what else could she do to him?

  ‘I’m going to change. That water might be warm but the air’s chilly.’ She tugged her hand away and turned to the women’s changing rooms before he could thank her.

  He watched her avoiding skidding on the wet concrete, tugging her sopping wet tee shirt over her head as she went. Beneath the shirt she wore a bikini the shade of her eyes. His favourite colour on her. Had she remembered that? Unlikely. From behind she looked lovely, her skin translucent in the eerie overhead lighting. Her wet hair clung to her slender neck. His gaze followed her until she’d gone, lost amongst the chattering young girls charging inside out of the cold air to change.

  Startled at his thoughts, Tom growled and went to change too. The rough chatter and laughter of the boys didn’t drown out the pictures crashing around in his skull. All pictures of Fiona. Of course she was different from how he remembered. Who wouldn’t be after what they’d been through? Also, six years was a long time. He saw a softness about her now that hadn’t been there before.

  Face it, he couldn’t believe she’d changed that much. He didn’t trust that she might have. Once she’d proved how un-trustworthy she could be, and once was enough.

  Chapter Four

  TOM sat in the front seat of the bus and watched Fiona laughing and chatting with one of the mums as they came out of the pool complex. He tingled at the mere sight of her. A breath of fresh air in his harried world. She brought reminders of other things with her—things he hadn’t devoted much attention to in a long time. Family. Marriage. Plain old fun, for heaven’s sake. Occasionally he did a spot of trout fishing with Pierce, the local cop, but that was as fun as his private life got these days.

  Fiona’s head popped through the bus door, her eyes searching for a seat. The one beside him beckoned. The woman behind her gave Fiona a nudge towards it, and slipped past to another spare seat.

  Tom tapped his watch. ‘We’ve got a busload of starving kids here. You two want to explain to them why we’re waiting?’

  Fiona rolled her eyes at him. ‘Women’s stuff. You’d never in a million years understand.’

  ‘Damn right. My feminine side is very undernourished. I intend keeping it that way, too.’

  ‘Phew. For a moment there you had me worried.’ Amusement filled her eyes as her bottom wriggled into the cramped space beside him, her hip bumping his, her thigh touching
his thigh.

  His mouth dried. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his masculine side. It knew her body inside out. It wanted her body. On a bus full of shouting kids? Well, there had been a drought. Even on the rare times he had dated his response to those women hadn’t been as urgent as this. Fiona was one very sexy lady, even when she’d turned up after so long, shocking him to Hades and back.

  The bus lurched forward, catching Fiona unawares, and she grabbed at his leg. Where her fingers dug in heat flared, expanded up and down his already wired body. How fickle were his hormones? He had to get control back. One, two, three, four…

  ‘At least my bones are warmer after that swim.’ Fiona whipped her hand away and turned to face him, creating a gap between them.

  ‘Bones don’t get cold.’ Was that a responding tension lurking in the corners of her eyes?

  She rolled those eyes again. ‘As of today, mine do.’

  ‘Then I guess you won’t want to go skiing while you’re here.’

  Caution tripped across her face. ‘Is that an invitation? I didn’t think I’d have time for anything much more than work.’

  Was he inviting her to spend time with him? He tilted back against the side of the bus to avoid her intent gaze and thought quickly. Would he like to take her up the mountain for a ski? She didn’t know this region and it would be fun to show her around. Hang on. Wasn’t he supposed to be keeping this relationship strictly professional? ‘You’re right. There won’t be enough free hours for outdoor activities.’

  Her shoulders drooped. In her lap, her fingers fiddled with the corner of her damp towel. So he’d let her down, and now he felt a heel, but better not to get too involved with her outside of the hospital.

  Changing the subject, he asked, ‘Are you still a bit of a daredevil?’

  The fingers stopped their fidgeting. ‘If you’re asking do I still take on the world at every opportunity, just to prove to my father that I’m as good as my brother would’ve been if he’d lived into adulthood, then no. When I fly these days it’s with caution. When I’m behind the steering wheel of a car I’m slower than an eighty-year-old.’

  She’d made him angry with her recklessness. ‘I’m glad to hear you’ve quietened down. You used to worry the hell out of me.’

  ‘Do you have any good memories of me? Of our time together?’

  Shock cracked him over the head. ‘Of course I do.’ If only she knew. There were so many he couldn’t count them. She would know just how many memories you hold if you told her. His skin prickled. Tell Fiona about those? That would mean getting close and personal, and he was not prepared to do that. That would let her creep back in under his skin, and then he might have to start all over again exorcising her from his heart. He doubted he had the strength to go through that a second time.

  She muttered, ‘If you give me a chance I think you’ll find that I tend to put other people first these days.’

  ‘I never thought you were selfish. For a start you’re a doctor, and by the very nature of doctors you can’t be. Doctors help people by giving—their skills, their time, their compassion.’ But she had been on a mission to prove how clever she was all the time, which had been hard to live with.

  Her eyes widened and a tentative smile grew, sending warmth through his starved soul. He’d missed that smile. It was the first thing he’d looked for on waking every morning, and in the weeks after she’d left his heart had broken all over again every time he’d rolled over in bed to find his day wasn’t about to start with a sunny smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t know you thought that.’

  Surely he’d told her? What a mess they’d made of everything.

  ‘Didn’t we?’ she agreed.

  That was when he realised he’d spoken aloud.

  She added, ‘We really bungled everything. If only we’d known how to talk to each other.’

  ‘Neither of us was at fault for not saving our marriage. We were out of our depth back then.’ Damn it, he was out of his depth now. Talking had never been his strong point. Actions were stronger, more eloquent, than anything he could verbalise. There would be no actions with Fiona, though. Not now, and not at any time during the coming week.

  Fiona leaned against Tom’s kitchen door, shaking her head at the small table he’d set ready for dinner. A chuckle pushed up her throat.

  Tom spun around from the vegetables he was preparing, his eyebrows lifted. ‘What?’

  ‘You still do that.’ She nodded at the cutlery placed very straight beside the placemats, at the glasses square to the top right corner of the mats. Carefully folded serviettes were under each fork. She waved her hand at the table. ‘Line everything up perfectly.’ She slipped across the room and moved the forks so that they were at angles to the placemats. Then she shifted the glasses. And gave Tom a satisfied smirk.

  ‘And you always did that,’ he said.

  ‘And then you always straightened them up again.’

  ‘It’s a sign of an orderly mind.’

  ‘Not that old excuse,’ she laughed.

  ‘It’s the only one I’ve got.’

  Sometimes she’d used to mess up his settings and then stand with her back to the table, as though defending her changes. And sometimes she’d demand a kiss before letting him at the table, and that had inevitably led to the bedroom.

  Her smile faltered. She didn’t need to remember that right now. Glancing at him she found him staring at her, his mouth open in an O. She saw recognition of those same memories in his eyes.

  After a long moment she crossed to the stove to see what Tom was cooking. When she thought her voice would sound normal she commented, with as much nonchalance she could muster, ‘I haven’t had a decent steak in ages.’

  ‘Still like it medium rare?’

  She thought she heard a hitch in his voice. Standing close to him, she smelt a faint whiff of that morning’s aftershave, overlaid with chlorine from the pool. It distracted her, brought her focus to his hands as they deftly sliced broccoli florets. Confident hands that could evoke all sorts of heated responses from her body. She swallowed hard.

  ‘Well-done these days,’ she croaked. ‘We couldn’t always trust the meat where we worked, so cooking it very thoroughly became our safety measure.’ She opened the fridge to rummage around, adding, ‘Actually, I will try medium rare.’

  ‘You might find you can’t take the taste now.’

  She made the mistake of looking at him. Taste. What she wanted to taste was his tantalising mouth. What she really wanted was to kiss him!

  No, she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  She did. She could.

  ‘Fiona? Your steak?’

  She wouldn’t. Her steak? Oh, yes, that’s right. ‘I’ll give the medium rare a go. I can always put it back in the pan if I don’t like it.’ In the fridge she found the juice. ‘What do you want to drink?’

  ‘There’s a bottle of red in the pot cupboard.’

  ‘Pot cupboard? Who are you hiding it from? The cleaning lady?’ She tugged open the door he indicated beside the stove, staying well clear of his legs. Of him. She didn’t breathe in case his aftershave distracted her again.

  ‘I don’t have a lot of cupboard space in here.’ Tom moved a step further away. Keeping his distance too?

  When Fiona had poured his glass of Pinot she placed it on the bench, carefully avoiding any inadvertent touch of his hand. She had to keep her imagination under control and remember why she was here. ‘There you go.’

  ‘Thanks. You don’t want wine instead of juice?’

  ‘I’m not a red wine fan—never have been.’

  So far it seemed to be the only thing he had forgotten. She imagined there were plenty of things he wished he couldn’t recall.

  They ate in silence. Fiona devoured her steak and the sautéed vegetables as though she hadn’t eaten for days.

  ‘It’s been a long time since breakfast,’ she said as she pushed her plate aside and picked up her j
uice. ‘That was great, thank you. You cook a mean steak.’

  ‘All compliments accepted.’

  ‘Tasty vegetables, too. I’ve missed fresh green vegetables.’ She picked up her fork and speared a courgette stick from his plate.

  ‘Don’t mind me.’ He watched her nibbling at the vegetable, his throat working overtime.

  This kitchen felt small, claustrophobic. Tom’s presence filled the spaces and heated the air. It stole her determination to ignore everything except her role as a surgeon, for tonight at least, so that Tom had time to get used to her being around.

  His chair screeched over the tiles when he shoved back. Picking up their empty plates, he placed them neatly in the sink before topping up his wine glass.

  As she watched him Fiona stretched back, pushed her legs out under the table. ‘Why did you decide to open a small children’s hospital? Couldn’t you have done the same thing within the public sector?’

  Tom straddled his chair, resting his arms across the back, his glass in one hand. ‘I wasn’t getting the level of satisfaction I felt I should. No matter how many children I saw, there were countless others waiting. I was driven to help more and more.’

  ‘Because of Liam? This is your way of dealing with what happened?’ Understanding tugged at her.

  His head dipped in acknowledgment. ‘Probably. Yes.’

  ‘We both seem to have immersed ourselves in work to forget the past.’

  ‘Not to forget. To accept, and maybe to move on,’ he corrected her.

  ‘You’re right. I’ll never forget.’ She paused, wishing she did enjoy red wine, because right now she could do with a hefty slug of something stronger than juice. Just to take the edge off the pain of remembering her baby. Being with Tom brought Liam so close she felt she only had to reach out and she’d be able to touch him. Don’t do this. He’s not here. But Tom is, and you need to concentrate on finding a way through to him. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she waited for the pain to pass.

  Tom seemed unaware of her agitation. ‘Work is supposed to be a panacea for grief.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? I did what I thought was right at the time.’