by Sue MacKay
But would he understand the worst? Pulling her hand free, she leaned back to put space between them. Being strong, right? ‘I, along with the lawyer and head accountant, had been given power of attorney over Dad’s companies and personal assets.’
See where I’m going with this?
‘I gave up my hospital job to nurse Dad, and when that became too much we brought in other nurses to help me. The mental aspects of looking after him were appalling, but seeing my once fit and active father turn into a small, wizened man was equally heartbreaking.’
‘You were distraught, unable to cope with anything else.’ The guy got it on every level. Scary. Didn’t mean she could trust him yet.
‘Peter seized his opportunity. He already oversaw all business decisions, but he kindly read documents and affirmed their content so I only had to sign them. He invested company money, made policy decisions. All to give me more time with Dad, you understand. The accountant wasn’t any less helpful either. Between them they were well qualified to run the business, whereas I was too easy to fool.’ She held the mug, rolled it back and forth in her hands, staring into the murky brown liquid like she might finally find some answers in there, yet knew she was deceiving herself. ‘I let them steal everything from us. I let them.’
‘It must’ve been difficult, dealing with your dad’s situation and keeping tabs on a huge business, which, as you said yourself, you weren’t qualified to do. Did you have grounds to doubt Peter’s loyalty to your father? To you?’
‘None. No one did. He was always so willing to help, to be there whenever Dad asked for him, even when Dad couldn’t remember who he was half the time. Right up until the end, Peter would turn up every morning to have the business meeting they’d spent years having, despite Dad not comprehending a word.’
‘How did you find out what he’d done?’ Still nothing but concern and care radiated out at her from across the table. Scary or compelling?
Tamara dropped her gaze from Conor, afraid of the hope he’d started waking up inside her. Instead, she stared at the tabletop, focusing on that awful day that had culminated in ruin, seeing everything, including Peter’s smug face, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, today even. How had she been so stupid not to see what he was doing? How?
‘Tam?’
‘Don’t,’ she whispered.
‘You’re Tam to me, and nothing you’ve told me will change that.’
Hadn’t he heard everything she’d said? Or not understood it fully? Finish the story, get back to work. Work where all her colleagues would be watching her, even when it was old news to most of them. An ache encompassed her. She’d had enough of that, didn’t want another round of feeling like a fruit loop. ‘We’d been home from Dad’s funeral less than an hour when the fraud squad arrived and all hell broke loose.’ Flashing cameras, shouted questions, pushy reporters trying to get in her face.
‘The media had a field day, huh?’ His expression still hadn’t changed.
Maybe she did have another friend in this world. ‘They’d been at the funeral, and followed the procession to the cemetery, then on to our home afterwards. All my supposed friends had plenty to gossip about, and appeared to be very knowledgeable on things they couldn’t have had a clue about. Even my mother talked about me.’ Her voice faded away to a strangled whisper. ‘I was to blame, you see. I let Peter sign the papers that shifted funds offshore into bank accounts that did not have Washington Enterprises in their name.’
‘Your mother didn’t have signing rights?’ Conor asked.
‘Now, there’s the irony. Dad knew she’d be forever signing papers without a clue what they were about. As long as there was enough money in her accounts to keep up with the lifestyle she adored then everything was fine in her world. Besides...’ She hesitated, suddenly feeling disloyal to her mother, a woman who’d not often shown her any loyalty most of her life. But Conor needed to know who he was getting involved with for his child’s sake. ‘Mum is a bit of a loose cannon, never stops to think of the consequences of anything she wants to do.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘Living with a distant relative in a small town in Australia.’
Conor rose and came around to her, held out his hands to haul her to her feet. His hug was gentle and reassuring. He wasn’t about to trash her for her past. If only she could truly trust him she might risk falling under his spell. Might. But, no, there was too much at stake. They hadn’t even begun sorting out the future for their child.
‘You want to take the rest of the day off?’ he asked, still holding her close.
Yes. Home seemed like the perfect place to be right now. Close the curtains, turn on the TV, though not the news channel, and pull a blanket up to her ears. But she’d done that too often. Straightening out of his arms, she eyeballed him. ‘I’m not leaving before the end of the shift.’
‘Go, you.’ His smile pinged her right in the tummy. ‘I’ve got your back all the way.’
Unease slipped in. ‘Why, Conor?’
He looked taken aback at the question. He was certainly thinking about it. ‘I just do, that’s why.’
She nodded. The best answer in the world. He was accepting her for who she was, despite not knowing her too well. When was the last time that had happened? Yet she still didn’t fully trust him. Because of Peter.
Another reason could be that her world was righting itself. Then her stomach cramped, reminding her of the baby. She was fooling herself. And Conor.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘TOO MANY PATIENTS for a Tuesday afternoon,’ Conor muttered under his breath as yet another yawn pulled out of him. ‘Tuesdays are meant to be slow. Tuesdays following the Monday we had yesterday at any rate.’
A woman burst into the cubicle. ‘Mum, what happened? I told you to come and live with us but, no, you want to be independent and this is what happens.’ She bent down to plant a loud kiss on his patient’s cheek.
‘Hello, dear. I had a fall, that’s all. It would’ve happened wherever I was.’ Mrs Gowan was beaming at her daughter.
‘Yes, but then I’d have been able to help you.’ The daughter tugged a chair up to the bed and reached for her mother’s hand.
Tamara was watching them with something like envy in her expression. Something else in her background he had yet to learn about. She’d said her mother had dumped on her with the media, but why?
Another yawn ripped out of him. Damn, he hadn’t been this tired since he’d been in nappies. A red flag went up. He hadn’t been like this for fourteen years. Since his heart attack.
Shock rocked him back on his heels. Was this a precursor to another cardiac incident? His head spun. No way.
‘All normal there.’ On the other side of the bed Tamara unwrapped the BP cuff from Meredith Gowan’s arm.
After that jolt over the newspaper article Tamara was coping well. He’d kept her at his side, brought her into all his cases, stared down any staff member who gave her a questioning look. Not that many had. It seemed most of them knew the story and didn’t need to rehash the details.
‘Dr Maguire.’ Tamara spoke firmly. ‘Mrs Gowan?’ She nodded at their patient. Definitely not one for schmoozing over him despite that hot night they’d had in bed. Instead, she kept him on his toes, and for some perverse reason that made him worry he might fail her. He was good at looking out for people, just as long as he didn’t get involved.
Ah, hello? You’re having a baby together. Whether you want to or not. Is that not involvement?
A sudden, clenching ache gripped him in the chest. Panic unfurled, ramped through him, sending fingers of shock expanding throughout his chest, his gut.
Tamara appeared in front of him. ‘Are you all right? Should I get Michael to take over here?’ Her voice was filled with nothing but concern. For him.
‘I’m
fine.’ His chest tightened further.
I am not having a heart attack. I know what that feels like and it’s not this.
Nodding abruptly at Tamara, he dropped his gaze to his patient. Away from those all-seeing eyes still focused on him. ‘This fall you had today? Run through what happened. I know you’ve told the triage nurse but I’d like to hear it myself.’ Mrs Gowan might add something previously overlooked. Concentrating hard on the answers could keep the growing tightness in his chest at bay, help him calm down.
‘I was coming down the steps from the laundry to the porch and next thing I know I’m on my back, staring up at the sky, Doc.’
‘Did you trip over something? Slip on the step?’ The pain was not abating.
‘I don’t remember anything like that. One minute I was upright, the next I wasn’t.’
At least Mrs Gowan had been conscious when it had happened to her. ‘Can you recall any dizziness?’ Conor asked as he rubbed his temples. Talk about feeling off balance. And he was the doctor. Leaning his thigh against the bed, he blindly studied the page in his hand while listening to his patient with all the attentiveness he could muster.
‘Conor?’ Tamara remained near him, that concern now reflected in her eyes.
He flicked his gaze in her direction for a quick fix to hang onto and clashed with a serious enquiry on Tamara’s face.
‘I’m getting Michael.’
Not what Conor wanted to hear. ‘Stay with your patient.’ His chest wall gave a squeeze, reminding him of what he was trying to ignore. Think like a doctor, man. Not a useless twit who panics at the slightest twinge. Get someone, Tamara, to check his pulse, put him on the monitor for a heart reading. But then everyone would know his dirty little secret.
The air whipped around Tamara as she stomped to the head of the bed.
I’m light-headed and my chest’s tight, the panic’s rising, but otherwise I’m good to go.
‘Mrs Gowan...’ He tapped her notes. ‘This says you haven’t had any headaches recently, no unusual chest discomfort.’
‘Nothing, Doc.’
Tamara had some serious questions for him. He knew how her gaze could shine with wicked delight and hot anticipation, and how the brown shade could sparkle like hot chocolate. He’d seen fun and laughter twinkle in Tamara’s eyes for the first time that night two months ago. He’d also seen despair and sadness dull them at work when she thought no one was watching. There were many layers to this woman. Layers he wanted to probe and learn about, to peel back and reveal her depths. Now she was watching him like a hungry falcon.
Crack. His chest tightened. While his head lightened. He did not want Tamara knowing about this. She’d draw him in, get too close, want to fix him. They were going to be parents together. He couldn’t. Not when at any moment a heart attack might take him out of the picture, like it had Dad and his brother.
‘Are we transferring Mrs Gowan to the medical ward?’ Tamara knew damned well they weren’t until they had some answers to what’d happened to her. She was hitting him over the head with a sharp reminder to focus on his work. Strange how quickly things turned around. A short time ago he’d been helping her to pull herself together.
Conor swayed on his feet and fought the need to reach out for the bed to steady himself. He also ignored the way Tamara looked at him. Like he shouldn’t be here. ‘Right. I’ll arrange some blood tests before we go any further.’ He disappeared through the curtains without another word. Not the usual friendly, ‘take as long as you want’ Dr Maguire, but ‘I need to sit down before I fall down’ Dr Maguire.
He diverted directly into the next cubicle and stopped by the bed.
My chest’s too tight.
Those old memories of chest pain crashed through his mind.
My breathing’s all over the place.
He knew how to calm down by drawing long, slow breaths into his lungs, huffing them straight back out. Knew the muscles holding his chest would eventually let go their fierce grip.
I am not having a heart attack.
This was a panic attack. Simple as that. He knew those. Hadn’t had one for over a year. The tightness in his chest muscles wasn’t easing off. What if he was wrong? What if he deserted his child before it made its appearance?
‘Conor?’ Tamara stood in front of him, reaching for his arms. ‘Tell me what’s going on,’ she demanded.
Lifting his head far too fast, he growled, ‘Can’t a man have a moment to himself around here?’ He should’ve taken his time straightening up before answering her. Should’ve. Didn’t. Swaying, he grabbed for something to hold onto. Unfortunately, Tamara was the first stable thing within reach. Thing? Sorry. Nothing thing-like about her with all those curves she kept hidden under layers of baggy clothes.
‘Sit down.’ She tried to shove him onto the bed.
He pushed her hands away. ‘I’m fine,’ he ground out through a wave of panic. Not pain.
‘And I’m a monkey’s backside.’ She did those retorts so well. They could burn a man if he wasn’t careful.
‘I can honestly say I don’t agree with you about that.’ Focusing on annoying Tamara might help distract from the panic building relentlessly.
Her mouth flattened into a warning.
Quick, defuse her. ‘I’m overtired.’
‘So you said.’ Her brows came together into a dangerous frown. ‘I’m not buying it.’
Faster, man. Or next she’ll have the whole crew in here. ‘I ran in the Auckland marathon on Saturday.’ The frown didn’t soften. She was seeing right through his attempts to divert her, something she was obviously better at than him. ‘Throw in that busload of broken children and your news, it’s hardly surprising I’m a bit wobbly on my feet.’
At last. No more frown. Instead, those luscious lips that had once played havoc on his feverish skin were tight and uncompromising, while hurt stabbed at him from those eyes he couldn’t forget. Hurt and...? Disappointment. No, distrust. Like he’d let her down big time. Over what? Try not being honest with her. Right, like he’d tell her about his family history of cardiac problems right here, now. Going to have to sometime, though. That baby might already be in trouble.
‘Right.’ She snatched the patient notes out of his hand. ‘What blood tests did you want done on Mrs Gowan?’
‘CBC, electrolytes, LFTs. And a CRP.’
‘Right,’ she repeated, and stalked off, those shoulders almost meeting in the middle of her back and her chin shoved forward.
He could’ve added how he hadn’t slept much in weeks for thinking about her and that amazing body she never showcased in fitted clothes.
What was with her frumpy style of dress anyway? Surely that had nothing to do with what her ex had done? Most females would kill for a figure like Tamara’s. He hadn’t expected it and could still feel the wonder he’d known as he’d undressed her before caressing her from top to toe. And back again. It had been like unwrapping a gift he had asked for and finding something far more exciting. That, and how she’d reacted with blatant enjoyment to his lovemaking.
Sex. He did not make love. He had sex with willing women and said goodbye in the morning. No fault with that. He was saving a potential partner and any children they might have from a life-load of worry and fear.
Got that wrong, hadn’t he?
Slam. The clouds in Conor’s skull thickened, his muscles tightened. Breathe in, out. In, out. Still no pain. Not a heart attack. Relief flooded his tense body to loosen the tautness, push the fog in his head aside. Thank goodness for something. Stretching his arms high, he rolled his head in a circle to loosen the tension in his neck until finally he felt capable of functioning as a doctor again.
Blasted panic attacks. No accounting for when they made an appearance.
‘You all right?’ Kelli asked when he returned to the counter,
where Tamara was fiercely intent on entering details in a patient’s file on the computer.
‘Absolutely.’ A quick glance at the wall clock. Thirty minutes to go and he’d be out of there. Straight home, no stopping at the supermarket for food that would sit in the fridge until he threw it out next week. No, he’d put his feet up, chuck on a CD and order in something to eat. Probably fall asleep and wake up in the morning all stiff and achy. But at least his heart would be ticking along perfectly. The last traces of that panic that’d been overwhelming him had evaporated.
Twenty-nine minutes to go.
You and Tamara need to talk.
Double damn.
Conor snatched up the top file of waiting patients and stalked off to the waiting room. ‘Jason Grove?’
Twenty-eight minutes to go.
* * *
Tamara pressed ‘talk’ on her phone and held it to her ear.
‘Hello?’ came the voice she’d known all her life.
Surprising how her mother hadn’t put her name in her phone by now just so as she didn’t have to answer her calls. ‘Hi, Mum. Don’t hang up. Please. I’ve got something—’ Click. ‘Important to tell you.’ She stared at the far wall of her lounge. No surprise there. Shouldn’t have bothered trying. But seeing Mrs Gowan so happy when her daughter had raced into ED that afternoon, she’d wanted to talk to her own mother right there and then. Wanted to connect, to share about the baby, to be a family again.
Tamara slammed the phone onto the armrest of the recliner and stared off into nowhere. Her favourite place when everything was going pear-shaped.
Please, talk to me one day, Mum. I want to hear you say my name again. Could even do with one of your whacky hugs right about now. I know I screwed up but I don’t think all the blame was mine.
Huh? That was new. Of course it had been her fault. She’d been the one to trust Peter. Not the only one, as Kelli had pointed out. Dad had too, long before her.
Conor hadn’t freaked out or blamed her. He’d listened to her story and carried on like she wasn’t a complete waste of space. Was that why she’d tried to contact her mum tonight? Because he’d stirred up some hope inside her? Dangerous stuff. Especially when it came to her mother.