Jane found herself nodding. They had to make it look real, didn’t they, so there would be nothing for anyone in the immigration department to get suspicious about later.
They finished the call a short time later but Jane lay awake for a long time that night, thinking about the conversation.
She wanted this marriage to be real, too, but for very different reasons.
Real meant loving each other. Maybe having more children. A real family.
They both loved Sophie. She loved Dylan. Surely that was enough of a start, considering the length of time they had known each other? Was it too much to hope that one day she would earn Dylan’s love?
Jane rolled from her side to stare up at the ceiling. If she tried hard enough, she could earn his love.
No. She tossed herself back, pushing her face into her pillow. She’d been there. Done that. It didn’t work.
The weekend on call was exceptionally busy and Jane was called to the emergency department more than once to consult on cases that looked like they might need surgery. Because Liz was on duty, she knew that the calls were genuine and Jane was more than happy to respond to every one.
There were babies with potential intestinal obstructions and an unusually high number of trauma patients. A child who had fallen from a tree and another from a bicycle. One had been struck by a car and another had fallen from her pony while jumping at a one-day event. Liz was particularly interested in this twelve-year-old girl, Briar.
‘My daughter’s desperate to have riding lessons,’ she told Jane. ‘It’s a worry!’
‘Is she stable haemodynamically?’
‘Yes. Blood pressure remaining within normal limits. She’s extremely tender and there’s free blood in the abdomen visible on ultrasound.’
‘He didn’t mean to stand on me,’ Briar told Jane. ‘And we were coming first, too! We won dressage and went clear in show jumping and— Ooh…my tummy really hurts.’
Jane examined the girl gently and reviewed the ultrasound results. She talked to Liz.
‘There’s a space in CT if you want to send her for a scan.’
Jane nodded. ‘Have you spoken to the parents about the possibility of a laparotomy being necessary?’
‘Yes. Do you want to talk to them, too?’
‘Let’s wait and see what the scan shows.’
‘I’ll get that organised. Have you got time for a coffee before she comes back?’
‘I’d love one.’
They had the staffroom to themselves a few minutes later.
‘I can’t believe how busy this weekend is turning out to be.’ Jane sighed.
‘Tell me about it,’ Liz agreed. ‘At least you get the satisfaction of following these kids into Theatre. It’s frustrating to know they need surgery and have to hand them over.’
‘You really miss Theatre, don’t you?’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes.’ But she wouldn’t necessarily miss this, Jane thought as she sipped her coffee. So much time on call when she could be somewhere else. With someone else.
‘How would you envisage it working?’ she asked tentatively. ‘A job-sharing arrangement, that is.’
‘Whatever worked for us both,’ Liz said promptly. ‘Maybe two and a half days a week each? Monday morning till midday on Wednesday? Turn about with weekends on call. Is it still one in three?’
‘Yes.’
‘So that would be one weekend on in six for each of us. That wouldn’t be so bad.’
‘No. But what about continuity of patient care?’
‘Communication,’ Liz said confidently. ‘And respect for each other’s opinion. I think we’d work well together, Jane.’
How well became apparent when Briar came back from her CT scan with results that showed internal injuries that were potentially serious. One kidney was bruised, her liver lacerated and she had a splenic fracture. It wouldn’t have been unreasonable for a surgeon to take her straight to Theatre but Jane and Liz looked at each other. They took a second look at all the images from the scan.
‘She’s clinically stable,’ Liz pointed out.
‘And there’s good delineation of the extent of the injury on scan.’
‘The bleeding might well have stopped already.’
‘Let’s treat her conservatively, shall we? Keep a close eye on her.’
‘Absolutely.’
Jane went to the ward to check on Briar late that night before she finally headed home and she was back again early the next day. By Monday evening, she was able to ring Liz and tell her they’d been justified in delaying surgery. Briar was showing significant improvement.
‘We’ll keep her in for another day or two and do another ultrasound.’
‘Thanks for letting me know, Jane. And have a think about that job-sharing idea.’
‘I will,’ Jane promised.
She did.
Jane was still thinking about it on Wednesday when she decided to take the longer route home, through the park. She was tired, thanks to a normal working week on top of the busy weekend, and she thought a walk in the cool air of the early evening might freshen her up and clear her head.
It could work, she mused. She could find the satisfaction she needed from her job, even with vastly reduced hours. She might even find more, because she wouldn’t spend so much time being so tired.
Dylan might find it enough to be in Akaroa for only half of each week and he could work whatever shifts he wanted during those days. If he was prepared to compromise to that degree, and if Jane could find a suitable house not far from her hospital, it really just might work.
A house like that one, over the road from the park. An old stone house, almost hidden by ancient oak trees, with a garden that looked out over the river. On impulse, Jane turned left instead of right when she reached the corner of the park. She crossed the road. She could only see the back of that house from the park. There was another road from which she’d be able to see the front.
An indulgence, certainly, but daydreaming was a new pastime for Jane. She needed some practice.
The real estate agent’s sign on the front wall of the property was totally unexpected.
A sign in more ways than one?
Giving in to another impulse, Jane pulled her mobile phone from her briefcase and called the number on the sign. The enthusiastic agent asked if she could wait for ten minutes because he wasn’t far away, the owners of the property were absent and he’d be only too delighted to show her around.
It was nearly dark by the time Jane had finished the tour, assured the agent that, yes, she could well be interested, and set off, finally, for home. Her earlier weariness was gone. The combination of considering the job-sharing idea and then finding what looked like a perfect family home in the city was just too good to be true.
She’d known it was all falling into place before she’d even stepped through the front door of the house. When she’d seen that Christmas wreath hanging below the gold lion’s-head knocker. The one that had artificial pohutukawa flowers instead of holly berries nestled amongst the green needles. A link to the cottage.
To Dylan.
She had to tell him.
Jane picked up the phone as soon as she was inside her apartment but then she checked her watch and put it down again. It was only 8.30 p.m. and it was Wednesday. Dylan would be working up at the little hospital, wouldn’t he? She’d have to wait until after 11 p.m. to share the way their future seemed destined to fall into place.
But she couldn’t wait. Jane paced the apartment. She should have some dinner but she wasn’t the least bit hungry. She should be resting but, curiously, she’d never felt so wide-awake. So alive.
The idea came to her in a flash of what seemed no less than brilliance.
It was only a ninety-minute drive. Probably less in her little sports car.
She could be there, waiting at the cottage, when Dylan came home from work. She could tell him about the house. About being willing to cut her workin
g hours. About how she wanted to change her life to be the best mother, and wife, that she could.
This wasn’t about trying to earn Dylan’s love. Or even to avoid the failure that was inevitable if she only made a half-hearted effort to make it work. It was about being true to herself. The real Jane. The Jane that had been left behind so many years ago in her grandmother’s little house. It was about being prepared to love even if it didn’t get returned in quite the way she might wish.
To avoid loving was to miss out on too much of what life had to offer. The best it had to offer, and she’d missed out on that for far, far too long.
Jane grabbed her wallet, snatched her car keys from the hook near the door and ran down the stairs, oblivious to the smile on her face.
‘You’re a naughty boy, Dylan McKenzie.’
‘It’s a long time since anybody told me that, Enid.’
‘You gave me two chocolate biscuits with my cocoa. I’ll get fat.’
‘What nonsense!’ Dylan smiled at the tiny, frail old woman. ‘You don’t want to get too skinny, Enid. Men like enough to cuddle, you know.’
‘Shame on you,’ Enid scolded, but she was smiling broadly.
‘It’s getting late.’ Dylan shifted his patient’s pillows a little. ‘Shall I tuck you up and turn out the light?’
‘Yes, please, dear.’
The other elderly inpatients had been settled for some time and the observations Dylan needed to repeat on the teenager admitted with mild concussion didn’t take long. His second shift at work was proving extremely quiet. Dylan was on his way to catch up with Marg and help her tidy the storeroom when Jennifer burst through the front door.
‘Dylan! Are you busy?’
‘No. It’s very quiet.’
‘We’ve got a call to an accident at the bottom of the hill. I’m just going to grab my trauma kit. Tell Marg where you’re going and then meet me in the car park.’
‘Sure.’ Any threat of boredom in his new job evaporated and Dylan moved swiftly.
Minutes later they were speeding along the coast road in Jennifer’s four-wheel-drive.
‘It’s been called in by one of our local police officers who was alerted by emergency services,’ Jennifer told him. ‘Apparently the driver made the call herself and said she was uninjured but he thinks she needs checking out.’
‘What happened?’
‘Sheep on the road. Driver swerved to avoid hitting it and hit the loose gravel instead. Car left the road and went over the side of the hill. Not much left by the sound of it. Low-slung sports cars are not made for off-road travel.’
‘A sports car? At this time of night?’ Sports cars made Dylan think of Jane. Mind you, everything made him think of Jane these days.
‘Stranger things have happened. It’s how I met Drew again, in fact. At an accident scene on almost the same bit of road.’ Jennifer smiled. ‘He was driving a camper van, though, not a BMW.’
A BMW?
Dylan shook off the chill that ran down his spine. It couldn’t be Jane.
Even if the driver was a woman?
His heart did a peculiar kind of flip. Thank God it wasn’t Friday. He couldn’t think of anything worse than to be heading for an accident scene knowing that Jane was the victim.
Jane sat on the side of the road.
Alone.
The policeman who had answered her call had parked his car uphill, with the lights flashing to warn oncoming traffic. He was now down the road towards the blind corner, putting out a sign and some bright plastic cones.
She hugged her knees tightly, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shaking.
She wasn’t hurt. Just…stunned.
Jane knew she hadn’t been knocked out because she could remember everything in vivid detail. The shock of seeing something on the road in front of her as she rounded the bend. That awful moment when her wheels bit into loose shingle and lost traction. How time seemed to slow down as the car hurtled off the side of the road. The bang of hitting the fence post and the nasty smell of the dust released from the air bags exploding out from the steering-wheel and dashboard and even the top of her window.
Maybe she was bruised, because it did hurt a bit to take a deep breath. Tender areas where the safety belt had been across her chest and abdomen. And she was cold, despite the police officer’s jacket over her shoulders. Exhaustion was creeping back and it was only now that Jane realised she hadn’t eaten anything except a muffin since breakfast.
And now she wouldn’t be able to surprise Dylan with her plans.
A single tear escaped and rolled down the side of her nose. And then another.
She wanted Dylan to be here. She wanted him to hold her and call her ‘hinny’ and tell her that everything was going to be all right.
A four-wheel-drive vehicle with a flashing light drove slowly past the cones and pulled up close to Jane. Two figures got out of the car and one looked familiar.
Big and strong and…wonderful.
Dylan!
Jane swallowed her tears and scrubbed at her face. She tried to stop the shaking so that she could make her lips cooperate enough to smile as Dylan walked towards her, a dark shadow with the glow of headlights behind him. But she couldn’t manage the smile.
Dylan wasn’t smiling, either.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘N-no.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Y-yes. I’m f-fine.’
To her dismay, Dylan was looking anything but pleased to see her. She had never seen him look like this. So…angry. Why? Because she was here when she wasn’t supposed to be? Because he didn’t want her to be here? Tears gathered again and stung the backs of her eyes.
‘How could you?’ Dylan demanded. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’
Jennifer was beside him now and she frowned at his tone. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt, Jane?’
‘I’m fine. Just…a bit shaken.’
Jennifer held out her hand. ‘Do you think you can walk? We need to get you somewhere nice and warm and check you over properly.’
Jane got slowly to her feet with Jennifer’s assistance. Dylan had turned away. He was staring at the mangled chassis of her car, wrapped around the fence post.
Jane choked back a sob. Why was he so angry with her?
Jennifer seemed to be wondering the same thing. ‘It’s all right,’ she said to Jane reassuringly.
‘No.’ Dylan swung back to face them. ‘It’s not all right. Not at all! You could have been killed here, Jane.’
‘I think she’s quite well aware of that, Dylan.’ Jennifer’s tone was a warning.
One that Dylan ignored. He stepped forward and took hold of Jane’s upper arms. The grip was tight.
‘Sophie could have lost you,’ he growled. ‘She could have lost her mother! Did you stop to think about that before going for a joy ride in your fast wee car?’
‘No.’ Jane’s voice was a croak. Something inside her was crumpling and she just wanted to curl up and cry. Dylan was angry because he was hurt. Somehow she had hurt this man she loved and it was the last thing she would have wanted to do.
How had it happened? Maybe she had bumped her head. It was hard to try and think clearly but something was taking shape. That was it. This was a terrible reminder of how Sophie had lost her birth parents. How Dylan had lost his brother.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said miserably.
‘Dylan,’ Jennifer said firmly. ‘We really need to—’
‘I should have been more responsible,’ Jane carried on, as guilt took hold. ‘I was tired and hadn’t had anything to eat. I should have thought of Sophie. Of…of…’
‘Of me!’ Dylan roared. ‘What about me?’
‘Dylan!’ Jennifer sounded truly shocked now.
Jane was losing track of what she wanted to say. ‘What about you?’
Dylan seemed to be struggling to find words. His mouth opened and then closed. His face was creased in lines of…not anger…it was somethi
ng deeper. Darker. Like despair.
Jane took a breath and found herself totally unable to let it go.
Maybe Jennifer did, too, because the night around them suddenly went very quiet. The whole world was holding its breath for a moment.
‘I could have lost you,’ Dylan whispered. ‘Oh, God, hinny. I could have lost you and how could I live with that?’
‘Oh-h-h…’ Jennifer’s soft exclamation was a sigh of comprehension. She backed away as Dylan lifted Jane into his arms and held her against her chest as easily as if she were a child.
Jane wound her arms around Dylan’s neck and clung on to him as if her life depended on it.
Because it felt like it did.
‘I love you, Dylan,’ she said. ‘I love you so much.’
Love.
It was all around her.
Jane could feel it in the way they took care of her up at the hospital on the hill, examining her bruises and taking X-rays of her ribs and neck.
‘Just to be on the safe side,’ Dylan insisted.
It was there in the way Marg and Ruby the cook fussed over her when Dylan took her to where Sophie was sleeping peacefully in the corner of the big old kitchens.
‘You take your girls home,’ Ruby instructed Dylan. ‘And take good care of them.’
‘Aye, I will.’ Dylan nodded. ‘Dinna fesh yourself aboot that.’
It was most definitely there when Sophie woke up and blinked sleepily at Jane, and then gave her the most achingly gorgeous smile she had ever seen. The way she held up her little arms.
‘She wants her mother,’ Dylan observed.
‘That’s me,’ Jane whispered in wonder. ‘That’s me!’ She smiled at Dylan, with tears shining in her eyes. ‘How good is that?’
Most of all, it was there in the way Dylan held her later. As though he never wanted to let her go. In the tender kisses he didn’t seem to be able to stop himself pressing gently onto her hair. On her forehead. Even on the tip of her nose.
‘I love that dimple,’ he told her. ‘I love you, Jane.’
‘I love you, too.’
‘Will you marry me?’
‘Yes.’ Jane laughed. ‘I’ve already said yes. You’ve been to see the vicar already, haven’t you?’
Her Baby Out of the Blue/A Doctor, A Nurse: A Christmas Baby Page 15