Coming Back For His Bride

by Abigail Gordon

  Or the man to father them, she thought bleakly, and the memory of Ross’s arms around her and his mouth on hers came back like a signpost pointing the way ahead, but it would seem that to him it had said halt.

  However, they were Jess’s problems they were discussing, not her own, and she asked, ‘How long before you get a decision?’

  ‘Soon, I hope,’ was the dour reply.

  She was a widow with two sons at university. With a mind as sharp as a razor and an endless fount of energy, she ran the store and post office with a brisk sort of efficiency that would be sadly missed if she were to close down. The shop was busy enough, but it was the post office that brought the customers in.

  ‘There’s talk of a petition,’ Jess said as she got up to go, ‘but I hope it won’t come to that.’

  ‘So do I,’ Isabel told her. ‘They would be crazy to close you down and I don’t think they will. The ones they have announced for closure so far have been the really small outfits. Your place is big and thriving.’

  When she’d gone, Ross came through the communicating door between their two rooms and said, ‘That was a long consultation. Problems?’

  ‘No, not really,’ Isabel said, taken aback. ‘I didn’t know you were timing me. I think that Jess has a stone in a saliva duct and I’m passing her on to the hospital. For the rest of the time we were discussing if and when the government might close the post office.’

  ‘And you consider that to be the kind of thing a patient would expect to consult their GP about?’

  ‘Not in the normal scheme of things maybe, but if she isn’t sleeping and is very stressed about it then, yes, why not let her express her concerns if it makes her feel better?’ she said defiantly.

  ‘Fine,’ he said evenly. ‘I merely commented on the length of time that Jess had been with you because I thought it might be something serious. But I should have known you would have consulted me if it had been.’

  ‘Yes, I would,’ she told him, still on the defensive. ‘This place isn’t like the impersonal private clinic where you worked before. If Michael Levitt came in about his blood pressure and at the same time wanted to tell me about his financial worries, or how his prize bull wasn’t up to scratch, I would listen. Not for too long obviously, but I would lend a listening ear. These people are my friends. They were here when you weren’t, Ross.’

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You’ve made your point, but I thought we’d established why I wasn’t around.’

  ‘Yes, we have, and if someone had told me what it was all about when it was happening, I might have cried a few less tears. The next time I speak to my father I will have a few things to say that he might not like. Sophie said that he’d used me as a pawn and I didn’t know what she meant, but I do now. And if you are so keen for me to keep to my schedule, I suggest that you let me get on with it.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, ‘but before I go, why not let matters rest with your father? In his own autocratic way he did what he thought was best, and who is to say that he wasn’t right? Neither of us know why he asked me to come back here, but does it matter? All that we should be concerned about is running the practice to the best of our ability. Agreed?’

  It was there again, she thought. The aftermath of Saturday night. The practice, the practice, nothing but the practice!

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she agreed smoothly. ‘That is what we’re here for and you don’t need to keep reminding me. I was virtually running this place on my own before you appeared on the scene, just in case you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘I don’t forget anything, Izzy,’ he told her, and as the colour rose in her cheeks he closed the door that separated them and summoned his next patient.

  Ross didn’t know why he’d taken Izzy to task about her timing. Every doctor knew that some patients took longer than others and that it balanced itself out with those who were in and out in no time at all.

  If he’d wanted to emphasise that practice matters came before personal ones, he’d just made a good start, and ruffled her feathers into the bargain.

  She had been right in what she’d said about his previous employment. It had been very different, but he’d worked in this place before and shouldn’t have forgotten the caring, friendly atmosphere of a country practice.

  * * *

  As the days went by, with midsummer approaching fast, there was sudden activity on wasteland on the outskirts of the village. The fair that came each year in the height of summer had arrived.

  Caravans, trailers and huge trucks containing the roundabouts and machinery were trundling into position for a three-day stay, and there was excitement in the air.

  ‘I’d forgotten it was time for the fair,’ Ross said as they watched the procession of vehicles go past the surgery window. ‘Do you remember how I took you on those bone-shaking bumper cars when I was here, and you felt sick?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she told him, turning to face him. ‘I was mortified, but that was my normal state of mind round about that time.’

  ‘But not now?’

  ‘No. Certainly not now. I don’t go in for self-destruction any more.’

  She was turning away, ready to make her escape before the conversation took off into something personal, but he took her arm and swivelled her back to face him again. Without loosening his hold, Ross said, ‘That being so, let me take you to the fair, Izzy.’

  They were almost touching, chest to breast, her startled violet gaze questioning his motives. ‘Yes, all right,’ she said recklessly, thinking that maybe some time together as just friends would dispel the lingering aftermath of uncertainty that their first, and possibly last, kiss had created.

  It was a Thursday and the fair would commence that night, followed by the same thing on Friday and all day Saturday.

  ‘So when would you like to go?’ Ross asked.

  ‘Saturday night,’ she said immediately. ‘When we won’t have been working all day.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll call for you at sevenish, if that’s all right.’

  It would be more than all right, Isabel thought. It would turn a nondescript weekend into something to look forward to. The only blot on the horizon was that the invitation had followed immediately on the heels of her protestation that she was now in charge of her life and her emotions.

  In truth, the comment was somewhat in the past tense. She had been, but that had been before Ross had come back. Since his return her emotions had run riot and her life been turned upside down as with each passing day she was becoming more aware that he was still the only man she wanted to be near.

  * * *

  Later that morning Isabel drove up the hill road to a remote farm lying beneath the shadow of the peaks. She didn’t have to make as many house calls now that Ross was in charge, as he did more than his full share of them, but this was one that she wanted to do particularly. Jean Derwent and her family lived at Blackstock Farm, a grim-looking stone building miles away from anywhere. The young mother of two small girls had asked for a visit as she wasn’t well enough to go to the surgery.

  Her husband, Brian, who was quite a few years older than Jean, had sounded quite grumpy when he’d rung to ask for a doctor to call. Farmers’ wives were not supposed to be ill and Jean picked up every virus that was around.

  This time it appeared to be serious. She had a hacking cough, her sputum was suspect, her breathing was laboured and she had a temperature.

  ‘How long have you been like this, Jean?’ Isabel asked.

  ‘It started a week ago,’ she croaked, ‘and it’s got steadily worse. Brian isn’t very pleased as he’s such a lot to do around the farm, and having to take the girls to school isn’t helping.’

  ‘You should have sent for me before.’

  ‘I know, but I feel such a nuisance.’

  ‘No way are you that,’ Isabel told her. ‘You’ve got all the signs of pneumonia.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she wailed.

  ‘Oh, yes, I’m afraid.’

 
; ‘Brian will hit the roof.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but it’s hospital for you, Jean. Where is he at the moment?’

  ‘He’ll be seeing to the pigs.’

  ‘I’ll go and talk to him.’

  Brian looked up when he heard Isabel’s footsteps on the flagged yard at the back of the farmhouse.

  ‘Well?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m having Jean admitted to hospital,’ Isabel told him. ‘They’ll do tests to confirm it, but it’s almost certain that she has pneumonia.’

  He was glaring at her.

  ‘Why didn’t the new doctor come? I’d like his opinion first. It isn’t long since you were just a student.’

  ‘In other words, you are not prepared to take my word for it.’

  ‘Like I say, you’ve not been doctoring long.’

  ‘Long enough to know pneumonia when I see it,’ Isabel told him coolly, ‘but if you want a second opinion, I’ll ask Dr Templeton to come to see Jean.’

  ‘Aye, do that,’ he said.

  ‘Just as long as you realise that you are delaying your wife getting the treatment she needs.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ross asked when he answered Isabel’s call.

  ‘I’m up at the Derwents’ place, Blackstock Farm,’ she told him. ‘Jean Derwent has got a severe bout of pneumonia, but her husband doesn’t think I’m qualified enough to know and is asking to see you.’

  ‘Right. I’ll come up there straight away. Are you going to wait?’

  ‘No. I’m not. I haven’t rung the hospital yet under the circumstances, but I think that is where she needs to be.’

  ‘Dr Templeton is on his way,’ she told the disgruntled husband after she’d finished the call. ‘So I’ll be off once I’ve said goodbye to your wife. If at any time you need help with the children and feel that you can trust me with them, don’t hesitate to ask.’

  ‘Aye, well, we’ll see,’ he said grudgingly, and Isabel thought that she would rather stay unwed and unloved for ever than be married to a man like Brian Derwent.

  Back on the road that stretched across the high flat plateau of the moors, her mind was on the depressing household that she’d just left, and it was only when she was almost opposite him that she saw a man striding through the gorse and windberry bushes in the direction from which she’d just come.

  He was tall, bearded and very tanned, dressed in an old khaki greatcoat and with a felt slouch hat on his head. He must have seen her, or at least heard the car, but he gave no indication, just walked on with head bent as if in a world of his own.

  It wasn’t unusual to see walkers around the village and up on the tops. It was one of the reasons why Sally and Sophie’s tea shop was so successful. On the borders of Derbyshire and Cheshire, they were in an area much frequented by those who love the countryside. They came in all shapes and sizes, young and old alike, and normally she wouldn’t have looked twice at a lone walker out on the moors, but for some reason she found herself stopping the car and watching until the tall figure in the greatcoat had disappeared from sight.

  She was on the point of setting off again when Ross’s car appeared on the horizon, so she waited.

  ‘So what’s the situation at Blackstock Farm?’ he said, winding down the car window as she came to stand beside it.

  ‘A harassed, rather rude farmer with a sick wife. He didn’t want to hear what I was telling him and asked why you hadn’t visited her instead of me.’

  ‘And how did you feel about that?’

  ‘I was more aggravated by his manner than his lack of confidence in me, and not sorry to get away. That farm of his gives me the creeps.’

  Ross was looking around him. ‘I’d forgotten how bleak it can be up here, even in the height of summer.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I come here when I want to think. There’s a sort of wild magnificence about this place, a timelessness that makes big problems turn into small ones.’

  ‘You’re a strange creature, Izzy,’ he said gravely. ‘I wish life had been kinder to you.’

  He watched the fresh colour rise in her cheeks.

  ‘Do you hear me complaining? I might have done once, but not now. I have a job that I love, the cottage which is all mine, Tess and Puss-Puss, who never let me down, my faithful Mini and…’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘You are back in my life,’ she’d been about to say, and had then thought better of it. The only reason Ross was taking her to the fair was because he thought she was well and truly over her infatuation with him.

  She’d been sure that she was and hadn’t wanted him back at the practice, living only minutes away, always at her elbow, back in her life for evermore, but all that was changing, and with it came the fear of making a fool of herself twice over.

  Ross didn’t comment on the half-finished sentence. He knew what he would have liked her to have said, but that would be presuming too much. The fact that she’d once kissed him with sweet desire didn’t mean that Izzy still cared for him. Coming back into her life would have complicated it, rather than enhanced it.

  ‘I’d better get moving,’ he said, bringing his mind back to everyday matters, ‘or the doubting farmer will have a bone to pick with me too. See you back at the practice, Izzy.’ And off he went in the black BMW.

  * * *

  When they met up again after all the house calls had been made, Ross said, ‘You were right about Jean Derwent. I’ve had her admitted to hospital, much to the annoyance of her husband. There was an atmosphere when I was there that I couldn’t put my finger on, and I came away with the feeling that there is something odd going on at Blackstock Farm.’

  Isabel nodded. ‘Yes. I know what you mean. Did you see anything of a tall man wearing an army greatcoat while you were there?’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘No. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I saw someone like that walking towards the farm just before we met up on the tops.’

  ‘But surely it isn’t unusual to see a lone walker up there.’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s just that there was something about him that drew my attention.’

  ‘Maybe it was because it’s a bit warm to be wearing that sort of clothing,’ he said laughingly. ‘We’ll have to look out for him coming to the surgery to be treated for heat rash.’

  ‘I told Brian Derwent that I would help with the children if he wanted me to,’ she said on a more serious note. ‘Did he mention that?’

  Ross shook his head.

  ‘No. He said he was going to ask his mother to come up from Carlisle. How long have the Derwents lived at Blackstock Farm? I don’t remember them from when I was here before.’

  ‘They bought the place about five years ago and at that time Brian was a different person from what he is now. Enthusiastic, energetic but new to farming. One or two failed crops and Jean’s continuing bad health have turned him into the morose person he is now. The children are lovely. Bethany is eight and Charlotte six years, and if his mother is coming to take charge, I will be easier in my mind.’

  Ross was frowning.

  ‘You are their GP, Izzy. It is the health of your patients that is your concern. Their domestic or business problems are for them to sort out. You can’t take the weight of those sort of things onto your shoulders. Most of them have family or friends and there is always Social Services. Our main concern should be the practice.’

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ she said coolly. ‘So there is no need to keep reminding me of it. I’m sure that should I not perform my duties satisfactorily, you will be quick to tell me so. Yes, most of those I treat do have relations and as to their friends, I am one of them, so perhaps that explains why I am like I am.’

  ‘All right, point taken,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I don’t want you to overdo it. You are so alone. That introverted father of yours can’t see any further than his next meal, and I know that you are putting up with me on sufferance.’

  He was hoping she would deny it, but was about to be disappointe
d. Isabel wasn’t going to admit that she was more aware of him now than she’d ever been.

  * * *

  When Ross called for Isabel on Saturday evening, she invited him into the cottage against her better judgement. She’d had a feeling all along that once he stepped over the threshold it would be another threat to her independence, that his hold on her heartstrings would be tighter, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted that.

  He had a good look around him and she waited for his comments as he observed the pastel shades on the thick stone walls and the antique-type furniture that she’d bought from various auctions and rummage sales.

  ‘Very nice!’ he exclaimed. ‘I can see why this place means so much to you. Who lived here before you?”

  ‘One of my father’s friends. He was going into sheltered accommodation and sold it to me for a reasonable price. It wasn’t as bad as the rooms above the surgery, but I had to do quite a lot of repairs.’

  Isabel was smiling as they faced each other across her beamed sitting room. ‘You might think I’m too involved with the people round here, but when I come into this place and shut my door, that is it. I don’t want to be disturbed. So, you see, you are honoured to have been allowed to see my refuge.’

  ‘Refuge!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s a bit strong, isn’t it? Who is it that you want to get away from?’

  ‘My father, for one. I’d been under his thumb for long enough before I moved in here.’

  ‘And now he’s gone without so much as batting an eyelid,’ Ross commented wryly. ‘The workings of the human mind are complicated, to say the least.’

  ‘He would have been all right if my mother had lived and he hadn’t had to bring up a daughter who was as plain as her mother had been beautiful.’

  ‘Stop it!’ he said exasperatedly. ‘Stop being so maudlin about your looks. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Izzy.’

  ‘Is it?’ she said slowly, and then added, unable to stop herself, ‘And what do you see, Ross?’

  There was silence for a moment and then he said easily, as if the question were of no consequence, ‘I see a woman with hair like ripe corn, eyes like violets and a mouth that’s too big beneath a nose that’s too small. Does that satisfy you? And if you haven’t changed your mind about going to the fair, let’s be off.’