The Doctor, His Daughter and Me

by Leonie Knight

  Would Bethany be a complication in their tentative new friendship? Did he have the courage to ask her how Tara really felt? Was she envious of him?

  Maybe he’d never know.

  But he wished he had someone to talk to now—to give him advice; to tell him he was doing the right thing; to reassure him there was no need to panic. And he wished that person was Tara. She would know what to do.

  He’d reluctantly cancelled his sessions at Keysdale for the week and had spent the morning interviewing the last of the candidates the nanny agency had sent. He’d not been comfortable with any of the five women he’d seen and he was starting to feel desperate. He was picking up Bethany that afternoon and had planned to be back at work on Monday, in fact he had a full theatre list which would be difficult to cancel. Liz had competently taken care of his Keysdale days.

  ‘Don’t you worry about a thing at this end,’ she’d said with a confidence he’d already come to trust. ‘Just do what you have to do.’ She’d hesitated. ‘And if you need any more time off—’

  He’d assured her a week was enough, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  He was due to pick up Bethany in less than an hour. Fortunately it was his usual access weekend, so he wasn’t on call and was looking forward to spending quality time with her. But he still hadn’t managed to find someone suitable to pick Bethany up from day care or stay over when he was on call, let alone look after her on the days he went to Keysdale.

  A cloud of gloom descended. Perhaps he’d made the wrong decision. Maybe he should have insisted Shannay give him more time. Maybe the prospect of finally acquiring custody of Bethany had clouded his judgement.

  He wondered if it was too late to change his mind.

  He went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. He needed a boost before he made the short journey to collect his daughter. As he was about to sit down to drink the hot black brew his mobile phone rang.

  ‘Hello—Ryan Dennison,’ he said wearily, not recognising the caller’s number.

  ‘Dr Dennison.’

  He identified the voice immediately and wondered what Liz could want at four o’clock on Friday afternoon. He assumed she was calling from her own personal phone.

  ‘Liz, what can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s more what I can do for you.’ She chuckled and he let her go on. She’d already aroused his curiosity. ‘Do you still need someone to look after your daughter while you’re working?’

  Something snapped inside and he felt like pouring his heart out to the middle-aged woman he’d met barely a week ago. But he didn’t want to burden her with his troubles, so pulled himself together and said calmly, ‘I am. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Well, when you told me last week what you were looking for—the unusual hours, being available at short notice—I suspected it was going to be no easy task to find someone.’

  ‘And? Go on.’ Ryan found himself steadying his suddenly erratic breathing and praying for an unlikely miracle.

  ‘I put some feelers out and thought of my cousin, Christine.’

  ‘Your cousin?’

  ‘She’s about my age, widowed, has one grown-up son away at college and lives locally. In fact she’s living with us at the moment, because she’s just finished a job as a governess on a cattle station in the Pilbara.’

  Liz paused for breath but Ryan wasn’t about to interrupt. So far the woman sounded perfect. He was waiting for the catch.

  ‘The family’s youngest child left for boarding school at the beginning of term, so Christine found herself out of a job and without a home. She has excellent references and loves kids. She would have had a tribe herself if her husband hadn’t been killed in a farm accident.’

  ‘She never remarried?’

  ‘No. She says she’s set in her ways now, and as long as she has a job involving children…But it’s probably best you ask her yourself. That’s if you’re interested?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’m definitely interested.’ Ryan tried, unsuccessfully, to quell the overwhelming relief in his voice. ‘When can I see her? I could drive down to Keysdale tomorrow, or Sunday. Of course I’d have Bethany with me, but that shouldn’t be a problem, should it?’

  ‘Hang on—slow down. There’s one thing I said I’d mention before you get too excited,’

  Ryan’s heart dropped. There was always a ‘but’ and he was about to find out what it was. He suspected the picture Liz had painted of her cousin was too good to believe.

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘She would prefer a live-in job. Otherwise she’d have to find a place to rent in the city. She basically said she couldn’t afford it.’

  Ryan’s crinkled brow relaxed and he broke into a grin. She sounded better than perfect.

  ‘So when can I meet her?’ he repeated. The future had suddenly taken on a rosy glow, and if Liz had been standing in front of him he would have enfolded her in the warmest hug laced with gratitude and hope. It now seemed at least possible to give Bethany the kind of consistent and loving environment she deserved.

  ‘She’s already booked on the morning train to Perth. She has some business in the city to attend to and we thought maybe you could see her then. You said you wanted to go back to work next week—’

  ‘Would she be able to pack a bag?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I trust you, Liz. If you recommend your cousin, I’m sure it will work out.’ He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger, not wanting to think of any other possibility. ‘And if for some reason it doesn’t happen I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Ryan could almost feel Liz’s warm smile bouncing along the airwaves.

  * * *

  The gates of Shannay’s townhouse were closed but the front door was open. Ryan spotted Bethany sitting on the step as he cruised past, looking for a space to park. His daughter was perched on top of a pile of boxes and bags which he assumed contained the material detritus of four years living with Shannay.

  He felt an unsettling mixture of excitement and nerves as he parked and climbed out of his car. A whole new episode in his life was about to begin, and he hoped he’d be able to live up to the challenge and deliver the goods he’d promised.

  By the time he reached his ex-wife’s home Bethany was standing at the gate, presumably having recognised his car.

  ‘Daddy! Daddy!’

  His baby’s voice was remarkably loud, considering her diminutive stature. The noise was certainly effective in bringing Shannay to the door.

  Ryan opened the latch and scooped Bethany up into his arms. She plonked a wet kiss on his cheek and then positioned herself on his hip as he made his way towards the front door and Shannay.

  ‘Mummy said I was going to live with you.’

  Ryan’s gaze locked for a moment with Shannay’s before he looked down at the eager face of his daughter.

  ‘For ever!’ Bethany added loudly and triumphantly.

  Ryan felt an instant of sadness at the fact his daughter seemed to have no regrets at dismissing the time she’d spent with her mother so casually. For ever, she’d declared. He wondered if the reality of leaving her home of over four years would kick in when she realised she wasn’t coming back on Sunday afternoon. And Ryan was struck by the realisation that his life would never be quite the same.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he said to his ex-wife. She was unusually quiet.

  She shrugged. ‘I’m fine. I just want to get it over with.’

  And that was it. He finally had custody of his daughter and it was the beginning of a new stage in his life.

  * * *

  The news had filtered through to Tara that Ryan’s absence from Keysdale was tied up with problems he had with his daughter. Apparently the child’s mother had handed her back to Ryan and he’d been doing his best to arrange care for her while he worked.

  Ryan’s child…

  Tara imagined a pint-sized version of Ryan, with soft brown curls, spar
kling blue eyes and a personality that would melt hearts.

  Ryan’s child.

  If things had been different she could have been the mother of Ryan’s children.

  She wiped away a tear and silently reprimanded herself. She’d decided long ago she wouldn’t burden Ryan—or any man, for that matter—with a child she was incapable of looking after, no matter how much she yearned to have a baby of her own. How could she cope with the full-time demands of a baby, the exuberance of a toddler, the responsibility of a child? You needed to be able to run to a child in danger, to rescue a toddler from the top of a slide, to act quickly with speed and agility. Which she didn’t have and never would. Children were unpredictable, and the fabric of Tara’s life was woven with routine and knowing exactly what was going to happen next. She wasn’t one to take risks, not now.

  She turned off her computer screen and began to pack her things away. She’d somehow managed to get through another busy week of extra work on the farm and her father’s continuous grumbling. A small step forward was Graham’s reluctant agreement to help with the farm accounts. It had amazed both Jane and her that once he’d got the hang of the computer he seemed to enjoy it. At least it gave them a break from his grumpiness.

  Tara sighed as she dumped her bag on her lap and headed for the door…just as the phone started to ring.

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered. She should have left half an hour ago, but had decided to stay and clear the pile of paperwork she’d been ignoring all week. The thought crossed her mind to let it ring, but she knew she’d feel guilty and worry that she’d missed something important.

  Rather than do a U-turn, she reversed back to her desk and picked up the handpiece.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Tara.’

  She instantly recognised the voice and her heart-rate involuntarily jumped.

  ‘It’s Ryan.’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘I thought I might have missed you.’ He paused only long enough to take a breath. ‘My last patient for the day is your friend Pippa Morgan and I wondered if you wanted to sit in on the consultation.’

  ‘I…er…’

  ‘Of course I understand if you haven’t got time. I can ring you. And you’ll receive a detailed letter.’

  He was providing her with an out, as if he’d sensed her unwillingness. He wasn’t to know that the reason for her reluctance was not because she’d had a long day and wanted to get home, nor that she had another commitment. It was because she could already feel her legs metaphorically turning to jelly at the thought of seeing him. In fact she’d managed to evade him the previous Friday and thought she’d succeeded in avoiding him again.

  And her reluctance for face-to-face contact was all to do with failed marriages, lost opportunities and children.

  ‘I was about to leave, so your timing is perfect. I’ll be over in five minutes. And thank you. Pippa is a very special patient of mine.’ She somehow managed to keep her voice calm, telling herself that sharing the care of a patient was a normal part of the association between a specialist and the referring GP. And that was how she planned to keep their relationship.

  Strictly professional.

  Now that their past was common knowledge and she had nothing to hide there was no reason why that should change.

  ‘See you in five,’ Ryan said just before he hung up.

  Tara propelled her chair along the corridor connecting the GP clinic to the specialist rooms. The doors slid open as she approached and she stopped, mesmerised. She shook her head to make sure she wasn’t imagining what she heard. But it was definitely real. Liz’s unmistakably mature voice was attempting to harmonise with the remarkably tuneful singing coming from the mouth of a young child. She paused a moment longer to listen to the simple words of an ancient nursery rhyme about stars and diamonds, night skies and the curiosity of children. The scene touched a raw spot in her heart.

  The song ceased abruptly as she began to move again. The child must have heard the almost silent whirr of her chair’s motor.

  ‘What’s that?’ the little girl asked loudly as Tara approached cautiously.

  Unpredictable small children and electric wheelchairs weren’t an ideal combination, but she needn’t have worried. A delightfully pretty little girl with straight black hair, cupid lips and huge brown eyes peered around the side of the reception desk. Was it Ryan’s child? She looked nothing like him. Maybe she was one of Liz’s grandchildren.

  Tara smiled. How could she not when the girl beamed, her animated face crinkling in what could only be described as mischievous curiosity.

  ‘Hello, and what’s your name?’ Tara’s tentative enquiry brought the child out from behind the desk, but just enough for her to get a better view of the strange lady in a motorised chair.

  ‘Um…Beffny…and I’m…’ she took another curious step forward ‘… and I’m waiting for my daddy to finish work. Um…he’s a very important doctor, who fixes up bones and stuff like that. When they’re broken.’

  Tara glanced at Liz, who hadn’t said a word during the mostly one-sided conversation.

  ‘Ryan’s daughter?’

  Liz grinned like a proud grandma. The diminutive four-year-old, although she looked nothing like her father, had obviously inherited his charm.

  ‘Yes. Her name’s Bethany. Isn’t she an angel?’

  ‘Definitely cute, but—’

  Tara was about to say they’d only just met and she would reserve judgement until she got to know the girl better.

  A barrier had gone up because she didn’t want to get too charmed by Ryan’s little girl. Not yet. It was just as well she was interrupted as the words on the tip of her tongue suddenly seemed pompous and totally inappropriate.

  ‘Can I have a ride on your chair thingy?’

  ‘Maybe later, darling.’ The timely rescue by Liz certainly didn’t come too soon. ‘This lady is a doctor too, and she has very important work to do with your daddy.’

  The child seemed to accept the explanation and turned to face Liz, whom she’d obviously had no trouble bonding with. Tara felt an unexpected jolt of jealousy.

  Jealousy? Why on earth should she be envious of the freely given affection dealt out to the middle-aged receptionist by a child she’d only just met?

  She promptly rejected the notion that because Bethany was her ex-husband’s child she represented the children Tara could never have. She wasn’t the kind of person who would bear a grudge. Not after all the years of trying to cast from her mind any thoughts of the future with Ryan that was lost for ever.

  ‘You can go straight in, Tara. Dr Dennison is expecting you,’ Liz said after a brief phone conversation with her boss.

  Tara knocked softly, then opened the door as Ryan spun around in his chair.

  ‘Thank you for coming.’ He indicated the space between Pippa and her mother with a casual sweep of his hand. ‘I’ve just been talking to Pippa and Mrs Morgan about Pippa’s arthritis and there are a couple of questions I’d like to ask you. I understand you’ve been Pippa’s GP for a number of years now?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Tara looked across at her patient and gave her what she hoped was an encouraging smile. ‘Pippa transferred from Dr Fletcher the year I started with the practice.’ She stopped to think a moment. ‘Nearly five years ago. Pippa was in Year Eight.’

  Over the next forty minutes Ryan proceeded to take a detailed history, performed a thorough and complete examination, paying particular attention to the teenager’s hips, and embarked on a sensitive discussion of her treatment options including surgery.

  ‘I’d like to order an MRI of both hips, as well as blood tests, before we make any definite decisions.’

  Pippa grimaced but remained silent while her mother spoke.

  ‘I’ve heard about MRIs, Doctor, but could you explain what an MRI is?’

  ‘MRI stands for magnetic resonance imaging, and it uses magnets—not X-rays—that produce magnetic fields that boun
ce off the body and are turned into very accurate images by a computer. I want a detailed picture of Pippa’s tendons, ligaments and the membrane lining her hip joints, as well as the bones.’

  ‘Are there any side effects?’

  ‘No—apart from some people getting a rare reaction to the dye that is sometimes injected.’

  Ryan rummaged in one of his desk drawers and produced a leaflet.

  ‘This should explain what you have to do to prepare and what to expect when you have the actual test. I’ve referred you to Bayfield and I understand it can take a few weeks to get an appointment. Which is not as long as if I’d referred you to one of the city hospitals. Any questions?’

  Both Pippa and her mother looked satisfied with the explanation.

  ‘And I stay on the same medications?’

  Ryan looked across at Tara and smiled. ‘Yes, Dr Fielding is doing an excellent job of managing your tablets, so if there are any problems before your next appointment I’d recommend you see Tara.’ He directed his gaze back at the patient. ‘And I’ll see you again in a month.’

  Mrs Morgan stood and helped her daughter out of the chair.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Dennison. At last I feel as if we’re moving forward,’ she said, with gratitude shining in her eyes.

  Ryan certainly had a great bedside manner, Tara thought as she watched him escorting the two women out of the consulting room. By the expression on their faces he’d acquired two adoring fans for no other reason than simply being the Ryan Dennison he’d always been. Her mind began to wander as memories of Ryan bounced in and out of her head—as an impetuous and charismatic uni student, as an attentive and exciting lover, as a loyal husband and now as a competent and caring doctor…and a devoted father.

  ‘Penny for them?’