‘Hungry?’
She was about to say yes, she was starving, because she’d been working in the milking shed and hadn’t had any breakfast, but Bethany got in first.
‘I’m as hungry as a…um…hippa-pot-mus.’
‘Wow, and I thought I was really hungry.’ Tara chuckled. The little girl brimmed over with excitement.
‘Sun or shade?’ Ryan asked when they’d travelled the short distance to the picnic area.
‘Has Bethany got a hat?’
There was no need to answer as Bethany pulled a floppy denim hat edged with tiny embroidered yellow flowers from her matching backpack. She placed it on her head and pleaded, ‘Can we please sit in the sun, Daddy?’
He glanced over at Tara, who was already wearing a hat. ‘And I managed to keep her still enough this morning to slather on some sunscreen. Do you mind sitting in the open?’
She shivered. There were still remnants of the early-morning chill in the air and the sunshine would be welcome.
‘Yep, definitely.’
Ryan wore knee-length canvas shorts and a black tee shirt with a Bali logo on it. His baseball cap was slightly skewed, which Tara thought was cute. He looked gorgeous in his casual gear. In fact the whole package conveyed the same relaxed contentment she was feeling.
The area was deserted—wrong time of year, wrong time of day for crowds—but Tara imagined if more picnickers arrived they might easily assume she, Ryan and Beth were a typical family. In her dreams…
They parked next to a rough-sawn plank table and Ryan began unloading food.
‘What’s to eat?’ Tara asked, curious to know what was in the various bags and packages.
‘It’s very simple. I called in to the markets yesterday afternoon.’ He gave a running commentary as he unpacked each item and held them up for inspection. ‘Fresh-baked bread rolls, shaved ham and salami, salad greens, some cheese, sundried tomatoes and for dessert—strawberries and fresh cream. Oh, and your mum’s scones.’
By the time he’d finished Tara’s mouth was watering and her stomach growled.
‘Looks positively delicious.’ He’d certainly remembered what she liked.
He handed her and Beth paper plates stacked high with mouthwatering food and then served himself. He settled on the broad timber bench seat with Bethany perched on his knee. They ate until they were full to overflowing, and as soon as they finished Beth was itching to explore.
‘Will you come for a walk with me?’ The child’s question was directed at Tara.
Tara glanced at Ryan. ‘Shall we pack up and then go exploring? I could do with the exercise. I didn’t have time for my normal gym routine this morning.’
‘Why don’t you and Bethany set off for a walk? There’s a bitumen track just over there. I’ll pack up and follow you in five or ten minutes,’ Ryan added with enthusiasm.
Could she?
Ryan trusted her with the care of his daughter, even if it was only for ten minutes.
Yes, of course she could. It wasn’t as if they were perched on a cliff or next to a raging sea. It was a level sealed path meandering around a mirror-smooth lake.
‘Will she be all right?’ Tara looked across at Ryan and raised her eyebrows.
‘You mean will Beth run into a grove of prickle bushes or climb a tree and not come down?’ He tickled his daughter and she laughed hysterically. When she settled down he sat her on his knees so they were facing each other and said, quietly but firmly, ‘You can go for a walk with Tara if you stay close to her all the way and don’t go off the track. Do you think you can do that?’
‘Yes, Daddy,’ she said seriously.
‘Tell me what I just asked you to do.’
‘Don’t go off the path and…um…hold onto Tara.’ Looking over at Tara, she began to giggle. ‘So she doesn’t go in the prickles or climb a tree.’
Ryan seemed satisfied with her answer. She was certainly a bright child and, despite her energy, had been well behaved so far.
‘She’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘And if I haven’t caught up with you in ten minutes just turn around and come back, and make sure I haven’t got stuck in the prickles.’
Bethany was already at Tara’s side, waiting for instructions. She reached out to hold Tara’s hand—obviously the normal thing she would do when going for a walk with an adult. After Tara had demonstrated that she needed both hands to propel and steer her chair they decided on a compromise, where Beth walked on the path and stayed in Tara’s sight.
A few moments later they were on their way—on a journey of discovery.
‘What’s that?’ Bethany said as she stopped to look at a bright yellow fungus clinging tenaciously to a dead tree stump.
‘It’s called a fungus.’
‘Fungus. Ooh, look—there’s ‘nother one…and ‘nother.’ She stopped to examine a two-metre-wide spiderweb spanning the pathway just above her head. ‘Can’t see the ‘pider. Might be a redback. Better be careful.’
She turned, waiting for Tara’s instructions.
‘It’s not a redback’s web. They live in dark places and have a different sort of web. If you get a stick we can make a way through. A lot of spiders only come out at night.’
‘Oh, so he’s having a sleep and doesn’t mind if we smash up his house?’
Tara was lost for words, not having a clue how to answer the not unreasonable question. She decided to use the ‘change the subject’ technique.
‘Look over there, Bethany. Is that a little beach?’
Up ahead about five or six metres of scrub opened up to expose a sandy beach.
‘I’ll go and look.’ Bethany began to run.
‘Not too fast. Wait for me.’ Tara picked up speed and reached the beach just as Bethany made another exciting discovery.’
‘Come and have a look. There’s tiny, tiny little fishies in the water.’
In the blink of an eye the little girl had slipped off her sandals and was wading in the shallows, ankle-deep in the water.
‘No, Beth!’
But she was too late. Bethany leaned over and took a single step—which must have been enough to make the steep bank which was dangerously close to the shore crumble. The child screamed as she floundered in water at least a metre deep.
What Tara did next was a reflex reaction.
She pushed her chair hard into the soft sand and when she reached the water tipped the chair over on its side. The strength of her arms broke the fall and in an instant she was dragging herself into the water.
‘I’m coming, Beth.’
She might not be able to walk but she could certainly swim.
She dragged herself into the freezing lake and grabbed the child, who was still splashing and sputtering. She clutched Beth to her side and manoeuvred awkwardly onto dry ground. As she took a moment to catch her breath she felt strong warm arms encircling both her and Beth, dragging them further up the beach. Beth gasped and then started sobbing. Ryan released his grip on Tara and hugged his shivering daughter to his chest.
‘What happened? Are you all right?’
‘Sorry. Sorry, Daddy,’ Bethany managed between sobs. ‘I—I wanted to see…’ she took a deep gasping breath ‘… the little fishies.’
Tara’s heart went out to the terrified child. She was trying to take the blame. But it was Tara’s fault. Useless, hopelessly inadequate Tara’s fault.
The old doubts came flooding back in a torrent. She could never be an effective parent. Bethany could have died because of her crippled legs, her false hopes and impossible dreams. To think she could live any kind of useful life as a wife and mother was pure fantasy. Her one blissful night with Ryan had blinded her to the reality of the rest of her life. She couldn’t burden Ryan with a lifetime of looking after her. He had Bethany to care for, as well as a full-time job. It was fanciful to think he had anything left for her. Nothing had changed. He needed a wife who was complete.
She started trembling uncontrollably.
‘Are you hurt anywhere?’
<
br /> With his free hand Ryan began feeling for bumps, sprains and broken bones.
‘I’m fine,’ she said brusquely. ‘Just help me into the chair and take me back.’ She looked up into his bewildered eyes for a moment. Any longer was too much to bear. ‘I’m so sorry…I—’
His finger resting lightly on her lips effectively silenced the flood of words that seemed to have stuck in her throat.
‘No one’s to blame and there’s no harm done. You’ll feel much better when you’re warm and dry. It’s been a shock, but nobody’s hurt.’
He lifted her into her chair, placed Bethany on her lap, and then stripped off his tee shirt and wrapped it around them both as best he could. Then, despite Tara’s protests, he pushed them all the way back to the car, sat them both in the back seat and drove back to Keysdale with the heater on full. During the trip they were silent. Even Bethany was subdued. And when they arrived at the motel unit Ryan offered only token resistance when Tara told him she wanted to go straight home.
‘When can I see you again?’ he asked as he wrapped the fleece jacket he’d just brought out from the motel unit around her still damp shoulders.
She reluctantly accepted his help to lift her out of the back seat and into the driver’s before dealing with Beth and removing the booster seat.
Taking comfort in reclaiming some degree of control, Tara turned the key in the ignition. The longer she spent with Ryan, the harder it would be to break away.
‘I think…er…I’ll let you know.’
Now was not the time to try and explain the raw emotions tumbling through her mind. She needed time to put her thoughts in order, to restore a sense of reality, to formulate how to tell him there was no way a relationship could possibly work without sacrifice—the sort of painful and life-changing compromises that would tie Ryan to her in a way she wasn’t prepared to accept. She wouldn’t survive in a one-sided relationship, and that was what it would be. Ryan would be accepting second best—as a lover, a wife and a mother for his child. Although she’d had to adapt to some degree of dependence on her parents she felt the balance of give and take had evened out over the years. She paid her way; in fact her income had helped save the farm when it was close to bankruptcy, and now her father was out of action she was actually working hands-on.
She had little to give Ryan.
Her love wasn’t enough.
Wanting with all her heart and soul to have her own child didn’t qualify her to be a parent. She’d proved that this afternoon, when Ryan had entrusted her with the care of his daughter and Bethany had almost drowned. How could a woman who was reliant on a wheelchair for mobility possibly look after a totally dependent baby, an unpredictable toddler, a boisterous child? She’d made the mistake of beginning to believe in her own daydreams. With a detached eye she could see how wrong she had been to even fantasise.
And the sex!
Yes, it had been fantastic. But the novelty would wear off. Half her body didn’t respond to the physical stimulation they’d both always found so arousing before the accident. Ryan had suffered enough. She didn’t want to be responsible for the compromises he would have to make if they tried to heal the deep wounds of their past. She didn’t have the energy or emotional fortitude to launch into a high-stakes relationship that had every chance of ending in heartbreak for both of them.
It was better it ended now.
‘Goodbye, Ryan,’ she said as she reversed away from him, wondering how long it would take this time to glue together the pieces of her shattered heart.
* * *
Ryan felt as if all the air had been forced out of him by one massive blow to his chest. Just when he’d thought he was making progress with Tara she’d closed herself off from him, and for no logical reason. Was she so entrenched in the predictable routine of her life that she was running scared? Did the prospect of change frighten her? Was she so tangled up in guilt about Bethany’s dunking that she’d lost sight of the fact they’d been making progress in their tentative renewed relationship?
He suspected the incident with Bethany had broken Tara’s spirit and eroded her confidence, but he was just as much to blame as her, letting his daughter go off with Tara alone. He should have known Beth often went off track when she got excited. If Tara hadn’t been there and acted so swiftly Bethany could have drowned. But when he’d tried to explain the barrier between them had strengthened.
How could he convince her he still loved her and would do anything to win her back?
He owed her big-time, but she had left him with a look that suggested a broken heart all over again. He couldn’t live with that, and had to work out a way to get through to her. Maybe he’d start by presenting her with the practical. All the things they could do to make their future viable.
Then a thought suddenly popped into his bewildered mind.
Pippa Morgan.
Tara cared deeply about her patients and especially Pippa. Maybe he could get through to her by means of tapping in to her love of medicine and devotion to her patients.
At the very least it was food for thought, and Ryan vowed he wasn’t about to give up the only woman he had ever loved without a fight.
He would use any legitimate means available to win her back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RYAN had arranged to meet with Liam Taylor, the rheumatologist who was treating Pippa Morgan. He’d seen the young woman the previous week and her MRI scan had confirmed her right hip was so damaged by the relentless disease she’d suffered from childhood it was only a matter of time before she would be dependent on a wheelchair. If that happened it would probably be downhill from there. At nineteen, when she should be at the peak of good health, her bones would begin to crumble, her muscles waste and her fighting spirit would have to be super-strong to survive.
Surgery wasn’t a cure, but it would definitely improve Pippa’s quality of life. Ryan wanted to make sure that all the other options had been tried. A hip replacement was a major operation, not without possible complications, and he predicted Pippa’s recovery would be slower than normal because of the disease affecting other joints.
Ryan sat in his consulting room at the end of his morning session at St Joseph’s and reread the MRI report, intermittently glancing at the images on his computer screen.
The ring of his telephone broke into his reverie.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Dr Taylor to see you,’ the receptionist informed him. ‘Shall I tell him to go through?’
‘Thanks, Pat, send him down to my room.’
A few moments later Liam Taylor knocked softly on his door before walking into the room. Ryan stood, shook his hand and gestured for him to sit down. Once the pleasantries were done with they got down to business.
‘I can offer her pain relief and restoration of at least some of the mobility of her joint with surgery. But it won’t be without some trade-offs. I wanted to check with you to make sure there were no other options for the girl.’
Ryan passed the MRI report to the rheumatologist, who studied it carefully and then looked up to meet Ryan’s questioning gaze.
‘You have copies of the letters I’ve sent to her treating GP?’
‘Yes. You probably know I’ve started sessional work in Keysdale, and I’ve had several discussions with Dr Fielding about Pippa.’
Mentioning Tara made his heart lurch. She’d barely spoken to him since the picnic, despite his frequent pleas not to blame herself for Bethany’s misadventure. Of course he’d been upset as well, but no harm had come of the incident.
She’d closed her ears and her heart to mention of anything other than work, though. It was three weeks now, and he’d almost given up on any plans he’d had to get through to her.
‘Then you know she’s come to the end of the line with non-surgical treatment?’
‘Yes—unless there’s something new. I understand she’s even had a trial of an experimental drug.’
‘Unfortunately I’ve gone as far as I can with
her, and if you think you can help her with surgery, and Pippa agrees, then I’m with you all the way.’
‘That’s what I wanted to hear,’ Ryan said with a tentative smile.
‘Of course she’ll need detailed anaesthetic assessment.
She’s been fairly lucky so far in not developing systemic disease.’
‘Like fevers, rashes, muscle involvement?’
‘Right. Her disease seems to primarily affect her joints, and the most active inflammation and destruction has been in her hips.’
‘If she agrees to surgery I’d want to do it here in the city.’
‘Yes, of course, and I’d follow her progress.’
‘I’d appreciate that.’
‘Had you thought of involving her GP in the operation?’
‘Pardon?’
‘There’ve been several interesting trials involving young adults who have suffered long-term diseases like rheumatoid. Getting the patient and the family or carers as well as the GP together for regular case conferences and involving them directly in the decision-making improves the outcome of not only surgery. They also apparently respond better to other treatments like medication and physiotherapy. In fact I’ve tried it on a couple of my more resistant patients and there seems to be some substance in their conclusions.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Of course my experience is only anecdotal.’
‘Sorry, I don’t quite understand how the GP fits in with what you’ve told me.’
‘The GP works actively with the surgeon and patient, including being present and ideally assisting in the operation. The couple of calls I’ve had from Tara Fielding suggest she cares a great deal about her young patient. It’s just a way of extending the doctor-patient relationship—hopefully with some added benefits for Pippa.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Ryan had shelved the idea of involving Tara in the OR at Keysdale. The way they’d been communicating lately was matter-of-fact, and usually by e-mail or telephone if it involved patients. On a more personal level their exchanges had been almost non-existent. But. It might be a way to get through to Tara—through her work and dedication to her patients.
‘I’d be interested to read the studies. Could you give me details of the publications?’
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