The Doctor, His Daughter and Me

by Leonie Knight

  The doctor smiled. ‘I can do better than that. I’ll send my receptionist down with photocopies this afternoon.’

  They wound up the meeting and after Liam Taylor left Ryan was infused with a sense of hope not only related to a positive outcome of Pippa Morgan’s surgery but also discovering a viable way to crack the seemingly impenetrable barrier Tara had erected between them.

  He tapped his pen restlessly on his desk and then sighed.

  He really had nothing to lose.

  He was prepared to put everything into winning Tara back.

  * * *

  Tara scrolled down her e-mails. She’d had a busy day, and it was time to go home, but she preferred to tidy up the loose ends of her week before she left. Thankfully the list of e-mails was relatively short and she worked through them easily—until she reached the last but one.

  It was from Ryan.

  Even though she knew it would be work-related her heart thudded unevenly and her throat was suddenly dry. The mere thought of her ex-husband did strange things to her body she didn’t quite understand. Or maybe she did understand. She’d tried to ignore all the signs that indicated she wasn’t over him. Despite the rational part of her brain reinforcing that a future with Ryan was impossible, her bruised and battered heart didn’t seem to get the message.

  She took a deep breath and pressed the mouse button to open the e-mail.

  It took her barely a minute to read it…twice—though she still didn’t quite comprehend what he was asking.

  It was about Pippa Morgan.

  Right. She got the bit about the results of the MRI. She understood why he’d want to tell her about the urgent need for surgery, that a date had been set for two weeks from Saturday at St Joseph’s, and that he’d organised the involvement of Liam Taylor in her post-operative recovery.

  It was the last two sentences that threw her totally off balance.

  I want to talk to you about the possibility of you coming up and assisting with Pippa Morgan’s operation. Can we meet when you’ve finished consulting and I can explain?

  Assisting with Pippa’s operation?

  How on earth did he expect her to manage that? Even if she agreed to the outlandish request it just wasn’t feasible. For a start she doubted her chair would be allowed into the theatre area, let alone into an operating room. There would be too great a risk of contamination, particularly with major surgery involving bone. And if she did get into the theatre to actually assist would mean some sort of wheelchair modification to raise her to the level of the operating table.

  Tara hadn’t been in an operating theatre since her hospital residency.

  Regardless of all her other objections, what if she panicked? She’d turn out to be an inconvenient liability rather than a useful addition to the surgical team. In fact she felt anxious just thinking about it.

  Had Ryan lost his marbles completely?

  After quickly checking the last e-mail she shut down her computer and gathered her things in readiness for going home. What Ryan was suggesting was impractical, physically impossible and totally out of the question. And she didn’t need to tell him face to face. She scribbled a note, deciding she’d do the polite though maybe the cowardly thing and leave a message with one of the receptionists to give to Ryan when he left. But as she swivelled her chair the door opened and Ryan stood in the doorway, smiling with a confidence that bordered on smugness. He obviously wasn’t counting on a knock-back.

  ‘Hi,’ he said as he stepped into Tara’s room. ‘Did you get my e-mail?’

  Tara cleared her throat, but it didn’t prevent the roughness in her voice.

  ‘Yes, just a few minutes ago. And the answer is no.’ She paused and took a measured breath. ‘I don’t think you realise how difficult everyday tasks are for me, let alone the long drive to Perth, and getting some stranger to help me get mobile. And I doubt very much I’d be allowed anywhere near the operating theatres in a wheelchair.’

  Ryan moved one of the patients’ seats so it was directly opposite Tara and sat down. The intensity of his gaze unsettled her, although he was still smiling.

  ‘I’ve thought of all that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve done some research and I’m sure it can be done.’ Ryan’s expression suddenly changed and he looked like an excited schoolboy about to explain his way out of some way-out, non-curricular misdemeanour to an uncompromising teacher. That vulnerability she rarely saw was back, and Tara decided the least she could do was listen. In fact she was a little curious about this research he mentioned.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, the issue of getting up to Perth is easy. I’ll take you back with me after my afternoon clinic here on the Friday. If it’s more convenient to use your car I’m okay with that. I’d leave my car at Liz’s.’ He hesitated a moment, as if he needed an extra dose of courage to continue. ‘And you can stay overnight at my place.’

  ‘But…’ There were a hundred and one reasons why that wasn’t a good idea. Being in the same physical space as Ryan spelled danger. And he had the effrontery to grin.

  ‘Christine will be there to look after Beth, and I’m sure she’d be able to help you with anything you can’t manage yourself. That’s if you’re too embarrassed to ask me to help.’

  ‘You mean with things like showering?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Yes, that sort of thing. My shower’s a large one and could easily accommodate a shower chair and two people.’

  She blushed at the thought of actually sharing a shower with Ryan.

  He seemed to tune in to her thoughts.

  ‘I’m not going to come on to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ He rubbed his forehead and his face went into neutral, then he grinned again. ‘Not unless you want me to.’

  ‘I don’t,’ she said, a little more abruptly than she’d planned.

  ‘And even if you did I suspect the presence of Bethany and Christine would be a passionkiller.’

  He had a point, but she didn’t want to. Did she? The thought crossed her mind that at some subliminal level maybe she did. And that was what was alarming her. As well as how, so far, Ryan had thought of everything.

  ‘That’s all very well, but I can’t see any way of the hospital protocol accommodating my presence in the operating theatre.’ She glanced down at her legs and succumbed to a rare moment of resentment. ‘I haven’t got the use of my legs. Remember?’

  Tara regretted the sarcasm as soon as the words were out of her mouth. But she’d loved surgery as a student, and it seemed a little cruel that Ryan was dangling an unreachable carrot in front of her. He seemed to be undaunted by her response, though. He reached out to put his hand over hers. It was an incredibly tender gesture and, whatever Ryan’s motives, she realised he knew her better than anyone. He really cared.

  ‘No, I haven’t forgotten. You know I’ll never be able to forget.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘But I thought this might be a way to show you I can help you move forward.’

  He’d touched on the aching, throbbing centre of her life. She was stagnating and had little chance of moving anywhere. The rut she was stuck in was growing deeper as time passed. Her time with Ryan—their lovemaking and the cosy domesticity they’d shared on the picnic—had opened a window to another breathtakingly amazing world that she’d naively thought was within her reach. But she’d been wrong. With Bethany’s near-drowning, the window had been slammed shut.

  ‘So tell me how you plan to make this outrageous plan of yours a reality? I know you’re capable of multi-tasking, but I think you’d need a magic wand to pull this off.’

  ‘It’s not been as difficult as I’d thought. St Joseph’s are quite happy to have you working in their theatres as long as first you fill out the paperwork and second you don’t compromise any OR procedures and rules which might interfere with patient safety.’

  ‘Okay, the first part is straightforward, but I can’t see—’

  ‘Just let
me finish before you make any judgements. You can take your wheelchair as far as the change rooms, where one of the nurses can help you get into theatre gear.

  Then you transfer into one of the hospital chairs. Before you scrub up you’ll need to transfer onto a purpose-built adjustable operating stool.’

  ‘An operating stool?’ The idea of such a thing sounded fanciful to Tara. ‘What on earth is that?’

  ‘Well, it just so happens…’ The pause was tantalisingly prolonged.

  ‘Come on, you’ve got to explain now you’ve started.’ Much to her annoyance, he’d captured her attention.

  ‘There’s an anaesthetist on their staff who had major back surgery a few years ago and was left with weakness in both his legs. He was so determined to get back to work after the operation he had a special seat made. I checked it out last week and got the okay for you to use it as long as Peter isn’t rostered on.’

  ‘A stool? I’d topple off if I lost my balance—’

  ‘It has a back rest and removable arms. Mobility is controlled by a joystick and an electric motor, similar to your motorised chair.’

  ‘Is it height-adjustable?’

  ‘Yes, with the same kind of joystick.’

  ‘What about a sterile operating field? I’d be scrubbed and gloved.’

  ‘A sterile soft plastic cover is put over the stick.’

  Tara was intrigued. Ryan had covered every objection she had. The prospect of getting back into the operating theatre and helping Pippa Morgan excited her and she was tempted. Ryan read her reaction in her eyes.

  ‘I have some journal articles you might like to read that suggest there is benefit to patients with problems like Pippa’s if her entire medical team is involved in major therapeutic events like surgery. Recovery is faster and results are better.’

  His research and planning baffled her. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘So you’ll at least think about it?’ His look was pleading, as if her saying yes meant a lot to him. He’d gone to an awful lot of trouble.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Good.’ Ryan’s posture relaxed and he smiled. ‘I need to know by the Wednesday before Pippa’s op.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Tara repeated as she gathered up her bag and medical case and put them on her knee, hoping Ryan got the message their conversation was over. He moved out of the way as she propelled forward.

  ‘I’ll help you with your chair.’

  Ten minutes ago, before their remarkable discussion, Tara probably would have been annoyed at his offer, but her mind-set had subtly changed. Just because Ryan had presented her with the possibility of not only helping her patient, but also the opportunity to do something she’d never dreamed was achievable, it didn’t mean she wanted their relationship to go any further than a professional one. But she was definitely tempted by his offer.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, and they walked together along the corridor. ‘I appreciate it,’ she added quietly, and was relieved Ryan didn’t answer.

  * * *

  Before she embarked on the homeward journey Tara took a few minutes to glance at the summaries of the articles Ryan had given her.

  Was helping Pippa worth letting Ryan think he could organise her career?

  Maybe it was.

  It certainly gave Tara something to think about.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT HAD taken a week of agonising uncertainty for Tara to make the decision to spend the weekend with Ryan, but once she’d made up her mind there was no looking back. It was for Pippa, she kept telling herself, not for her or Ryan. Although she had some trepidation at staying the night at Ryan’s house, she felt reassured Christine would be there.

  And Bethany? Tara hadn’t seen her since the picnic, and wondered if their relationship had changed. She’d just have to wait and find out.

  To her surprise, her parents hadn’t shown as much resistance as she’d expected. She thought Ryan’s ongoing care and surprising understanding of what it was like for a farmer to be out of action might have softened Graham’s attitude. Her mother had been all for it after she’d grilled Ryan on the phone and convinced herself he was capable of looking after her precious daughter. She said Tara deserved a break away from the farm and the opportunity to experience something she really wanted to do. She’d also assured her they could manage without her. The fact that Graham, now confident and much more mobile in his fibreglass walking cast, could do a few light chores made it easier.

  The sun was low in the sky as Tara drove out of the clinic car park on Friday afternoon. Squinting against the harsh light, she took a right-hand turn towards Keysdale instead of her usual left to go home to the farm.

  Her heart thudded with nerves but she wasn’t about to change her mind. Going to the city to assist an orthopaedic surgeon with a major operation on one of her patients would have been routine for most doctors, but for Tara. She saw it as a turning point, a breaking away from the rigid routine of her life, and was grateful to the man who was about to make it happen.

  Although she was staying with Ryan for two days, and two nights—she shivered at the thought—he’d promised to be the perfect host, in the role of a good friend only. He planned to take her out to dinner on Saturday night and Tara was looking forward to spending time with him.

  As she pulled into the motel drive Ryan opened the front door of his unit. He must have been looking out for her. He walked down to meet her.

  ‘Hi,’ he said with a smile that set her heart dancing. ‘I hope you’re okay with me driving?’

  ‘That’s fine. I’m actually a bit weary. It’s been a busy week.’

  ‘For me too. I’m looking forward to an early night, so I hope you don’t mind if we get some takeaway and maybe watch a DVD.’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘That’s if Bethany’s settled for the night,’ he added with a frown. ‘Christine told me she’s been hyped to the max today, so it’s the luck of the draw whether she wears herself out or gets her second wind.’ His frown deepened. ‘But I guess we have to cross that bridge when we come to it.’

  Tara couldn’t help admiring Ryan for caring so much about his daughter’s happiness and wellbeing. Despite his commitments he definitely wanted to be there for Bethany, no matter how much effort he had to put in.

  He leaned into the car so she could grasp his neck while he lifted her out. He performed the task smoothly, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Tara often resented the times when she had to relinquish her independence but today she felt comfortable and safe.

  Too comfortable. Too safe!

  She reminded herself she had vowed to keep a safe emotional distance from Ryan, but his physical closeness was getting in the way.

  ‘Are you all right? You look a bit pale.’

  He must have homed in on her uneasiness, but at least she wasn’t blushing.

  ‘I’m fine. As I said, it’s been a long day.’

  ‘Well, the sooner we get on the road, the better.’

  Definitely—so she didn’t have the opportunity to change her mind.

  * * *

  Tara’s concerns about spending the evening with Ryan were unfounded. When they arrived at Ryan’s apartment Beth was an over-excited dynamo.

  After she gave Tara the grand tour of the apartment, which involved at least half an hour in the child’s room examining every toy in her toybox, every item of clothing she possessed and all the other accoutrements that came with being a four-year-old girl going on fourteen, they had a quiet meal in the living room, watching Beth’s favourite DVD.

  ‘Time for bed,’ Ryan announced at half past nine, which was at least two hours after her usual bedtime.

  The noisy protest was as fierce as if he’d asked her to spend the night in a dark, cold dungeon full of spiders.

  ‘No!’ she announced dramatically. ‘I’m not tired.’

  The argument went on for a good ten minutes until Beth finally conceded to go to bed onl
y if Tara read her a bedtime story. After two stories, a request for a drink and dealing with a bladder that seemed to be as active as its owner, she finally settled. By that time Tara had little energy left for anything more than a soothing hot shower and a comfortable bed.

  ‘I’m totally bushed,’ Tara apologised.

  ‘What would you like to do?’ Ryan said, with a face that gave nothing away of what he was thinking.

  ‘Have a shower and go to bed.’

  She might have been mistaken, but she thought she noticed the slightest twinkle in Ryan’s eyes. It didn’t last long, though.

  ‘I’ll get Christine to help.’

  Christine had a large bedroom, with space enough for a couple of comfy chairs, a small television and a desk. Ryan had arranged for her to share the second bathroom with Tara for the weekend, which was a much more sensible arrangement than using Ryan’s en-suite.

  ‘No. I’m sure I can manage. It’s a huge shower recess, and I see you have support rails in all the right places.’ Tara suspected Ryan had had the rails installed especially for her benefit, but she wasn’t about to question him on it.

  ‘Okay, just holler if you have any problems.’

  ‘I doubt that I will.’

  Their interaction was all very civilised—as if Ryan was putting up a mate for the weekend; as if nothing more intimate had happened in the past than an enduring platonic friendship.

  And that suited Tara just fine.

  She managed the shower without needing help, and had no trouble transferring to the double bed. Although it took her a while to get to sleep, when she finally did she slept soundly, and was woken by a soft knock on the door. She glanced at the clock. It was just after six but already the sun was streaming through her window.

  ‘Come in,’ she said sleepily as she rearranged her pyjama top and pulled the covers up to her chin. When the door opened her reaction to seeing Ryan in boxers and a crumpled tee shirt with a steaming cup in his hand took her by surprise.

  The intimacy she’d tried so hard to avoid was standing in her doorway, with a grin on his face and an aura of good times past and possibilities for the future floating around him. If he’d come across and kissed her she wouldn’t have been accountable for her actions.