But he didn’t. He was playing the perfect gentleman.
‘I’m afraid it will have to be cereal for breakfast. Christine and Beth are still asleep, and I wanted to get to the hospital in plenty of time for you to familiarise yourself with the set-up. Make sure you’re comfortable with the equipment and the OR routine.’ He cleared his throat and walked over to place the cup on her bedside table. ‘Though I doubt much has changed over the past ten years or so.’
‘Cereal’s fine.’ She wanted some time alone to make sense of the rightness—that was the best way she could describe her feelings—of having Ryan in her bedroom at just after dawn on a Saturday morning, when she’d normally be helping with the milking. But he seemed reluctant to leave. She positioned herself a little higher in the bed and leaned over to get the cup. ‘And thanks for the tea.’
‘My pleasure. Is there anything else I can get you or do for you?’
‘No, thanks. I’ll be fine. As soon as I’ve finished this I’ll get dressed and come through for breakfast.’
Ryan finally got the message and left her to the task of getting ready for a day working in the operating theatre, helping to give Pippa a better quality of life, working side by side with the man who had made it all possible.
She had every right to feel nervous and excited and happy all at the same time.
But she had no more time to ponder the unusual turn her life had taken. The door burst open and Bethany charged in like a rocket, all sparks and multi-colours and the joy of living that only the young were capable of exuding by the bucketload.
‘I love you, Tara,’ the little girl said as she flung her arms around Tara’s neck and kissed her cheek. ‘And I wish you could stay here all the time.’
‘I love you too,’ she whispered as a tear trickled down her cheek.
But any thoughts of the future with Ryan and his darling daughter were pure fantasy.
She lifted Bethany off the bed gently.
‘I need to get dressed now, so why don’t you help your daddy make some breakfast?’
‘Ooh, yes.’ Tara could almost see the cogs of Beth’s young brain turning as she catapulted out of the room with almost as much energy as she’d entered.
* * *
Pippa’s surgery, though complicated, went smoothly. The operation took just over three hours, but at the conclusion there was an air in the OR of a job well done, thanks to the surgical team and especially to Tara.
She’d been amazing. From the time she’d appeared in her dark blue scrubs to the moment she’d stripped off her gloves and gown and wheeled out of the theatre there’d been an incredibly positive buzz in the air.
Ryan touched her shoulder and she swung around.
‘Thanks, Tara. You were great. Amazing, in fact.’ He smiled and swung open the heavy theatre door.
‘I should be thanking you. You’re the one who went to so much trouble to organise it all,’ she said as she manoeuvred through the opening. ‘It went well?’
‘Better than I expected. I am hopeful Pippa’s new hip will last for at least twenty years.’
‘And then? She’ll still be a relatively young woman.’ The joy in Tara’s eyes dimmed for a moment.
‘Unfortunately I can’t predict that far ahead, but we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.’ Ryan stopped outside the recovery ward. ‘I just want to see if Pippa’s awake and tell her the good news. Then I can meet you in the staff lounge.’
‘Do you want me to talk to her parents? They’ll be desperate to know how things went.’
‘I was going to do that after checking on Pippa—maybe we can go together.’
Tara nodded. ‘I’d like that.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘And can I come in with you now?’
‘Of course.’ Ryan opened the door.
Pippa was one of two post-op patients in a room that was usually a hubbub of activity during the week. Although there were usually one or two surgeons who did elective sessions on Saturday morning, the theatres were geared mainly for emergencies on the weekend.
A nurse stood on the side of the bed, writing down her patient’s obs, and the anaesthetist was at its head, monitoring the girl’s breathing. They both looked up and acknowledged Ryan and Tara’s presence as they entered the room. Pippa’s endotracheal tube was still in place, but she was breathing spontaneously and beginning to cough, a sure sign the tube was ready to come out.
‘You two did excellent work today.’ The anaesthetist looked up briefly before focusing his attention on the task of removing the tube and replacing it with an oxygen mask.
‘Is this going to be a regular thing? Your assistant would certainly be an asset here.’
Ryan glanced at Tara, whose cheeks had taken on a rosy pink colour. She certainly deserved the praise and had no reason to be embarrassed.
‘No, I’m afraid this is a one-off,’ Tara said huskily. She paused to clear her throat. ‘I live and work three hours’ drive away. Ryan went to the trouble of setting all this up because Pippa’s a very special patient of mine.’
The anaesthetist glanced at her and smiled. ‘Well, if you ever change your mind…’
Just then Pippa produced a loud gurgling cough and opened her eyes.
‘You’re in the recovery ward,’ the nurse said, a tad louder than was necessary. ‘And your wonderful doctors are here to tell you how the surgery went.’
Pippa closed her eyes briefly, before opening them again and turning her head slightly so she could see both Tara and Ryan.
‘Do you want to tell her the good news?’ Ryan asked softly.
Tara nodded and smiled as she positioned herself as close as she could to the bed. She reached out to grasp the young woman’s hand and felt the slightest squeeze.
‘It all went really well, Pippa. It will take a couple of days, but Dr Dennison tells me you’ll be up and running soon.’
Ryan leaned a little closer. ‘And I’ll be in to see you tomorrow.’
Pippa managed the slightest smile and then closed her drowsy eyes again, signalling she’d absorbed all the information she could for the moment.
They both quietly left, and Ryan was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of shared accomplishment, a special bond with Tara that went deeper than any professional relationship ever could.
He needed to talk to her—without the distraction of his over-exuberant daughter.
And he would do it over dinner tonight.
* * *
Ryan had informed Tara he’d booked a meal at one of his favourite restaurants, renowned for its superb food and casual atmosphere. And it was within walking distance of his apartment.
‘They won’t turn you away if you’re wearing jeans, but I guess you’d call the dress code “smart casual”,’ Ryan had told her the previous week, when they’d been making the final arrangements for the weekend.
Knowing she didn’t need to dress in a designer outfit was a relief, and she felt satisfied as she looked in the mirror after putting on her make-up and scooping her hair up from her neck and fixing it with a gold clasp. She certainly wouldn’t win a beauty contest, she thought as she retouched her blusher and removed a speck of errant mascara, but she scrubbed up okay if you didn’t look too closely at her from the waist down.
She rarely had the opportunity to go out, let alone to a city restaurant with a dangerously handsome man she was beginning to care about more than she’d planned. She kept telling herself she was looking forward to the outing, but there was a persistent niggle of anxiety in her gut she just couldn’t seem to shift.
Her weekend with Ryan seemed too perfect—being fussed over by both Ryan and Christine; all the compliments on the good work she’d done in the operating theatre; being wined and dined by an attractive man; having the opportunity to spend some quality time with a delightful four-year-old who seemed to adore her. She had the ominous feeling it was all too good to be true. The reality was when Ryan dropped her home the following evening nothing would have changed. But sh
e could see no alternative, and resolved not to let her ruminations interfere with her evening.
As she wheeled herself out of the bedroom and along the short passage to the informal living area she could hear the sounds of Christine in the kitchen, no doubt busy preparing a meal for herself and her young charge. Ryan sat with his daughter on his knee, watching television. They both looked up when they heard the bump of her chair as she stopped and put on the brakes.
Ryan’s eyes were as wide as his daughter’s.
‘You look like a bootiful princess,’ Bethany said with her usual candour.
‘And I second that.’ Ryan gently moved his daughter and stood up. He wore charcoal pants, a plain navy shirt and a china-blue silk tie. He looked gorgeous. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on before planting a kiss on Tara’s cheek. ‘In fact you look stunning,’ he added as he ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip.
‘Thank you. And you scrub up pretty well yourself.’
It was Tara’s way of making light of the compliment and it apparently worked. Ryan chuckled.
‘Are you ready to go, then?’
‘Sure am.’
After hugs from Bethany, and a farewell wink from Christine, they set off. The restaurant was two blocks away, on the same street as Ryan’s apartment, and when they arrived the place was buzzing. Ryan was on firstname terms with the head waiter and they were guided to a table in a corner with plenty of space for Tara’s chair.
‘Well, at least you don’t have to worry about pulling out my chair,’ Tara teased.
Ryan smiled without answering as he handed her the wine list.
‘What would you like to drink?’ he finally said.
‘Just water to start, and maybe some wine with dinner. Unlike you, I have to drive home, and I don’t want to be picked up for being out of control on a public footpath.’
He laughed as he poured chilled water into a crystal tumbler.
When the wine waiter appeared Tara didn’t hear what Ryan said to him, but he came back in a few minutes with a long-necked bottle of a local boutique beer.
‘I hope you don’t mind?’
‘No, of course not.’
Tara couldn’t help noticing Ryan wasn’t fully at ease. There was something on his mind. Something that was probably none of her business but that made her feel a little edgy as well.
‘Is something the matter?’ Tara wanted to clear the air.
Ryan paused and cleared his throat.
‘Part of the reason I asked you out to dinner was that I wanted to talk to you. Over the past month you’ve been treating me like a leper, and we’ve not had a chance to talk through what’s happening with us since I’ve been in Keysdale.’ He traced lines in the condensation on his glass and then looked up with an expression that went right to the centre of Tara’s heart.
‘I…er…don’t understand what you mean,’ Tara said with her heart thudding.
‘We need to talk about the accident. We were both so young, and I didn’t want to hurt you and go against what you told me you really wanted, but I know now that walking out on you was the wrong thing. I should have tried harder to convince you we could survive, no matter what. I also believe you weren’t telling me the truth when you said you didn’t love me. I think it was just your way of ending a relationship you believed had no future.’
Ryan looked down at his drink and took a slow sip.
Tara was close to tears.
‘No. Don’t blame yourself. If anyone’s to blame it’s me. I wasn’t thinking straight and I felt sorry for myself. I could only see a future abounding with problems. I knew you felt really bad about the accident, and I didn’t want to fuel your guilt by having you living with me as a daily reminder of what happened. I shouldn’t have sent you away, and I was kidding myself by thinking the love had gone for me.’ She reached out for Ryan’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘I’ve always loved you and I always will.’ Her voice dropped to whisper. ‘And I’m sorry for the damage I’ve done to our relationship. I wish there was some way—’
‘Maybe there is.’ Ryan’s eyes were bright with hope and anticipation. ‘It’s something I’ve thought a lot about over the last few weeks and I hoped I could tell you tonight.’
Tara raised her eyebrows and waited, wondering what he was about to say.
He grasped her hand with both of his, adoration shining from his eyes.
‘I want to move to Keysdale.’
‘But—’
‘No, hear me out. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but I’m sure I could secure a consultancy in Bayfield—and Rob Whelan has offered me more sessions already. It’s a wonderful place for Bethany to grow up in. We could build a house together, work together. Have babies together.’
Tara was overwhelmed, but she had no doubt in her mind that Ryan was serious.
‘What exactly are you saying, Ryan?’ Her grip on his hand tightened.
‘My darling Tara, I want a second chance. I want us to be married again.’ He paused. ‘And I’m certain it could work for all of us, as the family we always wanted to be.’
Tara didn’t know what to say. Ryan was offering her the future she’d always dreamed of and she couldn’t think of a single reason not to accept his proposal.
‘Well?’ he said with a grin on his face.
‘Yes, Ryan. Of course I’ll marry you.’
Right on cue the waiter arrived with two frosted flutes and a bottle of vintage champagne.
‘How did you do that?’
He laughed, leaned across and planted a lingering kiss on her lips.
‘That’s my secret.’
EPILOGUE
Two and a half years later.
IT TOOK six months to build the house but, like everything else in Ryan’s plans, he’d wanted it to be perfect. It had all the features to make life easy for a wheelchair-user, her husband, her stepdaughter and their new baby—and as many children as they wanted. It even had a self-contained unit for Christine under the same roof.
The rambling single-storey country home stood proudly in ten gently rolling, lightly wooded acres in the foothills about ten kilometres east of Keysdale. There was a small paddock that was home to a gentle rust-coloured Shetland pony named Missy, an orchard of a dozen young fruit trees, and a well-tended herb garden. Today, being a very special day, a little six-year-old girl sat quietly on the veranda, gently rocking a cradle, waiting for her grandparents to arrive.
The girl looked around and smiled as the front door opened.
‘I’ll look after Brodie while you go and get changed,’ Tara said, as Beth ran over to plant her trademark sloppy kiss on Tara’s cheek.
‘You look beautiful.’ Bethany’s smile broadened into a grin.
‘Why, thank you.’ She wheeled herself over to her four-month-old baby, who was sleeping peacefully. ‘Your daddy just told me the same, so I guess it must be true.’ She laughed as she gently ran her index finger over the baby’s forehead.
She was talking to herself as Beth had already run inside.
Her mind began to wander as she settled into the rhythm of gently swinging her darling sleeping son.
So much had happened since Ryan had asked her to be his wife and the mother of his children. Her initial reaction had been one of incredulity. She’d half believed Ryan had lost touch with reality when he’d outlined his plans for their life together. He’d managed to counter every objection she’d made, though, with ideas that were not only rational and well thought out but possible. He’d turned what she’d thought was an impossible dream into the reality of the ‘happily ever after’ life she was living right now.
‘Who would care for Bethany?’
‘Christine’s prepared to work for us for as long as we want her.’
‘You want more kids. I can’t—’
‘Why not?’
And the living breathing evidence was lying in the cradle in front of her.
‘My work?’ By that time her prot
ests had lost a little of their clout.
‘If we’re going to set up house in Keysdale there’s no need to change anything—unless you want to. I’ve already approached the boards of both the Keysdale and Bayfield hospitals and they’re open to the idea of setting up an operating theatre so you can assist. My guess is that you’ll have other surgeons clamouring for your services.’
She now worked two days in the clinic, as well as two sessions a week in the OR. She’d also recently embarked on part-time post-graduate studies in anaesthetics and hoped to add Diploma of Anaesthetics to her list of qualifications two years down the track.
At that moment Tara’s thoughts were interrupted by a six-year-old dynamo dressed in a frothy pink dress and an aura of excitement. She burst through the front door, closely followed by her father.
‘I heard a car coming. Is it Nan and Gramps?’ the child said breathlessly as a vehicle pulled up in front of the house.
The baby stirred and Tara lifted him into her arms as Jane and Graham Fielding climbed out of the newly acquired four-wheel-drive they’d bought to tow their state-of-the-art caravan around Australia. Selling the farm seemed to have been one of the best things they’d done in their lives.
Jane barely stopped to hug Bethany and say hello to the adults before she had her grandson in her arms. Graham stood behind them and extended his hand.
‘It’s a beautiful day for a naming ceremony,’ Graham said. ‘Let’s hope there are one or two more little ones to come.’
Tara glanced at her husband, aware of the flush of heat in her cheeks.
Ryan winked, moved over to where she sat and kissed her.
‘I don’t see any reason why not,’ Ryan said.
* * * * *
ISBN-13: 9781460377185
THE DOCTOR, HIS DAUGHTER AND ME
© Leonie Knight 2012
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
The Doctor, His Daughter and Me Page 17