Marrying the Runaway Bride

by Jennifer Taylor

‘I only started working here tonight so I don’t know what’s wrong with your son,’ she explained quietly. ‘But I do know that everything possible is being done to help him.’

  ‘One of the nurses said that he’d had a heart attack,’ the father told her. He shook his head. ‘I know he’s been having pains in his chest but I didn’t think kids could have heart attacks. I mean, it’s something old people have, not eight-year-olds like our Charlie.’

  ‘It’s unusual, but it does happen,’ Heather said gently. ‘The main thing is that Charlie was already in hospital when it happened. That will certainly go in his favour.’

  ‘So you think he’ll be all right, do you?’ the mother said desperately.

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  Heather was too experienced to make promises she might not be able to keep. It was impossible to foretell what the outcome would be and all she could do was reassure the parents while they waited for news. It was almost half an hour before the door opened and she stood up when the parents leapt to their feet. Just for a moment she stared at the man who had entered the room, wondering where she had seen him, before all of a sudden it came rushing back and she gasped.

  It was the man she had spoken to the day before her wedding! What on earth was he doing here?

  CHAPTER TWO

  ARCHIE could feel the shock waves reverberating around his body when he saw the woman. He’d thought about her many times since that day they had met. Far too often, in fact, her face had sprung to mind and he had found himself wondering what had happened to her. If he’d known her name, he might have tried to find out, but the lack of information had ruled out that possibility. To suddenly see her right here, in the hospital, stunned him and he had to force himself to focus as he turned to Charlie’s parents.

  ‘Why don’t we sit down?’ he suggested, ushering the couple back into the room. He waited until they had sat down before he turned to the young woman. ‘Thank you, Nurse. I’ll handle things from here on.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  She smiled politely as she hurried to the door, but Archie could see the colour in her cheeks and knew that she was as shocked as he was by the unexpected encounter. He could only assume that she was one of the agency nurses, although it seemed strange that fate had brought her here.

  ‘First of all let me assure you that Charlie is fine,’ he said, quickly dismissing that thought. He didn’t believe in fate. As he knew from experience, a person’s life was dictated by the choices he or she made, not by some unforeseen force of nature. ‘He suffered a myocardial infarction—a heart attack—but he’s stable now and his vital signs are as good as we can hope for at the present time.’

  ‘Thank heavens!’

  Charlie’s mother started crying when she heard that. Archie passed her the box of tissues off the table and waited while she collected herself. He wanted to be sure both parents understood that their son wasn’t in the clear yet.

  ‘We’ve completed all the tests now and I’m ninety-nine per cent certain that Charlie is suffering from myocarditis, which is a fancy term for inflammation of the heart muscle. You mentioned that he’d had an upper respiratory tract infection before Christmas and I think it can be linked directly to that.’

  ‘You mean that cough he had has caused him to have a heart attack,’ the father demanded.

  ‘Basically, that’s correct, Mr Maguire,’ Archie confirmed. ‘The most common cause of myocarditis is a viral infection usually caused by one of the Coxsackie viruses. I think that’s what has happened in this instance.’

  ‘But I had loads of coughs and colds when I was a kid,’ Darren Maguire protested. ‘And I never had a bad heart.’

  ‘No, but sadly Charlie hasn’t been as lucky as you were,’ Archie explained patiently, knowing it was a lot for the parents to take in. ‘Fortunately, your GP suspected there was a problem when he learned that Charlie had been getting those pains in his chest. It’s thanks to him for referring Charlie to us so promptly that we’ve been able to get to the root of the matter. The tests we’ve run have shown there is a disturbance in your son’s heartbeat and that his heart isn’t working as efficiently as it should be doing either. That’s why Charlie was complaining of feeling breathless all the time.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ Darren Maguire asked. ‘Can you give Charlie some drugs to make him better?’

  ‘Unfortunately, there’s no specific treatment for myocarditis. Charlie will need bed rest while he recovers and I’ve also prescribed corticosteroid drugs to reduce the inflammation.’ He leant forward, wanting to impress on the parents how serious the situation was. ‘The main thing is that Charlie must remain in hospital while we monitor what’s happening to him. With rest and the proper care, I’m hopeful that he will make a full recovery, but it will take time. There’s no quick fix to this problem, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how long it takes,’ Cheryl Maguire said, wiping her eyes. ‘As long as he gets better, that’s all that matters, Mr Carew.’

  ‘Indeed it is.’ Archie stood up and smiled at them. ‘Charlie’s having another ECG at the moment. I’ll send one of the nurses to fetch you when it’s finished.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been very kind.’ Cheryl bit her lip. ‘I feel awful about what happened before. I never meant to hit that poor nurse. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘You hit one of the staff?’ Archie exclaimed.

  ‘Yes. It was the nurse who brought us in here and gave us a cup of tea. She was so kind to us, too…’

  Archie sighed as Cheryl trailed off. ‘I’m not sure exactly what happened but any display of physical violence towards a member of the hospital’s staff will be taken very seriously. I suggest you apologise to the nurse concerned as soon as you get the chance.’

  ‘Oh, I will,’ Cheryl said hurriedly.

  Archie left the room and went back to the ward. It was almost seven p.m. but there was little chance of him leaving just yet. Fortunately, everything seemed to have calmed down now the crisis was over. Most of the children were watching television or playing with the games’ stations he’d had installed for their use. It was open visiting during the day and there were still some parents around. Although he encouraged families to play an active part in their children’s recovery, he emphasised that they needed their rest so visiting ended at seven-thirty each evening. Of course, if a child was seriously ill then special arrangements were made.

  He checked on Charlie and was pleased with the results of the latest ECG. He asked one of the nurses to fetch the boy’s parents in then went to the office. Marion Yates, the ward sister, was writing up the boy’s notes; she looked up and smiled at him.

  ‘That was a bit hairy.’

  ‘I didn’t think we were going to get him back at one point,’ Archie said bluntly, slumping down in a chair. He tipped back his head and groaned. ‘It’s hard to tell which bit of me is aching the most. Why do emergencies always come along in threes?’

  ‘They’re a bit like buses. You wait ages for one to arrive and then they all turn up together,’ Marion said, chuckling. She put down her pen and got up to switch on the kettle. ‘How about a cuppa? That might help.’

  ‘A long hot bath followed by a full body massage would be better,’ Archie grumbled, wiggling his aching shoulders.

  ‘Sorry, no can do. I mean, what would the staff think if they found you stretched out across the desk with me giving you a massage?’ Marion teased him. ‘The gossips would have a field day!’

  ‘At this precise moment I couldn’t care less what anyone thought,’ Archie retorted and then yawned widely. ‘I’ve been trying to pack after I finish work and it’s no joke, I can tell you. I don’t know where half the stuff has come from. Every cupboard and drawer seems to be filled to the brim.’

  He yawned again as tiredness caught up with him. He’d been called into work before six that morning and it had been non-stop from then on. It would be after eight before he got home at this rate and
he would have to set to work on sorting out the rest of his belongings otherwise he would never get everything done in time for the move. He closed his eyes as a cloud of gloom descended on him. Even though he’d set everything in motion, he still couldn’t believe that he was actually going to give up the job he adored, but he had to get used to the idea. Come the end of March, he would be leaving London and that would be the end of his career as a doctor.

  Someone tapped on the office door just then and Archie’s eyes flew open. With his head still tipped over the back of the chair, the view of the newcomer was somewhat distorted. From this angle he was seeing her upside down, although he had to admit that starting at the bottom didn’t make the picture any less attractive.

  A flurry ran through him as he took stock of long legs encased in black cotton trousers, slim hips, a neat waist and a shapely bosom beneath a crisp white uniform jacket. He was really enjoying himself by the time he reached her face and his pleasure didn’t dim one iota as he continued his appraisal—a full mouth, a straight little nose, a pair of hazel eyes framed by thick black lashes….

  Archie reared up with all the finesse of a rusty spring uncoiling when he realised who she was. The woman gave him a tight little smile as he stood up and spun round, but he could see the strain on her face and knew she was worried that he was going to say something about how they had met. He took a deep breath and used it to damp down his racing pulse. In that second, he knew that neither thumbscrews nor boiling oil would make him reveal what had happened in Dalverston. Her secret was safe with him. He would never tell a soul.

  Heather could feel the tension humming along her nerves and fought to control it. The only way she was going to get through the next few minutes was by staying calm. She fixed a smile to her mouth as she turned to the ward sister.

  ‘Mrs Jackson wants to know if Emily can go home tomorrow. I said that I’d check with you.’

  ‘I’d like to keep her in for at least another day.’

  Heather’s gaze swivelled sideways when a male voice answered. In a fast sweep her eyes took in the rumpled dark brown hair, the tired green eyes, the firm but beard-shadowed jaw. He was taller than she remembered, his body looking lean and fit beneath the pale grey shirt he was wearing with a pair of darker grey trousers. He looked older and far more careworn than when she had seen him last and the thought bothered her. His kindness that day had been the one bright spot to come out of a very dark experience.

  ‘Sorry. I’d better introduce myself.’ He held out his hand, his green eyes looking straight into hers. ‘I’m Archie Carew, head of the paediatric unit. I take it that you’re one of the agency staff?’

  ‘I…um…that’s right,’ Heather murmured. She took his hand, feeling the jolt that ran through her as his fingers closed around hers. She wasn’t sure what was happening but all of a sudden she felt safer than she’d done for ages. There was something immensely comforting about the firm pressure of his palm against hers. She had the strangest feeling that if she held onto Archie Carew’s hand then nothing could ever hurt her.

  She took a quick breath as she pulled her hand away. It was ridiculous to get carried away by such a fanciful notion. The only person she could rely on now was herself, not some man she barely knew.

  ‘Heather Thompson,’ she said crisply. ‘I just started working here tonight.’

  ‘Rather a baptism of fire,’ he replied easily. He glanced at the ward sister and raised his brows. ‘Apparently, Charlie’s mum hit Heather. I don’t know if she told you.’

  ‘No, she didn’t!’ Marion exclaimed. ‘You should have said something, Heather.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Heather said quickly, because the last thing she wanted was to make a fuss. ‘The poor woman was upset and I understand that’s why it happened.’

  ‘It’s good of you to take it that way, but I made it clear to Mrs Maguire that we view these matters extremely seriously,’ Archie said firmly. ‘I won’t have members of staff being assaulted for any reason.’

  Heather shrugged. ‘I’m sure it won’t happen again.’ She swiftly changed the subject, loath to get into an argument. ‘What should I tell Mrs Jackson? She seems very anxious about taking Emily home.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her,’ Archie offered immediately. He turned to Marion and grinned. ‘I’ll have to take a rain-check on that tea and the massage, I’m afraid.’

  He laughed when the sister rolled her eyes. It was obviously an ‘in’ joke and Heather couldn’t help feeling excluded as he followed her out of the office. She sighed. Being out of the loop was something she would have to get used to now that she was doing agency work. Still, the up side was that she wouldn’t have to explain herself to anyone and that more than made up for it.

  They went back to the ward and Archie headed straight for Emily’s bed. He seemed to have taken it for granted that Heather would go with him so she did. He smiled at Emily’s mother when she hurriedly stood up. Heather had noticed how nervous the woman appeared to be when she’d been speaking to her and she was pleased to see that Archie was making allowances for that.

  ‘I believe you were asking if Emily could go home tomorrow, Mrs Jackson,’ he said gently.

  ‘That’s right. Her…her father is very keen to have her back at home so I said I’d ask you,’ the woman whispered, nervously plucking at the cuff of her expensive cashmere sweater.

  Heather frowned when she spotted a livid bruise on the woman’s wrist. It was obviously a recent injury and it must have been painful, although Mrs Jackson appeared unaware of it.

  ‘I can understand that,’ Archie replied soothingly. ‘However, I think it would be better if we kept Emily here for another day or so. Her kidney function is almost back to normal but I don’t want to take any chances of her relapsing. Another couple of days will make all the difference.’

  ‘If you say so, Doctor,’ the woman mumbled.

  She quickly gathered up her belongings, said goodbye to Emily and left. Heather smiled at the little girl when she noticed her downcast expression.

  ‘Mummy will be back tomorrow to see you, sweetheart. In the meantime, would you like to watch some television or maybe read a book?’

  Emily’s big dark eyes fastened hopefully on her face. ‘Will you read me a story?’ she whispered, sounding exactly like her mother.

  ‘Of course I will!’ Heather reached over to hug her, feeling alarm run through her when the child immediately cowered away. It was obvious the little girl had been expecting a blow and there could be only one explanation for it, too.

  ‘I’ll go and find you a book then come straight back,’ she assured her, glancing at Archie to see if he had noticed Emily’s reaction. It was clear from his expression that he had, and that he’d drawn the same conclusion as she had done. He followed her to the dayroom and she could feel the waves of anger emanating from him.

  ‘You noticed it too, didn’t you?’ she said quietly, crouching down in front of the bookcase.

  ‘The way she cringed when you went to touch her? Yes.’ His tone was grim. ‘I had my suspicions when Emily was admitted but there was no proof that she’d been injured deliberately. The father’s explanation could very easily have been true.’

  ‘What did he say had happened to her?’ Heather asked, pulling out a book about Paddington Bear, a particular favourite of hers when she’d been Emily’s age.

  ‘He said that Emily had fallen off her scooter in the park and had hurt herself when she’d banged into a tree. The mother backed him up.’

  ‘I read her notes and I know she had severe bruising to her right kidney when she was admitted.’

  ‘That’s right. She was in a bad way when she was brought in—passing blood and in tremendous pain. Although only her right kidney had been damaged, we decided to take the strain off her left one and put her on dialysis while it recovered.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s hard to believe that any parent could do that to their own child.’

  ‘Has she been brought int
o hospital before?’ Heather asked, standing up.

  ‘We don’t have any notes for her here, but I’ll have a word with the social workers and see if they can check if she’s been treated at another hospital. If we can find a history of so-called accidents, it would help to prove that she’s being abused.’ He sighed. ‘They’ll need to be quick, though. I can’t keep her in here for ever.’

  ‘I noticed that the mother has a really bad bruise on her wrist. It might be worth following that up to see if there’s ever been a complaint made about domestic violence by any of their neighbours.’

  ‘Good idea!’ he exclaimed and smiled at her. ‘I can tell you’re going to be an asset to this department. Any chance of you taking a job here on a permanent basis?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. I don’t intend to put down any roots until I’ve decided what I want to do with my life.’

  ‘Do I take it that you didn’t go ahead with the wedding?’ he said softly.

  ‘No. I called it off that night, after I’d spoken to you.’

  His eyes darkened with sympathy. ‘It must have been very difficult for you.’

  ‘It was.’ She gave him a tight little smile, unwilling to go into detail when they were in such a public place. Thinking about the hurt she had caused everyone upset her and she didn’t want to risk breaking down. ‘I’d better go and read Emily her story before she thinks I’ve forgotten about it,’ she said, edging away.

  ‘Of course. But if you ever need to talk, I’m a good listener, Heather. Remember that, won’t you?’

  ‘I shall. Thank you.’

  Another smile and she made her escape. However, as she went back to the little girl’s bed, Heather felt a new lightness in her spirit. For the past few weeks she had done nothing but berate herself for the mess she’d made of things and it was a relief not to feel guilty for a change.

  She sighed because it would be stupid to get carried away by Archie’s kindness. She had every reason to feel guilty when she had let so many people down. It hadn’t been only Ross who’d been affected by her decision not to go ahead with the wedding, but both their families as well. Her father in particular had been terribly distressed. He seemed to believe that he was to blame in some way, but that wasn’t true.