by Becky Wicks
‘You need to hold on to this one,’ his dad had observed through the fog of disarray that constituted his thought patterns these days.
He studied the back of her head now as she arranged her tulips in the vase. He doubted Fred would remember them talking about her, his memories waning and warping the way they were. Wishing he could have agreed with him, Lucas had instead assured his father that he wasn’t about to get involved with anyone else from work, let alone someone who wasn’t intending to stick around for more than a few months. But his father’s words had resonated with him. Maybe he would have tried to hold on to Freya if she didn’t keep putting up walls faster than he could knock them down.
‘Freya, this is crazy. We need to talk,’ he said now, and this time she turned to face him in surprise, right as the foetal cardiologist, Femke, rapped on the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt you, Lucas, but I thought you and Freya might want to know the results of your friend Anne Marie’s ultrasound.’
* * *
‘HLHS,’ Freya said with a sigh, studying the scans. ‘Hypoplastic left heart syndrome with an intact atrial septum.’ She was all too aware of Lucas’s presence at her side. She could smell the fresh scent of his post-workout shower. He didn’t even know it but he threatened to undo her resolve not to kiss him every time he looked at her over the scans. He’d been overwhelming her even before this but when he’d suddenly said they needed to talk, her heart had practically leapt from her chest.
They were facing a new dilemma now, though.
She’d learned in the US that heart defects occurred in eight out of every thousand newborn babies and HLHS was among the rarest types. Ruben and Anne Marie’s baby was missing a natural hole in his heart. It was a devastating diagnosis and she wasn’t looking forward to giving it to one of Lucas’s good friends.
‘We can operate,’ Lucas said with confidence, perching on the corner of the desk and adjusting his glasses.
She nodded, resisting the urge to remind him that if they waited till the baby was born, the chances of saving his life weren’t very high. He’d need to be transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit right after birth, then undergo the emergency procedure to create the hole in his little heart.
Very few babies survived this, most dying during the procedure, some right after a resulting heart transplant. This could be trauma after trauma for the parents, Lucas knew that. He was a scientist at heart, like her. He just wasn’t saying so right now.
This wasn’t the time to continue anything personal between them, she told herself, making for the door.
‘Freya, wait.’ He followed her out into the hallway. ‘Talk to me,’ he urged, stepping close to let a wheelchair go past.
‘I’m concerned for your friend’s baby,’ she said, running her hands through her hair. ‘You know it’s a tricky procedure, operating while he’s still in the womb.’
‘I can do it, you know that. So trust me. We’ll give them what hope we realistically can for a successful outcome. ‘I meant talk to me about what happened on Friday. Are you still worried that some random spread of cards said something discouraging about you and your mother?’
She scowled at the floor. His persistence on the matter was unwelcome here, though it made her heart ache knowing he still had the capacity to be concerned for her, on top of what they’d just discovered about Ruben and Anne Marie’s baby. ‘Forget about it, please,’ she said, and to her dismay her phone buzzed again.
Lucas put his hands in the air. ‘I guess that’s your mother, or your sister, and you’re just going to ignore them again.’
‘Leave it Lucas...’ she replied, walking away, but he stopped her again, standing in front of her.
‘Only you have the power to fix your relationships, and you should do it while you still can, Freya. You’re smart enough to know that, no matter what some random spread of cards told you.’
‘I said leave it.’ She hated the way her heart had started hammering against her ribs; his suddenly impassioned stance making her feel helpless, like he was stripping her down without ever putting a hand on her, pinning her.
She scanned his eyes, seeing the tarot cards all over again in her mind’s eye. She had pulled The Lovers—two naked people baring all—crossed with the ominous Ten of Swords—the ultimate ‘stab in the back’ card. She could see Fayola’s knowing smile.
‘There’s someone you’ve been baring your soul to, someone you want to trust, but somehow you still can’t fully trust them, can you?’
Lucas crossed his arms, leaning against the wall over the bottom of a clown’s foot. Pieter walked past with another patient, a teen in a tracksuit, and she plastered a smile to her face for his benefit. She was practically pressed up against the wall on one side. Again, her heart did a backward flip. Why was it, after all these years, she still saw every guy as Johnny, just waiting to stomp on her heart the second she as much as thought about giving it away?
She knew why...
She didn’t want to believe in anything Fayola might have claimed to see in a few random cards but the next thing she’d said had shaken Freya, despite herself.
‘Swords mean internal conflict, and more breakdowns in communication,’ Fayola had said. ‘I sense this is concerns your mother...either that or something is causing you to cease communication with a close female family member. This battle, whatever it is, is with your own feelings. You’re getting trapped inside your own head and it’s affecting everything around you. Everyone who crosses your path.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said now. He was so close she could see the flecks of green in his vivid blue irises. ‘I need to focus on how to tell Anne Marie—’
‘You live your life for the good of every mother who comes in here with a sick child. Why don’t you ever just talk to your mother?’
‘It’s none of your business. Why do you even care so much?’ she shot back, annoyed. ‘You seem to pick and choose what to tell me about your life, Lucas, but when it comes to mine you’re all over it!’
‘All I’m saying is you don’t know how long your parents will be around for and you don’t want to have any regrets.’
‘What?’
He suddenly flipped the handle on the storeroom door, pulled her inside by the elbow and closed it hard behind them. Darkness enveloped them in the small, enclosed space. She found her hands pressed to his chest in his coat as a patter of footsteps passed by outside.
His lips were an inch from hers, intoxicating, passionate. ‘Your phone keeps ringing. Your mother obviously wants to see you, your sister too. So why don’t you just put everyone out of their misery? Put yourself out of this misery? I don’t like seeing you like this, it’s the reason you don’t want to stay here in Amsterdam, isn’t it? Why you’re still thinking about going to Vietnam after this contract ends, instead of renewing it.’
She swallowed. She had sworn no man would ever get to her like this again, but her fingers betrayed her and started clasping the fabric of his coat around the lapels and pulling him towards her. Lucas let out a frustrated groan before his forehead lowered to meet hers. He urged her closer still, drawing her hips flush against his.
‘You’re something else, you know that?’ he told her, right up against her lips. The sound of his raspy voice was like liquid adrenaline being mainlined into her bloodstream right before he kissed her.
Freya almost forgot where she was as pure animal instinct took over. He was strong, and in one swift movement he claimed her small frame in his big, muscled arms and urged her up against the wall. She was conscious of his hands hoisting her coat up around her middle, and her own dashing through his hair, along his face, down his back, cupping his delicious backside...
She ran her hands around his front and pressed her palms to the firmness of his torso, God...she couldn’t get enough of the way his muscles flexed against her touch. The smell of his aftershave enveloped her just
as much as his arms did in the enclosed space and left her feeling dizzy. She sucked in a breath, letting her hands play in his hair as she found his lips again. He tasted better than she’d ever imagined.
Lucas met her mouth with fierce desire, drawing her harder against him, one hand tangling in her hair as their kiss grew deeper... And then...a flailing limb...an almighty crash.
They sprang apart.
In seconds, the door creaked open. ‘I can’t find those spare candles,’ Freya mumbled breathlessly, trying to cover up what they’d been doing and fumbling through a box of what felt like baby bottles as her swollen lips threatened to give her away. Pieter was standing there open-mouthed in the doorway. He adjusted his dinosaur-patterned tie, looking her up and down in amusement, while Lucas struggled with the fallen item.
‘The vacuum cleaner...appears to be broken,’ he announced hoarsely in the semi-darkness.
‘I wonder how that happened.’ Pieter smirked.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS,’ Joy chirped behind her in the staffroom. ‘You were zoning out for a moment.’
‘Was I?’
‘Thinking about your house still? How’s all that going? You know, the offer is still there for me to come over and help you. I have some special cookies that would make it more fun.’ She threw her a wink over her shoulder, pouring hot water from the dispenser into a mug that held a teabag.
Freya felt worse, suddenly, than she’d been feeling all week since her accidental, hot, unforgettable, embarrassing kiss with Lucas. She was certain their excuse about looking for candles had been accepted as the final word on the incident—at least, Pieter hadn’t done anything more than throw her a knowing look or two in passing. But she’d kept her head down since and had politely declined at least four more invitations from Joy to do things after hours.
She hadn’t had much experience with female friendships since Beatrice but then again, she thought, looking at Joy now in her happy polka-dot headband, maybe it was time to make a conscious effort to stop pushing people away.
‘You know what?’ she said now, as Joy dug her hands in the candy jar and refilled her pockets with lollipops. ‘That would actually be great. I need to clear out and paint one of the spare rooms at least, to make some space so my sister can visit.’
‘Oh?’ Joy arched a plucked eyebrow. ‘Is she coming to stay from the UK?’
Freya shrugged distractedly. ‘I haven’t arranged a date yet, but yes.’
‘That’ll be lovely,’ Joy enthused, popping a sugary sweet into her mouth. ‘Will you take some time off to spend with her?’
Freya made a noncommittal sound. ‘I’ll see how busy things are.’
She’d taken on board what Lucas had said. Hearing the woman in the homeless shelter tell her that she was trapped inside her own head, and that her lonely past was affecting everything in her present, had shocked her. Hearing pretty much the same thing from Lucas had forced her into action.
She still hadn’t discussed with him the issue at heart exactly—that she’d grown up feeling more or less abandoned by her mother, even if teenage hormones had played a small part—but she’d invited Liv to visit with a mind to also asking their mother and Stijn to visit the house and clear the air at the same time. They’d be a family unit for the first time in years.
The thought both excited her and made her feel nauseous, which was probably what was preventing her from setting a date with Liv for her visit. What if she finally confronted her mother about her lack of maternal instinct and Elise was offended, or refused to admit she’d done anything wrong, or severed ties with Freya altogether? She’d be worse off than she was now...abandoned all over again.
But, regardless of the outcome, everything was pointing to the fact that she at least had to try to take control of her own narrative. She would have thanked Lucas for the intervention—so to speak—but she hadn’t seen him.
It had been a week since their little spat in the hallway, followed by the best kiss she’d ever had, and he’d since taken personal leave of his own. She had no idea why—maybe he regretted it? Time off hadn’t been scheduled into his calendar before, but the surgeries that needed his exceptional skills had been postponed; the others being covered by the locum surgeon.
She was aching to know what was going on with him, but just the fact that she was bothered to this extent worried her. It wasn’t something she was used to, and she hadn’t come here to feel like this for a guy—even one as gorgeous as Lucas—so she hadn’t tried to call him, which was just as well, seeing that he hadn’t contacted her either.
‘I can’t wait to see the house,’ Joy said, sipping her tea. ‘Doing up one of those heritage houses would be like my dream renovation project. If you need any help, I’d be happy to share my idea boards with you...’
Freya said thank you, and listened politely to her suggestions for furniture stores and vintage markets around the Netherlands, but her head was still lost in Lucas. She’d gone over the possible reasons for him not contacting her a hundred times, whilst telling herself she didn’t care.
Maybe the humiliation of Pieter walking in on them had been too much for him, though in fairness Pieter hadn’t seemed all that shocked. He’d been trying to set them up together ever since she’d set foot through the hospital doors.
Maybe Lucas was regretting getting personal with another colleague after being involved with that medical illustrator from India who’d gone home... She never had found out the details of exactly what had happened there. Lucas had been pretty evasive, as usual.
Anyway, it was highly unprofessional of both of them to have exchanged heated words in the hallway, and then given into their raging desires, even though she and Lucas had been dancing in circles around each other for weeks. It had always felt inevitable that something would snap eventually.
That night, she arrived home late and exhausted, on two tired feet. Her elderly neighbour, Jolene, called out to her through the shutters of her chocolate box house next door. Jolene was sprightly and lithe as any Dutch woman in her seventies who’d spent her whole life cycling in the open air. She reminded Freya of Anouk—the two had been good friends.
‘Freya! Je hebt een levering...a delivery for you. I keep it inside, in de gang.’
‘For me?’ Freya racked her frazzled brain, but she was sure she hadn’t ordered anything.
‘Wacht hier...wait there, I’ll bring it out.’
Seconds later, Jolene’s front door burst open, and she emerged from the hallway wheeling a bright red, brand-new bicycle. She propped it on the pavement on its stand next to Freya and they both walked around it in the streetlights, admiring the reflectors in the pedals, the gears and dynamo lights, and the silver bell. Jolene dinged it with her finger. ‘Nice,’ she enthused.
There was even a black wire basket on the front, and a ribbon tied around the leather saddle. Freya was stunned. ‘Are you sure it’s for me?’
‘That’s what the note says.’ Jolene pointed to the sealed envelope with her name in block capitals on the front. Two separate chunky chain locks sat coiled next to it like snakes in the basket. ‘Someone must like you a lot.’
The butterflies zoomed straight back into her belly as Jolene squeezed her arm affectionately and left her alone.
Freya crossed to the bridge over the canal and leaned across the wrought-iron railings, feeling the tickle of the purple petunias against one leg as they waved from their decorative box. Sliding the notecard from the envelope, she found she was holding her breath as she read it. Lucas had sent it—but why would he vanish after kissing her and then send her such a lovely gift? If he was trying to distance himself from her, this was a strange way of going about it.
* * *
‘Dr Van de Berg! Over here!’ Little Violet was sitting up in her bed, clutching a pink frizzy-haired doll to her chest while Joy adjusted her tube. ‘
I heard that podcast you did the other day, Dr Van de Berg. My mum listened to it twice in the car.’
Lucas caught Freya’s eye. She was chatting with a teenage patient and his parents at the next bed, and her long hair was once again piled up on the top of her head in a bun.
He watched a flicker of surprise cross her face, no doubt over his appearance after being gone for over a week, but Violet was tugging on his sleeve, urging him closer so she could whisper in his ear. ‘She said you have a nice voice, I like it, too.’
‘Well, thank you very much, Violet. You have a very nice voice too.’
Joy told the girl jokingly not to inflate his ego and Violet grinned with gappy teeth. The child was the nine-year-old queen of the ward. Their last cardiologist had diagnosed her Ebstein anomaly and ASD, but rare abnormalities with her heart’s tricuspid valve meant in spite of two surgical procedures she was on constant watch for congestive heart failure. Her parents had taken to rushing her in every time she as much as coughed, but she lived like nothing was wrong with her at all. An inspiration, if ever he’d met one. She’d been on the transplant list for a while now and he was hopeful she would get her new heart soon. He looked forward to another successful transplant, and seeing her live a full, healthy life away from this place once and for all.
‘Good to have you back, Doctor.’ Joy adjusted her hair behind her ears, while Violet reached for another doll and started brushing its blue hair, indifferent to the blood coursing visibly through her tubes.
‘I hope you got some rest while you were away?’ she added, as if he’d been sunning himself on a beach in the Caribbean instead of launching a family-sized search party for his missing father. ‘I heard your podcast, too.’
‘Which podcast was that?’ Freya was at his side now.
‘“The Heart of It” podcast,’ Joy carried on, plucking a stray piece of lint from Lucas’s coat and making him smile as they moved from Violet’s bedside. He saw Freya watching them, a frown appearing on her face momentarily then vanishing just as quickly.