She looked over the top of Regan’s head. ‘You okay?’ she asked softly.
It was almost like she knew. As if she’d read his mind.
His heart stuttered, partly because of the empathy she showed and partly from the thought that if she could read his mind, she might not be entirely happy with some of the thoughts he’d been having.
He gave a quick nod of his head. ‘I’m fine.’
He sucked a deep breath in and closed his eyes for a second, inhaling the scent from the nearby street vendor carts. As he opened his eyes again he took in the bright splashes of colour all around them, and his ears adjusted to the constant buzz of noise. He smiled. Vietnam. Something about this city was giving him a new lease on life.
* * *
The next two days were busy. No time to sightsee or do anything other than work. Lien liked that. It was normal for her. But she was conscious of the fact that Joe was used to more support back home. She also wondered how well he was sleeping. She’d noticed some dark circles under his eyes today. Her hand paused at the blue door, wondering if she should knock or not. She wasn’t being nosy but she hadn’t seen Regan for a few days.
From the smell wafting through the open window she could tell they’d already had dinner. Good. She wouldn’t be interrupting. She knocked at the door and pushed it open when she heard the shout telling her to enter.
Joe waved her inside. Regan was perched on the edge of the sofa and she could see they had an electronic tablet in their hands. ‘We’re just video-calling back home with my mum and dad,’ he explained. He moved over on the sofa. ‘Come and say hello.’
She shook her head quickly and backed up. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’
‘Don’t go.’ He smiled and waved his hand, beckoning her inside. ‘Come. My mum and dad want to say hello.’
She smiled nervously. This definitely felt like an intrusion, but Regan waved her over too. ‘Come on, Lien, say hi to my grandma.’
Lien took a few steps and sat down nervously next to Joe. There was an older couple on the screen, waving at her.
‘Mum, Dad, this is Lien.’
Regan stuck his head across the screen. ‘She works with Daddy.’
Joe nodded to the screen. ‘Lien, this is Rob and Ann, my mum and dad.’
Lien laughed nervously and waved back.
The woman, Ann, stepped right up to the screen, obviously to get a better look at her. She clasped her hands together. ‘Lien, it’s so nice to meet you. Regan’s been talking about you and how you live in the house next door.’
Lien nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. I’m next door.’
She’d spent her life talking to patients and relatives—usually complete strangers—and managed perfectly well. But right now she’d never felt so awkward. She had the strangest sensation of meeting a boyfriend’s mum when she was nineteen years old, and vowing not to set foot in that house again.
His mum had been nice, but it was clear she didn’t think anyone would be good enough for her son.
Ann kept talking. ‘How are they getting on? Regan says he likes the nursery, have you seen it? Does it have a good reputation? And Joe? Is he behaving? And how big is the laundry pile? Has he started wearing crumpled shirts yet?’
Lien’s head was buzzing, not least with the speed of the barrage of questions, but also with the broad Scottish accents. She actually started laughing.
Joe gave a casual shrug and rolled his eyes. ‘See, Regan? I told you. She doesn’t believe a word we say.’ He gave Lien a slight nudge. ‘Go on, back me up here.’
She turned from Joe to Regan and back to Ann. Rob stood in the background with his arms folded and his head shaking in amusement. It was clear he was used to all this.
Lien started to brush off the nerves. She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. I know how this works. I’m Team Ann.’
Joe’s mother’s face broke into a wide grin and the older woman held up her hand towards the screen. ‘High five!’ she said.
Lien returned the gesture. ‘High five.’ She shifted on the sofa. ‘So, the real story is, yes, your boys are doing fine. The nursery is great and Regan...’ she gave the boy an appreciative nod ‘...is mastering the language better than his dad.’ She gave Joe a quick glance. ‘As for Joe, well...’ she put her hand to her face ‘...where do I start?’
Ann started laughing and Joe leaned forward. He gave Lien a pretend shocked look. ‘What? No way?’
Lien shrugged. ‘Well, he seems to be doing okay in the doctor department but sometimes...’ she gave a slow nod and an amused grin ‘...he needs to be reined in.’
‘Oh, don’t I know it!’ declared Ann.
Lien pretended to look over the back of the sofa. ‘As for the laundry basket... I wouldn’t like to comment.’
Regan was laughing so hard he fell off the edge of the sofa and jumped back up again almost instantaneously. All four adults let out a yelp at once, and then a sigh of relief.
This time Rob stepped forward. He exchanged glances with his wife and put an arm around her waist. ‘We’re so glad to meet you, Lien,’ he said. She could see the genuine appreciation in his eyes. ‘We’re relieved there’s someone to keep an eye on our boys.’
Something panged inside her. They missed Joe and Regan. It was obvious. But there was something else too. Joe had told her that his mother had pushed him in this direction. She could almost see the older couple reaching through the screen and making a grab for the hopefulness they could see. She suddenly realised how this must look.
‘Everyone at the hospital is looking out for them,’ she said quickly.
Ann still had her gaze fixed on Lien, who tried not to look nervous, or shift uncomfortably. She didn’t want his mum and dad getting the wrong idea. She reached a hand out and patted Joe’s leg. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, as she stood up.
Joe gave her a strange look, his gaze fixing on her hand. Of course. She’d just touched his leg. It had been an unwitting move. There had been no intent. But she doubted she’d helped things.
She gave her head a tiny shake and shot him a look of apology. ‘Nice to meet you, Rob and Ann.’ She waved at the screen as Regan climbed onto her vacated spot on the sofa.
She reached the door and glanced back. Regan had started talking again quickly, regaling his grandparents with stories from the nursery. But Joe’s eyes were fixed on hers.
She couldn’t quite tell what the expression on his face meant. Was he angry at her? Annoyed? No.
It was almost like...something else. As if a veil had just lifted from his eyes and he was seeing her in a different light.
The tiny hairs on her arms stood on end as her skin prickled instantly. She lifted her hand in a silent wave and ducked out the door, crossing the ground to her own house in double quick time.
When she opened her own door she closed it firmly behind her and stood for a second, leaning against it. What was wrong with her? Nothing had happened. Nothing had been said. But every cell in her body was on red alert. Her heart was racing. And somehow she knew it wasn’t from her burst of quick walking.
But there was something else. Something more subconscious. His parents were lovely, and clearly good fun. But she’d noticed something. It couldn’t be helped. It was obvious.
They’d been in the garden of their home. Their very large home. She had no idea about how people lived in Scotland, but she could tell a very large home and beautiful gardens at first glance. It all meant money. Joe’s family was rich. And she had experience of rich families.
Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. There was obviously something wrong with her. Why had those thoughts even come into her head? Joe was only a work colleague. Nothing else. She was merely being hospitable.
But if she was only being hospitable, why did the fact he had a rich family back in Scotland make her want to run in the opposite d
irection?
She closed her eyes for a second and leaned her head back. This was crazy. She was crazy. She just wasn’t quite sure what came next.
* * *
Regan was oblivious to the subtleties of adults. He took every question about Lien at face value and blurted out answers left, right and centre.
Joe sat quietly cringing. The only thing was, he couldn’t help but smile. He could read his mum and dad like a book and shook his head at a few of their more inquisitive comments, pretending he hadn’t even heard them.
Eventually, he grabbed Regan and pulled him onto his lap. ‘Say goodnight to Grandma and Papa. It’s time for bed.’
His mother pulled a face and started to blow kisses. Then, just as they were about to disconnect, his father shot in a quick comment. ‘Love to Lien!’
Joe was sure the second the connection ended they’d be hugging each other. He spent the next half-hour settling Regan into bed and making up some story about pirates, before making his way back to turn out the lights. ‘Not as good as Lien,’ Regan murmured in a sleepy voice.
Joe left the room smiling and glanced out of the window. The pale lilac door was taunting him. Begging him to knock on it.
None of this had been planned. When Lien had appeared at the door it had seemed only natural to call her over to say hello to his parents. He’d half hoped it might give them some reassurance that he and Regan had actually settled in.
Instead, it had opened a whole new can of worms.
He felt his phone buzz and pulled it from his pocket. A text from his mother. Three words.
We love her.
Nothing else.
Guilt swamped him. What was he doing? As soon as Lien had sat down she’d fallen into the family conversation with no problems and been an instant hit with his parents.
He couldn’t pretend that hadn’t pleased him. He’d liked the way they’d exchanged glances of approval and joked and laughed with her.
But it also—in a completely strange way—didn’t please him.
Part of him still belonged to Esther. Always had. Always would.
He’d found love once. He’d been lucky. Some people would never have what he and Esther had.
How dared he even contemplate looking again?
His mother had pushed him here to start living again. Not to find a replacement for his wife.
The thought made his legs crumple and he slid down the wall, his hands going to his hair. For a few seconds he just breathed.
He was pulling himself one way and another. Guilt hung over him like a heavy cloud.
He knew why he was here. He knew he’d been living life back in Scotland in a protective bubble. It was time to get out there. That was why he’d accepted the tickets and climbed on that plane.
But what he hated most of all was that he did feel ready to move on. He was tired. He was tired of being Joe the widower. It had started to feel like a placard above his head.
But part of him hated the fact he wanted to move forward. He was tired of being alone. He was tired of feeling like there would never by anyone else in his and Regan’s lives. He was tired of being tired. Of course, he had no idea about the kind of person he was interested in. The truth was, the few little moments that Lien had caused sparks in his brain had bothered him.
It had been so long and he couldn’t quite work out how he felt about everything yet. Of course he’d want someone who recognised that he and Regan were a package deal. He’d want someone who could understand his usual passion for this work. These last few weeks had mirrored how he’d been a few years before. Every day there was something new to learn. Someone new to help. It was what had always driven him, and he knew that, for a while, he’d lost that. But Vietnam was reawakening parts of him that had been sleeping for a while.
He lifted his head and peeled his damp shirt from his back and sighed. Too much thinking wasn’t good for a man.
CHAPTER FOUR
LIEN FINISHED WRITING up the notes on her last patient just as one of the nurses stuck her head around the door. ‘Lien? I know it’s late, but Joe asked if you’d mind dropping in at his house on the way home. There’s something he wants to talk to you about.’
She couldn’t help the way her face automatically curved into a smile. It seemed the nurse noticed too as she gave Lien an amused glance. ‘Okay, then, see you later.’
Lien glanced at her watch. It was late. Regan would likely be sleeping by now. She couldn’t help but be curious. What did Joe want to talk to her about?
She washed her hands and pulled her shirt a little straighter, then walked across the grounds towards his blue door.
She knocked lightly, waiting for only a second before he pulled it open with a tired smile. ‘Come in.’
He was wearing a white T-shirt and some lightweight jogging trousers. From the way he had papers scattered across the table he’d been working on this for some time.
He gestured towards the table, indicating she should sit next to him. In the last few weeks he’d made this place a bit homier. There were now a few pictures scattered around, and it looked like he’d finally got around to buying a laundry basket to get on top of the washing. She could see a haphazardly folded pile of clean clothes sitting on a chair in the corner of the room.
‘Want something to eat?’
She shook her head. She’d been hungry a few hours ago, but the feeling had passed. He held up a tin that she knew was where he kept Regan’s favourite biscuits. ‘One of these?’
‘Go on, then,’ she said. ‘But promise not to tell him.’
Joe smiled. ‘Oh, too late, he has these counted. I’ll need to account for the missing biscuit tomorrow.’
She bit into the chocolate-coated biscuit. It was one that Regan’s grandparents sent every few weeks from Scotland and she was beginning to think she was getting quietly addicted to them.
There was a noise, a bit like a whimper, and Joe crossed to Regan’s doorway. As she watched she could sense his breathing get heavier. It was clear he had something on his mind. She waited a few moments, and when he didn’t move, she crossed over to stand just behind his shoulder.
Regan was curled into a little ball. His lips were moving, as if he were singing some song or nursery rhyme in his sleep.
Joe took a deep breath, his voice so low it was barely a whisper, his eyes fixed on Regan.
‘Sometimes when I’m in my bed at night, I get up and watch Regan sleeping. Then I start to wonder, is there some horrible, secret gene that predisposes you to cancer?’
Lien’s stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. He kept talking, his voice racked with emotion.
‘Both of Esther’s parents died of different types of cancer, and she died of leukaemia. So I look at my little boy and wonder if there’s even a tiny possibility that he might have inherited something that I don’t know about, can’t see, and won’t find out about until it smacks us in the face.’ His voice was shaking now, as were his hands.
She slid her arm through his.
He shook his head. ‘I know it’s crazy. I know it’s irrational. But I can’t help it.’
Her voice was tinged with sadness because she got the impression he’d been hiding these feelings for a while, storing them up, letting them fester, and not sharing them with anyone else. ‘But it’s not irrational, and it’s not crazy, Joe. It’s the thoughts of a man who has already lost his wife, and is terrified he might lose his son.’
She hated the fact they were having this conversation. She could reach out and touch his pain. It was so visible in the air it was practically creating a cloud around his head.
There was also a tiny twinge in her that wondered if this was why he’d asked her here. She’d been bright and happy about the invitation, hoping that—just maybe—it was for something other than work.
But now he was talking to her about his
dead wife, and his fears for his son. Her heart ached for him, but she was also trying hard to hide the tinge of disappointment she felt.
She should have been pleased that he felt he could reveal this part of himself to her. But somehow it also gave her the feeling that, no matter what Joe said out loud, his heart really wasn’t ready to move on.
She ran her fingertips along his bare skin. ‘I can’t say much to help, because we do know some cancers seem to run in families. But think back. Think back to the random patients you’ve seen over the years that came in with symptoms. Symptoms that led to a diagnosis of...’ she paused for a second, obviously recalling a few cases ‘...skin cancer, anal cancer, prostate cancer or renal cancer. People with no family history at all. It happens all the time.’
She stopped talking for a few minutes and just let him consider. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to see the things that worry us most.’ She paused and gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘The kinds of things that keep you awake in your bed at night.’
‘What kind of doctor does that make me then?’ He looked pained.
She shook her head. ‘No kind of doctor. Just a worried parent. You don’t have to be a doctor every moment of your life, Joe.’ She looked up into his worried green eyes and gave him the softest smile. They were barely inches apart now. ‘Make room for other things,’ she whispered.
It was almost as if she’d touched a nerve. He jerked. He physically jerked at the impact of her words and she immediately averted her eyes, embarrassed for them both. She moved back quickly to the table and sat down, giving him a few moments to join her.
Her brain was whirring now. She shouldn’t have touched him. How could she explain that it had been done in empathy for how he was feeling?
She wasn’t really that surprised that he was feeling vulnerable right now. He was in a strange country with his son. Yes, they seemed to have settled well, but who really knew what went on inside someone else’s mind?
Clearly not her. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she was beginning to feel a connection to this guy. But after that reaction she was apparently not reading things well. She’d just embarrassed them both. The easiest thing to do was try to pretend nothing had happened.
Healing the Single Dad's Heart Page 6