If Tasha felt she couldn’t save her, what would it do to her?
Abeje deserved to live. She deserved to fight another day.
He had to save her.
He had to save them both.
* * *
It felt different boarding the ship that evening. Tasha had laid herself bare to Quinn. She’d told him everything. And that vulnerability felt strange. As if she had nothing left guarding her. Nothing shielding her from harm any more. She was glad she’d told him. That he knew everything.
Outwardly, he hadn’t reacted badly.
But had it changed his opinion of her?
He knew who she was and who she had been before. And she’d told him just how much he had influenced her life’s choices—how somehow he had always been in her life.
It was almost embarrassing. That a childhood crush had formed her career decisions and she had failed so miserably at it.
Perhaps she’d never been meant to be a doctor? That had been his choice, not hers. Perhaps she should have been something else? A sales assistant somewhere. She’d always liked shoes. She could have done something with that.
She’d not been made of stern stuff—hadn’t had any of the weapons that doctors needed in their arsenal. She’d never been able to separate herself from the pain and hurt that her patients went through. Had always faltered with the professional distance doctors ought to establish. Had always wanted to comfort grieving relatives. Put an arm around their shoulders. Give them a hug. And then, in solitude, she would cry herself.
She’d been a taut, raw nerve.
Tasha quietly entered the ward, hoping no one would notice her sitting beside Abeje’s bed. But Quinn saw her the second she sat down and came over.
She sucked in a steadying breath. No doubt he would think differently of her now. Perhaps he would consider her a coward. And if that was the case then so be it. He’d never felt much for her before, when they were kids, she could cope with that again. It didn’t matter any more. What mattered, she told herself, was this gorgeous little girl in the bed beside her.
‘Hey.’
‘Quinn.’ She smiled.
‘How did your afternoon go?’
‘It was very nice, thank you.’
‘What were you teaching this afternoon?’
‘How to write instructions.’
‘Oh.’ He nodded, as if he recalled a similar lesson himself.
Her gaze drifted over to the two siblings from Mosa, who were both sitting up in bed. ‘How are the other children doing?’
‘Good. They ate today and kept it down. Always a good sign.’
Yes, it was. But it was just another piece of evidence that said Abeje wasn’t eating yet. She wasn’t keeping food down. She was being fed through a tube still. She wasn’t improving. The worst might still happen.
Tasha shifted in her seat. ‘That’s great.’
She couldn’t meet his eyes. Those beautiful eyes of his that just a short while ago she’d stared into on that mountaintop terrace. How did life change so quickly? So brutally?
‘We took some more bloods today. And we did a scan. Hopefully when the results come in they’ll give us some good news.’
She nodded. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
‘Tash, could I—?’
She held up her hand. ‘It’s okay. I’m all right.’ She retrieved a book from her bag. ‘I thought I’d carry on reading to her. It helps, I think.’
He stood there for a moment longer, not sure whether to stay or go. She hoped he wasn’t going to ask about earlier. She’d told him the truth, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to go into it again. Not this soon. Having Quinn reject her wasn’t something she wanted to cope with right now.
He walked away to tend to his other patients and she let out a strained breath. Then she opened the book and began to read, trying to lose herself in a story where nobody died and everyone got their heart’s desire.
But she couldn’t do it. Her eyes kept leaving the page and looking up to see where Quinn was. For one moment she stopped reading for about three minutes, just staring at him, watching him as he diligently worked on his patients.
You’d have made a great father, Quinn.
Her heart ached for all that he’d been through. What he must have suffered. The picture of him cradling his son had seared itself into her memory. She’d always thought he’d lived such a golden life. He’d had a wonderful childhood home. A family with loving parents. Had known what he wanted to be and done it. Even believing his marriage had ended after only eighteen months hadn’t made her think otherwise. She’d believed that he and his wife had obviously been wrong for each other, because he was still here—still smiling.
But there’d been heartache behind his words. Things he’d kept to himself. She couldn’t imagine the pain that he and Hannah must have gone through, and then, after losing the love of his life, he’d had to watch his son die just hours later?
She’d thought the loss of Maddie was hard. The fear of losing Abeje was hard. But Quinn had been through real trauma. Real heartbreak. How dared she even think that her pain compared?
How did anyone recover from that? How was he still upright?
Why were some people’s lives so distressing? When was it their turn to have a little happiness?
* * *
She couldn’t sleep. It had been a long evening on the hospital ship. She’d read a good four chapters to Abeje before the doors to the ward had burst open and a man had come limping in, with blood running down his leg and a large spike of metal in his thigh.
She’d leapt to her feet, thinking she needed to run over to him, to help him to a bed in order to study the wound and work out how best to remove the spike, but then she had remembered that it wasn’t her job any more.
She had sunk back down into her chair as Quinn and his team had leapt into immediate action. Then, knowing that they would be busy, would probably have to go into surgery, she’d slipped away unnoticed.
Now she was at home, sitting with her back against the wall, her knees hunched up to her chest, staring out of her bedroom window as she often did. Trying to decide if anything Quinn had said was the right thing. Whether she ought to take a step back.
She had allowed herself to get close again. She had opened up her heart and that was dangerous. Look at how she was feeling right now. Maybe she should be contemplating leaving Ntembe and going somewhere else? Perhaps it had been wrong of her to let Abeje get inside her heart like this? She never wanted to feel the way she’d felt about Maddie ever again.
Was this what it was like for people who had families? She’d never really had one. She didn’t know.
But she couldn’t imagine walking away. Not now.
I’m not going to be a coward.
She loved little Abeje. She couldn’t leave her behind. What sort of person would do such a thing? It would be cruel. And if—when—Abeje recovered, Tasha wanted to be there to hug her tightly and let her know that she was loved.
Because she was. And it was important for an individual to know that. They could draw strength from it. They could stop feeling alone.
The moon glowed brightly in the inky sky above, and she could see one or two stars.
Even the moon isn’t alone.
Sighing, she slumped down into her bed and pulled a thin sheet over her in an attempt to go to sleep. But the second her head had touched the pillow she heard a knock at her front door.
Who’s that?
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to open the door in this neighbourhood, this late at night. It could be anyone! She lay there, trying to think about what was best to do. Perhaps if she ignored it the person would go away?
But they didn’t. They knocked again. Harder this time.
‘Tasha
?’
Quinn?
Tasha slipped from her bed and pulled on a thin dressing gown, tying it around her waist. She had a peephole she could look through, and she laid her hands against the door as she pressed her face closer to it.
His hair was ruffled and he looked a little flushed. What was he doing here?
Maybe something’s wrong with Abeje!
Tasha undid the lock and yanked the door open. ‘What’s going on? Why are you here?’
He looked at her, almost as if he was surprised that she’d actually opened the door. But then he took a step towards her, put his hands either side of her face and pulled her towards his lips for a kiss.
CHAPTER SEVEN
OH, MY. WHAT’S HAPPENING? Why is he...? Oh!
She stopped thinking for a moment. Stopped worrying. This moment that she’d first dreamt about at the age of thirteen was actually happening! Their kiss outside the maternity wing had been one of comfort. But this... This was one of pure need—desire.
She had always wondered how it would feel.
And now she knew.
It felt wonderful. In his arms. Pressed close.
The feel of him was magical. The feel of him wanting her. After all this time. Kissing her, tasting her, breathing her in. It was a heady mix of excitement and elation.
She slipped her hands around his waist and sank into him.
He felt good. Broad and strong. Solid.
It was impossible to think straight.
And then—as quickly as it had begun, as quickly as she had been surprised by the kiss—he ended it, stepping away, looking uncertain. Regretful.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’
Bewildered, stunned, unable to speak because she was still lost in the wonder of that kiss, she simply looked at him, her fingers touching her lips where his had been.
‘I had to... You were shutting me out. I didn’t like it.’
‘I...’
‘We were getting close. Becoming good friends. And then you said all that stuff about what had happened to you and suddenly everything changed. You changed. It was like you retreated into yourself and took yourself away from me.’
She stared at him. At the way he’d retreated from her. He was standing as far away from her as he could, his back against the wall, his hands pressed against it—as if by doing so he would stop himself reaching out to her again.
I want him to kiss me again. This time I’ll be ready for it.
‘I thought you’d think differently of me. Knowing I’d given up being a doctor,’ she said.
He looked confused. ‘Why would I do that?’ Lines furrowed his brow and then suddenly he looked up at her, realisation dawning. ‘Because he did—didn’t he? Your husband? Simon.’
The pain of that moment from her past flared into being once again. Simon coming home from work the day she’d lost Maddie and asking her why she’d walked out of work... At first he’d been understanding. Knowing what it felt like to lose a patient and how that could affect someone. He had listened as she’d told him how horrifying it had been to take Maddie’s parents into that sad little family room and tell them the worst news of their lives.
‘We’ve all been there, Tash. It’ll be okay.’
‘No, it won’t!’
‘You just need time—’
‘I’m not going back ever again!’
‘What?’
‘I quit!’
Simon had taken a step back from her, released her, and looked at her with incredulity.
‘You can’t quit!’
‘Watch me.’
And then he’d started staying at work longer than normal. Saying he was working longer shifts. But she’d known what was happening. Eventually a friend had called to let her know what he was up to, and the smell of a perfume that wasn’t hers had been a big clue.
‘You’re having an affair, aren’t you?’
‘No.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Simon!’
He’d admitted it. Said he couldn’t change who he was—that he needed that release and that she’d changed since their marriage. Had stopped being the fun Tasha he’d always known.
The divorce had gone through quickly—thankfully.
Tasha looked at Quinn, feeling that old hurt—the betrayal, the pain—still in her heart. That feeling she’d carried her whole life.
I’m not good enough. I wasn’t good enough for my parents to keep me and my husband discarded me, too.
‘That bastard!’ The vehemence with which Quinn spoke the word was startling.
Tasha’s eyes widened in surprise, and he must have realised that he’d scared her slightly.
‘I’m sorry. It’s none of my business, of course.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘No. It’s not. Look, I’d better go. I just came round to check that you were okay and to...’
His gaze dropped to her mouth and she felt heat rise up within her body as her heart pounded in its cage. Her fingertips were tingling with millions of pins and needles, feeling the desire to reach out and touch him once again. But she didn’t. Something was stopping her.
I’m not good enough. He didn’t mean to kiss me. It was a mistake. Like everything else. We shouldn’t have...
‘Quinn?’ She said his name as he stepped back outside and began to walk away from her door.
He turned in the street, his eyes twinkling in the dark. ‘Yes?’
She didn’t want him to go. Didn’t want him to leave her. Not again.
She felt her throat and her tongue tighten with all the stuff she couldn’t say. Wouldn’t allow herself to say. Her feelings for him.
‘Goodnight,’ she managed.
In the darkness she saw his smile. His shoulders dropped.
‘Goodnight, Tasha. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She nodded and watched him walk away. She kept watching until the darkness swallowed him up, then slowly, reluctantly, closed her front door.
* * *
The taste of her was still on his lips. What had come over him? He’d gone there because he hadn’t been able to stand the awkwardness that had been there between them earlier. He’d felt her pulling away, the same way Hannah had tried to protect him, to make things less painful when the end came.
He couldn’t have that happen now—with Tasha. He needed her. More than he’d realised. He’d gone round to tell her that—to just say it, straight out, let her know how he felt, that her past didn’t matter—but the second she’d opened her door, looking all ruffled and curious as to why he was at her door in the middle of the night, he’d not been able to stop himself.
He hadn’t gone there to kiss her.
He’d been trying desperately to forget the way it had felt to have Tasha in his arms outside the maternity wing.
But tonight...tonight had been startling. Kissing her had been... He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but in doing so he lost his balance. He reached out to grab something to hold him upright, but there was a divot in the path and he went straight over, landing on his left arm.
He heard something break. Felt pain radiate like a burning star in his shoulder and chest. Throbbing. Lightning-bright. Intense. He struggled to his feet, supporting his left arm with his right.
Dammit! I’ll need an X-ray.
He’d heard of falling head over heels—but tripping over a hole in the middle of a street? He ought to have known better. Ought to have brought a torch. This wasn’t like England, where there were streetlamps every few metres. The blackness was absolute out here. With just the moon and the stars for illumination.
His shoulder hurt. And his arm, feeling like a giant lead weight, was pulling it down even more.
He trudged on. Imagined how he was going to explain this to the rest of his team.<
br />
When he got to the Serendipity he’d totally beaten himself up over how stupid he’d been. He should never have gone racing round to Tasha’s...he should never have kissed her...he should have waited until he’d got his thoughts and feelings under control before he’d acted impulsively.
But he’d needed to go. Had had to make his feelings clear. It was the only way.
And if he hadn’t then he wouldn’t be sitting on a plastic chair, looking at an X-ray showing a broken collarbone, of all things.
Maria had smiled at him as she’d put his arm into a sling. ‘I don’t know why you don’t just tell her you love her.’
He’d frowned. ‘What?’
‘Tasha! It’s perfectly clear to me and to everyone else around here that you two are attracted. It was clear the first day she ran in here, with that poorly little girl. The look on your face!’
‘I didn’t know who she was back then.’
‘No, maybe not. But there was a little something in you that switched on. The light came on behind your eyes. First time I’ve ever seen it since I’ve been working with you, Dr Shapiro!’
‘It’s complicated, Maria.’
‘When isn’t it? Nobody ever said life was easy.’
‘We’re completely different people. She lives here. We’ll be leaving in a week or so.’
‘You’ve never heard of long-distance relationships?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, but I’m not sure I want to be in one.’
‘She could come with us. Volunteer on the boat.’
‘She would never leave Abeje.’
Maria sat down opposite him. ‘She’s close to that little girl, isn’t she?’
He nodded, looking across to Abeje, who was restless in her bed.
‘Why doesn’t she adopt her?’
‘I don’t know.’
But he did know. She was scared to. Tasha was scared of most things. He could see it in her. Scared to commit. Scared to get too involved. Scared to care too much in case it hurt. She thought she could get through this remotely. From a distance. But it was impossible. The world was filled with people, and people made you care.
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