‘Do you think I don’t know that, Kateling? Do you think I can’t feel your hurt or understand your unwillingness to trust again? I can and I do, but I can’t make you trust me. Trust’s something that has to be given freely or it’s a worthless gift.’
Kate looked up into the anguished eyes above her, then she rose on tiptoe and kissed him on the chin.
‘Will you take my trust?’ she murmured, and watched his anguish change to puzzlement then to something that looked like a very cautious hope.
‘Are you offering it?’ he asked, his voice harshly raspy with emotion.
Kate tried a tentative smile, and took a deep gulp of air.
‘I am,’ she said, and waited.
And waited.
Then Hamish gave a whoop that startled Oscar into skittishness and had Lily scolding both of them for giving her a fright.
‘You mean it? You’ll marry me?’
‘I do and I will,’ Kate said, her voice shaking so much she just hoped the words were distinguishable.
They must have been for Hamish’s grasp tightened, but belief, she realised, was still a little way off.
‘And Charles? Your family here? You do realise you have family, don’t you? Beyond Charles, you and Jack are cousins. You and Lily are related.’
‘Charles said he’ll bring Lily to visit us. Jack and Megan and Jackson can come, too. I thought we might give Jack and Megan money for their fares as a wedding present. Then when you’ve finished your paediatric training …’
‘We’ll come back here?’ The words were hushed with disbelief, as if the last thing Hamish had been expecting was a miracle.
But something must have sunk in for he released her suddenly, stepping back and peering suspiciously down into her face.
‘Whoa! Back up here,’ he said sternly. ‘Charles said he’ll come and visit? He’ll bring Lily? How come Charles knows where you’ll be to visit, before you got around to telling me?’
Hamish watched the colour rise in her cheeks and wondered if he’d ever tire of looking at this woman. She raised those soft brown eyes, now brimming with embarrassment, then offered an equally embarrassed smile.
‘Everyone knows Charles knows everything,’ she teased, and though it was a brave try, Hamish refused to let her get away with it.
He raised his eyebrows and waited.
And waited.
‘Charles had a long talk to me this morning,’ Kate finally explained, then she swallowed hard and for a moment Hamish regretted pushing her. In fact, he wanted to take her in his arms and keep her there for ever, no matter how this miracle had happened.
But before he could do anything, she was speaking again.
‘He talked to me about my birth mother, not who she was and what had happened between them—he’d told me all of that before. But this morning he told me how much he’d loved her and how much he’s always regretted not going after her—not searching for her until he found her.’
Kate blinked but not before one tear had escaped, to roll slowly down her flushed cheek.
‘He said regret was a terrible companion with whom to spend your life, but even worse was the knowledge that he’d once been offered the very precious gift of love and he hadn’t grasped it with both hands. That, he said, was stupidity, and he hoped like hell he hadn’t passed on the stupid gene to his daughter.’
Now more tears were following the first, hurting Hamish’s heart just to look at them. He pulled her close and held her tightly, using her body to anchor his to the ground as the realisation that she was his for ever filled him with a heady, dizzying delight.
‘I love you,’ he managed to whisper gruffly, knowing the words needed to be said.
‘And I love you,’ Kate responded, drawing away from his embrace so she could look into his eyes. ‘With all my heart!’ she added.
Then she kissed him again, while across the fence Oscar nodded benevolently.
Everyone was there—Christina and Joe, back from New Zealand with Joe’s mother and sister in tow, Emily and Mike, Cal and Gina, CJ and Rudolph. Grace was there, and Susie, Georgie and young Max, and Jill, standing quietly next to Charles, who held Lily on his lap—all lining the drive between the house and the hospital—all yelling good luck and best wishes and waving streamers.
The old house that had seen so much now saw them go—a certain warmth departing with them. But it had stood too long to think love wouldn’t bloom again within its walls.
The Playboy Doctor’s Proposal
Alison Roberts
ALISON ROBERTS lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and petminding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.
PROLOGUE
‘SHH, now, Felixx!’
‘Hush, OK?’
‘Silence. We have to have silence for Alanya to get well.’
For days this was all he’d heard, it seemed to Felixx. He crept around on the edge of Alanya’s illness, too scared to ask how bad she was, shut away from seeing her except for one or two short visits to the wellness shelter each day, during which he knew he had to be silent or she wouldn’t get better fast enough.
Sometimes he asked people, ‘How’s Mummy?’ He liked to call her Mummy because that’s who she was. She always wanted him to call her Alanya, because that was her spirit name, but as she couldn’t hear him right now, he said ‘Mummy’ and it helped a little bit.
The silence helped, too. He had to stay as quiet as anything, or she might not get well. He knew that, but it was so hard. The fish on his sneaker helped. Mummy had drawn it with his felt pens. Mostly the bright orange one. She’d done it the day he’d showed her the hole.
‘We can’t afford a new shoe just yet,’ she’d said. ‘So let’s make it special. The hole can be his eye, see?’
He could poke his finger in the hole. In and out. It was tight at first but now it was easy. His finger went in and out.
In and out.
It helped him to stay quiet. To stop the questions he so badly wanted to ask, like, ‘Mummy … Alanya … are you feeling better? Do you need more medicine?’
She didn’t seem to be eating very much. They gave her carrot juice to drink, to drain the toxins from her system. How long did toxins take to drain?
Where did they come out?
He was too scared to ask any of these questions, but he listened more than the healing sisters thought. He heard words like ‘worried’ and ‘taking too long’ and after this he stayed even quieter, stopped even asking, ‘How’s Mummy?’ in case his talking, even outside the healing shelter, was the thing stopping her from getting well.
Late one night … he couldn’t remember, maybe the sixth or seventh night of her illness … he couldn’t sleep, and crept over to the healing shelter because there was light coming from its windows. It was cold and his feet were bare and he didn’t dare go inside, but he listened underneath the window and heard more words. ‘Getting worse’ and ‘I don’t know’ and ‘ambulance’.
After this, everything got so confusing, when he thought about it he couldn’t think the way it had gone. He fell asleep on the couch on the veranda of the healing shelter, and a big car came with red lights. He hid under the blanket in case he got in trouble for being there. He heard men’s voices. ‘Too late’ and ‘useless’ and ‘bloody quack treatments’. Someone found him—Raina, one of the healing sisters—and he pretended to be asleep and she carried him gently in her arms to his bed, and by the time he got there he must have really been asleep because he didn’t remember anything else until morning.
Then there were more words—’very peaceful’ and ‘gone away on the most wonderful journey’—but he was s
o good, he didn’t say anything himself in case it made Mummy … better call her Alanya … in case it made her worse. A lot of boring time went by. He wasn’t allowed to see her at all. He had some meals, breakfast and lunch. Were they saying it was Alanya who had gone on the wonderful journey? When was she coming back? He didn’t want to ask because that would not have been hushing and staying silent.
Raina sat him down and hugged him and kissed his forehead and told him, ‘Your auntie Janey is going to come and get you, sweetheart.’
He didn’t know he had an auntie Janey. He wanted to ask who she was and when she was coming but he was so, so good, he stayed quiet and silent and hushed and didn’t say a word.
CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU’RE not!’
‘Yes, I am. What’s the big deal? It’s only a few days off work.’
‘You never take days off work. In all the time I’ve known you, Hannah, and that’s, what—three years? You’ve never missed a shift.’
Senior Nurse Jennifer Bradley collected the paper emerging from the twelve-lead ECG machine and Dr Hannah Jackson cast an experienced eye over the results.
‘Bit of right heart failure—there’s notching on the P waves but everything else looks pretty good for an eighty-six-year-old. No sign of infarct.’
The elderly patient, who had been sound asleep while the recording was being taken, suddenly opened her eyes.
‘Give it back,’ she said loudly. ‘You’re a naughty girl!’
The complaint was loud enough to attract the attention of several staff members near the central desk. Heads turned in astonishment and Hannah sighed inwardly. One of them would be her fellow senior registrar, Ryan Fisher, wouldn’t it? And, of course, he had a grin from ear to ear on overhearing the accusation.
Jennifer was stifling a smile with difficulty. ‘What’s the matter, Mrs Matheson?’
‘She’s stolen my handbag! I’ve got a lot of money in my purse and she’s taken it, the little blonde trollop!’
Hannah heard a snigger from the small audience by the central desk. It would have been a good idea to pull the curtain of this cubicle but in the early hours of a Monday morning, with the emergency department virtually empty, it hadn’t seemed a priority.
‘Your handbag’s quite safe, Mrs Matheson,’ she said soothingly. ‘It’s in the bag with your other belongings.’
‘Show me!’
Hannah fished in the large, brown paper bag printed with the label PATIENT PROPERTY and withdrew a cavernous black handbag that must have been purchased at least forty years ago.
‘Give it to me!’
Hands gnarled with arthritis fumbled with the clasp. The bag was tipped upside down and several items fell onto Doris Matheson’s lap. The contents of the opened packet of peppermints rolled off to bounce on the floor and a number of used, screwed-up handkerchiefs were thrown after them.
‘There, I told you! There was a thousand dollars in here and it’s gone!’ A shaky finger pointed at Hannah. ‘She’s taken it! Call the police!’
Ryan wasn’t content to observe now. He was standing at the end of the bed. Faded blue eyes peered suspiciously at the tall, broad masculine figure.
‘Are you the police?’
Ryan flashed the ghost of a wink at both Jennifer and Hannah. ‘I’ve had some experience with handcuffs, if that’s any help.’
Hannah shut her eyes briefly. How did Ryan get away with this sort of behaviour? Sometimes, if he was any more laid back, he’d be asleep. What a shame Doris hadn’t stayed asleep. She was sniffing imperiously now.
‘Arrest that woman,’ she commanded.
‘Dr Jackson?’ Ryan eyed Hannah with great interest. She couldn’t help the way the corners of her mouth twitched. This was pretty funny. It was just a shame it was going to give Ryan ammunition he wouldn’t hesitate to use.
‘She’s stolen my money.’
Ryan stepped closer. He leaned down and smiled at Doris. One of those killer smiles he usually reserved for the women he was flirting with. Which was just about every female member of staff.
Except Hannah.
His voice was a deep, sexy rumble. ‘Really?’
Doris Matheson stared back. Her mouth opened and then closed. Hannah could swear she fluttered her eyelashes and stifled another sigh at the typical feminine reaction to being the centre of this man’s attention. The coy smile Ryan received was only surprising because of the age of their patient.
‘What’s your name, young man?’
‘Ryan Fisher, ma’am.’
‘And you’re a policeman?’
‘Not really.’ Ryan’s tone was that of a conspirator revealing a secret. ‘I’m a doctor.’
The charm he was exuding was palpable. Totally fake but, for once, Hannah could appreciate the talent. It wasn’t being directed at her, was it? She didn’t need to arm herself with the memories of the misery men like Ryan could cause the women who trusted them. It was certainly defusing a potentially aggravating situation here.
‘Ooh,’ Doris said. ‘Are you going to look after me?’
‘You’re about to go to X-Ray, Mrs Matheson,’ Hannah said.
‘What for?’
‘We think you’ve broken your hip.’
‘How did I do that?’
‘You fell over.’
‘Did I?’ The question, like the others, was directed at Ryan despite it being Hannah who was supplying the answers.
‘Yes.’ Hannah looped her stethoscope back around her neck. ‘And we can’t find any medical reason why you might have fallen.’ The cause had been obvious as soon as Hannah had been within sniffing distance of her patient. She hadn’t needed the ambulance officer’s report of an astonishing number of empty whisky bottles lined up on window-sills.
Ryan was smiling again but with mock severity this time. ‘Have you had something to drink tonight, Mrs Matheson?’
She actually giggled. ‘Call me Doris, dear. And, yes, I do like a wee dram. Helps me sleep, you know.’
‘I’m sure it does, Doris.’ Ryan’s tone was understanding. He raised an eyebrow. ‘But it can make it difficult to remember some things, too, can’t it?’
‘Ooh, yes.’ Doris was looking coy again. ‘Do you know, I almost forgot where the bathroom was one night?’
‘Did you forget how much money you might have had in your purse, too?’
‘I never keep money in my purse, dear! It might get stolen.’
‘It might, indeed.’ Hannah got a ‘there you go, all sorted’ kind of glance from Ryan. She tried hard to look suitably grateful.
‘I keep it in the fridge,’ Doris continued happily. ‘In the margarine tub.’
‘Good thinking.’ Ryan stepped back as an orderly entered the cubicle. ‘Maybe I’ll see you when you get back from X-Ray, Doris.’
‘Oh, I hope so, dear.’
Hannah held up her hand as her patient’s bed was pushed away. ‘Don’t say it,’ she warned.
‘Say what?’ Ryan asked innocently.
‘Anything about naughty girls,’ Jennifer supplied helpfully. ‘Or arresting them. And especially nothing about handcuffs.’
‘Not even fluffy ones?’
Jennifer gave him a shove. ‘Go away. Try and find something useful to do.’
They were both laughing as Ryan walked away. Relaxed. Enjoying the diversion of an amusing incident. But Jennifer could afford to enjoy Ryan’s company, couldn’t she? Happily married with two adorable small children at home, she was in no danger of being led astray.
Neither was Hannah, of course. She knew too much about men like Ryan Fisher. Great-looking, fun men like the ones who’d made her mother’s life a misery after her dad died, not to mention the guy who’d broken her sister’s heart not so long ago.
Hannah only ever let herself get involved with nice, trustworthy, serious men like her father had been. She’d believed herself to be totally immune to men of Ryan’s ilk.
Until three months ago.
Until she’d me
t Ryan Fisher.
Jennifer was still smiling as she tidied the ECG leads away. ‘I still can’t believe you’re taking time off,’ she told Hannah. ‘I’ve never even known you to be sick. You’re the one who always fills in for other people like Ryan when they take days off work.’
Hannah glanced towards the central desk. Ryan—the king of holidays and all other good things life had to offer—was now leaning casually on the counter, talking to a tired-looking receptionist. Probably telling her one of his inexhaustible supply of dumb blonde jokes. Sure enough, a smile was starting to edge the lines of weariness from Maureen’s face.
‘I’m going to check the trauma room while it’s quiet,’ Hannah told Jennifer.
‘I’ll help you.’ Hannah’s news of taking time off had clearly intrigued her friend, who didn’t consider their conversation finished. ‘And there I was thinking that, if I didn’t drag you out occasionally, you’d spend all your time off studying or something.’
Hannah picked up the laryngoscope on top of the airway trolley and pulled the blade open to check that the battery for the light was still functional. ‘Are you saying I have no life?’
‘I’m saying your career takes the prize as your raison d’etre.’
‘I always wanted to be a doctor.’ Hannah snapped the blade back in line with its handle, switching off the light. ‘Now that I am one, I intend to be a very good one.’
‘You are a very good one. The best.’
‘We’ll see.’ The glance between the two women acknowledged the growing speculation within the department over who was going to win the new consultant position. She had been the only serious contender until Ryan had thrown his hat into the ring today. Was that why she was so aware of his presence in the department tonight? Why everything about him seemed to be rubbing her up the wrong way even more than usual?
‘Anyway …’ The wind had been taken out of Jenny’s sails, but not by much. She opened a box of syringes to restock the IV trolley. ‘You don’t need to prove how good you are by living and breathing emergency medicine.’
The Australian's Proposal (Mills & Boon By Request): The Doctor's Marriage Wish / The Playboy Doctor's Proposal / The Nurse He's Been Waiting For Page 18