Healing Her Emergency Doc

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘So—will your children inherit it?’ she asked tentatively, and he shook his head.

  ‘No. No, they won’t, because I won’t have any, which is why it’s going nowhere with Laura—’

  His voice broke and he looked away, unable to hold her eyes, unable to hold anything, most particularly a conversation about this. He dumped his tea on the grass, walked inside and upstairs to his bedroom, lay down on the bed and stared blindly at the ceiling.

  Laura. His dear, darling, beautiful Laura. Ever faithful, ever loyal, never shirking her duty to anyone. He’d have to tell her, but how? His mother and father were broken-hearted, it would break her heart, too, and like them she’d want to stand by him—and he couldn’t let her. Couldn’t. It wasn’t fair.

  So he’d have to tell her, somehow. She had to know, and she had to know now, so she had time to get her act together before she was back at work at lunchtime tomorrow.

  There was a knock on the door, and his father came in, his face creased with worry.

  ‘Are you all right, Tom? Is there anything we can do?’

  He shook his head and sat up. ‘No. No, I’ll be fine, Dad. I just need to get used to the idea. It’ll progress slowly, I’ll have time to acclimatise, but for now I’m fine and it could take years. Decades. I might never go completely blind.’

  Or it could be as little as five or ten years.

  ‘Will you be able to work?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, for years. It’s very slow.’ He hoped...

  His father was nodding slowly, the information sinking in bit by bit. He frowned. ‘Look, we need to go, we’re out for dinner tonight and we can’t get out of it, but your mother’s very upset. You need to come and talk to her, Tom. Reassure her.’

  Reassure her? He was struggling to reassure himself, never mind anyone else. And he still had to talk to Laura.

  He got to his feet, squeezed his father’s shoulder on the way past and ran downstairs to find his mother with her hands in the kitchen sink, sobbing silently into the washing up.

  ‘Come here,’ he said softly, and turned her into his arms and hugged her as she cried for him. Then he mopped her up, sat her down with his father and told them everything he knew about what was going to happen to him. Well, most of it.

  He saw them off an hour later, after another cup of tea and more tears, then had a shower and changed and walked round to Laura’s. He didn’t know if she’d be in, and if she wasn’t he’d just sit and wait, but he didn’t want to talk to her on the phone. She’d ask what was wrong, and he’d break down. Dammit, he’d probably do it anyway. He was hanging by a thread.

  But she was in, and as she opened the door and saw him her smile faltered, and his heart broke.

  * * *

  He looked awful.

  So awful that something dreadful must have happened, and he’d been weird all weekend. Falsely jolly, and yet when he’d hugged her once or twice he’d held her really tight.

  ‘Are you busy? I just—wanted to see you.’

  She beckoned him in wordlessly, closed the door behind him and searched his eyes. ‘Talk to me, Tom.’

  He let his breath out on a shaky sigh and got straight to the point. ‘They had a cancellation on Friday.’

  ‘Oh, Tom...’ She reached out her arms, but he took a step back.

  ‘Don’t—’ His voice cracked and he turned away, walking through to the kitchen and standing staring out across the garden while her heart broke for him. She followed him.

  ‘Tom, I—’

  ‘Please don’t say anything, Laura. I don’t want your sympathy. I can’t deal with it. I just wanted you to know.’

  She walked quietly over to him, tuned him towards her and put her hands on his face.

  ‘Look at me.’

  He opened his eyes, and they were glistening with tears, the lashes clumped, his irises the colour of dark, rain-washed slate. His beautiful eyes, so expressive, so tender one minute, so filled with laughter the next, were drained of light. And he was terrified.

  ‘Oh, Tom,’ she said softly. She went up on tiptoe and kissed his eyes, one by one, and then wrapped him in her arms and cried for him.

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Why? Why can’t I cry for you, my love?’

  ‘I’m not your love—’

  She tipped her head back and looked at him. ‘Yes, you are. You know that. I love you, Tom. I’ve loved you since I first met you, and nothing’s changed that. I just love you more now, now I know who you really are.’

  ‘And who the hell am I, Laura?’ he asked, pushing her away. ‘A broken, washed-up, redundant, useless waste of space—’

  ‘No! Stop it, Tom. Just stop right there and listen to me. You are not broken! You are not washed up, or redundant, or useless! How good is your sight now?’

  He frowned. ‘Now? Now, it’s fine, but it isn’t going to be, is it? My night vision isn’t great already. You know that.’

  ‘No. Well, that’s OK, because we have technology now and the power of electricity at our fingertips, so your night vision isn’t really an issue. And it could be years before your sight deteriorates to any significant extent. Decades. If you even lose your sight.’

  ‘When, Laura. Not if, when. And I don’t want you to love me. I can’t give you anything. I have nothing to offer you. Nothing. I have no idea what the future holds for me, and there’s no way I want you saddled with me out of pity—’

  ‘I don’t pity you! I’m sorry you’ve got this, desperately sorry, of course I am, but you can deal with this. You have the strength and determination to deal with it, and you’ll be fine. And saddled with you? Dream on. Being with someone you love when they’re going through something difficult is not saddled. It’s a privilege. We can do this together.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about—’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I do. My grandfather was blind, remember? So I know exactly what I’m talking about. Being able to help him be independent and mobile and happy was a joy. He was never a burden, not for a single minute.’

  He shook his head, his eyes raw with grief. ‘You don’t understand. That isn’t it. My great-uncle was starting to go blind when he died in a car accident. He drove into the dense shade of trees on a sunny day, and he couldn’t see the bend. There’s a very high probability that he had it, and that my mother, who never drives at night because she can’t see well enough, is a carrier. If it’s hereditary, I can never have children. My mum will never be a grandmother, I’ll never be a father—I can’t do that to you. You need to be free, Laura. Free to find someone who can give you the family you deserve. I’m no good to you. I’m no good to anyone. You don’t need me. I don’t want you to need me.’

  ‘Well, I do. I do need you, Tom. And anyway, you’re making some sweeping assumptions. I’ve never said I want children. I’m not sure I do. I don’t think I’d even know how to be a mother, so you can put that out of your mind. And anyway, before you condemn yourself to a solitary life, have you had any genetic tests?’

  He shook his head, then shrugged. ‘They took all sorts of bloods and stuff, but I won’t get any results for a while and it may not show anyway, but I know, Laura. I know that’s what he had, and his sister handed the gene down to my mother, but because they’re both female they’re just barely symptomatic carriers, but I’m not, I’m going to go blind, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.’

  ‘There may be, though, soon,’ she said, refusing to give up on him. ‘There’s research going on, clinical trials of drugs, gene therapy, stem cell work—so much. There will be a cure, Tom. One day, there will be a cure.’

  ‘But not now, and not in time, certainly not for me and maybe not for any children I had, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t have children and know they or their children could go blind. You don’t know what it means.’

&n
bsp; ‘Don’t know what it means? Of course I know what it means, Tom! My grandfather was severely visually impaired. I know all about it, what you will and won’t be able to do, and it will be fine! I promise you, it will be all right. We can make it all right. And maybe if you need one, down the line, you could get a guide dog like Millie to look after you and keep you safely independent.’

  He looked down at Millie, sat leaning against his leg, and he reached down to her and stroked her head. ‘Did you keep him safe, poppet? What a good girl.’

  Her tail waved tentatively, and she licked his hand.

  ‘She looks worried,’ he said, his face creasing in concern.

  ‘Yes, of course she’s worried. You’re upset and she knows that and she loves you, Tom. Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea and we can talk this through.’

  He looked at her, and she could see longing in his eyes. Longing, and hesitation.

  ‘I need to go home,’ he said eventually, as if the words were dragged from him.

  She shook her head. ‘No. Stay with me. Let’s forget the tea. Come to bed, let me hold you.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Yes, you can. You need me, Tom, and I need you.’

  He closed his eyes, and she took his hand and led him into the bedroom and lay down with him in her arms, and he gave a shuddering sigh and rested his head against hers.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to tell you since Friday, but I couldn’t, not with my parents here, and I’ve been so...’

  ‘Alone?’ she finished for him, and he nodded.

  ‘Yes. And scared. I hate the dark, always have, and the thought of it... I’ve missed you. I needed you so much.’

  She felt her heart ache for him, and her hand reached up and cradled his jaw. ‘Shh. It’s all right. I’ve missed you, too, but I’m here for you, and I’ll always be here.’

  As long as he’d let her...

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HE STAYED THAT NIGHT, but he left early on Monday morning and she didn’t see him again until Tuesday, and they were too busy then to do more than catch up briefly. Yet again their shifts didn’t line up, so the next day he was on late, she was on early, and she overslept and got there in the nick of time.

  She was working with Livvy, and as usual it was hectic, but then they suddenly found themselves with some breathing space.

  ‘Coffee while the going’s good?’ Livvy said, and she nodded, relieved to have time to stop and also that she had someone to talk to so she wasn’t constantly dwelling on Tom.

  ‘Absolutely. I’m starving, I overslept and there wasn’t time for breakfast. I hate early mornings after I’ve had a run of nights.’

  ‘Oh, me, too. Come on. James, we’re taking a break,’ she said, and they headed out of the door before he had time to reconsider.

  They went through the hospital to the Park Café because it was windy, but the second they walked in Laura felt queasy. It smelt hot and greasy, and she grabbed a banana and a chocolate muffin, ordered a coffee and headed for the door to the park.

  ‘Are you OK if we sit outside? I fancy some fresh air,’ she said, and Livvy shrugged.

  ‘OK. It’s a bit draughty, but that’s fine.’

  It was draughty, but she hauled in the fresh air and felt instantly less weird. ‘Oh, that’s better. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I feel jetlagged after my nights. Must be low blood sugar.’

  She picked up her coffee, lifted it to her lips and pulled a face. She didn’t fancy it at all, so she ate the banana, then ripped the muffin open and ate a bite.

  ‘Better?’ Livvy asked, sipping her fruit tea and picking the grapes out of her fruit pot.

  ‘Much.’ She picked the coffee up again, took a sip and pulled a face. ‘Oh, that tastes revolting, I can’t drink it,’ she said and pushed it away, and Livvy’s eyes widened.

  ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’

  Laura stared at her friend, startled, and shook her head. ‘No—no, of course I’m not! How could I be pregnant?’

  ‘Um—the usual way?’

  ‘But—I couldn’t...’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Livvy said with a teasing smile, ‘everybody knows you and Tom are an item. You can’t keep anything like that secret in this place.’

  ‘But—no, I can’t be. It’s not possible. There must be something funny with the water. It’s been odd at home for a couple of days. It happens sometimes.’

  Livvy looked unconvinced, but Laura’s mind was whirling.

  Could she be? No! How?

  She had another sip of the coffee, got rid of the taste with a bite of muffin and then ate the rest to try and settle her roiling stomach. She’d get a drink from the water cooler when they got back to the ED. She was probably just thirsty.

  Or pregnant...

  Seriously?

  * * *

  Tom came on at twelve, but he was working with Sam and she was in cubicles, so she didn’t see him to speak to, which was a relief. She had no idea what to say to him, and frankly saying nothing seemed like the best idea, at least until she knew if she was pregnant. And anyway, she felt OK now. It must have been low blood sugar.

  The next day she was fine, so she heaved a sigh of relief, ate a nicely carb-laden breakfast and went to work, and found herself with Tom again.

  ‘Hi, stranger. How are you?’

  ‘Fine,’ she said, relieved that it was the truth. ‘You?’

  ‘Oh, I’m OK. My shoulder’s a bit stiff from all the gardening at the weekend. I think I pulled something, but it looks good. You ought to come round and see it. Fancy supper?’

  ‘That would be lovely. Can I bring Millie?’

  ‘Of course you can. I love her, you know that.’

  ‘She loves you, too. She lies with her head on the back of the sofa watching people passing by, and I can always tell if it’s you coming by the crazy waggy tail.’

  He chuckled. ‘So what do you fancy? I’ve got some salmon fillets, or we can get a takeaway?’

  ‘Salmon would be lovely. I ought to go and get on, I’m in cubicles again with Livvy—unless you need me in Resus, in which case give me a shout.’

  ‘OK, will do.’

  She went back to the work station, and was immediately cornered by Livvy.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No—shh! I’m fine,’ she said under her breath. ‘I told you I wasn’t.’

  ‘Hmm. Still unconvinced. Have you done a test?’

  ‘No—and would you shut up? We can’t talk about this here,’ she whispered desperately, ‘and anyway, there’s nothing to talk about.’

  Livvy hmphed, grinned at her and grabbed the next set of notes and walked away, still smiling, and Laura shook her head, finished up her notes on the computer and went back to check on a patient.

  * * *

  It was a glorious evening, and they ate outside at the rickety old table he’d found in the shed, pulled up against the equally ancient bench.

  He’d baked the salmon in a parcel, and cooked some tiny new potatoes and fine green beans to go with it. Clean, wholesome and delicious, and she was more than ready for it because her blood sugar was teetering again.

  She cleared her plate, then put her knife and fork down and pushed it away.

  ‘That was delicious. Thank you.’

  ‘Pudding?’ he asked, and she had a moment of doubt.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Apple pie. I wasn’t going to buy it, but it looked so good. And I’ve got ice cream in the freezer.’

  ‘Sounds good. No ice cream,’ she added, because she just didn’t fancy the sound of it. ‘Is the pie cold?’

  ‘Yes, it’s in the fridge.’

  ‘Perfect. Cold apple pie and a cup of tea?’

&nb
sp; ‘Coming right up,’ he said, and took their plates away, Millie at his heels just on the off-chance that he might drop the odd scrap by accident.

  ‘Don’t give her anything,’ she called after him, and she heard him talking to the dog. It sounded like he was apologising to her for being mean, and she chuckled.

  They came back together, Millie looking super-attentive and Tom looking just the teeniest bit guilty. He put the tray down and passed her her plate without looking at her, and she bit her lip.

  ‘Millie, stop begging,’ he said, and she laughed at him.

  ‘You are so naughty. What did you give her?’

  ‘Nothing dreadful. There was a little potato that had fallen in the sink, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s all it takes, isn’t it, Millie? You’re a piglet.’

  ‘She’s lovely and slender.’

  ‘Because she doesn’t get scraps all the time and has a balanced diet suitable for a dog of her size and age,’ she said pointedly, but she was still laughing and he had the grace to join in.

  ‘What time are you on tomorrow?’ he asked as they finished eating.

  ‘Eight till six. How about you?’

  ‘Ditto. I’ve got a normal day shift for once.’

  She tilted her head on one side. ‘Want to stay at mine?’

  He hesitated, then shook his head. ‘No. I’ll walk you home, though. I’ll just put this lot in the dishwasher and we can go.’

  * * *

  He didn’t stay the night.

  It would have been too cosy, too domesticated, too—hell, too much like a real relationship, one with a future, and it just wasn’t fair to do that to her.

  It didn’t stop him wanting to make love to her, though. Didn’t stop him wanting to take her to bed and show her with his body how much he cared. Didn’t stop him wanting her all the next day, just like he did every day.

  But he couldn’t have her, and he knew that, so he didn’t stay, and he didn’t make love to her. He was just glad they hadn’t got together seven years ago when he’d had no idea. They could have had children by now, and the thought that he could have passed the gene on to them filled him with horror.