A Love Melody
Melody series, book 1
Grace Roberts
Contents
Newsletter
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Afterword
A Christmas Melody (Melody, #2)
A Christmas Melody - Chapter 1
Also by Grace Roberts
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2012 by Grace Roberts
4th edition: October 2018
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Dark Water Covers © 2018
To discover other titles by Grace Roberts, please visit her website: authorgraceroberts.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and remains the copyrighted property of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy.
Thank you for your support and for respecting the hard work of this author.
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To my guardian angel in Heaven.
I miss you, Dad.
Author’s Note
Dear reader,
Thank you for purchasing this book! Just a quick note to inform you that the book is written mainly in American English. However, since the characters are Irish, you will find Irish English and slang throughout the book.
For those who are not familiar with the Irish slang, the word “eejit”, which you will find often in the book, is the Irish for “idiot”.
Happy reading!
Grace
Chapter 1
Doctor Valerie Fogarty sat on the floor outside the operating room of Boston General Hospital in Boston with her face buried in her hands as warm, salty tears rolled down her cheeks. Her coat was splattered with blood and her hair stuck to her head underneath the surgical cap.
I can’t believe it. He’s dead. I’ve killed him.
It was supposed to have been an easy operation. That was why Doctor Gray, her supervisor and chief surgeon, had let her operate on the man. She was on her third year of surgical residency and was a model student who loved to learn and strove to prove she was going to be a great surgeon. Knowing that Doctor Gray had thought she would be up for the challenge had filled her with pride. She’d been so excited she’d barely slept the night before.
It had been a standard procedure, something surgical students learned in their first year. There should have been no complications. The patient shouldn’t have died.
But he did. On her table.
I’ve killed him.
The thought made her sick to her stomach, and she rushed to the sink where they scrubbed up before and after an operation—but nothing came out. Images from the operating room kept flashing in front of her eyes—the wordless exchange between Valerie and her colleague when they realized they were losing the patient, the frown creasing Doctor Gray’s brow as he moved in beside her and took charge, and blood, so much blood covering their gloves and scrubs, and dulling the glint of the surgical instruments as the patient hemorrhaged. The sound of the alarm telling them his heart had stopped beating still rang in her ears, and it suddenly became too much to bear.
Her nerves were shattered. She couldn’t think straight, and she wanted to bang her head against the wall until all those images faded away. How on earth was she going to walk out there and tell his family that he was dead? That she had killed him?
Her body started shaking and she knew she should probably leave, before someone saw her in this state. She couldn’t lose it in front of her colleagues or, even worse, in front of the chief surgeon. She’d been working so hard during her residency to prove herself capable, she didn’t want to look like a weak crying girl—although right now it was exactly how she felt.
It was my fault. I killed him. The thought caused a chill to run along her spine as the realization of what she had done hit her hard. She wasn’t a doctor anymore—she was a murderer now.
The door behind her opened, and she winced, holding onto the sink for support. She didn’t turn back to see who it was—she didn’t want anyone to see her like that. Hopefully, whoever it was would just walk past her and pretend she wasn’t there.
“Valerie, are you okay?” Doctor Gray’s voice was deep and soothing, just like her Grandpa’s used to be when he wanted to console her. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to not turn around and fling herself into his arms, like she would have if her Grandpa were there instead of her supervisor.
She flinched when Doctor Gray’s big hand brushed her shoulder, and she simply nodded, knowing her voice would give her away if she said even just a simple “yes.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It was something none of us could have foreseen. You did your best—we did the best we could.” His warm tone did nothing to soothe her nerves. She bit her lip, fighting for control. “I know it’s hard when you lose your first patient, but you did nothing wrong. I couldn’t do anything either, and I’ve been a surgeon for over thirty years. Even the best doctors can fail; we’re only human after all.”
Valerie nodded, knowing he was right, but a sob managed to escape her lips anyway. Doctor Gray patted her shoulder to comfort her, and she burst into tears, holding onto the cold, metallic sink while his hand rubbed her back.
When a few minutes later she managed to pull herself together, Doctor Gray told her to take the rest of the day off and she gladly accepted his suggestion. She changed into her clean clothes, balled her scrubs up and put them into a plastic bag, the sight of blood suddenly making her nauseous.
She walked out into a cloudy March day, and even though the crisp Boston air made her feel a little better, she knew there was only one person who would make her feel truly okay: Ryan Wyler, her best friend since she was thirteen.
He’d been her rock, her safe haven, her big brother and confidant over the past fifteen years, and if there was one person in the world who could mend her shattered nerves now, it was Ryan. It didn’t matter that he was a jazz star now, or that screaming girls threw themselves at him. When he was with her he was still the easygoing, funny, and loving guy from Dublin who’d moved to Boston to pursue his dream of becoming a professional pianist.
His sudden success had been tough on Valerie. Although she’d been happy for him, she’d feared that fame would change him and he would end up neglecting her, forgetting how special their friendship was and how important he was to her. Over the last four years he’d been all over the world, slept in five-star hotels and traveled in limousines, but he’d always had time for her, if only for a quick call or a text message to wish her goodnight—or good morning accordingly—from another city or country. He’d always made her feel special and loved, and she knew she would never be able to imagine her life without him in it.
She reached his building and pushed the button on the intercom. When the sound of his voice came out of it, the tears she’d pushed back pricked her eyes again. She’d barely reached his door before she burst into desperate sobs. Ryan took her in his arms and pulled her inside, guiding her to the couch where he held her close to his chest until the sobs subsided.
“What’s wrong, Val?” His tone was the soothing, sweet one he’d always used when they were young and she went crying to him because some stupid girl at school had said something nasty to her.
“I killed him… he died on my table… Doctor Gray said I could do it, but I failed… I failed and now he’s dead,” she managed to say through another round of sobs. Ryan tilted her chin up with his finger and his warm, hazel eyes bore into hers.
“Is this the patient you were telling me about the other night?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She nodded.
“I couldn’t save him, Ryan. I swear I tried. I did everything by the book, every single step and it didn’t work.” She hung her head and shook it twice. “I killed a man. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for this.”
She let out a sigh and brushed the heels of her hands across her eyes, pressing on them as if the action could make those awful visions go away. The image of the dead man on the table flashed like a neon light in front of her eyes, making her shudder. Ryan wrapped his arms tighter around her and she leaned into the familiar comfort of his warm hug.
“It wasn’t your fault, Val. You shouldn’t feel responsible for it because you did all you could—all a person could do. You can’t perform miracles.” He rubbed the small of her back, his chin resting on the top of her head, his voice deep and soothing.
She hung her head and sniffled. “I’m a doctor, for heaven’s sake. I swore to save lives, but I was the one who took his, instead.”
“You didn’t take his life, Val. You’re not God—you’re just a doctor. A good doctor who’s saved many lives so far and will save even more in the future. Nobody thinks it’s your fault. Stop blaming yourself for this.”
Valerie shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “No, no, no, it was my fault! You don’t understand, I… I was supposed to make his heart start beating again, to fix whatever the problem was and bring that man back from the dead, but I failed.” She started sobbing again, and held on to him as his arms tightened around her. “I failed,” she repeated through the hiccups. “I failed, and I killed him.”
“No, you didn’t. You tried to save him. I’m sure you and the other doctor did everything you could. I guess it was just his time to die, that’s all.”
She pulled back abruptly, and he released his hug. “It wasn’t his time!” she snapped and sprang off the couch, moving away from him. “Stop pretending I didn’t do anything! I killed a man—he died on my operating table. I was the one who promised him and his family that he’d be okay.”
She turned to look at him. His stare had turned soft and the corners of his lips curled up in the condescending smile he gave her whenever she was being stubborn and wouldn’t listen to his words. He’d often said she was too emotional and way too empathic. She was sure he’d expected she’d break down sooner or later, and she couldn’t blame him, after all. Even so, she didn’t need his reasoning now—she needed her best friend, the shoulder she could cry on.
As if reading her thoughts, he stood up and walked toward her, wrapping her up in one of his bear hugs.
“Go lie down now; you look like you could use a little rest,” he said after a while, pushing back a little and smiling encouragingly.
She shook her head. “I don’t need to sleep. I don’t want to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see that man, his dead body on my table…” She hid her face in her hands and started to sob again. “I’ll never be able to sleep again. Never.”
“Please, Val, please don’t do this, don’t hurt yourself this way. It’s breaking my heart. You didn’t kill anyone—you tried to save him, you did all you could. For the hundredth time, it wasn’t your fault.” He hugged her again and kissed her brow. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be back to normal in no time. You’re strong enough to get over this; I know you.”
She shook her head, and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “I think you overestimate me. I’m not so strong. Not after this.”
He chuckled. “You’ve always been stronger than you thought. And you are now, too. You’ll be fine, Val. You’ll be just fine.”
He took her hand and led her back to the couch, where he cradled her in his arms. The warmth of his embrace and his rhythmical heartbeat relaxed her to a point that her eyes started drooping. She was barely aware of him scooping her up from the couch, and she leaned into his chest, mumbling a muffled, “Thank you,” against his soft sweater, before she fell into a deep slumber.
When Valerie opened her eyes, it took her a moment to realize where she was and why she was there. She blinked and saw Ryan in the armchair at the foot of his bed, reading a magazine.
“Ryan,” she croaked, her voice still thick with sleep.
“Well, hello there. It’s about time you woke up. I was starting to run out of things to do, here.” He stood up and stretched, dropping the magazine on the armchair. “These tabloids are so boring. I don’t understand why people buy them.”
He chuckled and got to her side of the bed, bending down to scrutinize her face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was so tired. What time is it?”
He shrugged and sat on the bed. “Almost dinner time. You hungry?”
She nodded. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled.
“Good, then let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving!”
He took her hand and pulled her up with him. Her knees buckled and she wobbled a little, holding on to him for support. She couldn’t even remember eating in the last twenty-four hours. She was going to be in trouble if she didn’t pull herself together quick.
Maybe Ryan was right; maybe it hadn’t been her fault. She’d done everything she could to save her patient, putting all of the skills and medical knowledge she’d learned into practice. If she looked at it impartially, she’d been the perfect surgeon and hadn’t left anything untried. Doctor Gray had been there with her and had told her it hadn’t been her fault. But still…
She blinked, willing the image of the dead man to disappear, but she was sure it would never go away—not for a long, long time to come.
She sighed and followed Ryan to the kitchen, where he offered to make his very special fettuccine recipe. While she watched him bustle about the room, she wondered what her life would be like if he wasn’t part of it.
What person would she have become if she hadn’t gone to the Club on that rainy July afternoon? Where would she be now? She would never have moved to Boston, and she would probably never have come out of her shell if he hadn’t been her friend and brought out the best in her. No matter what happened in their lives, one thing was sure—Ryan would always be the one person she could depend on, the one person who’d always believe in her.
“Would you mind dicing the tomatoes and onions?” he asked, handing her two round, ripe tomatoes, an onion, and a knife. “Show me your
surgical skills. I’ve always wanted to see you in action.”
He gave her his mischievous, lopsided grin, and Valerie’s lips instinctively curled at the corners. He always knew how to make her feel better, be it with a hug and comforting words or some silly, light-hearted teasing that would bring a smile to her face.
She snatched the vegetables from his hands and reached for the knife, waving it in the air in front of him. “Careful, buddy. You don’t want to be a smart-arse when I have a blade in my hand.”
Ryan raised his hands in a peace gesture and chuckled, taking a step back. “Nope, I definitely don’t want you to use your skills on me, Doctor Frankenstein. I’ll behave. Scouts’ honor.”
For the first time that day, Valerie finally laughed, a real laugh that made the knot in her stomach ease just a little. Maybe, with him by her side, she would be able to get through this. Anything seemed possible when he was there.
She started chopping the onion, while he stared at her from a safe distance, his arms crossed over his chest. When she looked up, he was grinning at her, and she smiled back. Yes, as long as Ryan was her friend, she’d get through anything. As she shifted her attention to the tomatoes, she sent up a silent “thank you” to her Grandpa for taking her to the Club on that rainy July afternoon when she was nothing but a shy, thirteen-year-old outcast who still hadn’t found her place in the world.
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