How To Save A Marriage In A Million
Leonie Knight
Joanna and Richard Howell thought they had it all–until they lost their precious little boy. Broken-hearted, their perfect marriage crumbled.Since then, Jo's thrown herself into nursing, determined to distract herself from what she's lost. She loves her newfound inner strength, but seeing her gorgeous husband again makes Jo wonder–is she brave enough to hope they can have another shot at happiness?
I am a good nurse, I love the children I care for, and that’s all that matters.
She repeated the affirmation in her head, but it did little to divert her attention from the unsettling whole-body warmth she was experiencing in response to Richard’s touch.
‘Are you all right? Have something to drink.’
Clearing her throat, she tried to restore her self-control. But Richard’s eyes were firmly fixed on hers, as if he had something important to say but was uncertain how to say it.
‘I’m fine now.’ She took a sip of the offered drink.
He put his carton of coffee down, ran long fingers through his mane of unruly hair and cleared his own throat. He finally spoke.
‘I guess it’s time to talk...about you and me.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, and fixed her gaze firmly on the ground.
Dear Reader
The idea for this book was born after one of my writing friends had her head shaved to raise both awareness and money for a very good cause—the Leukaemia Foundation. That set me thinking about one of the worst things imaginable that can happen to a parent in their lifetime—the loss of a child to cancer. Fortunately more than eighty-five per cent of children diagnosed with cancer survive their illness and go on to lead full, healthy adult lives. So there is light at the end of what can initially be seen to be a very long, dark tunnel.
My hero is a paediatric oncologist and my heroine an oncology nurse. The people I know who work in this field are a truly dedicated group, who always have a smile or an encouraging word to give, no matter what the circumstances, and I hope my characters reflect those amazing qualities.
I make no apologies for planting Richard and Joanna in a very painful place at the beginning of their story. The challenge is for them to come to terms with (but never forget) the tragic events of their past, and find happiness in their enduring love for each other.
Of course the journey is not easy for them, but there are lots of joyful moments along the way—a scenario that mimics many real-life journeys.
I hope you enjoy the story of Richard and Joanna, and gain a little insight into an area of medicine that isn’t always smooth sailing but that can be immensely satisfying.
Best wishes and happy reading
Leonie Knight
How to Save a Marriage in a Million
Leonie Knight
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
Prologue (#ue1a8ab4f-420a-5a0c-a0f9-e8838ef15509)
Chapter One (#u5f67f483-f3d6-5ff8-b071-3b5f548a2888)
Chapter Two (#u566970ab-590e-56cb-9b11-6121ff4411e3)
Chapter Three (#ud5884ffa-fd3f-5efb-8c81-6116fb95531a)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Originally a city girl, Leonie Knight grew up in Perth, Western Australia. Several years ago, with her husband, two young sons and their Golden Retriever, she moved south to a small rural acreage located midway between dazzling white beaches and the magnificent jarrah forest of the Darling Scarp. Now her boys have grown and left home, and the demands of her day-job have lessened, she finds she has more time to devote to the things she loves—gardening, walking, cycling, reading, and of course writing. The fact that she spent most of her adult life working in first a suburban and then a rural general medical practice, combined with the inspiration she gets from her real-life hero, makes it only natural that the stories she writes are medical romances.
This is Leonie’s second book.
Why not check out her fantastic debut?
SUDDENLY SINGLE SOPHIE
Available from www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I dedicate this book to all cancer patients, cancer survivors and their families. I also acknowledge the devoted and caring group of doctors and nurses who provide them with support, knowledge, hope and light through their journey towards the goal of recovery. They are truly an amazing group of people.
And to Claire, who had the courage and generosity to have her head shaved.
PROLOGUE
JOANNA cradled her tiny newborn son in her arms. Just three days old and so beautiful…
Although the journey she’d travelled in the past twelve months had not exactly been a smooth one, it had been worth every moment of the anguish and uncertainty. The perfect, fragile, sleeping child she held more than made up for the shock of finding out she was pregnant at the age of nineteen, when her chances of conceiving and carrying a baby to full term had been so low.
The living, breathing evidence of her love for Richard compensated a million times over for the blackness of her mind-numbing fear when she’d begun to haemorrhage at thirty-five weeks. She’d suffered the physical and emotional pain of the emergency Caesarean section without complaint because the result was akin to a miracle. After the birth she’d been told by her obstetrician that her chance of unassisted conception was even less than before her gorgeous little boy had arrived. That didn’t worry Joanna. She had everything she had ever dreamed of snuggled up against her breast.
And Richard had been there for her all the way.
She was truly blessed.
Hearing the familiar sound of soft-soled shoes on polished vinyl, Joanna glanced towards the door of her hospital room. And she wasn’t disappointed.
‘Hello, you,’ Richard said quietly before his gaze moved to settle on the baby…their baby.
‘Howell, Samuel Benjamin. 2605 grams, 49cm. A precious son…’
The succinct words of the birth notice hardly did justice to the potpourri of emotions Joanna had felt—still felt—at bringing a new life into the world. It was a joy she thought she’d never experience.
Richard beamed, offering yet another extravagant bouquet of delicately scented yellow roses. He laid them, with the others, on the shelf above the compact desk. The room would be overflowing if she stayed in hospital much longer. He’d brought flowers every day since the birth and the tally now stood at three bountiful bunches.
She smiled. ‘Hi,’ was all she managed to say before her husband’s lips covered hers and he delivered a kiss loaded with gentleness and joy. Sam’s eyes opened briefly when his father ran a tentative finger gently across his little forehead. He then promptly drifted back into a peaceful sleep.
Taking a step back, Richard released a long, satisfied sigh.
‘What was that for?’ Joanna asked.
He hesitated a moment as if he needed the time to collect his thoughts. His voice was husky when he replied.
‘You’re beautiful. You’ve given me the gift of a perfect child and I think, at this moment, I must be the luckiest man on earth.’
He sat on the side of her bed and reached for her hand, covering it with his own before he added, ‘And I love you, Joanna Howell…More than you can ever know.’
But she did know, had always known, and she knew that those simple words didn’t do justice to the feelings they had for each other.
CHAPTER ONE
Eleven years later
IT was Dr Richard Howell’s first day at Lady Lawler Children’s Hospital and a mix of excitement, anticipation and uncertainty churned in his stomach like cement in a fully loaded mixer.
It wasn’t anything to do with the job, though.
The inevitability of bumping into Joanna again after spending three years working away in the U.K. had unsettled his nerves and filled his mind with memories, not all of them pleasant.
He snapped closed the latch of his briefcase at the conclusion of the interdisciplinary meeting which was held every second Monday morning in the paediatric oncology department. He still felt jet-lagged—he’d only arrived back in Western Australia three days ago—but was sure it wouldn’t take long to get back into the swing of his hectic oncology consultancy.
‘Coming for lunch?’ James Francis, the paediatric surgeon, asked as they left the meeting room and headed for the lift. ‘The food in the doctors’ dining room isn’t exactly gourmet but it’s far superior to the canteen.’
‘Not today.’ Richard had seen a notice on the pin board of the ward reminding the staff of ‘Shave or Colour for Kids’ Cancer Day’. Although he wasn’t sponsoring anyone he’d planned to go down and watch, with the aim of giving the participants some encouragement and handing over a donation for a very worthy cause that was close to his heart. ‘And I think I’ll take the stairs. I need the exercise.’
‘Suit yourself.’ The surgeon’s voice faded as the door of the lift closed. Richard bounded down several steps at a time and took a right turn at the bottom.
He remembered the canteen from when he’d worked at Lady Lawler on his paediatric rotation as a resident. That had been thirteen years ago, before he’d met Joanna and six months before he’d received his specialist training position at the Stirling, the largest children’s hospital in the state. A year later he’d met and married Joanna and she’d presented him with a beautiful son the following year. He’d thought his life was as perfect as it could ever be…until their world had been ripped apart. They’d decided to separate and he had taken up a posting in the U.K. Two years had turned into three and he’d extended his stay for the simple reason that he couldn’t face coming back—and seeing his wife again.
Yes, Joanna was still his wife, though they had been separated well past the official time necessary to apply for a divorce. Joanna had never pursued the matter, though, and he’d not had the desire or opportunity to remarry. So it hadn’t seemed important.
But now he was ready to lay the demons of his past to rest by somehow making up for his cruel abandonment of his wife after the heart-breaking death of their son. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it and it had been a difficult decision to make. He was home and there was no turning back.
Richard glanced around the busy hall. There were a couple of familiar faces but no one he knew well enough to sit with. The canteen hadn’t changed. Same monotonous menu of sandwiches, salad and a choice of a couple of hot dishes—usually a lukewarm pasta and one of an endless number of variations of chicken and rice. He chose sandwiches and juice and then made his way to one of the few empty tables on the far side of the room.
The ‘Shave and Colour’ was well under way on a makeshift stage near the exit. Members of the nursing staff seemed to be the main participants.
His attention moved to one of the nurses who sat with her back to them, submitting to a complete head shave. What struck him were her incredible tresses. Her hair wasn’t particularly long, but it was jet-black, thick and shiny.
This woman has guts, he thought. He couldn’t think of a more powerful or personal way to show how much she cared for the children she was sacrificing a truly stunning head of hair for.
Who was she?
Richard had a sudden need to know. He wanted to meet her and tell her how impressed he was with her courage. He was intrigued, and interested in her motivation.
A few minutes later the woman on the stage turned around, grinning, her skull as smooth as a billiard ball. Her assured gaze flitted around the room as the canteen occupants clapped and cheered. She waved and smiled at people she obviously knew.
Then her eyes locked on his. The connection lasted only a few moments but it had a profound effect.
It was Joanna.
His wife.
He hardly recognised her.
She’d always had long hair, braided or swinging halfway down her back. Every time she’d gone to the hairdresser, she’d come home with different-coloured highlights and he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten the magnificence of her natural hair colour.
And she’d gained weight. She wasn’t plump but had healthy, rounded curves and colour in her cheeks. She also exuded a self-assurance he’d not seen in her during the eight years they’d been together.
Her appearance now reminded him of how much Sam’s illness and tragic death had drained her. Now her trademark love of life had returned. He suspected she had managed to come to terms with the painful memories, as well as rid herself of any feelings she had for her estranged husband.
Her eyes were still fixed on his when her smile faded. It was if she was challenging him to pick fault with what she’d done…as if she knew he’d experienced a peculiar grief for her loss, both past and present.
The challenge was oddly exciting.
Richard’s heart rate picked up a notch or two and he shook his head, trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. Probably jet-lag…hunger…first-day blues…
Part of what he experienced was raw, physical attraction and it took him totally by surprise. He hadn’t felt like this since…
He looked away, unable to sustain contact with Joanna’s unsettling gaze any longer. He attempted to finish his sandwich but it tasted like chalk and stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow.
Taking a deep breath, he decided he would go over and say hello. It wasn’t as if his return would be a surprise to her. She knew he was coming back and that he would be working with her. He’d made enquiries and found out she’d added oncology nursing to her list of qualifications and that she worked on Matilda Ward here. So he needed to define the boundary between work and any remaining vestiges of their personal relationship.
As he stood Richard took his wallet out of his pocket and extracted a fifty-dollar note, but by the time he made his way over to the stage to make his donation, Joanna had disappeared, probably back to the ward and her patients. The combination of disappointment and relief left him heavy-hearted but he hoped he’d see her the following day when he officially started on the wards.
His thoughts were interrupted by his pager. He had an appointment with the hospital’s medical director in ten minutes and he’d requested a reminder. He put the fifty dollars in the donation box.
It was time to file away his thoughts of the woman he’d once loved so fiercely and possessively and get back to work.
* * *
The previous week the nursing staff of Matilda Ward had had a detailed briefing about Richard Howell, the new head of the paediatric oncology unit at Lady Lawler, so Joanna had had plenty of time to prepare psychologically for his arrival. Lynne, the charge sister, had explained that, prior to a professional appointment in the U.K., he’d worked as a consultant at the Stirling Children’s Hospital from the time he’d begun his specialist training about twelve years ago. Lynne understood that he was an excellent doctor and a pleasure to work with, she’d told them.
Once the practical details of his return had been discussed, the curious female staff had embarked on the predictable gossip session.
‘How old is he?’ one of the young nurses had asked. Their previous boss was retiring and was well into his sixties.
‘Ooh, close to forty, I’d estimate,’ Lynne had replied.
‘Good-looking, I hope,’ Karen, the play therapist who had just broken up with her boyfriend, had piped up.
Lynne had then scanned the group of inquisitive faces. ‘I can’t answer that one. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him.’
‘He’d have to be an improvement on old Dr Price. Is he married?’ Karen had persisted.
Joanna had remained conspicuously silent during the discussion, but had felt the sudden heat of an unexpected blush at the mention of Richard’s marital status. Fortunately the other women’s attention had been focused firmly on Lynne, who had begun to put away the patient notes from handover. She hadn’t quite finished her exposé on Dr Richard Howell, though, and the woman had glanced at Karen, who had never been shy of saying what she was thinking.
‘Don’t get any ideas, Karen. As far as I know, he’s unattached. Separated or divorced, I heard.’ She’d hesitated. ‘Or at least he was when he left to go overseas.’ She’d looked at the play therapist sternly. ‘But I don’t want your mind straying from the job. Which reminds me, that’s what we all should be doing—working, not gossiping.’
Joanna had made a hurried exit and immersed herself in her work, trying not to think of the ramifications of Richard reappearing in her life. During the week before his arrival she’d tried to convince herself she would remain objective. Determined her relationship with Richard would be no different from her relationship with Dr Price, she’d devised an affirmation she’d repeated many times.
I am a good nurse, I love the children I care for and that’s all that matters.
But when Joanna had scanned the room after having her head shaved and seen the tall, fair-haired man staring at her as if she had just committed a crime, her heart had done a back flip and all that mattered had been the connection she’d felt with a man she’d tried so hard to forget. She hadn’t thought she’d see Richard until the following day when he officially commenced his clinical duties. She also thought she’d mentally prepared herself for all possible scenarios. Oh, how wrong she’d been.
Thank God she’d reverted back to her maiden name before she’d applied for the job at Lady Lawler. Even though Howell was a common name, she suspected there’d be the inevitable, light-hearted enquiries about whether she and Richard were related. She’d not told any of her colleagues the truth about her marriage and she had no plans to do so.
Seeing him again, after three and a half long years, had sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins that felt like a slow-burning fuse. Her days of emotional fireworks were over, though. She’d worked hard to regain a meaningful life. She’d also realised there was no place in her future for a husband. She wouldn’t run the risk of being abandoned again when the going got tough. Richard was her husband in name only. She’d put off discussing a divorce in the wild hope they might rediscover the love they had once shared in the early years of their marriage when Sam had been healthy and happy—the light of their lives. But Richard had not been able to cope with her grieving. He’d gone away and it was too late now.
I am a good nurse, I love the children I care for and that’s all that matters.
The closer she came to a face-to-face meeting with Richard, the more difficult it became to convince herself, especially now his first day on the ward had finally arrived.
She opened her locker in the nurses’ change rooms and replaced her casual clothes with the cheerful oncology staff uniform of coffee-coloured trousers and a crazy rainbow-patterned top. The outfit had been cleverly designed to have pockets in all the right places but bore no resemblance to the traditional dress of a nurse.
Thinking about the day ahead, she smiled as she stowed her gear in her locker. She wondered how Tye Coombs had coped with his final chemo the previous evening and whether Dylan’s grandparents had arrived from the country in time to wish him a happy birthday. As she walked into Matilda Ward she was greeted by the usual bustle of the night sister gathering the day staff for the morning handover, but even their cheerful chat didn’t distract her from thoughts of how she would cope with meeting Richard again. She tried her best not to appear preoccupied.
‘My God, you’re brave, Joanna,’ Karen said as she breezed into the nursing station.
Joanna smiled. ‘You mean my zero-gauge haircut?’
‘Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be game to do it again this year.’ She ran her fingers through her own honey-brown locks, which still had the vestiges of purple glittered streaks. ‘But then again, you can get away with it.’ The woman studied Joanna’s face for a few moments longer. ‘I wish I had eyes like yours and that fine bone structure.’
Joanna laughed. ‘I do it for the kids, and I don’t think they notice the finer points of bone structure. I suspect you’re just saying it to make me feel better.’
‘No, I really mean it.’
The conversation was cut short by Lynne, the charge nurse for the day, summoning them all together.
‘We’ve had a fairly quiet night and we actually have two empty beds, but I understand there’s a thirteen-year-old boy coming in today for bone biopsy tomorrow,’ Barbara, the night sister, began. ‘And there was one new admission at about midnight. Cassie Blake’s come in with a temp of 39.5 and a productive cough. Most of you know her, I think. Twelve-year-old with ALL.’
Lynne interrupted, ‘Do you know what that stands for, Tracey?’ She directed her question to the student nurse who had started on the ward the day before. The girl blushed.
‘Acute…er…lymphoblastic leukaemia,’ the girl amended.
‘Well done. Sorry, Barb, go on.’
‘No problem.’ Barbara smiled and refocused her attention on the pile of patient folders. ‘She’s halfway through induction chemo as an outpatient and responding well. Chest X-ray’s clear but she’s on IV antibiotics and two-hourly obs. Temp’s come down to 37.9 already. The physio will see her this morning and she’s to have another blood count.’
Joanna became aware of the presence of a late arrival in the small nurses’ station. By the hint of aftershave she knew the person was a male and he was standing directly behind her. She began to feel embarrassed that he had a full view of her recently shorn skull and as she moved sideways he leaned towards her and whispered, ‘No need to move,’ as casually as if he’d never met her before. ‘I’m just eavesdropping.’ Then he addressed the whole group.
‘Don’t let me interrupt, ladies…’ he glanced apologetically at Grant, the only male nurse on for the shift ‘…and gentleman. Just thought I’d get a head start on the ward round by listening in. Hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not, Dr Howell.’ Barbara beamed. ‘I was just about to say that you would be seeing Cassie this morning to assess her.’ She addressed the group again. ‘You’ve all heard Dr Howell is starting his clinical duties today as medical oncologist, taking over from Dr Price.’
All eyes turned towards the man standing behind her. Joanna sensed the rush of warmth and felt certain her whole scalp was glowing. This kind of reaction was so out of character. She was embarrassing herself and behaving like a teenager.
‘Thanks, Barbara, but please go on. Pretend I’m not here.’
Easier said than done, Joanna thought as she forced herself to concentrate on the remainder of the handover. It was no easy task with the man she had shared the most traumatic time of her life with standing so close she could feel his thigh touching her hip and the warmth of his breath on her neck. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself by moving again, though.
Barbara was finishing. Joanna cleared her throat but her voice still sounded husky.
‘What’s happened to Tye?’
Barbara laughed and Joanna thought she detected a hint of a wink. ‘Even the prospect of his favourite nurse on duty today couldn’t keep him here. He left last night, straight after his treatment finished.’ She looked around the room. ‘Anything else, any questions?’
There was an impatient silence. They were all ready to embark on another busy day’s work.
‘Great, I’m out of here, then. Have a good day.’
* * *
Richard’s aim had been to get the feel of the staff attitude, the atmosphere of the ward and a rundown on the patients from the nursing point of view before his morning ward round. He’d had no idea whether Joanna would be working a morning shift so, when he saw her in all her close-clipped glory, he mentally rearranged his schedule.
She’d blushed at the mere sound of his voice; her breathing had quickened and he’d detected the slightest trembling of her hands when he’d accidentally touched her. He’d have to make an opportunity to speak to her alone, not only to reassure her that the last thing he wanted to do was to upset her but also to offer her an olive branch and let her know he wasn’t about to intrude on the life she now had…unless she wanted him to.
He leafed through the case notes while Lynne allocated patients and duties to her staff for the day.
‘Joanna will be coming with us, if that’s okay with you, Dr Howell?’ Lynne interrupted his train of thought. He didn’t look up, but gathered the files and put them on the trolley.
‘Fine by me.’
‘She’s the only nurse who gets to know all the kids on the ward and their families.’ She chuckled. ‘And a few of their secrets they won’t share with anyone else.’
Now, why didn’t that surprise him?
Joanna was again looking embarrassed, as if she wasn’t comfortable with compliments—an unusual personality trait in an experienced, capable and obviously respected nurse. Richard dismissed the thought that his presence was the reason and focused his attention on what the charge sister was saying.
‘We’ll see Cassie, our most recent admission, shall we?’ Lynne said as she guided them into the small room next to the two single rooms set aside for the special care of patients with severely compromised immune systems or serious infections that might be a threat to the fragile health of other sick patients on the ward. They all dutifully rubbed sanitising gel onto their hands.
‘Cassie’s been isolated as a precaution until we get confirmation of the nature of her infection. With your okay, Dr Howell, we’ll move her into the general ward as soon as we can.’
Joanna entered the room first and Richard noticed the girl’s face light up at the sight of her. Cassie’s mother, though she looked as if she’d had little sleep the previous night, also managed a smile.
Joanna held up her hand in a high-five gesture.
‘Love the new look, Jo,’ the twelve-year-old said with a cheeky grin as their hands touched. Both mother and child were behaving as if Richard and Lynne weren’t in the room. Their attention was entirely on Joanna…and they weren’t the only ones. She had transformed on entering Cassie’s room: she was now confident, charismatic even and seemed to have an aura of optimism hovering around her.
‘Can’t have you getting all the attention on the ward. I did it purely out of jealousy,’ Joanna said.
Cassie smiled and then finally acknowledged that Joanna wasn’t the only one who had entered the room.
‘Who’s that?’ she said with the typical forthrightness of the young. ‘Is he the new doctor?’
‘Where are your manners, Cass?’ her mother said as she stood to introduce herself. ‘I’m Kerry.’ She extended her hand.
‘Dr Richard Howell. I’ve taken over from Dr Price and will be looking after Cassie for the rest of her treatment.’ He turned to the girl and smiled. ‘Hi, Cassie. I gather you’re doing well with the chemo but you’ve had a setback. What’s happened to bring you back to hospital?’
The girl looked at her mother then began to cough. It was a rasping, throaty cough and, combined with Cassie’s good spirits, he doubted she had a serious infection.
‘You tell him, Mum,’ she said, slightly breathless from the exertion of coughing.
‘Her brother had a cold last week. Cassie caught it, just a runny nose and a bit of a dry cough and I thought she was getting over it. She’s in the middle of the cycle so I thought her neutrophils would be coming up and she’d be okay. But then last night—’
Cassie interrupted. ‘I got a fever and started coughing some gunk.’
‘And you know the rules about coming in—’
‘If I feel sick and my temperature goes over 38 degrees. But it’s come down, hasn’t it, Jo? When can I go home?’
Richard looked at the chart. Her temperature had steadily and rapidly decreased since she’d commenced antibiotics and the last reading was just above normal.
Joanna looked at him for confirmation, with those huge brown eyes that he used to be able to read like a book. Not now, though. The window to her thoughts had the shutters jammed closed.
‘You’re right. It was close to normal when night staff checked an hour ago. It’s all good news but I need to examine you.’ He glanced at Kerry for approval and she nodded.
After checking Cassie’s pulse, throat, ears and chest, the only thing he could find was a slightly inflamed throat, consistent with a viral infection.
‘She’s had a sputum and urine sent off?’ he asked Lynne, but Joanna answered.
‘And blood cultures. We should get microscopy back today but culture probably won’t be until tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Things are looking good, young lady, but we have to be sure we’re giving you the right antibiotics. We’ll get some results back today, including your blood count, but I’d like you to stay in until tomorrow when we’ll have all the tests back and can be absolutely sure you’re on the mend.’
Cassie frowned and her mother had a look of resignation as if she was expecting it. Neither spoke.
‘I’ll come and tell you the results as soon as they come through,’ he added. ‘And you can be moved to the main ward.’
‘Thank you, Dr Howell.’ It was Cassie’s mother who spoke.
‘Okay. And if you have any problems, I’m happy to see you and talk, answer any questions you might have.’
Lynne headed towards the door, a not-so-subtle indication she thought they’d spent long enough with their first patient, but Cassie had hold of Joanna’s hand and was pulling her close. She made an attempt to whisper but it was obvious the girl wanted Richard to hear every word of what she was confiding to the nurse.
‘You’re right, Jo,’ she said in a loud whisper. ‘He is gorgeous, and much nicer than Dr Price.’
Richard couldn’t help the tiniest smile that twitched on his lips.
Joanna had described him as gorgeous!
Certainly not a word he would use but it was the first glimmer of hope that the rock-hard shell she’d built to shield her emotions from him before they’d finally split up might have weakened with the passage of time.
‘Sorry about that,’ she said, averting her eyes and seeming to lose all composure. He couldn’t work her out—confident and efficient one minute, quiet and uncertain the next. But he had little time to ponder her behaviour further.
‘Where to now?’ he asked, and dutifully followed Lynne as she introduced him to the rest of the patients and their relatives. Though it took nearly two hours to complete, he appreciated the sense of not being hurried, of being able to take the time needed to answer parents’ questions and get to know the children, their problems and fears as well as their interests and pleasures.
And Joanna always seemed to know the right thing to say, to break the ice with a taciturn parent, persuade a retiring child to open up or a frightened teenager to express what they really felt. Richard was impressed. It was definitely two hours well spent.
When they’d finished seeing the last patient, a baby with an adrenal neuroblastoma recovering from surgery, Lynne excused herself, saying she had some administrative work to do before a teaching commitment with the student nurses.
‘If you could take an early tea break, Joanna, can you take charge while I’m away?’
‘No problem.’ Joanna tidied the folders on the trolley. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Dr Howell?’ she said politely.
Yes, there was, and he decided to risk asking.
‘Can I join you for your break, Sister Raven?’
Her eyebrows shot up at his use of her maiden name and the tormented look in her eyes asked why. The truth was he wanted to spend more time with her, alone, away from the distractions of the ward. He wanted to find out how she felt about him, but he certainly wasn’t about to admit his motives.
‘All right. I’ll be ready in about five minutes.’ Then she quickly walked away.
He stood watching till she was out of sight.
CHAPTER TWO
THE ward round with Richard had been an ordeal and Joanna knew she should have had more control. But she’d felt self-conscious. For no logical reason, she’d thought she had to prove she was a capable nurse; to show the man she had once been so dependent on that she’d managed to do something worthwhile with her life, something that didn’t hinge on her being the perfect wife and mother.
On reflection she realised she’d been trying too hard. That realisation hadn’t stopped her going into panic mode when he’d asked to accompany her on her break.
After the ward round finished she headed to the ladies’ and glanced at the mirror. She looked no better or worse than usual but needed a moment to herself before going back. She took a couple of deep breaths.
A moment later, Tracey burst in and looked at her curiously.
‘Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.’
‘I’m fine. I worked a few extra hours yesterday and I feel tired, that’s all.’
Without expecting a reply, Joanna left the restroom and hurried back to the main part of the ward, not wanting to keep Richard waiting. As she rounded the corner she saw him leaning up against the counter, all long legs, broad shoulders and sandy-coloured hair that seemed to have a mission to create its own style. He was deep in conversation with the pharmacist and looked up when she arrived.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ he said with a friendly smile and then resumed his conversation.
How could he be so blasé when her emotions were in such turmoil?
She busied herself by checking through a bundle of test results that had recently arrived.
‘Are you ready?’ He stood looking over her shoulder and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. As she straightened up and turned he paused for a moment, dangerously close to her, eyes searching hers as if for the answer to an unspoken question, before he stepped back.
‘You can finish what you’re doing. I don’t mind.’
‘No, it can wait. I have to be back by ten because Lynne has—’
‘A teaching session,’ he interrupted with a smile. ‘Where were you planning to go on your break?’
‘To the canteen, if that’s okay with you?’
The expression on his face changed. The relaxed cheerfulness and downright charm he’d spread through the ward by the bucketload that morning vanished in the time it took Joanna to replace the pile of reports in the ‘in’ basket.
‘I was hoping for somewhere more private.’ Richard loosened his tie and then cleared his throat, the only indication he wasn’t as calm as he made out. ‘You must realise we need to talk, and the sooner the better. If we’re to work together…’
‘Yes, of course.’
The space between them hung heavy with apprehension and she knew they had to reaffirm that the remnants of their marriage were unsalvageable. The debris of their broken relationship had to be tidily packaged and disposed of before they could comfortably move on and work together as part of the smooth-running oncology machine.
‘The sooner the better,’ she said quietly, and was glad Richard appeared not to hear.
He began to stride towards the doorway leading out of the ward and Joanna found herself battling to keep up with his pace. When he reached the door, he waited for her to go through first. It was a gentlemanly gesture that reminded her again of the man she used to know.
‘Well? Have you any suggestions of where we could go without the company of half the hospital?’ He kept walking towards the lifts and stopped when he arrived, pressing the button to go down. ‘We could buy something to take away.’
Joanna suddenly had no appetite as thoughts scuttled through her mind.
Was it wise? To spend time alone with him?
She’d thought she’d never see him again. Her life had been uncomplicated, her future predictable. But now…
She didn’t have time to think of an excuse to back down, though.
‘What about the courtyard behind the clinics? It used to be so neglected…in fact, very few people knew it was there,’ Richard suggested, and smiled for the first time since they’d left the ward. ‘When I was an intern, about a hundred years ago, we used to call it lovers’ lair.’
‘Yes, it’s still there.’ Joanna looked away and somehow managed to suppress the bitterness that rose like burning acid in her throat. She’d been so young when she’d fallen in love with Richard. In her third and final year of nursing training, she’d naively thought she was a woman of the world.
He’d been her first and only lover, though, and she’d never wanted to know about his past. Of course he would have had girlfriends before he’d met her and probably had spent more time than she wanted to think about in lovers’ lair. The fact that he was eight years older than her and had the kind of eye-catching good looks that stood the test of time…He’d probably also had lots of girlfriends since they’d split up.
The secret garden was what she preferred to call the hidden patch of jungle tucked behind the outpatient block.
Yes it was still there but she used it as a place of peaceful solace. She would often take advantage of the solitude the secluded area provided when she needed to compose herself, usually after one of her charges had died. Fortunately life, and remission from the terrible disease, was the more common outcome for children with cancer these days, though the word ‘cure’ was still used cautiously.
‘What’s the matter?’
Richard’s words broke her reverie at the same time as the lift arrived.
‘Nothing,’ she lied. She wasn’t about to reveal to Richard that everything about being alone with him was the matter.
A slight upward tilt of his eyebrows was the only indication he didn’t believe her.
‘Okay, let’s get some food and then we can talk.’
The stilted conversation came to a standstill as they travelled to the ground floor but it didn’t seem to bother her companion. When they arrived at the canteen, it was full to overflowing with orderlies and domestics, fortifying themselves for the working day ahead. There was also a scattering of nurses and every table was taken so Richard’s suggestion to find somewhere else made good sense.
They bought cartons of iced coffee and, despite Joanna’s insistence she wasn’t hungry, Richard loaded up with snacks.
‘I haven’t had any breakfast,’ Richard said as the woman behind the counter packed a large paper bag with his purchases.
‘Your appetite’s still as hearty as ever.’ Joanna regretted the words as soon as she’d uttered them. Already she’d noticed so many things about Richard that hadn’t changed—the slight swagger of his hips when he slowed his usual brisk stride to a walking pace; the way his brow furrowed and the tip of his tongue protruded when he concentrated; the endearing dimple that appeared in his right cheek when he smiled, giving him the cutest lopsided expression.
But at least he didn’t know how often he was in her mind.
He apparently read nothing more into her comment than a simple statement of fact.
‘A bit too hearty at times. I’ve put on a couple of unwanted kilos during my stay overseas.’ His tone was casual, as if he was discussing football scores with a mate. He didn’t seem to expect a reply and continued, ‘I need to get back into regular exercise.’
He paused as they arrived at the entrance to the canteen and waited for a group of chattering student nurses to come in then guided her out of the eating hall with a gentle hand on the small of her back. The simple gesture probably meant nothing to him. He’d always been free with those easy, tactile gestures that could set her heart racing.
He dropped his hand when they were through the doorway and set off at a slower pace she could keep up with.
‘What was I talking about?’ he said with a grin, and Joanna wondered if he’d been distracted by the group of giggling, nubile students who had cast blatantly flirty glances in his direction. A jolt of jealousy took her by surprise.
She had no hold on him, no right to be jealous, she reminded herself. They were about to discuss the best way to end a marriage that had floundered and failed dismally long ago, not have a friendly discussion about old times.
‘Exercise,’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper as they approached the clinic block.
‘Exercise…that’s right. I need to start swimming again, maybe join a gym. Do you know any decent ones around here that have a lap pool?’
She blushed, suddenly remembering all the weight she’d put on over the years since their separation. These days she never seemed to have any spare time for a disciplined fitness programme and her attempts at dieting had always been halfhearted; she liked food too much.
‘Sorry, gym workouts aren’t my thing.’
He hesitated. They’d arrived at their destination and it only lasted a few short moments but Joanna was acutely aware of her companion’s head-totoe appraisal. It was as though he’d stripped her completely bare.
‘No, of course not,’ he finally said with a smile. ‘I imagine you get a decent workout with all the running around you do on the wards. Shall we go in?’ He glanced at the entry to the garden.
Joanna’s heart began to pound and her naked scalp prickled as if each hair follicle had a direct connection with the emotions centre in her brain.
Why had she agreed to come?
But it was too late now to change her mind.
Joanna opened the vine-covered gate to the courtyard, which was indeed well hidden.
They sat on one of the bench seats in a corner. Richard handed her a drink and set the food between them, showing no indication he’d guessed how nervous she felt.
‘Help yourself,’ he said as he opened his carton of milk and took a long gulping drink. Joanna glanced at her watch. She definitely had no appetite.
‘No, thanks.’
He raised one eyebrow as he peeled the paper casing off the muffin and popped a generous chunk into his mouth.
‘Not on a diet, are you?’ His eyes again wandered over her generously proportioned body but there was no sign of criticism in his tone. He had an unmistakeable twinkle in his eye, as if the statement was a challenge. Reminding herself she’d long ago stopped worrying about what people thought of how she looked, she refused to be unsettled by his question.
‘Do you think I should be?’ she said, rather more brusquely than she’d intended. She defiantly chose a Cellophane-wrapped portion of cheese and crackers from the selection of food, unwrapped it and began to eat.
‘No, of course not. You’re perfect just the way you are.’
Joanna nearly choked on an errant crumb. As she coughed to clear her throat, her eyes began watering and she felt a strong, warm hand first patting and then rubbing her back. It took all her self-control to stop herself from leaning into the blissful touch of his fingers on the exquisitely sensitive area between her shoulder blades.
She pulled away in alarm at the signals her body was sending. Fortunately Richard didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were full of concern.
I am a good nurse, I love the children I care for and that’s all that matters.
She repeated the affirmation in her head but it did little to divert her attention from the unsettling whole-body warmth she was experiencing in response to Richard’s touch.
‘Are you all right? Have something to drink.’
Clearing her throat, she tried to restore her self-control but Richard’s eyes were firmly fixed on hers as if he had something important to say but was uncertain how to say it.
‘I’m fine now.’ She took a sip of the offered drink.
He put his carton of coffee down, ran long fingers through his mane of unruly hair and cleared his throat. He finally spoke.
‘I guess it’s time to talk…about you and me.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, and fixed her gaze firmly on the ground.
* * *
‘I saw you have your head shaved yesterday…’ Richard hesitated. He was trying to break the ice by not launching into a discussion of their marriage as soon as they’d sat down. But the distressed look on Joanna’s face left no doubt in his mind that he was being totally insensitive. She’d succumbed to a sacrifice most women wouldn’t even consider, because of Sam. And probably because of every child with cancer that had been in her care.
‘I’m sorry.’
Her eyes, which had been defiantly cast downward, found his and melted into a pool of heart-ache and exposed vulnerability. But it didn’t last long. She slammed the door on her emotions and attempted a smile.
‘What for?’ Her expression was now as hard as steel.
‘For…er…’
Why was it still so difficult to even mention the death of their son? He’d thought he’d regained some of his objectivity, but he should have realised that seeing Jo again would bring it all back.
She grasped his hand as if sensing his insecurity.
‘We didn’t come here to talk about Sam. He’ll always have a special place in my heart and I’ll never stop missing him but I can cope now. I’m no longer an emotional cripple and I’ve somehow managed to move on. It hasn’t been easy but I’ve survived.’
From what he had initially thought of as Joanna’s weakness had emerged a single-minded strength he envied. He was lost for words.
‘We need to talk about our relationship,’ she added.
She looked at him questioningly, expecting a reply.
‘Yes.’ Richard coughed to try and clear the stubborn lump in his throat but it refused to move. ‘What do you want to do?’
He’d thought he’d worked through denial and regret and could finally deal with seeing Joanna again…for closure. But he still had strong feelings for her and was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that he wanted to save his marriage; he was reluctant to mention what had been his initial intention—that they finally divorce.
It had seemed to be the logical solution to a problem that had been simmering in his mind ever since he’d made the decision to accept the position of head of the oncology department at Lady Lawler. But now he’d seen Joanna again, it wasn’t that simple. He needed to find out if she still had any feelings for him.
‘Do you want—?’
‘A divorce?’
Apparently easy for her to say and there was no avoiding the issue. But the goalposts had moved. He needed time. They were both older and, he hoped, wiser. When they’d married, Joanna had been nineteen and pregnant with a child she expected she’d never have. The doctors had told her the scarring from a ruptured appendix three years previously had blocked her tubes and her only chance of bearing a child would be through microsurgery or IVF.
When she’d found out she was pregnant, they’d both been over the moon. Although they’d only known each other for a little over six months, they’d been insanely in love and the pregnancy had somehow validated that love. Maybe they’d jumped into marriage too quickly and for the wrong reasons. Many times he’d agonised over whether that was why their relationship hadn’t been strong enough to survive the shattering stress of what had happened to their son.
Was it a bad thing to want to start over?
It had to be Jo’s decision. She was the one who had suffered most and he didn’t want to cause her any more heartache.
‘Yes, I guess it comes down to that. We probably should have finalised things before I left for England, but—’
‘I was an emotional vegetable and you couldn’t bring yourself to add to my stress by going through a divorce.’ She was actually smiling. ‘I hated you for leaving me, you know. But I realise now that living with me at that time in our lives must have been a nightmare. Looking back, you certainly pulled out all the stops to try and bring me out of my depression. I don’t blame you.’ She sighed and then hesitated. ‘I’ve moved on, Richard. I have a fulfilling life that doesn’t involve a husband or children. Our marriage ended years ago and now it’s time to formalise our separation.’
He cleared his throat but couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking—he didn’t deserve to be forgiven and it had been fanciful to even contemplate that she would give him another chance. Even if he hadn’t gone away he had a feeling their paths would have diverged.
Why did he feel so gut-wrenchingly disappointed?
‘I suppose so,’ he finally said. ‘Do you want me to get the wheels turning? I should have time to contact my lawyer some time in the next week.’
He couldn’t go on. It all seemed so final, but Joanna was right. Why cling to the memory of something, no matter how beautiful, that could never be regained? They were different people from the young, naive nursing student and the indestructible, ambitious doctor who’d fallen in love more than a decade ago. Joanna had told him what he needed to know.
‘That’s fine by me. Let me know what I have to do.’ She glanced at her watch, took a hurried sip of her drink and then stood up to leave. ‘I have to go. I’ve got less than five minutes to get back to the ward and take over from Lynne.’
She paused a moment, as if waiting for his response, but looked anxious to leave. He needed a few moments to reprogramme his thoughts into work mode, though.
‘Yes, of course you must go back. I have an appointment with someone called Jodie to discuss accommodation, so I might see you later, back on the ward.’
She nodded, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, as if he was one of her charges to whom she’d had to impart particularly bad news.
At that moment he knew the thread he’d been clinging to in the hope they might get together again was finally broken. She’d stopped loving him long ago, and she was right. He needed to get on with his life. They both did. So why did it hurt so much?
CHAPTER THREE
RICHARD wasn’t sure what Jodie Francis’s job description was, but he was grateful she’d contacted him the previous day to enquire if he needed assistance to find accommodation. He’d forgotten about the block of half a dozen terraces tucked away two streets from the hospital and used as temporary lodgings for ‘homeless’ employees. In the past they’d been leased to visiting, top-level professionals who had temporary appointments such as post-graduate fellowships or academic posts. At the moment he was living in a holiday apartment, about half an hour’s drive from Lady Lawler, and he hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider more permanent housing. He was eager to find out what Jodie had to offer.
He knocked on the door of a small office in the administration wing.
‘Come in,’ the owner of the youthful voice sang out.
By the time he’d opened the door she was out of her seat and headed in his direction with her hand extended in greeting.
‘Hello, I’m Jodie, and you must be Dr Howell.’
The woman, who Richard estimated to be in her late twenties, grasped his hand and beamed.
‘That’s right. You phoned and left a message on the ward yesterday.’
He waited for her to sit down before settling in the austere, grey-upholstered chair opposite her desk.
She thumbed through a folder of papers and extracted a single page, which she placed on the top of the pile. ‘I understand you’ve been back in Western Australia for less than a week and, er…’ It was the first time the confident young lady had shown any sign of hesitation and Richard second-guessed what she was trying to say.
‘You assumed, since I’d been away for so long, I might be looking for somewhere to stay?’
‘Exactly.’ She paused again. ‘And am I right to assume…um…that you’re on your own?’
‘Yes.’
His heart rate quickened as a painful memory of a bleak conversation with his wife popped into his mind. When he and Jo had parted, he’d fully expected the break to be purely down-time to allow wounds to heal and that they would eventually reconcile. Their dream home, purchased midway through Joanna’s pregnancy and lovingly renovated and decorated to accommodate the needs of their expanding family, had been a symbol of his wife’s vision of their future together.
When Sam had died, that vision had been irreconcilably shattered.
Before he’d departed for the U.K. he’d assured Joanna the house was hers as long as she wanted it, but six months after he’d left she’d sent him a matter-of-fact email stating she wanted to sell the house and move into something smaller. ‘More suited to a single woman’ had been her exact words. But he’d suspected what she’d really wanted to say was without the memories.
It had broken his heart, and his phone call to her had done nothing to reassure him Jo had been coping any better than when he’d left. She’d stated calmly, when he’d offered to return to Australia, that it would be a waste of time and she didn’t want to see him.
It would upset her too much, he read between the transparent lines of her conversation.
He had a sudden thought that he didn’t even have her current address.
‘You were saying?’ the ebullient Jodie cut into his reverie, and he frowned, trying to remember the last thread of their conversation.
‘Ah, yes. I’m separated and in the process of getting a divorce.’ The words were out of his mouth, like a confession, before he had a chance to stop them. She’d not asked for any information on his marital status but he’d felt the need to explain why a thirty-nine-year-old consultant didn’t have the wife and family that were often expected of someone of his age and position.
Jodie looked embarrassed and busied herself rearranging the papers on her desk.
‘So what do you have to offer?’
The girl blushed crimson and Richard suddenly realised what he’d said.
‘I didn’t mean…I’m not…’ he stumbled, and then they both laughed.
‘I know.’
‘Shall we start again?’
Twenty minutes later, Richard had signed a lease, organised for the rent to be deducted from his salary and taken possession of a set of keys to number 6B Peppermint Mews, the second house in the row of quaint terraces that the hospital owned. He’d made the decision without even viewing the place, on the basis that it was the only empty house in the row at the present time. The fact that it was fully furnished, he had a three-month lease with the option of staying longer and he could move in straight away added to its attraction. There was a tiny light at the end of a very long dark tunnel, he thought as he said goodbye to Jodie and strode off towards the main part of the hospital.
* * *
Joanna was in Richard’s thoughts for most of the day and into the evening as well. She was a remarkable woman, an amazingly dedicated nurse and she had stated, without hesitation, that she wanted to go ahead with the divorce as soon as possible. Before their private talk that morning he’d nursed the tiniest hope she might still have some feelings for him. He was not deluded, though, and didn’t expect to recapture what they’d once had. He’d thought more in terms of the remnants of their former relationship being intact; a starting point; a foundation from which to rebuild.
It wasn’t going to happen.
Joanna had changed, while he was stuck in the past.
So what he had to do was cast away any thoughts of rekindling a personal relationship with his wife and start over.
Today. Right now.
He returned to the ward after the meeting but his and Jo’s paths didn’t cross again. He focused his attention on his patients.
He spent an hour with an eight-year-old and his parents, explaining stem-cell transplants and answering their many questions. Then he’d been called to deal with a teenager who had developed a dread of her chemotherapy and, for the last two treatments, had started intractable vomiting the night before her three-weekly sessions, in anticipation. She was on the verge of refusing to continue despite an excellent response and it took a lot of persuading to get her to consider coming into the ward as an inpatient to tailor strategies to help her cope. There’d also been two new admissions he made a special effort to see before he left for a hurried, late lunch.
Joanna had been busy with her own duties and, though he’d been aware of her presence, they hadn’t actually spoken again and Richard’s afternoon had been a full on session in clinics.
Now he was heading home.
Home…
He’d stay in the apartment until at least the weekend, when he hoped he’d have time to shop for food and the essentials like bed linen that weren’t provided as part of the package of his new home. He was looking forward to moving in.
Alone.
If only things had been different.
He drove into the underground car park and headed for the lifts. It wasn’t long before he let himself into his apartment and faced the prospect of a long evening with the only company his own. He dumped his briefcase on the coffee table, opened the blinds, exposing a vast expanse of glass and an impressive view of the ocean opposite, and went to the fridge.
He knew exactly how Old Mother Hubbard felt.
There was enough milk left in the half-litre complimentary carton to make a cup of coffee—but he’d used all the coffee. A lonely bottle of mineral water stood next to two bottles of beer, the remains of a six-pack he’d bought on the weekend. Apart from a loaf of stale raisin bread his cupboard was indeed bare.
He reached for a beer, opened it and threw the cap into the bin, the bottle tilting as he did so and dribbling part of its contents onto his hand and the cuff of his shirt. He pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the kitchen counter at the same moment his phone rang.
‘Hello, Richard Howell.’ He gave the automatic greeting.
‘Hi, Dr Howell. It’s Jodie.’ She paused. ‘Remember me? We met this morning.’
Richard’s initial response was annoyance. He couldn’t think of any reason a member of the administrative staff would ring him at home on his mobile.
‘Yes, I remember. Is there a problem with the house?’
It was the only reason he could think of for her after-hours call.
‘No, it’s nothing to do with that.’
‘What, then?’
He thought he could hear the rumbling of voices in the background and then she giggled. He had the fleeting thought it might be a prank and it was the last thing he needed at the end of a long day.
‘I know you’ve only been back at work two days…’
It sounded like she was about to ask him a favour and he took a deep breath.
‘Go on.’
‘And you may not know that my dad is James Francis and he said he’s known you since you were an RMO and that you used to be a member of the hospital jazz band.’
He heard her take a deep breath and tried to make sense of a conversation that was becoming increasingly vague and convoluted. So Jodie was the daughter of Mr Francis, the paediatric surgeon, and, yes, he’d known her father for a long time and they’d jammed together a few times. But when he’d commenced his specialist training at the Stirling then married Joanna within the year, Richard had found the commitment to regular band practice and the occasional charity performance hadn’t fitted with the long hours and hectic schedule of a paediatric registrar with a pregnant wife. Most of the other band members had been either old enough to be grandparents or young and unattached. He’d given away music almost completely, although he still had his saxophone.
‘And?’
‘Um…There’s a charity concert planned for the Easter weekend and the band is without a sax player. Dad suggested contacting you. I know it’s over two months away but—’
‘No. Thanks for thinking of me but I don’t play any more. Even if I wanted to it’s been so long and I doubt I’d have the time for regular practice. I was never any good.’
He’d first met Joanna through his music. She’d been in the Stratton University choir and he’d continued to play in what had jokingly been called the Lady Lawler Big Band—more to do with its size than the type of music they’d played, which could range from pop rock to classical as well as traditional jazz. The good old days…
The last thing he needed at the moment was to be reminded of a time in his life that was in his thoughts nearly every day. Playing the saxophone was a rare, solitary activity these days.
‘That’s not what Dad says. He reckons you’re the best saxophone player the band has ever had. Are you doing anything Friday night?’
‘Er…’ Lord, this woman was pushy, just like her father. He tried to picture the oncology after-hours roster. ‘I’m on call.’ He was fairly certain Friday and Sunday were his rostered days.
‘Perfect. We’re having auditions in the B J Cohen Lecture Theatre so if you get a call you’ll already be at the hospital.’ He heard her clear her throat. ‘Not that you need to audition, but it will give you a chance to meet the crew and assess the new talent. What do you say?’
The woman was wearing him down and the idea of getting back to his music had some appeal. Maybe it was meant to be, all part of his new start. There was also the possibility of rescuing his social life, which he’d thought he’d lost for ever.
‘Okay. I’ll come on Friday, but it doesn’t mean I’m committing to playing.’
‘Great. Seven-thirty, and bring your saxophone.’
Then she hung up, leaving Richard wondering how she’d managed to persuade him to do something that he really didn’t want to do.
* * *
The next few days flew by in a blur of ward rounds, clinics, lectures and med-student tutorials. Richard’s only contact with Joanna had been on the wards in her capacity as an extremely dedicated and efficient paediatric nurse. There was no doubt in his mind she had a special relationship with her patients and she gave so much more than expected from the job description.
He certainly hadn’t had time to think about getting the ball rolling with their divorce but he would try and at least make a couple of phone calls, including one to his solicitor, on his afternoon off the following week.
He packed his briefcase with some paperwork he wanted to take home and then slung his stethoscope on the top before he clicked the case closed.
Friday already.
The reality of committing to even a brief appearance at the concert audition night had been intermittently interrupting his thoughts through the afternoon and now he longed for a quiet evening at home, with a glass of wine, listening to his favourite mood music…with Joanna snuggled up beside him on the couch.
An impossible dream.
He sighed as he walked out of Matilda Ward at the end of his first working week. In many ways it was good to be back in Australia; his only disappointment was that the grieving process was beginning again—this time not only for his son but for the demise of his marriage.
* * *
Joanna hated being late.
By the time she arrived, there were only a couple of stragglers in the foyer of the lecture theatre—a middle-aged man she didn’t recognise who was carrying a cello case and one of the new intake of medical students dressed as an outrageously eccentric clown.
She laughed. The young student stopped and turned around. He’d only been working at Lady Lawler for a few weeks but already had a reputation for his cheeky sense of humour and the occasional practical joke.
‘Guess what role I’m up for tonight?’ he said in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, but managed a deadpan expression. He waited for her to catch up with him.
‘Wow, that’s a hard one.’ She chuckled. ‘It’s a long shot but I am guessing it could be the stand-up comedian slot?’
His animated, black-painted lips drooped in an exaggerated expression of despondency as a bright blue tear trickled down one cheek. He whipped out a flamboyant bunch of daisies from somewhere in his baggy trousers and began waving them about as if he were conducting a full symphony orchestra.
‘I was hoping for the job of choirmaster.’
Joanna burst into laughter again. He would make a wonderful kids’ doctor. An off-beat sense of humour, as long as it was combined with sensitivity, made for ideal qualifications in an aspiring paediatrician.
‘Seriously?’
His face lit up again with a grin.
‘Seriously,’ he repeated, as he made an overstated gesture inviting her to enter the theatre before him. She walked in with a smile on her face, looked around and made her way over towards the section of stage with ‘CHOIR’ written in broad felt-tip pen on an upended cardboard box. It was part of a disparate set, which seemed to have done the job to guide the hopeful performers to different parts of the stage, depending on their abilities and aspirations.
She waved at the student as he headed towards the section designated ‘MISCELLANEOUS’. He was obviously enjoying the attention.
‘Good luck,’ she called.
But then she stopped dead in her tracks.
She’d been aware of the discordant sound of the various band instruments tuning up but she picked up the strains of a saxophone playing ragtime out of the din. It was a popular Scott Joplin composition but she couldn’t remember the name.
Oh, God!
The memories came flooding back.
Why was the saxophonist playing the song Richard had been playing when they’d first met? It must be simply a cruel twist of fate, she thought as she looked over to the crowded band section to see who it was. It certainly didn’t sound like Steve, the hospital’s long-time player. It wasn’t his style.
She scanned the group, telling herself it was simply an unusual coincidence.
Then she saw him.
Richard’s unruly hair flopped over his forehead but Joanna could see he had his eyes closed, concentrating fully on the music. He’d always had the ability to focus totally, blocking everything out but the sound of his own instrument. When he finished the lively tune, he stopped and took a deep breath before playing the soulful opening bars of an old traditional jazz ballad called ‘Sunset of Sadness’. It was a melody with lyrics about aching hearts, broken promises and shattered dreams. She knew the song by heart. The hummed melody had been a lullaby for Sam during his illness when he’d had trouble getting to sleep. And then, after it had all ended, the song had been comfort for her and Richard when there’d been no other way to express their grief.
Joanna began to mouth the words and then something strange happened. One by one the other instruments silenced and the rumble of conversation gradually ceased until all that could be heard was the clear, poignant sound of Richard’s saxophone. He seemed oblivious to what was happening around him, totally absorbed in the music.
But it was too much for Joanna. The memories stabbed at her heart and silent tears ran down her cheeks. She suddenly felt claustrophobic and had to leave. She stepped off the stage and, head down, walked quietly towards the exit.
But then, in her haste to leave, she stumbled. She grabbed hold of the nearest thing to steady herself. Unfortunately it was a fold-up chair—the top one in a stack leaning against the wall. She fell backwards, taking at least half a dozen metal framed chairs with her.
The music stopped.
The entire occupants of the theatre seemed to take a collective breath before…all hell let loose.
How humiliatingly embarrassing.
The first person to reach her was Richard, closely followed by the clown. At least a dozen concerned faces drifted in and out of her field of vision.
‘What happened…?’
‘Are you okay…?’
‘You’ve cut your head…’
‘Does it hurt anywhere?’
‘Did you faint?’
Joanna knew they were well meaning but all she wanted to do at that moment was to escape to somewhere quiet, on her own.
‘I’m sure she’s okay and I’ll take care of her.’ Richard’s authoritative voice silenced the curious and concerned. ‘I think it’s best you get back to the auditions.’
With a firm but gentle grip he lifted her to her feet, conveying the message with his eyes that he understood she needed time and space to regain her composure. It was her pride that was injured, not her body. To add insult to injury, she’d exposed her weakness in times of stress, not only to everyone in the lecture theatre but to Richard.
She sniffed, wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and untangled herself from Richard’s protective grasp.
‘I’m all right. You can go back now,’ she said in a voice as unsteady as her wobbly legs.
‘What are you going to do?’ His voice was as steady as a rock.
‘I can’t stay.’
The expression in Richard’s eyes told her he knew why.
‘I’m sorry…’
She swallowed, clearing her throat of tears and the rawness of her emotions.
‘Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t even know I was there.’
‘No,’ he said quietly.
She wanted to go home and she also wanted Richard to go away and leave her alone. She felt the shell of her control coming dangerously close to cracking. The way she’d managed her grief and protected herself from painful memories had been to block them out. She couldn’t return to that aching place full of sorrow and guilt that had imprisoned her for so long after Sam’s death.
She hadn’t thought Richard coming back would have this effect, though.
‘I’m going home,’ she said, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair—before she realised her scalp was covered in less than a week’s stubble, and there was something sticky and warm near her ear. She quickly dropped her hand to her side, hoping Richard hadn’t noticed. As she turned to leave, Richard grasped her wrist and pulled her around to face him.
‘Where do you live? I don’t think you should drive. And you need someone to deal with the cut on your head.’
She smiled. Feeling her confidence return, she realised she now had an out.
‘I only live around the corner and I walked, so you don’t need to worry,’ she said defiantly.
‘That solves the problem. I can walk with you.’
* * *
Maybe it was a culmination of a busy working week, restless nights or possibly a simmering resentment at how easily he’d been persuaded to go public again with his sax playing—whatever the reason, he had become so immersed in the music he hadn’t even noticed Joanna arrive.
What on earth had come over him to result in him playing that song?
It was a personal and very private part of a past he’d shared with the woman he was certain he’d carelessly hurt badly. No wonder she’d attempted a hasty exit.
‘It’s not necessary. I told you I only live a street away. I’m quite capable of getting myself home in one piece.’
He wasn’t about to be put off by Joanna’s stubborn tone. Even if she hadn’t stumbled and bumped her head, he firmly believed it wasn’t wise for a woman, and certainly not his Joanna, to walk home alone after dark.
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