Revealing the Real Dr. Robinson (16 page)

“You went to another hospital, though. You said it was a better fit for you.”

“I went there as an outpatient in their drug and alcohol rehab clinic, ended up doing some volunteer work, then accepted a residency because no one else wanted to work there. It was old and underfunded and difficult, and they took me because no one else wanted the position. I will say it was the best thing for me because I saw medicine from a perspective I’d never have found at Brooks, and that’s what made me able to come here and do what I do. But the way I was accepted there wasn’t as a bright and shining endorsement of anything.”

“Except a commitment to move forward despite the circumstances.”

“See, that’s the thing. I didn’t have that kind of commitment. Before I ended up there, I’d got to the end of my rope, didn’t see a way out. I was drinking, I needed pills just to get me moving, and my medical career was washed up. Nothing in that mess was moving forward.”

“But look where you are. How did that person turn into the one who got you to Caridad?”

“Suicide. Or, shall I say, suicide attempt.”

She gasped.

“What your grandfather turned down that day, Shanna, was me, at the bitter end. I went back to my hotel room, blamed him, blamed Nancy, blamed the world for the way I felt. Drank some more, popped more pills. I was just so...tired. So defeated. The worse I felt, the more I needed the crutches that were destroying my life—booze and pills. I can’t even begin to realize, after all this time, the lengths I went to when I needed to find that numbness. A stronger man might have faced his fate earlier on, but I wasn’t a stronger man. I was the man who made excuses.

“That’s all I did until the day I quit. And don’t get your hopes up about me. It wasn’t a moment of clarity, or some great manifestation of what my life could become if I let my tragedy work for me. You know, make me stronger. In fact, what happened was one of the least noble incidents of my life. I...I...”

Shanna swallowed hard, suddenly understanding where this was leading to. The inevitable ending to the kinds of suffering he’d gone through. “You tried to kill yourself.”

“I thought about it. Spent days and nights planning it. Even went out to this hilly area where I used to play when I was a kid and climbed up to the top of one of the peaks, and thought about stepping off. Must have stood on the edge a good two hours, looking down at what could have easily been my destiny. One step, and everything would have been solved.”

“What stopped you?”

He chuckled, but bitterly. “Ironically, after all my self-destructive behavior, it turned out I didn’t want to die. I’d worked too hard for too long trying to live, and here I was, on the verge of taking one step farther because... You pick an excuse. I had a lot of them, and they all centered on somebody else doing something to me when I was the one doing it to myself.

“That’s when it all became clear. No voices booming at me from the heavens, no lightning bolts. Just some pretty deep soul-searching and the discovery that the world was full of people suffering far worse than me, who didn’t give up, and who succeeded in doing what they wanted in spite of their suffering Then there I was, always looking for the easiest way out. The epitome of weakness.”

“Or maybe that was the time when your true character decided to develop. We all get there in different ways, Ben. For some people it’s easy. Who they are just manifests itself. But for others the journey is so hard. Maybe because what you’re supposed to do in life is so immense, or difficult, you need to learn to deal with the adversities before you can accomplish great things.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to my mirror, because every time I look in it, the person looking back looks weak to me. That’s the monster I see, Shanna. Not the scars. Me. I know who I was, who I could become again. For me, every single day of my life is spent close to the edge. I’m still looking down, wondering what it would take to make me take that one step farther. How can I ask someone to be part of that?”

“But I know who you are, Ben. And when you’re looking in the mirror seeing weakness, I’m looking in that same mirror at you, and all I see is unbelievable strength. To go from where you were to where you are now... Going through rehab, fighting to get back into a residency program. Setting up a hospital in Argentina. That’s what someone in your life would be part of. What I would be part of, if you let me.”

“That’s what I want, Shanna. But what if I backslide? That’s always a possibility. The biggest fear in my life. They teach you in the twelve-step programs that you’re really only a step away from it at any given day, any given time. And it was so ugly. I was so ugly.”

“Do you want to be with me, Ben?”

“More than anything. I want a future with you.”

“Do you see marriage in that future?”

“I think I wanted to marry you the first time we sat here at this table together and you scared me so badly I ran to the back of the room to stare at the wall. But it’s not that simple.”

“I walked away from my life. Gave up a lot, actually. Stepped outside a medical practice I knew into something I had no idea existed. Turned my back on my family, who will now probably turn their backs on me. Fell in love with the most impossibly stubborn man I could have found, who loves me back but won’t do anything about it. And you think that’s simple?”

She scooted herself back from the table, then stood. “You know what? I’m tired of looking up at that mountain, wondering what’s up there. Life’s short, and we’re wasting time. It’s time to find out.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m with you, Ben. But are you with me?”

Ben stood, then took her hand. “I’m with you.”

“For the whole journey? Because that’s what it’s about. The whole journey or nothing.”

He nodded. “I
am
tired of looking up at the mountain. I’m ready for the whole journey.”

They stepped outside the café, and simply stood on the curb, looking up at the mountain together, Ben’s arms wrapped around Shanna and Shanna leaning back into his embrace. “It’s a long way up there,” he finally said. “It’ll take an hour to get to the lift and, depending on the lines of people, it might take us another hour to get to the top.”

“Maybe even two or three,” she added.

“Four. I think it’s at least four.”

“Then what do you suggest, Ben Robinson?” she asked, spinning round to face him.

“We get an earlier start at it tomorrow. But for now I know this bed and breakfast just up the street. Happen to have a room there, which I could probably switch to the honeymoon suite.”

“That’s what you want?” she asked him. “Are you sure? Because I haven’t even heard a marriage proposal yet. So don’t you think a honeymoon suite is getting ahead of ourselves?” She looked at his face, and for the first time since she’d known him saw no hesitance there. No distance. Nothing there but the glow of love, and trust, and the sure knowledge that this was where he belonged, where she belonged, where they belonged. And where they finally started, together. “So, will you marry me, Ben?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He pulled two boxes from his pocket and opened them. Wedding rings. Plain gold bands. “The custom is to wear the wedding band on your right hand until the wedding, when the priest blesses them and we move them to the left hand. These belonged to my grandparents, so they may look a little worn...”

“They’re beautiful,” she gasped as he took his grandmother’s ring from the velvet box and placed it on Shanna’s right ring finger, then kissed it. She did the same for him, and there, standing on a public street outside a little café, they made vows to each other. No priest, no formality, no legality. “I promise to love you and stand by your side forever, Ben Robinson.”

“And I promise to love you and never shut you out of my life, forever, Shanna Brooks.”

The traditional wedding kiss was a little salty for a quiet Italian village, but when they realized that they really did need to head straight to the bed and breakfast, in a hurry, and stepped back from each other, the small crowd that had gathered applauded them. Ben took a bow, Shanna curtsied, then they turned and strolled hand in hand to Signora Palmadessa’s, where she threw rose petals on them when they entered.

“Almost a honeymoon,” Ben whispered, as they sailed past the woman.

Shanna shook her head. Held up her ring, and smiled. “Doesn’t matter which hand it’s on. This is a real honeymoon.”

* * *

“It’s been sitting out there since this morning,” she said, her focus on the large, wooden packing crate that had miraculously made it to Caridad. “Addressed to me. So I want to open it.”

Ben laughed. Married legitimately a month now, he was only just beginning to understand Shanna and all her habits and personality quirks. It was a lifetime journey, he supposed, and one he was happy to take because marriage to her was everything he’d expected it to be. And so much more. In moments like these it made him wonder why he hadn’t just married her at first sight then figured out the rough patches along the way, because doing everything together was so much better than being alone. “So open it,” he said, handing her a pry bar then stepping back to watch.

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?”

“What I think is that you can do anything you want.”

She’d defied her family yet they’d come to Argentina for the wedding. A simple affair, really, where they’d moved the rings to their left hands, where she’d worn the traditional Argentinian blue petticoat under her white dress, where they’d danced the tango half the night. Her family hadn’t stayed for the festivities. They’d literally flown in for the ceremony then left immediately after, but it was a start for Shanna, and she was cautiously optimistic for the future. Her grandfather had mentioned wanting a first great-grandchild. And he’d paid to have Ben’s cottage with two separate apartments renovated into a single cottage for the two of them.

So maybe there were new things to explore with her family now that she wasn’t part of the family business. However it happened, there were possibilities she’d never expected, and she was excited to explore them.

“I can’t even budge the crate, Ben. It must have cost a fortune to have it shipped.”

“It did,” he said, grinning.

After taking several good whacks at the crate’s top and loosening some of its nails, Shanna finally managed to wrestle the top of the box off, only to find it packed with foam peanuts and packing bubbles. But she tore at those like a woman possessed, throwing them all over the porch in her attempt to discover what was under them. Eventually, she saw it. “Ben, I...”

“You’re not speechless, are you?” he teased. “Because if you are, I think I’ll run and get the camera, because I’m not likely to see it again.”

“How did you do this?”

“Bought it when we were in Tuscany, paid a company to ship it home—snail’s-pace mail because I couldn’t afford to express ship it.”

She swiped at a tear sliding down her cheek. “It’s ours, isn’t it? Where we...”

“Met. Our table. Where we met. Where I fell in love with you.” He’d bought the café table and chairs. “I didn’t like the idea of other people sitting there, maybe damaging it or destroying it. Then I wondered about what would happen to it if the café changed its decor. So I bought it.”

“Our table,” she said, then ran across the porch, straight into Ben’s arms. “Thank you, Ben. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“Want to show me?”

“In the middle of the day? You’ve got patients to see.”

“Covered.”

“And I’m behind on my charting.”

“Charting can wait.” He lowered his lips to hers. “Forever, for all I care.”

“Why, Ben Robinson, whatever has come over you?”

“You,” he said as his lips found hers.

* * * * *

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ISBN: 9781460307496

Copyright © 2013 by Dianne Drake

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