The Surgeon's Convenient Fiancée (Medical Romance) (11 page)

The others in the room were probably thinking that he was talking to her about the case as he wrote busily, Deirdre concluded. Yes, she would like to meet him.

Deirdre nodded. ‘I’ll see you there, then,’ she said, her heart singing. At the same time she told herself not to read too much into his actions.

‘Right. Save me a seat,’ he said quietly, looking at her sideways and grinning. At least, his eyes smiled; she could not see the lower part of his face. She was aware that the circulating nurse was looking at her, probably wondering how this new nurse was familiar with the surgeon.

When she went out of the room, she searched for the tutor to let her know that the operation was over, that she would be
leaving for lunch. She would need to put a lab coat over her scrub suit.

* * *

Deirdre was part way through her light lunch when Shay came over to her table, carrying a tray with coffee and a sandwich on it.

‘Hi, can’t stay long,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you here, Deirdre.’ At close proximity he looked pale and tired, but nonetheless very attractive. There were fine lines fanning out from his blue-grey eyes that looked at her with such intensity, and she found that she liked the signs of maturity in him. Parenthood and the demands of his profession obviously took a toll on him, something that she could identify with wholeheartedly.

The twenty-four-seven man, she thought. But, then, that was part of the job—the rushing, watching the clock, being always available. ‘Can’t be helped,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m enjoying being here so far, even if I am a bit disorientated.’

‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘I wanted to meet you here to ask what you’re doing for Christmas.’ He took a bite out of a sandwich.

Since she had invited him to supper at her
parents’ house, they had been out to dinner once in a restaurant, after which she wondered if that was to be the extent of their friendship as he had not contacted her again. At that time he had informed her that his professional life was hectic, that any free time he had left over he spent with his son, so she had accepted that, thinking she might not see him again outside work. He had paid his dues for almost running her down. Now his query about Christmas made her hope that there might be something else after all.

‘We’ll be having Christmas dinner at the children’s grandmother’s house,’ she said, thinking of the superb dinners that Fiona produced when she was in the mood to do so.

‘Would you and the kids like to come to my place for dinner on Boxing Day?’ he asked. ‘You don’t have to tell me right now if you want to ask them first. My housekeeper’s a good cook, but she’ll have the day off and Mark and I will do most of the cooking—something simple.’

‘I’d like to come. Leftover turkey would be fine,’ she said, smiling. ‘I expect that Mungo and Fleur would be happy to come.’

‘Maybe that’s what you’ll get, leftover turkey,’ he responded. ‘I’d really like you to meet Mark, and I’ve sounded him out about meeting Mungo and Fleur. He seems keen.’

‘Is he…is he out of hospital?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘I know it isn’t any of my business, but I felt very…sorry when you told me about him.’ She was also wondering too how much Mark missed his mother at Christmas. That was something she could not ask right now.

‘Yes. He’s going back on an outpatient basis, which seems to be working well for him,’ Shay said, as he ate quickly. ‘He still needs counselling for the loss of his mother, as well as for the drug thing.’

‘Does his mother write to him?’ she enquired, unable to resist the question.

‘Oh, yes. They write to each other,’ he said. ‘And unlike the wicked parents one reads about in fact and fiction, I do not confiscate her letters before he can get his hands on them.’ Shay smiled ruefully at her. ‘I know that happens.’

‘I’d certainly like to meet him,’ Deirdre said. ‘Thank you for the invitation. I’ll sound out the children tonight.’

‘And the children’s stepfather?’ he queried.

‘He’s going to be out of the country over Christmas and New Year. He doesn’t like Christmas.’

Shay took a lined card out of his pocket and wrote his home address on it, and simple instructions about how to get there. ‘Here,’ he said, passing it over to her. ‘Not much time now before Christmas. Give me a call, Deirdre.’ He chomped on the last of his sandwich and took a swallow of coffee.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s all right,’ she said.

‘Yes. Call me at home. You can leave a message if I’m not in.’ He reached across the small table and squeezed her hand briefly as it lay on the top. ‘I’d really like you to come,’ he said. ‘And I’m glad you’re working here. Good luck.’ He stood up, preparing to leave. ‘Bye for now, Deirdre.’

‘Thank you,’ she said shyly. ‘Bye.’

Then he was gone, taking the tray with him, and for a few seconds she had the odd feeling that he had been a figment of her imagination, her wishes and desires. Then she saw him going out. He raised a hand to
her as he went out of the main door and she waved back tentatively. She was falling for him, falling in love with him. Was it genuine? she agonized. Or was it just that she was so starved for attention from an attractive, good man? In some ways it frightened her, the growing intensity of her feelings. For a long time she had led a rather circumscribed life, which was not good for anyone. She had needed someone like him, and then suddenly there he had been. The situation was not perfect but, then, what was? They both had difficulties in their lives.

Soon she would be going for a second session with a counsellor, whom she had found through her GP. The counsellor was helping her to sort out her worry about being a mother to someone else’s children, of being so emotionally attached to them that she could never treat the relationship like a job from which she could give notice. You could not dice with people’s lives in that way, with their emotional needs. She needed help with her depression which had resulted from the impasse she was in.

The counsellor had informed her that
she would essentially cure herself by talking about herself and her feelings, by gaining insight into her situation, which would in turn help her to see the way forward. The counsellor was a facilitator, asking the right questions, steering her in the right direction, taking the cues from her, so that she was in control. That was important at a time when she felt that she did not have any control. Already she was feeling that a load was being lifted from her.

As she ate the last of her sandwich and sipped the juice, she wondered why she had not gone to see someone before. Basically, the question answered itself—she knew that when you were depressed, things seemed hopeless, and you lacked the mental energy, the positive mind-set necessary to put the process of help in motion.

What a relief it was when that process started. Shay had had a lot to do with that start. Now she wondered about falling for him. Would that add to or detract from the healing process? All was positive so far, but if he did not return her feelings, where would she be then? As each day went by, she wanted
him more and more to return her feelings. And, of course, she could not presume that he would, now or ever. She felt that she had to hide her feelings from him.

Maybe the last thing he wanted now was to get involved with another woman, unless on a superficial basis. She knew that he found her attractive from the way he looked at her, spoke to her. There were vibes between them that were unmistakable. No doubt he would not say no to her becoming his lover if she were to offer or indicate that she was interested. But as for something more, something more permanent, it was too soon for any of that. Not that she was about to offer herself to him. She smiled to herself at the thought. For one thing, her confidence was at a low ebb. Risking rejection was not on the agenda right now. Take it a day at a time, the counsellor had told her. The future would gradually become clearer when her mood lifted.

Back in the operating suite, meeting up with the small group again, she was able to put most of that out of her mind, which was one of the benefits of an absorbing job.

‘Now, we’re going to have a talk about the
protocols that are part of the set-up in this particular hospital, in this particular department,’ the tutor said. ‘They are protocols for patient safety and staff safety to cut down on the numbers of mistakes that get made in hospitals, an attempt to think ahead instead of in retrospect.’

The afternoon went by quickly, filled with absorbing tasks and information imparted by the tutor. Deirdre felt her mind buzzing with the unfamiliar stimulation, of having to think about things that she had almost forgotten. It made her realize that her world had narrowed down, even though in her other job she had learned different and useful skills. Operating room nursing would reintroduce her to a different kind of stress, a stress that could only be controlled when you were very good at your job, well trained, well organized, up to date, when you knew what you were capable of doing and what you were not. Once she had been very good at her job—she would be again.

T
HE HOUSE WAS
old, very beautiful, set in its own grounds, and much too big for two people, Deirdre had thought when she and the children had driven up to Shay’s house on Boxing Day afternoon.

It was a sprawling building, covered with cedar shingles that had been painted a dark purple-blue colour after the local heritage fashion. It stood in a lovely garden, which looked inviting even in winter, on the edge of Prospect Bay, where both farmland and forest encroached on the dwelling places of humans, exerting the influence of nature. Or perhaps it was really the other way round, she had thought as they had driven up the circular driveway, that humans had encroached on the natural habitat of animals and birds and were themselves the aliens.

Now, with dinner over, Deirdre and Shay
sat in a spacious sitting room in front of a roaring log fire. The room extended the whole depth of the house, with large windows at either end. Floodlights at back and front outside illuminated a few snowflakes falling to the ground against a backdrop of very tall fir trees, which made the inside seem very warm and protected. The room was panelled in dark golden-coloured wood and the large fireplace was built of local stone. There was a magical feeling to the whole scene. Although she knew Prospect Bay well, she had seldom been out to the more rural residential areas, although she supposed this could hardly be called rural. As far as she was concerned, she could have been in a foreign country. Shay had told her that he also owned an apartment not far from the hospital.

Deirdre and Shay were drinking coffee and she was also sipping Grand Marnier between mouthfuls of coffee. Shay had a glass of brandy on the table beside him. For the first time in a long time she was conscious of being overwhelmingly happy—it seemed to flow though her like a warm tide. Whenever she looked at him, he also seemed more
relaxed and happier than she had seen him in the short time of their acquaintance. They sat opposite each other, he in a chair and she on a wide sofa.

‘Dad, could you give us a hand with the computer, please?’ Mark stood in the doorway and then advanced into the room. ‘We’re having a bit of trouble with one of the new games.’ He was a tall, thin boy, very much like Shay, Deirdre thought again as she turned to look at him.

When they had first met, before dinner, he had seemed serious and shy, then he had relaxed more as Fleur and Mungo had talked to him at the dinner table. Both ‘her’ children, Deirdre thought, could be very sociable and charming, good conversationalists, when they wanted to be. In Mark they seemed to sense a loneliness, and they had risen to the occasion, with the result that the three of them now seemed to be on the way to becoming friends. Mark had warmed to her as well over the course of dinner, as she had striven to be as natural with him as possible, not to let her feelings for his father influence her attitude to him, not trying to impress him or make
him like her. If he did like her, she would be gratified, but she wasn’t going out of her way to force anything.

Shay had given Mark some new computer games for Christmas, and the three children had gone up to his room to try them out.

Shay stood up. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Excuse me for about five minutes, Deirdre.’

‘Yes, excuse me for taking him away from you,’ Mark said to her politely. ‘He’s something of a computer whiz, so I expect he’ll be back in a few minutes.’

‘That’s all right,’ she said.

She took the opportunity to go to the bathroom, where she splashed cold water onto her heated face. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that her eyes were soft and expectant, instead of having the usual tense look of worry that stared back at her habitually from mirrors these days. Usually she tried to avoid looking at her reflection. She applied a little lip gloss and eye shadow, then brushed her hair.

As she pushed the half-open sitting-room door, it was suddenly pulled open and she almost fell against Shay, who was coming out.

‘Oh…sorry,’ she said, coming up close to him.

‘It didn’t take long,’ he said. ‘I thought I would get some more hot coffee…’ His voice trailed off as his eyes locked with hers and she felt her lips part of their own volition in expectation. ‘Would you like some?’

‘I…um…’ she said.

When his hand grasped her upper arm and pulled her into the room, up against his body, she did not protest. Then when he kicked the door closed, gently, she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers, demandingly, his arms around her, holding her tightly against the length of his body. With a sigh of capitulation she relaxed against him, putting up her arms to encircle his neck as a wave of heat and longing enveloped her like an electric current.

‘Deirdre…’ He whispered her name as he took his mouth from hers. ‘I thought I would go mad if I couldn’t kiss you. I’m just about out of my mind.’

Me, too, she said inwardly. ‘Oh…’ she said, closing her eyes and lifting her face up to him. Darling Shay, darling, darling… She
wanted to say the words out loud but couldn’t. Then speech was not possible as his mouth crushed hers hungrily, as though he had not kissed a woman for a very long time, and she responded like a person in a desert when they saw water. That thought came to her, so that a delirious desire to laugh welled up in her…a happiness that she had not known existed.