Their Marriage Miracle (15 page)

He didn’t answer.

‘Tom? It’s just that…well, recently I have.’ Very recently. ‘I’d love a family of my own. I miss Liam, and I’ll never forget him, but I’m ready to have more children.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

Momentarily stuck for words, she toyed with the button on her blouse. Why couldn’t he just answer her question?

She knew she’d be leaving soon, that there was no place for her here, so she couldn’t waste this opportunity. There wasn’t the luxury of time to let Tom get used to having her around.

‘We didn’t use any protection last night. It’s very unlikely that I’ve conceived—it’s the wrong time of the month—but I can’t help thinking what if I have?’

Again Tom said nothing.

‘If I am pregnant, how would you feel, Tom?’

His eyes met hers, unfathomable, intense. ‘I’m not sure. But I do think we’d better hope you’re not. Now is
not
the time for us to be bringing a child into the world. Hell, Fiona, we
haven’t even discussed what we both want in the future, and you’re talking about having a baby.’

‘The baby thing is pure conjecture at the moment.’ She hesitated, suddenly terrified he wouldn’t want to be a part of her life again, and yet needing to tell him how she felt towards him. She leapt in before fear could paralyse her completely.

‘I came here thinking I’d be able to apologise to you for the terrible way I treated you when I left, and then we could patch up our differences and put the past behind us. I hoped that then we would be able to get on with our lives, knowing that we could bump into each other occasionally and there’d be no bad feelings between us any more. I even presumed we’d discuss a divorce. But being here with you, talking and laughing with you, crying with you, sharing meals, your cottage, making love—Tom, I don’t want to go away. Is there any chance we could try again?’

He must be able to hear her heart thudding. They’d hear it in the village. Cold sweat slithered down her spine. She’d blown it. Tom wasn’t ready. She’d acted as she’d used to, forcing something on him when he didn’t want to hear it. Why hadn’t she learned to keep quiet?

Because she loved Tom, and if she didn’t tell him he’d never know.

‘Fiona, I don’t know—’

Wild pounding on the front door startled both of them.

‘What the—?’ Tom strode down the hall as the door crashed open.

‘Tom, where are you? Maddy’s had an accident. She fell off the bunk and hit her head. She’s unconscious and bleeding. Kerry needs you to come.
Now.
’ Craig stood on the doorstep, shaking violently. ‘Maddy’s bad, Tom.’

Fiona’s heart lurched. Oh, no. Not one of the twins. They had to help—now.

All the colour had drained out of Tom’s face, but he was already halfway out of the cottage. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I’m coming, too.’ Fiona raced out behind the men.

As Tom leapt into the front seat of Craig’s vehicle he shouted over his shoulder. ‘No! I need you to stay here and cover any calls from the hospital. In case there’s an emergency.’

‘Right.’ She stared after the car’s tail-lights, wanting to be in that vehicle with Tom more than anything in the world. To help Maddy, to buoy up Kerry and Craig. To support Tom.

Trudging back inside, she slowly clicked the door shut and made her way through to the kitchen. Fear for Maddy squeezed at her muscles. What if her injuries were so bad she didn’t recover? Or worse. Craig and Kerry would be going through sheer hell right now. She knew all about that.

So did Tom. How would he cope? Being there, seeing Maddy injured? Of course his training would kick in, and he’d do everything within his power to save his goddaughter. But afterwards? That was when all the anguish would come pouring through him, tightening his gut, tormenting him.

And there was nothing Fiona could do except sit here and wait, ready to help if called. Would Tom bring Maddy back to the hospital? Or would they go straight to Christchurch and the experts available there? Would they
need
those experts?

She went back to haul open the front door and peer up at the sky. Stars sparkled at her. At least the helicopter would be able to get through.

Inside, she picked up the phone. She had to know what was happening. She dropped the phone down again and hugged herself tight. A phone call would be a distraction, definitely not welcome. Not even if it was offering Tom comfort. He was with his closest friends. They’d all support each other.

Glaring around the cottage, she battled the loneliness
threatening to swallow her. If anything had become obvious by now it was that she didn’t belong in Tom’s life. He didn’t need her.

There—she’d answered her own question. Whether Tom had considered having another child or not, it wasn’t going to be with her.

Damn it, she’d basically told him how she felt about having his baby and he’d not said a word. He hadn’t taken her in his arms and said that everything would be all right. That they’d work out what to do together if the need arose. He hadn’t told her that he wanted a family. Or not.

He hadn’t told her anything.
Fiona, I don’t know.

What didn’t he know? How to tell her he had no intention of getting back with her? That he never wanted another child? She’d spilled her feelings and got nothing back.

Which left her where, if she turned out to be pregnant? Having only just come round to thinking she’d love a baby, she certainly didn’t know what to think about having one on her own. Having a baby automatically included Tom in the picture. But what if he refused to be a part of another child’s life? A chill settled over her skin. She wouldn’t be able to handle that. She wasn’t strong enough on her own. She needed Tom there.

Overhead, the thumping blades of a helicopter broke through her miserable thoughts, and she went to watch it hovering over the village. So Maddy’s condition must be really bad. A long, slow breath slid out of her lungs, fogging before her in the cold air.

Please pull through, Maddy. Your mum and dad need you. So does your godfather.

As the helicopter lowered beneath the horizon she decided to go across to the hospital and see if she could find something to do. Anything to keep her mind busy.

But first she left a message on Tom’s cell phone. ‘Call me at any time of the night to let me know what’s happening. I’ll be waiting.’

The night crawled by. Fiona tried to push all thoughts out of her mind about what Kerry and Craig must be going through. But the past kept flipping up like cue cards. Liam. Not breathing. His little body too cool. The agony as the truth seeped into her consciousness. He’d gone. For ever. Tom holding her so tight she’d thought her bones would break, and not caring. Her endless tears. Tom’s endless tears. Tom trying to soothe her. Tom holding her against him all day, all night. Tom being there for her.

Tom was with Kerry and Craig, fully understanding their terror, their fears, and reliving the past too. She wanted to be with him more than ever.

At six-thirty in the morning she tried his cell phone again.

‘Hi, you’ve reached Tom Saville’s phone. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’

Click.
Why leave yet another message? He hadn’t returned any of the previous five calls.

She was driving herself crazy, going over all this. So she found Liz and did a round of the wards, looking in on all the children. None of them needed her, but it gave her something else to focus on. Then she tried to find something to do in Tom’s office. Nothing leapt out at her, and she was reluctant to go through everything on his desk. Down in Theatre everything that could be got ready for the morning’s surgery was ready—except they didn’t have an anaesthetist. Would that mean cancellations?

‘Go to the cottage.’ Liz turned her around at the entrance to the medical ward. ‘If Tom rings I’ll put him through to you there.’

If Tom rings.
Reluctantly Fiona trudged through the quiet corridors and then outside. A walk would help. She headed towards the lights of the village. Maybe a very strong coffee would help clear her befuddled brain.

‘Maddy’s got a fractured skull, a large contusion, and is in a coma. The neurologist has seen her, but at the moment it is a case of wait and see.’ Liz was waiting for Fiona when she returned from the village.

Fiona shuddered to think of Kerry’s little girl in a coma, with tubes attached everywhere and monitors reading her every heartbeat. ‘It’s horrible, but at least she’s getting the best care.’

‘Tom’s words exactly.’

Tom had rung at last. And she’d missed him. ‘I’ll call him back. I need to know about today’s surgery list. I presume we’re cancelling?’

Liz looked at her, sympathy in her eyes. ‘Sorry, Fiona, but Tom said not to phone him. He’ll be out of contact for the rest of the morning at least.’

Why? What could he be doing that he wouldn’t have time to talk to her? Surely he understood that she needed to know what was going on?

Liz continued. ‘Tom got hold of John Newcomb, the anaesthetist who job-shares with Kerry. John’s coming up to fill in, but it will be in the afternoon as he’s working at a private hospital in Christchurch this morning.’

‘Right. Guess I’d better rearrange the schedule.’

Was Tom avoiding her? Pain gripped her. They’d come so close to putting things right, and now she felt as though they were further apart than they’d ever been.

T
OM
gazed down at Maddy. She looked so fragile, so tiny. But she was obviously a fighter. Against all odds she was still here. Craig and Kerry were going through hell as they watched over their daughter, clinging to one another and to Maddy’s sister, unable to voice their worst fears.

He’d finally managed to persuade them to take a break from their vigil and head outside for a few minutes, taking Karla with them. They wouldn’t be long; their need to be with Maddy would soon draw them back here. He understood the fear that strangled them, felt the agony that lashed at them.

He leaned over the crib. ‘Keep fighting, little one. You’re holding a lot of people’s happiness in your tiny hands. People who love you.’

He adored his friends and their twins. He’d tried to be strong for them all, had wanted to take some of the pain for them, but knew he couldn’t. No one could. The fear that Kerry and Craig might lose their daughter was as real for him as it was for them. It wasn’t his daughter who lay there struggling for her life, but he knew the anguish that would follow if she died.

The little girl’s chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly, aided by machines. Her head was swathed in crepe bandages. Her eyes were closed, the skin around them black, as though she’d been punched by a welterweight boxer.

‘You can do it, little one.’
Please,
he begged silently.

It was too hideous to think about the consequences of Maddy not making it, and yet he couldn’t stop the memories. The pain that never diminished, never disappeared, instead gnawed at him, sliced him into tiny pieces so that he knew he’d never heal. Excruciating pain that got between him and every other thing or person he believed in. It had undermined his confidence, made him feel inadequate as a doctor. Hell, if he couldn’t save his own child how could he expect other parents to believe he would look out for theirs?

Yet he had survived. The scars would remain for ever, but they were fading a little. He had gone on to be a good paediatrician, had saved many children from a life of poor health. He’d grown emotionally stronger, having come through the other side of the worst tragedy any parent could think of.

Yes, he’d survived, and he was ready to take another chance. A second chance of family. With Fiona. She was the only woman he wanted as the mother of his children.

What if she had already become pregnant? A long shot, for sure. But if she had then he would be more than happy to be a father again. More than anything he wanted Fiona back in his life, as his wife.

He kissed his fingertips and brushed Maddy’s cheek. ‘Sleep well, little one.’

He’d been in Christchurch twenty-four hours. As soon as Maddy came round he’d return to Hanmer Springs and Fiona.

On Saturday morning Fiona opened her eyes slowly and peered into the gloom of a new day. Her last day in Hanmer Springs. Three small procedures this morning, held over from yesterday because of their late start, and then she’d be done.

Completely done. With the hospital. With Tom. He hadn’t returned any of her calls, not even when she’d tried to get hold
of him late yesterday afternoon. She could take a hint. She’d be on her way as soon as possible.

The cottage felt warmer than usual when she staggered into the hallway. As though someone had recently stoked the fire. Glancing at Tom’s bedroom, she frowned. The door was closed. So he had come home. When had he got in? She knew from Liz that he’d still been with Craig and Kerry at ten last night. Again she hadn’t heard a thing. But then she’d been exhausted after a sleepless night the night before.

She tapped lightly on Tom’s door and, getting no reply, quietly opened it and peeked round. Tom lay sprawled on his back, arms flung wide, dead to the world. Her throat closed around a lump of pain. Shutting the door again, she quickly got ready for surgery, then packed her bags and left them on the floor of her bedroom. She’d collect them later.

Surgery was very quiet that morning—except for John Newcomb. Having been told about Fiona’s experiences overseas, the anaesthetist talked incessantly, asking her many questions, which fortunately she didn’t seem to have to actually answer.

When Tom hadn’t shown up Fiona had sent a message to Evan to see if he could assist. The intern had arrived so quickly she suspected he’d been hanging around waiting to be asked.

Halfway through the last procedure Tom joined them, looking shattered. ‘Sorry I’m late, but I forgot to set the alarm.’

As if he needed to come in. She could have managed and he could have got the sleep he so obviously still needed. But she didn’t waste time pointing that out. He’d only disagree. ‘What’s the news on Maddy?’

‘She’s one very lucky little lady. She’s going to make a full recovery.’ Over his mask, Tom held her gaze for a long minute.

Relief poured through Fiona. ‘Thank goodness for that. Kerry and Craig must be over the moon.’

‘Very much.’ Tom watched her for a few minutes, then said, ‘Looks like you’ve got everything under control here, so I’ll leave you to it. I need to let the staff know about Maddy, and how Kerry and Craig are faring.’

And he was gone, and surgery continued.

Finally Fiona laid down her suture thread for the last time and straightened up. ‘There we go. All finished.’

She tossed her scrubs into the laundry basket and flicked the tap on with her elbow. Finished. No more patients to operate on. Her week in Hanmer Springs was over. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the mirror hanging over the handbasin. What had she achieved by coming here?

She knew she did not want to leave.

But there was nothing to stay for. Tom had made that obvious. Not once had he returned her phone calls. Not once had he let her know directly how Maddy was doing. She got the news, all right, but it always came through someone else.

Yet he’d looked exhausted and barely able to stand up straight when he’d popped into Theatre earlier. Right now all she wanted to do was give him a massage to ease those knotted back muscles she’d seen pushing against his shirt.

And later? She wanted to be there for him always.

It wasn’t to be. She felt sick to the core. She was going to have to start over—again.

She had tried to tell him how much she cared for him, had tried to show him how much she’d changed over the years, but he wasn’t seeing her. Or he didn’t want to, more like. She had to accept that and somehow say goodbye.

She straightened up. ‘I’ll go and see Liz. Give her the post-op notes on the morning’s cases,’ she muttered. ‘Then I’ll head off quietly, leaving everyone to get on with their jobs. Leaving Tom to do what he loves best—looking after his patients.’

She headed blindly for the door, brushing past two people standing outside talking.

It took Fiona less than five minutes to phone for a taxi, grab her pack and close down her laptop. While she waited for the cab she wandered around the cottage, touching Tom’s clothes that were strewn on the end of his bed, picking up his shoes from the lounge and putting them in the wardrobe, rinsing the cup he must have used before coming across to the hospital. She studied the photos she’d first seen on the day she’d arrived. Then went to look at the one of Liam with her and Tom. Her heart squeezed painfully as she placed a kiss on her son’s sweet face. Then one on her husband’s.

She breathed in, inhaling the scent of Tom and his life. The life he didn’t want to share with her. Wheels crunched on the gravel at the front door.

One last look. ‘Goodbye, Tom, and good luck.’

Tom left the dining room and went to find Fiona. He knew he’d mishandled the situation. He should have returned her calls. At least one of them anyway. The fact that he didn’t want her to hear his anguish in his voice was an excuse. Not a good one. She’d have known how he felt watching his goddaughter struggling for her life.

Why did he find it so hard to just come out and say what he felt? Had he not finally acknowledged to himself that he wanted Fiona back in his life? He needed thumping over the skull with a sledgehammer. He’d missed one opportunity after the other this past week.

‘Dr Saville, can we have a word about Shaun’s condition?’ Shaun’s parents stood in front of him. ‘We’re really worried about these latest results.’

Shaun’s mother started crying, and Tom swore under his breath. It wasn’t these people’s fault that he’d made a hash of his personal life. They were worried sick about their son,
and entitled to his attention, but just for once he’d like to ask them to come back later—when he’d sorted his life out. On a long breath he spoke to them. ‘Come along to my office and I’ll run through everything with you.’

And I’ll see Fiona next.

Sounds familiar, mocked a little voice in his head. His jaw ached as he tried to concentrate on listening to the parents’ concerns and tried to allay their fears. They had a million questions that went on and on. Why couldn’t he focus on them? Because Fiona kept jarring his mind. He had to deal with Mr and Mrs Elliott first, then he’d be free to do what he really wanted to. Find Fiona.

Putting his patients before anyone else again. Putting Fi second.

The words slammed into him. How often had Fiona said that to him in the past? He knew it was true. Work always came first, even when it wasn’t urgent.

In the background he heard a vehicle on the drive and glanced out of the window. A taxi slowed, then sped up, heading to his cottage.

His heart banged against his ribs. His mouth dried. No, the taxi
couldn’t
stop at the cottage. It did. The driver got out and picked up a pack from the doorstep, put it in the car. The pack was followed by a laptop and a briefcase.

Fiona was leaving him. His heart stopped. She couldn’t. Not now—not without hearing him out.

But she had given him plenty of opportunities. He’d ignored all of them, too caught up in trying to protect his battered heart. Not once had he conceded that Fiona needed a fair hearing.

Fiona clambered into the back of the taxi. She didn’t stop to look around at the hospital. She didn’t glance up this way to his window. She just went.

That horrible void where his heart should be returned with
a crash. Fiona was his soulmate, his best half. What a goddamned idiot he’d been.

So do something. Don’t sit on your backside, feeling sorry for yourself. Go after her and get down on your knees and beg her to stay.

With a muttered apology to Shaun’s parents he charged out of his office and through the hospital to the cottage. Where had he left the car keys? How long would it take to untie the Cessna and turn over the engine? Where had he put the goddamned keys? Please, if someone was looking out for him at this moment, could they do something to slow Fiona down until he caught up with her? Make it impossible for her to get the pegs the plane was tied to out of the ground, or put grime on the spark plugs so that she’d have to remove them and clean them before the engine would turn over. Anything. Just keep her in Hanmer Springs.

He threw papers off the table onto the floor, searched his windbreaker pockets and tossed the offending garment aside. Where were the damned keys?

Fiona slammed the mallet sideways at the peg in an attempt to loosen it. The frozen ground had a firm grip on all the pegs, but slowly, one by one, she removed them. Her fingers were chilled and she had to keep blowing on them in an attempt to warm them. Who knew where her gloves were? Anyway, the ache from the cold was nothing like the pain squeezing her heart.

She heard a vehicle approaching but didn’t stop to see who it could be. No one for her. Tom certainly wouldn’t be tracking her down. He’d be in his office working. And now that she’d decided to leave she wanted to get going.
Twang.
The final peg refused to budge.
Twang.
She hit it again. And again. Through her oozing tears she aimed and swung. And missed.

‘Don’t go, Fi.’ Tom’s voice. Pleading with her.

Don’t go, Fi.
Like she really wanted to go. But there was nothing to hang around for. More aborted conversations? Another night of wonderful lovemaking? No, she didn’t need those, so it was definitely time to go. She swung the mallet, missed again. If she didn’t hit the peg soon she wouldn’t be going anywhere. She smudged the tears across her cheeks with the back of her hand before tightening her grip on the mallet.

Two boot-clad feet appeared in her line of vision. She stared at them. Why had he come? Now? When they’d had all week for this?

‘Fi, please stay. At least until you’ve heard me out.’

Her eyes blurred again. She’d been waiting all week to listen to him. ‘Why now?’

‘Because I’ve wasted the week and I don’t intend letting this last opportunity disappear without telling you how I feel.’

She raised her head to peer up at Tom. ‘About?’

‘You. Us. Our future.’ Fear clouded those grey eyes.

She straightened up. Could she begin to hope they might be able to sort this out? ‘Go on.’

He reached for the mallet, gently removed it from her stiff fingers, dropped it on the ground. His eyes never left her face. ‘You’re needed here.’

She was needed? That was it? Nothing about the two of them getting back together? About how he felt about her? Disappointment gripped her, a tight band around her chest. ‘No, Tom, I’m not needed. Sure, I fitted in well for the week, but I suspect no more than any of your visiting specialists. There’s no place here for me.’ Surprising how calm she sounded, when inside she felt as though she was in a food blender.

‘Oh, yes, there is. You bring the place alive in a way no one else does. The hospital has been different all week.’

The blender sped up. ‘The hospital needs me. Not you?’

She shook her head and bent to pick up the mallet. This time she hit it square and the peg loosened enough for her to pull it from the ground. ‘Find someone else for the role of cheerleader.’ She only wanted it if she could have the whole package, and apparently Tom didn’t want her.

She tucked the peg under her arm and turned to stow the mallet in the back of the plane. It landed with a loud
thunk
, breaking into the silence drawing out between them. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip and she picked up the rest of the pegs and tossed them in with the mallet. Tom’s arrival at the airstrip had rattled her, almost destroying her resolve to leave without making a scene. Not that she’d rant and rave at him. No, she’d more likely spill out all her feelings for him again, and she’d already done that once. Look where that had got her. Some vestige of pride kept her jaws clenched shut. But for how long?