Career Girl in the Country / The Doctor's Reason to Stay (15 page)

Perhaps he’d look at the jobs online while he was waiting but first he’d finish up his Lisa’s Way financial report. Using the wireless internet in the lounge, he checked the foundation’s bank balance and saw with pleasant surprise a new and sizeable deposit. He read the transfer note. Stanfield PCFR.

Poppy.

Stunned to see her name, he stared at the cryptic PCFR, trying hard to work out what the other four letters meant. His brain finally clicked in. Perth City Fund Raiser.

His heart beat faster. He couldn’t believe that despite everything, despite how much she’d hurt him and
the harsh way they’d parted, Poppy had organised a fundraiser.

Did it mean anything?

His wounded heart said,
No. Don’t even go there.

He ordered a coffee and a Danish pastry then turned his attention back to the financial statement and the rows of figures.

‘Here’s your coffee.’

Thinking that being in Perth was really doing his head in because the voice sounded just like Poppy’s, he looked up abruptly. Ice and heat tore through him as his gaze met those unforgettable vivid blue eyes.

‘Hello, Matt.’

She handed him a coffee and he noticed she held a cup, too. A thousand thoughts sprinted though his head but his anger won, coming out as sarcasm. ‘It’s a Wednesday morning. I would have thought you’d be at work.’

She shuddered slightly and he watched the movement roll down her body.
Irreconcilable differences.
He didn’t regret for a moment that he’d just highlighted the reason they’d parted so acrimoniously. If she thought she could just sit down and ‘chat’ like old friends, she was wrong. Very wrong.

He caught sight of a familiar red suitcase and things fell into place. ‘Ah, it’s conference season.’

‘Here’s your pastry, sir. Sorry for the delay.’ The smiling attendant put down a plate and looked at Poppy. ‘I brought you one as well as a thank-you for helping me out back there with the coffee disaster.’

Poppy smiled warmly. ‘No problem.’

As the attendant walked away, Poppy turned back to Matt, her hand creeping towards the silver P. Half of him wanted to pull her hard against him but the other
half demanded he stay cool and aloof so that there was no danger of his heart ever being battered by her again.

‘Can I sit down?’

He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

She sank onto the couch and crossed her long legs. ‘Sarah said you’ve been in Samoa.’

Her perfume enveloped him, threatening to take him back to a time when he’d thought they’d be together for ever. He fought the memory by flicking the collar on his shirt. ‘Two months. I’m on my way back to Bundallagong.’

‘How’s Lisa’s Way going?’

He sighed. ‘Poppy, do you really want to make polite chitchat?’

She rolled her lips inwards. ‘I’m enquiring about it because I’m a contributor and a friend.’

‘You’re a
contributor.’

She flinched at the harshness in his voice but he didn’t care. Did she really think she could sit there next to him in her tailored black suit and pretend they hadn’t shared anything? Did she think he’d overlook the fact that she’d put a job ahead of everything? A job she’d left him for?

The black heart of his pain spluttered.

She gave a grim smile. ‘Matt, I don’t—’

He held up a hand. ‘I don’t want to argue, either. I don’t think I even want to talk to you. I’m not going to ask you how the job’s going because I’m not interested.’

She breathed in, seeming to hold her breath. ‘I’ve quit.’

Shock made him gape. ‘You’ve what?’ ‘I’ve quit and I have a new job.’ His gaze returned to her red suitcase and he immediately recalled the prestigious job he’d seen advertised
soon after she’d left. It carried more kudos than the job she had, and Poppy didn’t like to lose. He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. ‘Ah. St Stephen’s in Sydney. Of course, that makes total sense.’ He couldn’t bring himself to offer congratulations.

‘Ah, no, not St Stephen’s.’ She twisted her hands in her lap in an unusual display of unease. ‘The last decision I made as Chief of Surgery was to appoint a permanent surgeon to meet the needs of the growing population of Bundallagong. I have firsthand experience of how much one is needed.’

Every word she spoke reminded him of what they’d lost and he struggled to sound enthusiastic. ‘Well, that’s good news for the town. Who is it?’

‘I’m the new surgeon in Bundallagong.’

Her words slammed into him and a glimmer of hope sprouted in a sea of pain, but the memory of how much she’d hurt him made it struggle.

Poppy watched Matt, knowing this was the moment of truth, and it petrified her. Everything about him, from the strands of his long hair to the tips of toes shod in leather boat shoes, emanated anger. Had she really been so naive as to think he’d welcome her with open arms?

You hurt him so much.
From the moment she’d got Sarah’s text telling her Matt was in the airport lounge, and from the second she’d seen him, she’d wanted to throw her arms around his neck and tell him what a fool she’d been and beg for his forgiveness. But she had to do it this way and now she was dying inside, waiting for him to speak.

He sat perfectly still, his body almost as rigid as a statue, and the only movement was the complex map of emotions on his face, with hurt shining the brightest.
When he finally spoke his voice sounded strained.

‘Why?’

She swallowed hard, knowing this conversation was never going to be easy, and tried a touch of levity. ‘Because Bundallagong needs a kick-ass surgeon.’

Not even a hint of a smile hovered on his lips but his eyes sought hers. ‘Is there another reason?’

This time she went for honesty. ‘Yes. I love you.’

A flicker of something flared in his eyes and faded. ‘You once said you loved me but you left me, putting a job ahead of us.’

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. ‘I know and I’m sorry. I got it all horribly wrong.’

‘Yeah, you did.’

His ice-cool voice made her heart hammer hard against her ribs, and she could hear the tremble in her voice but she knew she was fighting for the most important ‘job’ of her life. ‘I was scared. I thought you were trying to make me a different person, just like my father and Steven, trying to make me more like Lisa, and my fear got in the way. I let it screw everything up.’ Her hands twisted together. ‘I now know you weren’t trying to change me. You were making sure we’d make it by creating a wonderful life for us. You saw what I couldn’t see, that being Chief of Surgery would consume me and destroy us.’

His expression gave nothing away. ‘And yet you didn’t believe me. Exactly when did you work this out?’

His quiet but drilling words made her sweat and she pressed her damp palms against her black skirt. Everything she held dear rode on her explanation. ‘I missed you every day like a part of me had been lost.’

His jaw tensed. ‘I find that hard to believe. You didn’t even call.’

The accusation stung but she wore the pain like a badge. ‘I know. I’ve made a mess of everything. When I first came back to Perth I thought I was returning to my life, slipping back into a familiar and secure groove. But it didn’t feel right, and it isn’t a life I want any more.’

She gulped in a breath and pushed on, exposing her heart like she’d never exposed it before. ‘I came to Bundallagong thinking it was a waste of my time, but without me realising, it changed my life.
You
changed my life. I’d always believed that work kept me safe and gave me everything I needed but then I met you. You opened up my world, showed me that life is to be lived, not hidden from. No job, no matter how much I sacrificed to get it, is worth it if I lose you.’

He swallowed hard and his voice wavered. ‘The Poppy I met when she first arrived in Bundallagong would never have admitted she was wrong but I need to ask you one thing. Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?’

She nodded. ‘It’s what I want most in the world. I want to be a surgeon, not an administrator. I want time with friends and girls’ nights out. I want a family, but most of all I want you.’

Extending her hand, she let it hover between them. Trying to hold back tears, she sent up the wish of her life. ‘I know I need to prove to you that I’ve changed, and I know at times I can be difficult and that I’m nothing like Lisa, but I need to ask you one thing. Do you want me?’

Matt’s fingers bypassed her hand and cupped her cheek. ‘Lisa was the love of my boyhood and what we
shared will always be part of me but, Poppy,
you’re
the love of my manhood. You’re my future.’

She fell apart, tears streaming down her face. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. ‘I want you because you’re you. Passionate, giving and full of wonderful flaws, just like me.’

She sniffed. ‘I can be stubborn with workaholic tendencies but I’m working on that. I’m going to block out non-work time in the week and stick to it, plus having a new surgical registrar is going to help.’

Surprise lit his face and he grinned. ‘The last chief of surgery at Perth City
was
very proactive for Bundallagong.’

She laughed. ‘Someone has to look out for rural communities.’

He stroked her hair. ‘I hate shopping and housework and I can’t cook, but I’ll pay Lizzie to keep the freezer full of healthy meals and I’ll grill on the weekends.’

She snuggled in against him, pressing her hand against his heart. ‘Who’s cleaning the house?’

‘Mrs Ferguson.’

‘I can live with that.’

‘And I can’t wait to live with you.’ He smiled, his face radiating love. ‘So you’ll want a year in the job before we start a family?’

Her heart swelled with so much love and adoration that it almost burst. He’d always known work was important to her and he still did, and she couldn’t believe how she’d almost lost him. ‘You’re forgetting I’ve already had three months in the position and with an experienced registrar starting next week I think he’ll be able to fly solo in about nine months.’

The delight on his face mirrored her own. ‘I can’t wait to start practising.’

‘Will you marry me, Matt Albright?’

‘I most certainly will, Poppy Stanfield.’

She grinned and ran her fingers through his hair. ‘How do you feel about keeping this longer?’

His eyes took on a familiar smoky hue that made her weak with longing. ‘Ms Stanfield, do you have a thing for guys with long hair?’

‘No, just for you.’

He cupped her face and kissed her long and hard, his lips infusing her with his love, support, caring and passion.

‘Passengers on Flight 273 to Bundallagong, your flight is boarding now. Please make your way to gate seventeen.’

Matt stood up and extended his hand. ‘Let’s go home.’
Home.

To the red dust of Bundallagong with the man she loved. She couldn’t wait.

The Doctor’s
Reason to Stay

Dianne Drake

Now that her children have left home,
DIANNE DRAKE
is finally finding the time to do some of the things she adores—gardening, cooking, reading, shopping for antiques. Her absolute passion in life, however, is adopting abandoned and abused animals. Right now Dianne and her husband Joel have a little menagerie of three dogs and two cats, but that’s always subject to change. A former symphony orchestra member, Dianne now attends the symphony as a spectator several times a month and, when time permits, takes in an occasional football, basketball or hockey game.

Recent titles by the same author:

FROM BROODING BOSS TO ADORING DAD

THE BABY WHO STOLE THE DOCTOR’S HEART
^*

CHRISTMAS MIRACLE: A FAMILY
^*

HIS MOTHERLESS LITTLE TWINS
^*

NEWBORN NEEDS A DAD
^*

^*
Mountain Village Hospital

Dear Reader,

Welcome to
New York Hospital Heartthrobs,
a trilogy about coming home. And, I’d like to introduce you to Rafe Corbett, Jess Corbett and Rick Navarro, three real heartthrobs who have their own ideas about home. When I first learned I was going to write these books, I knew instantly that I wanted a theme about the place to which we are all connected—home. But I wanted more than that. I wanted to write stories about what compels people to want to go home and binds their hearts to that special place. In this group of stories, it was the love of a generous woman who touched countless lives … a woman much like your own mother, grandmother or aunt.

Cherished memories … that’s what home is to me, and that’s what home becomes for the heroes and heroines of
New York Hospital Heartthrobs.
Of course, going home isn’t always the easiest thing to do. Just ask Rafe Corbett, in
The Doctor’s Reason to Stay.
He hasn’t been home for thirteen years, and has no intention of staying once he’s attended his aunt’s funeral. But it seems that a five-year-old girl named Molly, and a Child Life Specialist by the name of Edie Parker, have other plans for Rafe because, for some reason, he just can’t get away, even though he’s trying. Somewhere in his struggles to escape, though, Rafe finds a brand new definition of home. The question is, can he trust that home is truly where the heart is?

I hope you enjoy Rafe and Edie’s discoveries in
The Doctor’s Reason to Stay.
Then please, come back to see what doctor-turned-firefighter, Jess Corbett and nurse/paramedic, Julie Clark, are up to in my next
Heartthrob
story. And, as always, I love hearing from you, so please feel free to email me at [email protected]

Wishing you health & happiness!

Dianne

W
HOEVER
said you couldn’t go home again was right, in part. He was home in the physical sense now, sitting in an old wicker chair, sipping a tall glass of lemonade, with his feet propped up on the white rail separating the porch from the masses of purple and pink flowering hydrangeas traversing the front and both sides of Gracie House. Emotionally, though, Dr. Rafe Corbett was distanced from this place. Distanced by miles and year upon year of memories and pain yet so acute that more than a decade of separation felt like mere seconds. Distanced was the way he wanted to stay, however. But it was hard to do that right now, when half the population of Lilly Lake, New York, expected something of the family prodigal finally returned home.

“I see you,” he said to the child sneaking up behind him. Molly Corbett, not any blood relation to him but his aunt’s ward, was truly alone in the world now, and his heart did go out to her.

“Do not,” she said, a little too shy for the usually outgoing girl.

“Do too,” he replied. “You’re wearing a red dress.” Rafe flinched, thinking about Molly, then thinking about his aunt. Grace Corbett been the best person
in his life, and the fact that she was gone now really hadn’t sunk in. Logically, he knew she’d had a heart attack. Emotionally, he wasn’t ready to deal with it. Wasn’t ready to cry, or grieve, or even miss her yet, because some part of him expected her to walk through her door, tell him it was all a big mistake, maybe even a scheme to get him home to Lilly Lake. God knew, she’d tried everything she could think of these past thirteen years, to no avail.

“It’s yellow, silly,” she said.

“That’s what I said. You’re wearing a yellow dress.” But, then, there was Molly, to remind him. Big, sad eyes. Clingy. His heart ached for her. She was five, and he didn’t know what she understood, or didn’t understand. And he, sure as hell, wasn’t the one who should be trying to relate to her.

“It’s not a dress,” she countered, not giving over to the giggles like she normally had when Aunt Grace had brought her along on her visits.

Sighing, Rafe thought about his aunt, a larger-than-life lady who’d squeezed every last drop out of every last day the good Lord had given her. Horsewoman, humanitarian, entrepreneur, philanthropist … and what he was going to miss the most, something very simple—her chocolate-chip cookies. Once a month, come rain, shine, or any other adversity in the universe, she’d met him somewhere on neutral ground, somewhere other than Lilly Lake, and given him a tin of her cookies. Had every month for thirteen years. He’d always looked forward to it … to the cookies, but most of all to his visit with his aunt. And they’d never missed a month, until this month.

“I didn’t say it was a dress. It’s yellow pants.” “No, it’s not,” Molly said, stepping up right behind him.

“Shoes.”

“No.”

“Socks.”

“No.”

He’d been trying to draw her out the whole time he’d been here, without any luck. Oh, she’d respond when she had to. But that was all. Flat, polite responses. No emotion. Only rote words. “Hat. Purse. Hair ribbons.”

“Shirt. It’s a yellow shirt.” Said with polite impatience. But who could blame her? She missed Aunt Grace, at least as much as he did. Maybe more, as Grace had been all the child had ever had, ever known.

Damn, he was going to miss his aunt. The ache of not having her around any more was starting to knot inside him, threatening to choke him, or double him over with grief. But Molly couldn’t see that. She needed to see strength right now. All he could muster for her. All he could fake for what he was about to do … to give her away. “And that’s exactly what I said. A yellow shirt. I saw you sneaking up behind me in your yellow shirt.” Over the years, Aunt Grace had taken in numerous children. She’d raised them, tutored them, fostered them, cared for them, or simply given them shelter when they’d needed it—all ages, all races and nationalities. None of it had mattered when a child had been in need of a home or even a bed for a few nights. “So, Miss Molly-in-the-yellow-shirt. Are you hungry?” He asked even though he was pretty sure she was not. She’d barely eaten a thing these past few days. As her short-term, stand-in guardian, he was concerned for
her well-being. As a doctor, he was worried about her health. So much grief at such a young age wasn’t good. “Can I fix you something to eat, Molly? Maybe get you an apple, or a glass of milk? Anything you want.”

She stepped around to the front of the chair and stood directly in front of him, but at a distance. She always kept her distance. She shook her head, the way she’d done every time he’d asked since he’d been here.

“Are you tired? Do you need a nap?” She hadn’t been sleeping well either.

She shook her head again.

“Are you bored? Is there something you’d like to go play with? Maybe there’s a toy you’d like for me to buy you?”

This time Molly didn’t even bother shaking her head. She simply stood there, staring at him with some kind of expectation that made him uneasy because he couldn’t interpret it. Her big blue eyes were practically boring through him, telling him he should know something, or do something. But what?

That was the way it had been since he’d arrived for the funeral, four days ago, and nothing was changing except the way he felt. Molly was making him more nervous by the day. Making him feel the inadequacy he knew she was seeing. Maybe even making him feel guilty for the way he was going to have to upset her life more than it was already upset. It was something he truly hated doing, as Aunt Grace had dearly loved this child. But what he had to do was clear. He couldn’t keep her, couldn’t raise a child, couldn’t give her the things she needed, so he’d find her someone who would.

But Rafe’s heart did go out to Molly in ways he
hadn’t expected. She’d only lived in Aunt Grace’s world, that was all she’d ever known, and now it was going to be taken away from her. She was young, though. As cute as any kid he’d ever seen. And smart. So surely some nice family looking to adopt and adore a child would be anxious to give Molly the good home she needed, the one he wanted for her. He was sure of it. Although he was also sure that being ripped from her home, the way she was going to be, would break her young heart.

That, alone, had cost him a couple nights’ sleep, trying to figure out how to prevent it from happening. Problem was, there wasn’t a good solution to this bad situation. He couldn’t stay in Lilly Lake, and he couldn’t take Molly home to live with him in his world. Neither way would work—not for Molly, not for him.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom, Molly?” he persisted, not sure what he’d do if she said yes. But much to his relief, she shook her head again.

“Look, sweetheart. You’re going to have to tell me what you want. If you need me to do something for you, or get you something …
anything …
I will, but I have to know what it is.” He was losing patience. Not with Molly, but with himself for not being able to connect to her. He, of all people, knew what it was like to be alone, to feel that deep-down kind of isolation. But he didn’t know how to deal with it, or overcome it—not in Molly, not even in himself. On top of that, he was sure Molly wasn’t totally aware of what was really going on. Maybe she had some understanding of Aunt Grace’s death. Maybe she had a sense of what that meant or, perhaps, she’d guessed that it was a bad thing. But he didn’t believe she truly knew that her life
was about to change in big ways, ways that made him feel pretty damned guilty.

Having the proverbial rug pulled out from underneath you was never good. His own rug had been pulled out so many times he couldn’t even remember most of them any more.
Or tried not to remember them.
Anyway, what he did recall was Aunt Grace always being there for him, being the one to save him and love him and protect him each and every time that rug had been yanked. The way she’d done with Molly when she’d been literally thrown away, abandoned at birth in a trash can in a bus station.

Except Molly didn’t remember that, of course. What she would remember, though, was the day Aunt Grace had gone away and never come back, and changed her life for ever.

It was a sadness he shared with Molly, something they had in common. A starting place for the two of them that neither one could quite reach. It was also a terrible pain he was only now beginning to feel, one that Molly shouldn’t have to deal with. But he didn’t know how to protect her from it. “Does your tummy hurt?” he asked, continuing to grapple for what was bothering her.

In answer, she sighed, which made him feel even worse for not knowing. This was when he would have asked his aunt what was wrong with the child, and she would have known instantly. Except he was on his own here. Everyone had finally gone home. Summer Adair, his aunt’s nurse, had returned to her old life, whatever that was. Mrs. Murdock, the housekeeper, was with her sister for a few days. His brother, Jess, had returned to his life in New York City after the funeral. Even
Johnny Redmond, the man who looked after all Aunt Grace’s horses, and ran her equestrian rescue charity, was keeping to the stables. Meaning it was just Molly and him now, and one of them was at a total loss. “How about we go for ice cream? Would you like that?”

“Can I see Edie, please?” Molly finally asked.

Edie … a name he didn’t recognize. “Is she one of your little playmates? Because you’re welcome to invite her over. Or I could take you to her house to play, if that’s OK with her parents.”

No response from Molly. She simply continued standing there, staring at him, causing the tension between them to rise to the point that it was giving him a dull headache. One little girl inducing more pressure than he’d ever felt when he was in surgery. Truth be told, it was grinding him down. Besides losing sleep, he’d lost his appetite. Of course, that could also be the effect of coming home to Lilly Lake, where bad memories infused the very air he breathed. But Rafe had an idea Molly played a big part in his queasy feelings as he truly didn’t relish the idea of what he had to do. So finally, in desperation, he said, “Look, Molly, why don’t you run up to your room and play for a little while so I can make a phone call? After that, we’ll figure out what to do with the rest of the day.” Other than simply hanging around, staring at each other, not having a grasp on how to remedy the situation. “OK?”

On impulse, he held out his hand to Molly, and she grabbed hold quickly. Clung tightly as the two of them made their way through the house, now emptied of all its guests, and parted company when she continued on upstairs and he didn’t. Rafe watched until Molly turned
the corner, then he continued standing there until he heard the sound of her door shutting. “What am I going to do, Aunt Grace?” he asked her portrait hanging over the fireplace mantel in the parlor, on his way to the study to put out a distress call to the man most likely to know what to do. “It’s a hell of a mess you’ve gotten me into, so the least you could do would be to tell me how I’m supposed to get myself out of it and do what’s right for Molly at the same time.”

Rafe actually paused for a moment, like he expected an answer from his aunt. Then, when he realized how absurd
that
was, he continued on his way, thinking about how really alone he was in this. It was him, no one else. Jess had his responsibilities elsewhere, and his own private hell to wade through every waking minute of every day. Then after Jess, there was … no one. Absolutely no one. Sure, Rafe could have easily turned and walked away, and let Aunt Grace’s attorney handle the remaining affairs for him. One of those being Molly. But that wasn’t the kind of person he was. He was … dutiful. That was what Aunt Grace had always said about him. Jess was sunny, Rafe was dutiful.

Except these days Jess was sad and Rafe was … well, he wasn’t sure what he was. But he sure as hell was sure what he was not, which was daddy material!

The dutiful tag, though, was the thing causing the tension to quadruple in him right this very minute, as finding Molly a new family seemed almost cruel at this particular time. But she needed love, and that was something he knew nothing about. More than that, had no earthly desire to learn about. Love caused pain, and he’d had enough pain to last a lifetime. That attitude
probably made him selfish, but so be it. He’d loved his aunt, he loved his brother. But no one else. It was a hard choice, but he was OK with it, for himself. Molly stood a chance at better things in this world, however, and she needed the kind of love he simply didn’t have in him.

So with the resolve firmly in place that he was going to find that perfect adoptive situation for her, Rafe stepped into the study to phone the man he hoped would do most of the solving for him and shut the door behind him, grateful for the thick wooden walls that had always felt so safe to him when he was a child. All those nights when his dad had been drunk, or bellowing for the sake of bellowing, this was where he’d found his sanctuary, in Aunt Grace’s study right across the street from his own private hell. In the red leather chair behind her desk, where she’d let him sit.

He ran his fingers over the back of the chair, picturing himself as a little boy, feeling so safe and important there. For a moment, when he sat down, he could almost see Aunt Grace standing across the desk from him, telling him to take a few deep breaths to help him calm down.

“Calm down,” he said to himself, taking those few deep breaths, noticing, for the first time, a small, custom-made desk in the corner of the room. An exact replica of Grace’s massive mahogany desk. Next to it, an exact replica of the leather chair. For Molly. The way it had been for Jess and him, and countless others.

“I don’t suppose there’s a simple way out of this, is there?” he asked Henry Danforth. Henry was Aunt Grace’s confidant, her lawyer.

“Do you actually believe your aunt would have
made things simple for you, son? She left this world the way she lived in it day after day … and you know how that was.”

He did. In a word … complicated. “So tell me, what am I going to do about Molly?” Glancing at the big leather chair, then the smaller replica, he felt the first real knot of emotion constrict his throat.
I’ll do my best, Aunt Grace. I promise, I’ll do my best.
“And do you know where I can I can find her little playmate called Edie?”