The Surgeon's Convenient Fiancée (Medical Romance) (18 page)

‘No, I need the fresh air,’ she said. Indeed, it was good to feel the cold, moist air on her face after spending the day in the artificial atmosphere of the operating suite where
the incoming air was carefully filtered and warmed, before being sucked out again by the powerful ventilation system.

Resisting the urge to ask him what he wanted to talk to her about, she relaxed and enjoyed the feel of his arm around her, his warm closeness, like a bulwark against the chill of the late afternoon. It still seemed like a miracle that he should be with her, that she was with a man she loved. Sometimes in the near past she had thought that it would never happen to her, that she was not destined to find that sort of love. At that moment, the fact that he did not love her did not seem as important as the fact that she loved him.

The bar/café was cosy and warm, the sort of place with nooks and crannies where one could be private.

‘Hello, Dr Melburne,’ the bartender called out. ‘Nice to see you again. How are you?’ He was middle-aged, welcoming as he wiped the already spotless oak bar. ‘Rotten day, eh?’

‘Sure is.’

‘How about a nice hot toddy, Dr Melburne? I make a good one with brandy and a bit of honey. Or you can have whiskey.’

‘That sounds good,’ Shay said, smiling at him as they both shrugged out of their coats and put the dripping umbrella into the can provided for the purpose. ‘Deirdre?’

‘Brandy would be good,’ she agreed. ‘Please, go easy on the spirits, as we’re both driving.’

‘Sure,’ the barman said. ‘It will be mostly hot water. Don’t want any accidents, especially in rush hour. You find yourselves some seats and I’ll bring it to you.’

‘Thanks,’ Shay said, taking Deirdre’s arm and steering her to a corner near a window, where they were out of sight of the bar and could look out to the street where the rain sparkled in the light from streetlamps that were already on against the winter gloom. There was a small table and two chairs. There were no other customers. Soft music played in the background, enough to drown out their murmured conversation.

‘Did you get through to the kids?’ Shay asked. Sensitive to nuance, Deirdre sensed a tension in him and felt herself tense up as well.

‘Yes. They’ll go to my place from school, then I’ll meet them there.’

‘Good,’ he said.

‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ she asked, unable to bear the tension any longer.

‘I’ll explain when we’ve got out drinks,’ he said. ‘Don’t want to be interrupted.’

‘Oh, dear,’ she said, looking at him fully in the face, ‘that sounds rather ominous.’

At that moment their drinks arrived, in glasses with handles. ‘Enjoy!’ the bartender said.

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ Deirdre said, after sipping the hot liquid that was delicately flavoured with brandy and honey. ‘I could get seriously addicted to this.’

‘It is good,’ he said, drinking a little then placing his glass carefully on the table in front of him. ‘Deirdre…you know that Mark has written to his mother, asking her to come home? Mark said something about having told you.’

‘Yes, he did say something…’ Her heart gave a lurch, signalling her fear. Perhaps he was going to tell her that Antonia was back,
that they had decided to get together again, to try to make a family life for the sake of their son. She looked down at the table, at her hand cupped around the glass of hot liquid, realizing again at that moment that although Shay had become a central part of her life, he could easily be out of it, that she had no claim on him. How would she manage without him? That thought came to her as though the words had been spoken aloud.

‘I doubt that she’ll come,’ he said, the words making Deirdre realize that she had been holding her breath, waiting to hear what he would say next. Slowly, deliberately she took another sip from her glass.

‘Why wouldn’t she come?’ she said at length. ‘I understand that she wanted Mark with her…that she loves him.’

‘That’s true,’ Shay said carefully. ‘But she is with that guy, the sheep farmer. Presumably she loves him, too. I have custody of Mark, so if she wants to be in his life she has to be here. Mark could visit her out there, but so far he’s declined.’

There was a silence that became uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and let it out
on a sigh, trying to find the courage to say something that was appropriate. ‘And you?’ Deirdre asked, not looking at him, fiddling with her glass as it sat on the table. ‘What will that mean to you?’

And what will it mean for me? she wanted to ask, but found that she could not utter those words, because he had always made it clear that he could not promise her anything.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘For Mark’s sake I would be glad, I think, if she were to come, because he needs to see her, to sort out how he feels about her, what he wants to do in relation to her. It’s between the two of them. For myself, I really don’t want to have to deal with her in my life again, even on the periphery. If she were to have any sort of relationship with Mark, I would, of course, have to deal with her, if only on a superficial level. I’ve never denigrated her in Mark’s eyes, and I won’t in the future.’

Deirdre swallowed to dispel the tightness in her throat. ‘Mmm. I see,’ she said.

For a while they sipped their drinks in silence, glad of the hot liquid, while Deirdre thought about what he had said and they
both looked out of the window at the rain that pelted down on the tarmac of the road. It provided a diversion. Deirdre felt slightly sick with tension.

‘Do you…still care for her?’ She forced the words out. Although she had asked him that before, she felt that things had shifted enough to warrant a repeat of the question. ‘Because if you do, I don’t think I should be seeing you in the way that we are…’

‘No, I don’t care for her,’ he said.

The warming effect of the drink, coupled with his emphatic assertion, had a calming effect on Deirdre, yet the underlying anxiety and longing were still there. There was nothing she could do, she decided, except to wait and see what happened. Antonia might never come, although she hoped for Mark’s sake that she would. It was all mixed up in her mind.

‘There’s something else I want to say to you…ask you,’ Shay said, fixing her with his intent grey stare, so that she could not look away. ‘To perhaps solve the dilemma of what would happen to Fleur and Mungo if Fiona were to die before they reach the age of
independence. I’ve thought that we could marry, to increase, perhaps, your chances of getting custody. And Mark needs a mother because I doubt that Antonia would leave her man in New Zealand, even if she were to come here for a visit.’

They stared at each other across the narrow expanse of the table, Deirdre’s eyes wide with shock. ‘You mean…’ she managed, ‘a sort of… marriage of convenience?’

‘If you want to put it that way,’ he said evenly.

‘I…I don’t know how else to put it,’ she said. ‘You don’t love me.’

‘No. But I do enjoy your company very much, and I want you more than I could possibly say. You’re more attractive to me than any other woman has ever been.’

‘That’s a sort of backhanded compliment,’ she said, astounded.

‘Honest,’ he said.

‘But you don’t love me,’ she found herself repeating. ‘And marriage is a very serious business. I don’t have to tell you that.’

‘No, you don’t,’ he said.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said,
twisting her hands together tightly under the table, while a strange kind of happiness gripped her as she stared at him, met his unwavering regard. Yet he did not love her…

‘It would be for the children…and for us. I want to be with you,’ he said. ‘That’s something I’m sure of.’

‘I would like to say yes, Shay, but I don’t know…I don’t know,’ she said uncertainly. ‘It’s so unexpected…’

‘Don’t wring your hands,’ he said, reaching forward across the table. ‘Hey, give me your hands.’

Warmly he held her restless hands in his.

‘There’s so much to consider…other people…’ she said. ‘If I had just myself to think of, I would say yes. But perhaps then you wouldn’t be asking me. I’m not sure about that.’

‘As I said, I want to be with you. As for love,’ he said quietly, ‘I have a very good and wise colleague at the hospital, whom I also count as a friend, who’s East Indian, from a culture where marriages are arranged. He told me once, when I asked his advice about something personal, that in his culture you
do not marry the person you love, you love the person you marry. I liked that. That’s at least as good as the other way.’

‘There’s no guarantee that it would happen,’ she said, still holding his gaze, feeling that someone had winded her. ‘And…you might meet someone else whom you fall in love with.’

‘There are no guarantees about anything,’ he said. ‘That’s something I’ve found out.’

Deirdre did not have anything to say to that, because she knew it was true. Realizing it, though, left a feeling of something like apprehension. How good it would be if one could be absolutely certain of another person. Things changed, time moved on.

‘Perhaps it’s a measure of our maturity when we realize there are no guarantees, but that doesn’t mean that you cannot work for something you want, something good with another person, something that you can commit to and do your damnedest to make work,’ he said, gripping her hands and looking into her eyes.

The bartender came back. ‘Can I get you anything else?’ he asked.

‘I’d like a cup of coffee, please,’ Deirdre said, feeling in need of some caffeine to make sure that the alcohol had not affected her judgement.

‘Sure thing. And for you, Dr Melburne?’

‘Yes, the same, please, Joe.’

‘Does Mark know about this?’ she whispered, when the waiter had gone.

‘No.’

‘And what about you being the twenty-four-seven man?’ she asked.

‘I’m trying very hard not to be that,’ he said soberly. ‘I hate that term.’

They sat at the table silently, waiting for the coffee. Deirdre’s heart was pounding. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been this.

The coffee was good and Deirdre gulped at hers, wanting to counter any effect of the brandy.

‘Well?’ he said.

Perhaps if he had leaned across the table to kiss her, she might have accepted there and then. As it was, the warmth of his hand on her free hand suffused her with emotion. There was so much to sort out.

The tension in him was evident as he looked at her with a frown between his brows. Love for him, her need of him, threatened to overwhelm her…yet she had to be sensible, had to think this out very carefully, because it also affected Mungo and Fleur. Her chances of finding someone else who would accept her with two children who were not her own were not great.

‘I’d like to think about it, Shay,’ she said, forcing herself to say it, even though she wanted to tell him that she would accept him unconditionally. ‘I will have to discuss it with the kids—you appreciate that?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘I do understand. I get impatient sometimes when I’ve made up my mind what it is that I want.’

Each occupied with their own thoughts, they sat silently to finish the coffee. Deirdre felt a sense of elation, yet a sense of unreality at the same time. There were times in life when you had to take the plunge, because there were no perfect times. It was just that some times were better than others. It was like having a baby, she surmised. You could wait for the perfect time then find that
it never came, or that you were, after all, infertile.

Out in the rain again, under the umbrella, they linked hands to walk back to the hospital parking lot and their respective cars.

‘Don’t keep me waiting too long, Deirdre,’ he said, as they stood beside her car.

‘I’ll try not to,’ she said. They kissed goodbye.

‘I’ll see you on the weekend. I’m on call, but hopefully there will be time,’ he said. ‘Mark wants to get together with Mungo and Fleur, probably at your place, if that’s all right with you?’

‘Yes, they did ask me,’ she said. ‘Goodnight, Shay.’

‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’

When he had walked away and she sat in her car, trying to calm her thoughts, while the rain pounded on the roof, she wondered whether the love of one person was enough for two people. Could she live with what Shay had to offer on a personal level? And would it be wise?

You don’t marry the person you love, you love the person you marry—how good that
sounded. Something to think about. Perhaps it was a promise of sorts, otherwise why would he have told her about it?

With that in mind, she started the engine, turned on the windshield wipers and moved out.

* * *

‘That means Mark would be a sort of brother to us!’ Fleur said delightedly later as they sat at supper in Deirdre’s parents’ house. ‘Does that mean we could all live together?’

‘I haven’t got as far as thinking about where we would live,’ Deirdre said tiredly. ‘I expect it would mean that, unless Jerry made trouble. I expect Granny would be happy with that arrangement. Remember, I haven’t said yes yet.’

It had been a hectic day in one way and another. Before coming back to her own house, she had gone to Jerry’s house to check up on it, to make sure that the light timers were functional, that the burglar alarm was on, even though both Fiona and the cleaning lady checked up on it as well.

She had decided to tell Mungo and Fleur
while she had them as a captive audience at the dinner table. So far, so good.

Mungo gave a slow smile and looked at her knowingly. ‘Is it what you want, Dee?’ he said. ‘You must think of what you want, not what would be best for us.’

Deirdre returned his smile. ‘I think it is what I want,’ she said. ‘It takes some getting used to the idea, and there are a lot of practicalities to sort out. It’s something that you can’t rush into.’ As she said those words, she wondered why Shay was in such a hurry to have her answer.

It was impossible to tell these two eager young people that Shay did not love her. For them, love would be a prerequisite. But she also knew that love and attraction were not necessarily enough. Perhaps too much was made of them. There had to be genuine willingness, she felt instinctively, to have the other person’s interests at heart, on a par with your own. There had to be room in the relationship for each person to become the person they wanted to become. Perhaps the practical considerations that Shay had put forward were very sensible. If other things were not
there, you could fall out of love with someone eventually, could gradually no longer find them attractive. Perhaps that was what had happened between Shay and Antonia…the long hours of work, the loneliness.