THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT... (15 page)

He sat there for the longest time watching the colorful reflections from the stained-glass window dance on the wall to his right.

He looked at the scattered pieces of the plan around his feet.

Plans. He’d spent so long hating plans and everything about them. Blaming them and the DPA for the part they’d played in Helen’s death.

It didn’t matter that he was supposedly an intelligent, rational man. Nothing about his wife’s death had seemed rational to him.

It had all seemed so random.

The DPA planned for every eventuality—or so he’d thought. But it hadn’t planned for that. It hadn’t planned for his wife to collapse with an ectopic pregnancy in the middle of nowhere and too far away for any emergency treatment.

And it had made him mad.

It had made him behave in a way that would have embarrassed Helen. He had questioned everything. He had torn up plans and set them on fire. He’d refused to follow any of the protocols that the DPA had set. And then he’d walked away from it all.

He’d walked away because he hadn’t wanted to deal with anything.

He couldn’t possibly believe that they’d just been unlucky. That Helen’s death had simply come down to dumb, rotten luck.

He’d tried to forget everything and push everyone away.

But now it was time to stop all that. It was time to open his eyes.

It was time to remember—both the good and the bad.

And he remembered. He remembered everything about his wife that he’d loved.

And for the first time in a long time he took joy in remembering.

The dark shade of her hair, the chocolate color of her eyes. The fact that every item in her wardrobe had been a variation of a shade of blue. Her collection of bells that had sat on the window ledge in their bedroom. The smell of her favorite perfume, which she’d worn every single day. The candles she’d lit around her bath at night. The grey and blue felt hat she’d worn in winter that he’d always said made her look one hundred and five.

All the things that he’d been terrified to forget. Once—just once—he’d forgotten who her favorite author had been. It had sent an irrational, horrible fear through his entire body. How could he forget something about his darling Helen? Those books were still sitting on her bedside cabinet.

So he’d made lists and chanted things over and over in his bed at night. He hadn’t been able to stand the thought of her fading from his memory. That the love that he’d felt for her would ever die.

He remembered their first date at the movies, their first kiss, their first fight and their first home. Their wedding day. Their wedding night.

And the way he’d held her on that last, horrible day when they’d both known she was going to die.

That nothing could save her. Even though he kept telling her she’d be fine.

The way she’d felt in his arms as he’d felt the life slowly drain from her body.

The way she’d told him she’d love him forever. And to live a good life.

Here, in this special place, it felt right. It felt right to remember her. It felt like a celebration.

Of life.

Of love.

Of forgiveness.

A single tear rolled down his cheek. He’d cried an ocean’s worth of tears but now it was time for the last one.

Now it was time to let go.

Now it was time to live his life.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
HE
 
ALARM
 
STARTED
 
sounding sharply. Sawyer and Dan were on their feet almost simultaneously. Even though the ventilator was breathing for Jack, his blood results had shown that his organs were starting to fail.

“Cardiac arrest. He’s in V-fib.”

Sawyer was almost through the door before one of the nurses blocked his path. “Gown!” she shouted.

Dan hadn’t been so forgetful and already had a gown half on and his mask in place. Sawyer hated this. What was the point? How effective were the masks really? How much protection did the gown really offer? Wouldn’t it make more sense just to get in and defibrillate him?

He hauled the gown and mask on and entered the room just as Dan placed the paddles on the boy’s chest. “Clear!”

Jack’s little body arched and all eyes fixed on the monitor.

Still VF.

Callie ran into the room, her gown barely covering her shoulders. “No!” she gasped, and ran to the other side of the room.

It was then Sawyer heard the high-pitched squeal. The squeal of a little boy watching people attempt to resuscitate his brother and not having a clue what was going on. He cursed and pulled the curtain between the beds. Why hadn’t he realized? Why hadn’t he even thought of that?

But Callie had. She had her arm around Ben’s shoulders and was whispering to him through her mask. Her face was mainly hidden but he could still see her eyes. And there were tears in them.

Dan was moving quickly, seamlessly, shouting instructions to the surrounding staff. Jack’s mother and father appeared at the window, horrified at what was happening to their son.

Jill Keating promptly dissolved into a fit of tears, her legs giving way beneath her.

They started CPR, a nurse with a knee on the bed using one hand on Jack’s small chest. Regular, rhythmic beats. It was painful to watch.

The ventilator had been unhooked. Another doctor was bagging Jack down the tube already in place.

Drugs were pushed through Jack’s IV. Anything to try and restart his heart.

“Everyone stop a second!” Dan shouted.

Callie’s head shot up, a look of horror on her face. She moved from Ben’s bed over to where Sawyer was standing. “You can’t stop!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare stop!”

* * *

A hand tapped Violet on the shoulder. “You’ve to go the boardroom.”

Her head shot up. “What for? I’m in the middle of something right now. Can’t it wait?”

Maisey shook her head. “I seriously doubt it.”

Violet spun around in her chair. Maisey’s voice didn’t sound too good. “What do you mean?” She had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry, Violet.”

Violet reached out and grabbed her sleeve as she tried to walk away. “What do you mean, you’re sorry? Why have I to go the boardroom?”

Maisey couldn’t look her in the eye. “It’s the director. Along with Evan Hunter. I think Evan’s complained about the deadline you didn’t meet—the report he’s been waiting four days for.”

Violet’s heart started to thud in her chest. “But that’s what I’m working on.” She held up the crumpled piece of paper.

Maisey shook her head. “I’m sorry, Violet. The director said he wanted to see you straight away.”

Violet stood up, trying to ignore the tremor in her legs.

Rats. She’d known she was treading on thin ice when she hadn’t had the report ready for Evan on time.

The truth was she had been hoping he would forget all about it now they had a final diagnosis of monkeypox. Sawyer should be the last thing on his mind right now.

She scrabbled around her desk for the report she’d been writing. Not only was it very late, she’d also left the details scarce. It would hardly placate the director.

Was he about to fire her?

Was she about to get fired because she’d tried to cover for her brother?

Her heart pounded as she crossed the department on her way to the boardroom. At this rate she would be sick all over the director’s shoes.

The boardroom—where all official business was carried out.

One thing was sure—if she was going down, she was taking Evan Hunter with her. Let Evan see what the director thought about the boss cavorting with his staff.

* * *

All heads turned towards her. Callie’s heart was racing, sweat lashing off her brow and running down her back.

Sawyer stepped into her line of vision, blocking the view of Jack and the rest of the staff. It took her a second to focus.

“Callie. Calm down.”

Her skin was prickling. The scar on her leg itching like crazy. Her head flicking back between Ben’s fearful face on the bed behind her and Sawyer’s wide frame standing in front of her.

Everything seemed to be spiraling out of her control. She didn’t feel in charge any more. “We can’t stop. We can’t. It’s not been long enough.” She was shaking her head. This wasn’t even her area of expertise. What did she know about resuscitating a child? The last time she’d been involved in a pediatric resuscitation she’d been a first-year resident. It had made her realize that pediatrics wasn’t for her.

“Callie.” His hands were firmly on her shoulders now. “Step away from this. It’s under control.”

That’s when she lost it even more. “You think this is under control? Under control? How? How is this under control? Is this part of the plan?”

She moved closer to Sawyer and hissed in his ear, “If Jack’s about to die, you need to tell his family. You need to give them a chance to say goodbye.” Her eyes drifted back to the bed behind her. “You need to give Ben a chance to say goodbye. He should get to hold his brother’s hand.”

She was feeling frantic. She couldn’t let this happen. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a pediatrician. She was the doctor in charge of this outbreak so, at the end of the day, everyone should be doing what she told them.

Sawyer reached up and stroked her cheek. The action took her by surprise. It brought her instantly back to the here and now. “Callie, Dan’s not stopping. He’s only waiting for a few seconds to recheck the cardiac monitor—to see if Jack’s heart rhythm has changed. Think, Callie. We always do this at arrests. Don’t we?”

His voice was quiet, only loud enough for her to hear. Not that the rest of the staff were bothering. Most were still round Jack’s bed, assisting with the arrest. Another nurse had appeared at Ben’s side and was sitting with her arm around him, talking in his ear.

Ben.

He was terrified. He was crying. He was asking the nurse questions. Callie felt herself start to shake.

“We’ve got a rhythm!”

Both their heads turned towards the shout. Dan had just defibrillated Jack’s little chest again and the monitor had given a little blip. Dan started shouting more instructions for different drugs. The room was a hive of activity. IV’s were being hung and Mr. and Mrs. Keating had been gowned up and were being shown into the room.

Callie was trembling. She couldn’t stop herself.

Then a warm hand slipped into hers and pulled her out of the room, walking her along the corridor and sitting her down in an easy chair. A cold drink was pressed into her hands and Sawyer sat in the chair opposite her.

He didn’t say a word. He just sat.

The cold juice slid down her throat. The intense itch in her leg increased. She was clawing at her leg and couldn’t stop. He bent over, his hand capturing hers and stopping her scratching. His head was underneath hers and he looked up at her. “Want to tell me what just happened in there?”

She felt her throat constrict. “I don’t think I can.”

He sat back in his chair. She could tell he was contemplating what to do next. What on earth must he be thinking of her?

His gaze was steady. It felt as if he was looking deep inside her. Somewhere she didn’t want him to go. “It’s time, Callie. Tell me about your scar.”

She took a sharp breath. How did he know?
How did he know there was a connection?

She laid her palm flat on her thigh. The desire to scratch was overwhelming. but she knew it was all psychological. No matter how hard she scratched, it wouldn’t stop the itch. She’d just end up breaking her skin and drawing blood.

“I was in a car accident.” She didn’t know where the words had come from. It almost felt as if someone else had said them. But it was definitely her voice.

“How long ago?” It was a measured question. A prompt. It was almost as if he knew she just couldn’t come out and tell him everything at once—it would be too painful.

“I was twenty-three.”

“Were you badly injured?”

She took a deep breath. Although the scar was a permanent reminder, for the most part Callie had pushed all memories of her injuries aside.

Physical injuries could heal. Psychological injuries not so much.

“I had a fractured femur and tib and fib. Fractured ribs too.”

“Wow. You must have had to take some time out of medical school.”

“Only a few weeks. I became their first official online student. They recorded lectures for me and sent me notes. I did my assignments online for a couple of months.”

It almost gave the game away and she could see the calculating expression on his face. Her professors had gone above and beyond their responsibilities and he had to be wondering why. Most medical schools would have told a seriously injured student to take time off, recuperate and come back the following year.

His gaze remained steady. It was obvious that he’d figured things out. “Who else was in the car, Callie?”

She was instantly on the defensive. “What makes you think someone else was in the car?”

“Who else was in the car, Callie?”

He’d just repeated the question. There was no fooling Sawyer.

Her throat was instantly dry again and her voice cracked. “My sister, Isabel.”

He moved forward and took her hands again. “Isabel. What a beautiful name. Tell me about your sister, Callie.” Again he was surprising her. He wasn’t hitting her with a barrage of questions, he was just giving her an open invitation to talk.

“I can’t,” she whispered, as a single tear slid down her cheek. This was just too hard.

He reached up and caught it in his fingertips. “Yes, you can.”

* * *

Everything had just changed color for Sawyer. He already knew her sister must be dead. The look on her face had said it all and the hairs currently standing on end at the back of his neck agreed.

He could see how much she was struggling. He could tell she wanted to run from the room like a frightened rabbit. She’d barely been able to get the words out.

A sister. Callie had a sister. Or she’d
had
a sister.

Now he understood her reaction when she’d heard about Violet. Now he understood why she’d been so angry with him. If she’d lost a sister and felt as if he’d abandoned his...well, her reaction was entirely normal.

“Isabel was a year older than me. She was at medical school too. She wanted to work at the DPA.”

“Did you?” Things were starting to fall into place for him. This was behind the reaction in the chapel earlier. This was why she wasn’t sure of herself.

She hesitated. “I...I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”

“Was Isabel injured in the car accident?”

Callie couldn’t speak now. She just nodded. The tears were spilling down her face. Her hands were icy, almost as if she was in shock. He rubbed them gently, trying to encourage the blood flow and get some heat into them again.

It was obvious that Callie didn’t talk about this to people. Violet hadn’t heard a single thing about this—he suspected that no one at the DPA knew. Hadn’t anyone ever asked her about her scar?

It was one of the first things he’d noticed about her.

It was time to ask the ultimate question. He had to give her a chance to let go. “Did she die?”

And that’s when the sobs were let loose. Big, loud gasping sobs. The kind where you couldn’t catch your breath before the next one took over your body.

He knew how that felt. He’d been there too.

He moved, sitting on the arm of the easy chair, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she cried. It was the most natural thing to do.

Grief was all-consuming.

“There was a nurse and she knew Isabel was going to die. My parents hadn’t got there yet. They were about to take me to Theatre but she wouldn’t let them. She pulled me over to Isabel and put her hand in mine. It was the best and worst moment of my life. She knew how important it was. And I never even got to thank her. Everything just turned into a blur after that. My parents arrived and...”

“That’s why you wanted the boys to hold hands. Now I get it,” he murmured. It all made sense now. The look of terror on her face, her reactions. They were all the actions of someone who had walked in those shoes. Only someone who’d had that experience could truly know what it all meant and how important the smallest thing could be.

Her voice tailed off. She couldn’t talk any more. He lifted a damp lock of her hair and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I understand, Callie. I understand better than you could ever know.”

“How can you?” she whispered. Her whole body was shaking. “We were fighting. I’ve never told anyone this but Isabel and I were fighting. A car came round the corner on the wrong side of the road and I didn’t have time to react. I didn’t have time to react because I was distracted. I was trying to stop Isabel from getting her own way yet again.”

He could see the pain written across her face. And more than anything he wanted to take it away.

The feelings almost overwhelmed him. It had been so long since he’d felt like this that he almost didn’t recognize it. That intensity. That urge to protect.

The feelings of love.

Sawyer sucked in his breath. The pain spread across his chest. His heart thudded, his muscles tensed.

Every one of his senses was hyper-aware. He could hear her panting breaths, feel the dampness of her tears between his fingertips. He could smell the aroma of her raspberry shampoo and remember the taste of her on his lips.