The Surgeon's Miracle (10 page)

His brow creased. ‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘No! Absolutely not. It’s just the way you both are. I
wondered if it was always like that, if he was always the brash, colourful one that everyone noticed. Chris said you used to be a bit of a wild child.’

He frowned slightly. ‘That was a long time ago. And as for Will, they certainly noticed him when he went off the rails. I was constantly hauling his backside out of trouble—but I’m quite happy to let him overshadow me now. Frankly he’s welcome to the limelight. I’m just surprised you picked up on it.’

‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s just that most people don’t see it like that,’ he murmured, his voice quietly resigned. ‘They think I’m the dull one, and Will’s the interesting one—but I guess it’s OK. I’m used to it now. And it suits me, really. Leaves me free to do what I want to do without an audience. My life hasn’t really changed because of his illness, but his has. I’m still a doctor, still doing what I would have done before, although the emphasis might have changed slightly, but essentially I’m still doing what I set out to do in the first place.’

‘And Will? He said he was only estate manager because he was too lazy to do anything else. Is that true?’

Andrew shook his head. ‘No. He didn’t do well at school after he was ill—his life was thrown into chaos, and when he recovered he lost the plot a bit and turned into a party animal. He’s settled down a bit, of course, but he threw away his chance of going to uni, which was a shame, because he wanted to be an architect. I don’t think he minds, though. As I said, he loves the estate and he’s brilliant at running it.’

‘Chris Turner said you would have given up medicine to come home and look after him if necessary.’

His smile was wry. ‘Did he? Who knows? Luckily I
didn’t have to, but the whole business might have changed my focus, though.’

‘In what way?’

‘I would always have gone into orthopaedics, but probably not paediatrics,’ he admitted honestly. ‘Especially after finding out I can’t have kids. It’s a bit like rubbing salt into the wound on a daily basis, but at least I get to spend time with children. It’s bitter-sweet, really, and it can be stressful. Losing little patients is much harder than losing older ones. They’ve got so much ahead of them, so much to live for, and telling their parents they’ve lost their fight, or that their lives are going to be changed for ever—that’s hard. I get down sometimes, doing that. If I’d known what I know now, I might not have done it, but I did, and I wouldn’t change it now. I couldn’t walk away from them, even if I spend every day being reminded that I’ll never have any of my own.’

‘You might. There are all sorts of things they can do with IVF these days.’

‘I know, but not if there isn’t anything there to work with.’

‘You could find out.’

He shook his head. ‘Libby, I know. There’s no point beating myself up about it. I’ve accepted it. Just let it go.’

He met her eyes, lifted a hand and stroked away the tear that had dribbled down from the corner of her eye and puddled against her nose, and the tender gesture unravelled her.

She sniffed, and he pulled her back into his arms and kissed away the tears, then made love to her again, slowly, tenderly, until she thought her heart would burst with love for him, this gentle, dedicated man who had so much to offer and did it so quietly, without fuss or fanfare or arrogance.

She would love him for ever, she realised, even though
this relationship would inevitably have to end, because he didn’t do relationships, wouldn’t marry, held himself back from commitment because of a fear that later he alone might not be enough for the woman he married—that he could imagine he wouldn’t be enough for anyone horrified her. He had so much to offer, so much to love—if only he would give her a chance.

And, in fact, it might not even be an issue. She needed to talk to her sister, to find out how she was getting on and take that first step towards finding out if she herself was affected by the genetic blight that had afflicted her family, because at the moment, with such massive unresolved issues in her own life, Libby wasn’t in a position herself to make a commitment to Andrew anyway.

Not until she had answers of her own…

T
HE
week flew by, and she saw Andrew every day.

Sometimes it was just to snatch coffee, sometimes they managed lunch too, but he rang her on Tuesday evening, and he spent Wednesday night with her.

On Thursday, Joel was allowed out of bed to sit in a chair for the first time, and although his parents were anxious about it, his neck fracture was stable, the halo was holding his head steady and although he was a little shaky, he was pleased to be able to see things from the right angle again.

He was sad to see Lucas go, though, and so was Libby. She’d grown fond of the sullen, stroppy teenager, and she saw him off that morning with mixed feelings.

‘Promise you’ll pop up and see us when you come in to the fracture clinic,’ she said, and he nodded.

‘Yeah, I’ll come,’ he agreed, and then to her surprise, he leant over and hugged her awkwardly. ‘You’re OK, Sister, d’you know that, man? You’re a nag and all that, but you’re OK.’

She laughed a little unsteadily and let him go. ‘You take care of yourself. We’ll see you soon,’ she said, and watched him swing down the corridor on his crutches, his skill with
them hugely improved after all the zooming around the ward he’d been doing while he’d driven them mad for the last week or so.

She went back onto the ward and found Andrew there, checking on a little girl who’d been brought in for surgery the previous day on her Achilles tendons. They were too short to allow her to stand except on tiptoe, and Andrew had lengthened them with a Z-plasty to enable her to stand and walk properly at last.

But now she was sore and unhappy, and he was trying to examine her without success while the mother held her new baby in her arms and tried to soothe little Chloe and keep her older son out of mischief at the same time. So where was the nurse who should have been with Andrew?

It looked like a situation that was rapidly heading out of control, and as she went over to them he looked up and gave her a relieved smile.

She didn’t wait for him to ask for help, just scooped up the little girl she’d already cuddled several times that morning, and sat down on the bed with her cradled firmly in her arms so Andrew could look at her feet, which were taped up now into a normal position following her surgery.

‘Hello, sweetheart! Goodness me, you’re looking pretty now! Did Mummy bring you in a new T-shirt?’

She sniffed and nodded, and Libby duly admired the duck on her tummy. ‘That’s such a pretty duck. What colour is it? Is it green?’

She giggled round her thumb. ‘No.’

‘Is it blue?’

Another giggle. ‘No!’

‘I know! It’s red!’

The thumb came out. ‘No, it’s not! It’s yellow!’

Libby blinked and laughed. ‘So it is—silly me. Fancy me getting it wrong. I’ll have to go back to school!’

Andrew was straightening up, his examination complete, and he gave her a thoughtful look before turning to the mother. ‘OK. That’s lovely. Her feet are looking much better.’

‘They look normal now. I can’t believe it. I really didn’t think they’d ever look like that,’ the mother said, her eyes filling.

He squeezed her shoulder gently. ‘I told you they would. The position’s everything I could have hoped for and, given a few days for it to settle, I’m sure you’ll find she’ll be able to start standing soon and before you know it, she’ll be running around with her brother, won’t you, Chloe?’

‘Will she be able to walk like me?’ the brother asked, and Andrew smiled.

‘I’m sure she will, very soon.’

‘I’ll have to hide my toys.’

‘Or you could share them,’ their mother suggested gently, making him pull a mulish face.

‘Hey, it’s good to share. You can have twice as much fun with two of you,’ Libby offered, and with a smile at the family they left them to consider the ramifications of a little girl soon to be mobile for the first time.

‘Thanks for that,’ Andrew murmured as they walked away. ‘Sam had to bail on me—she had a vomiting child to clean up. I thought I’d be OK but then the baby kicked off and Chloe started to cry.’

‘She’s going to be great, though. You’ve done a good job,’ she said, and he shot her a grin.

‘It was easy. So straightforward for something that makes so much difference. Who would have thought that a little zig-zag cut in a tendon could make the difference between being crippled and being normal?’

‘Who, indeed. Lucas has gone, by the way.’

‘I know. I saw him earlier and wished him luck. I’ll see him in Outpatients.’

‘Mmm. Remind him to come in and see us. I think the boys’ll miss him.’

‘I think you will,’ he teased, and she smiled.

‘You know, I think you might be right?’

Andrew opened his mouth, but then his pager went off and he gave her a wry grin. ‘That’ll teach me to think about coffee,’ he said with a groan. ‘I’ll see you later.’

He did, but only fleetingly. He came onto the ward to check Chloe and found Libby cuddling her again, because mum had gone home to feed and change the baby, taking her big brother, and wouldn’t be back for a while. And even though Libby’s shift was over, she couldn’t leave the little one sobbing her heart out alone.

‘I thought you’d finished?’ he said softly, crouching down beside them and grinning at Chloe. ‘Hi, sweets. Are you OK?’

‘Want Mummy,’ she said, and cuddled into Libby’s chest, her heart-rending sobs tugging at him.

‘I think her pain relief needs looking at,’ Libby murmured, and he nodded and checked the chart, upping the dose to give her a little extra cover to help her settle for the evening. ‘While you’re at it, Joel’s been a bit uncomfortable. I think he might have a pin-track infection in one of his halo screws. I’ve sent a swab off to the lab.’

‘I’ll check him and write him up for something if necessary. When did you do the swab?’

‘Twelve?’

‘So it won’t be back till lunchtime tomorrow. I’ll have a look now.’

He straightened up. ‘I’m on duty tonight—I’m covering
for Patrick Corrigan, and it looks like it’ll be busy, so I probably won’t see you later.’

‘OK,’ she said, stifling the disappointment. ‘I’ve got lots to do tonight anyway.’

‘It’s the weekend tomorrow,’ he said softly. ‘We could—oh, rats, I’d better go,’ he sighed, glancing at his pager. ‘Look, I’ll call you later. We’ll arrange something.’

He strode away, his long legs eating up the ward, and she saw him turn into the bay containing the older boys—checking on Joel, as he’d promised. She rocked Chloe, torn between getting her the extra dose of pain relief and settling her to sleep, and wondered what he’d suggest they did this weekend.

Nothing like the previous one, she was sure, but she felt a flutter of nervous anticipation. A quiet dinner in? Taking her out to a restaurant? A walk in the park?

Maybe nothing much at all. Maybe he’d just want to spend the time alone, and maybe the something he’d said they’d arrange would turn out to be a very small something indeed.

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she muttered, and Chloe stirred slightly, silencing her. She
was
being ridiculous. She wasn’t supposed to be letting her heart get involved.

Too late, of course. It had been too late for that the moment he’d kissed her in the park, after they’d had lunch in the folly and walked through the woods just six days ago.

Certainly too late by the time he’d made love to her on Saturday night, and by Sunday evening any hope of remaining detached had been firmly blown out of the water.

But she still wondered what they’d be doing this weekend…

Andrew was desperate to get Libby to himself. They’d been so busy at work that he’d hardly seen her.

Well, that wasn’t true. Considering they weren’t supposed to be having a relationship, he was seeing a crazy amount of her, but it still wasn’t enough, and he wanted her to himself. And he wanted to do nothing. Go nowhere, do nothing, just chill. He wondered if she’d be horribly disappointed if he suggested that, but it had been a busy couple of weeks and he just needed some down-time.

They’d do the garden, he decided. He didn’t know if she liked gardening, but his needed attention whether she liked it or not, so if she didn’t he’d just have to cut the grass and leave the rest for another time, he decided.

Always assuming Jacob was doing all right. They’d lightened the sedation that morning and he’d become restless, so they’d increased the pain relief and he’d settled. The fixators on his legs and pelvis were doing a good job and Andrew had no intention of interfering with them. The bones were well aligned and he was healing fast, so it was best left, and because he wasn’t on call and little Jacob was still stable by the evening, his weekend was his own. They would split it between the two houses, because of Kitty, but tonight he wanted to be in his own home, with Libby.

He picked her up when he’d finished work at seven and took her back to his house, filling her in on the way about Jacob’s progress, and she thought he was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him.

Relaxed and open and—happy.

Chris Turner would be impressed, she thought, remembering his comments a week ago at dinner.

Exactly a week, in fact, since the dinner party for his mother’s birthday. Only a week. Heavens. It seemed much more. They seemed to have done so much in that time, gone so far, and yet they’d gone nowhere. They were still skirting around the question of their relationship, still
taking every moment as it came, and to expect anything else would be greedy, she told herself as Andrew disappeared for a shower.

He came back a few minutes later in his favourite worn old jeans and a heavy cotton shirt, rolled up his sleeves and cooked for her, while she perched on a stool at the breakfast bar and watched him, his hands quick and precise, the surgeon at work. He sliced and shredded and chopped, threw everything into a wok and stir-fried it, poured in a jar of sauce and served it up on a bed of rice.

‘Wow,’ she said, savouring the first mouthful. ‘This is gorgeous.’

‘It’s my speciality—fork food in bottled sauce. I only cook things that can be eaten with one hand because I’m usually eating while I check my email or write a report, and I have a very limited repertoire, so enjoy it while you can, because you’ll very quickly get sick of it.’

She chuckled, but his words made her think. Was he intending her to be around for long enough to grow tired of his choice of menu? Or was it, indeed, a very short list?

Whatever, she’d savour every moment.

‘Do you like gardening?’ he asked suddenly, and she glanced up and saw a frown pleating his forehead.

‘Yes—well, I think so, but I don’t really know. It all depends on what you call gardening. I’ve only got a tiny garden, but I love pottering in it and I’d like to do more. Why?’

‘Because I need to cut the grass tomorrow and the hedge could do with trimming and some of the borders need a tweak, but I don’t want to bore you to death.’

‘You won’t bore me to death. It sounds fun.’

His frown disappeared. ‘Good,’ he said softly, and she realised he’d been troubled about it.

Why? Because he didn’t know her, of course. They’d hurtled into this relationship by accident, really, without thought or planning, and she was pretty sure Andrew didn’t do that. She was also pretty sure that the only reason they were still seeing each other was because it was easy. She hadn’t expected anything, hadn’t demanded anything, and so long as they both kept it light and just enjoyed each other’s company, it was harmless.

In theory.

And for now, at least, she could keep it that way. Her appointment with the genetic counsellor hadn’t come through yet, so she could stall the decision she had to make that could have a lasting and devastating impact on her future, and live solely for the present.

She put it out of her mind, ate the food he’d cooked for her, drank a couple of glasses of wine and went to bed with him, falling asleep in his arms. And on Saturday morning, because it had rained overnight and the grass was too wet to cut, they had a lie-in and then drove to Ashenden.

‘We’ll see if my parents are around, maybe have a coffee, then we could have lunch in the pub and go for a walk, if you like.’

Will and Sally were just unloading shopping out of the boot of their car when they pulled up, and they all went into the main family kitchen and found Jane and Tony in front of the Aga, drinking coffee with the dogs snoring at their feet.

‘Have you got a pot on the go there, Ma?’ Will asked, and she nodded and filled four mugs and slid them across the table, throwing Libby a welcoming smile.

‘It’s lovely to see you again, Libby. Did you enjoy last weekend?’

‘Oh, I did. It was wonderful. Thank you so much for including me.’

‘Oh, it’s a pleasure,’ she said, and Libby could almost hear the wedding bells ringing. Oh, Andrew, she thought, and stifled a sigh. They’d be so disappointed if they knew the truth.

She sat and listened to them talking, Will and his father discussing estate business, Andrew chipping in and offering his opinion, and then Will glanced at his watch and drained his mug. ‘We ought to be getting on. Sally’s decided to decorate the nursery and I’ve been given the job. Why don’t you two drop by on your way home after your walk and have tea?’

‘OK. We won’t be with you long, though, I’ve got things to do in the garden this afternoon.’

‘Me, too,’ Jane added, getting to her feet. ‘I’ve got a major programme of replanting going on in the rose garden this season, and there are some old ones to come out and lots of perennials that need lifting, and I still haven’t drawn up a plan. Tony, I could do with a hand with that, if you’ve got time.’

She bent over and dropped a kiss on Andrew’s cheek, then smiled at Libby. ‘I’m sorry we’ve got to rush off. I hope we’ll see you again soon—perhaps Andrew will bring you over for supper one night.’

‘Of course I will,’ Andrew said easily, getting to his feet as they left, and then he scooped up the mugs, put them in the dishwasher and turned to Libby. ‘Shall we make a move?’

Lunch in the pub was lovely.

She started by looking at the pudding menu, chose the end of her meal and then planned the beginning, while Andrew rolled his eyes and chuckled.