There it was. As clear as an autumn sky.

Her stomach clenched, squeezed, made her catch her breath. How could she not have known her own feelings? Love was a huge emotion. She should have been aware of it, should have felt it in her bones, in the very air she breathed.

What now? She loved this wonderful, caring man, and on Saturday she’d have to walk away from him. Again. She couldn’t do it.

Dear Reader

Hanmer Springs is a beautiful alpine village set north of Christchurch, in New Zealand’s South Island. The hot pools that feature in these pages are a well-known tourist attraction and, for me, very soothing for sore muscles after enduring a gruelling mountain bike race in the region.

I have family living in Hanmer Springs, and on one of my visits there the idea of snow-covered mountains and warm pools intertwined with a love story began to grow. There are many community-minded people living there who have snuck into the background of my story. It is the perfect locale for a specialist children’s hospital.

Tom and Fiona are city-dwellers who have both learned to appreciate life away from high-rise buildings and a fast pace of living. But the journey hasn’t been easy for either of them, and there is still a long way to go. The past looms large between them, and in Hanmer Springs they find the courage to deal with it. Only then are they able to move forward to the future together they both desired when they were first married eight years earlier.

I hope you enjoy Tom and Fiona’s story.

Cheers!

Sue MacKay

With a background working in medical laboratories, and a love of the romance genre, it is no surprise that Sue MacKay writes medical romance stories. An avid reader all her life, she wrote her first story at age eight—about a prince, of course. She lives with her husband in beautiful Marlborough Sounds, at the top of New Zealand’s South Island, where she can indulge her passions for the outdoors, the sea and cycling. She is currently training as a volunteer ambulance officer.

suemackay.co.nz

Their Marriage Miracle

Sue MacKay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Lindsay and Hannah.

Your unfailing support has been awesome.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

FIONA SAVILLE shivered. It wasn’t the unfamiliar ice and snow covering the tiny Hanmer Springs airstrip that sent a chill down her spine, but the battered four-wheel drive approaching along the grass runway. More particularly, the driver of the vehicle.

She leaned back against the Cessna for support. Heaven knew she needed it. Her legs were quivering. Oh, for goodness’ sake, get a grip. You’ve had ten days to be ready for this. Her mouth dried. No amount of preparation could have stopped the butterflies now batting around in her stomach. It had been six long, distressing years since she’d last seen Tom.

At least try to look calm. She shoved her shaking hands in her jacket pockets and crossed her ankles. An old pose Tom would recognise as nonchalance. She hoped.

A car skidded to a halt five metres from the tail of the plane and the door cracked open. Fiona’s eyes were fixed on the space behind that door, watching the man straightening up as he stepped down on to the ice-encrusted grass.

The ground rolled under her feet. Her shoulderblades dug into the metal body behind her. Tom looked so—good. So Tom. Lean and tall, strong and loose-limbed, tanned. The door slammed shut, giving her a bigger picture. He was dressed in his usual butt-hugging jeans and open-necked shirt, with the addition of a thick ski jacket. His unruly black curls had fallen prey to a very short cut. Those steely grey eyes held the same alluring temptation she’d once fallen in love with, despite the way they now appeared hard and uncompromising as they focused on her.

A breath trickled through her dry lips. No turning back now. She pushed away from the fuselage and stepped out to face him. ‘Hello, Tom. It’s good to see you.’ If ever there was an understatement that was it. ‘I’m glad you came to pick me up and not one of your staff.’

He held her gaze, just for a moment, the tension electric between them. ‘Fiona, it’s great to see you, too.’ He strode across the gap separating them and placed his arms around her in a brief, barely squeezing hug.

She gasped. He smelt the same. That freshly shaven male scent that seemed peculiar to Tom. She jerked away, striving for control over her highly sharpened senses.

‘It’s been a long while,’ he said.

A mental shake and she managed a reply. ‘Yes, and I hear you’ve been busy in that time. Your own specialist children’s hospital, no less.’

‘We have got a bit to catch up on, haven’t we?’ He stepped back. ‘How was the flight down from Auckland?’

‘Moderately turbulent over the Cook Strait and the South Island. There’s a storm on the way, due to hit this area late tonight.’

‘So I saw on the weather channel. Not unexpected in the middle of winter.’ His gaze slid over her, unreadable. ‘Thanks for stepping into the breach. I had a mild panic when Jerome had his accident, poor guy. I thought I’d have to cancel the surgery roster for the week.’

He seemed so relaxed, unperturbed at her presence here. How could he be like that after all this time? After the awful way they’d separated? Damn it, but she was about to move into his hospital to work with him and he didn’t appear at all flustered.

Take a leaf out of his book. Don’t show him the turmoil going on inside. Fiona tugged her shoulders back harder, lifted her chin in an attempt to negate the effect of the flood of anxiety pooling in her stomach, and stretched a smile over her lips.

‘It was a bit of luck that I approached the agency when I did.’ The medical personnel agency in Auckland had been quick to respond to her initial enquiries about locum work when she returned to New Zealand. Never in a million years would she have expected her first job to be working for Tom.

‘I guess it was.’

Was that disappointment lacing his words? Of course he’d have preferred another plastic surgeon to her, but there hadn’t been anyone else. ‘I’m looking forward to working with you and learning more about your hospital. And to spending some time catching up on what else you’ve been doing since I left.’

A grimace this time. ‘Let’s keep everything on a professional level and I’m sure the week will be problem-free.’

‘We can’t avoid the fact we had a life together.’

He had to have heard the strain in her voice, but he only said, ‘You’re right. We can’t. But it doesn’t have to take over and dominate the reason you are here—which is to perform plastic surgery on my young patients.’

Right, I get the message. She wouldn’t avoid trying to broach the past with him—they’d been married after all—but she’d let it go for now. ‘Do you come into Theatre to observe the operations done by your specialists?’

‘More than that. I assist whenever I can so I know what’s going on with each child. And, on a more basic level, it saves me having to employ another surgeon.’

‘That’s great.’ She gulped. Working with Tom this week had just taken on a whole new meaning.

He lifted his sleeve to check his watch. ‘Nearly four. We’d better get moving. It’ll be dark soon.’

‘I need to tie down the plane.’ Striding back to the Cessna, Fiona yanked the hatch open and reached inside for the ropes and steel pins required to hold the aircraft on the ground in case the wind got up. So Tom wasn’t going to make this week easy. Well, if he thought he could brush her off with a few terse words he’d forgotten just how determined she could be. She wouldn’t be leaving until they’d talked about their relationship. It needed sorting out once and for all.

Fiona’s heart lurched as she tossed the equipment out. Then again, this week might turn out to be her biggest mistake ever.

Behind her, Tom spoke as though there wasn’t any problem. ‘I’ll do this.’

He reached around her for the mallet, and again that male scent assailed her, stole her voice away so that she couldn’t answer him.

Not that he seemed to expect an answer. He began pounding the pegs into the hard earth, adding, ‘I still remember the routine.’

So Tom really wasn’t at all fazed by her arrival. Shrugging away her disappointment, she reached for her pack, briefcase and laptop, and hauled them across to Tom’s vehicle. How long could one week last anyway? Seven days, right? Too long, if the last ten minutes were anything to go by.

She hadn’t been expecting Tom to turn up with roses, but she hadn’t expected the totally ‘let’s be professional’ bit either. Which just went to show how much she’d deluded herself. She should have known he’d take that stance. It had always been his way of dealing with anything that disturbed him.

How had he reacted when he’d learned that she’d volunteered to take the temporary job? Surely he’d felt something? Anger or warmth? Trepidation or excitement? Maybe he truly didn’t care one way or the other. Then again, he’d had days to adjust to the idea. Guilt squeezed her. Six years ago she’d treated him appallingly, leaving as she had. But at the time she hadn’t been able to think straight. Through her lawyer she’d made sure he knew she was all right. Hardly the action of a loving wife, but the only way she’d known how to hold on to what remained of her sanity at the time.

She’d often wondered how Tom had dealt with her disappearance. He certainly hadn’t broken down any doors looking for her. But had he missed her? Or had he been glad of the quiet, without her there to badger him into talking about the tragedy that had overcome them? Looking at him now, he seemed fine, in control, but he’d always been very good at hiding his feelings. Since she had walked out on him, breaking her marriage vows, he certainly wouldn’t trust her on anything these days. Apart from looking after his patients, that was. She’d become very good at plastic surgery, and he’d want the best for his patients, so he’d be prepared to overlook her transgressions of the past for them.

Could he listen to her explanation and forgive her? Let her win his trust back? Only one way to find out, and that did not involve tackling him with a barrage of questions within minutes of seeing him, no matter how hard it was to keep her tongue still.

It had taken her all morning to get up the courage to lift off from Auckland Airport and head this way. But the time had come to clear the air with Tom so she could move forward. Something essential was missing from her life, and she believed that talking to Tom about the past might help to bring final closure so she could stop running away from what had happened.

Apprehension gripped her. What if he clung to keeping the week on a completely professional footing and they never talked about the reasons behind their defunct marriage? That was what she half expected. So be patient with him. Huh! If anything would surprise him about her that would, patience having never been her strong point. But the first hurdle of fronting up to him was over. It hadn’t been easy. The moment she’d seen him her heart had squeezed with remembered love for this man she’d shared a short marriage with—this man who had been the father of her son.

The man she’d walked out on.

Maybe she needed to forgive herself before expecting Tom to do likewise.

Sliding into the front seat, she hunched her shoulders, not bothering to check that Tom had tied down properly. He’d done it for her often enough in the past to know what he was doing.

But, despite her determination not to watch Tom, her eyes were drawn to him. Did he hold any good memories of her? If so, would they resurface during the next few days? To be so close to Tom after such a long time and not have any real contact could be soul-destroying. From the moment she’d decided to come here she’d known Tom would try to keep her at arm’s length. It was up to her to make this work.

The vehicle rocked as Tom climbed in and slammed his door. His seat belt snapped into place. He twisted the ignition key on, but didn’t move the gearshift, instead turning to study her.

‘You’re shivering,’ he commented, and flicked on the heater.

‘There’s a lot of snow out there.’ She nodded in the direction of the white and grey mountains dominating the landscape beyond the frozen airfield.

‘Guess I’m used to it,’ he noted.

‘Is that the village?’ Fiona pointed through the windscreen. ‘Where those lights are at the base of the mountains?’

‘Yes. And that’s Jack’s Pass behind them. It’s the road in from the high country farms.’

The whole scene couldn’t be any further from where she’d recently been living as it was possible to get. Sand to snow. Roasting temperatures to bone-chilling ice. She tugged her jacket tighter around her. ‘Do you like living here?’

‘It’s where my hospital is.’

‘So you moved wherever you had to for the hospital?’

‘Basically, yes. But the place has grown on me.’ Surprise softened his tight features, as though that idea had only just occurred to him.

‘Very different to Auckland.’ A city with more than a million people didn’t compare to a village of a few hundred.

‘More friendly. Even too friendly at times. Everyone likes to know everyone else’s business. But there are a lot of pluses to that, too.’ Tom still studied her.

What was he looking for? Whatever it was, surely it could wait until they were inside somewhere warm.

‘Can we go?’ she asked in a quiet voice.

‘Sure.’ But still he didn’t drive off.

Squashing a flare of exasperation, she reached across the seat between them and gripped his arm, shook him. But touching him further unsettled her already stretched nerves. The only man she’d ever loved. Tom. And here she was, unable to ignore those old feelings she’d had for him. Unable to pretend she’d got over him completely.

Snatching her hand back, she wrapped her arms under her breasts as she struggled to control the urgent need to throw herself into his arms and snuggle against his chest. A place she’d always felt safe and loved. If only they could go back in time to when they’d been so happy and in love.

‘Fiona? Is there another reason for you coming here?’ At last he began driving.

She blinked, dragged her mind together. He’d dropped the professional approach for a moment. She’d try not to scare him off with her answer.

‘I’ve wanted to catch up with you for a long time, but I haven’t had the opportunity to come back to New Zealand for a few years. When I decided to come home on leave I didn’t want to have nothing to do, so I put my name down with the medical personnel agency in the hope I’d get work as a locum. When this vacancy was mentioned I jumped at it. I thought I could spend a little time catching up with you while at the same time helping out at your hospital.’

Something deep inside had driven her to come to Hanmer Springs, to Tom. The job was an excuse. She’d have come anyway. She’d loved this man with all her heart, loved him beyond reason. Then she’d gone and treated him appallingly, disappearing out of his life without a backward glace. Now it was time to make amends in some way, if he would let her. If nothing else, she owed him an apology for her behaviour.

Tom’s hands gripped the steering wheel, making his driving stiff and jerky. ‘Don’t expect too much of my time, Fiona. We are a very busy hospital.’

She said softly, ‘I’m very glad I can help out.’

The butterflies tripping around her stomach became thundering elephants as her mind refused to consider how she’d survive the coming days if Tom didn’t spend some personal time with her. Though she still believed she’d done the right thing in coming to help, so that Tom’s young patients didn’t have to suffer long delays for their surgery, only now did she understand how high the cost of spending a full week around Tom could be to herself. Enormous, if she wasn’t careful to keep her emotions under some sort of control. The love she’d felt for Tom might not have survived, but there were still a lot of feelings for him that hadn’t gone away and which she wasn’t prepared to face. The sense of belonging with him, the old need to always tell him everything, the longing for the solidarity she’d known with him. Those were the rocks their marriage had been built on—the things she’d missed as much as his love.

‘We’d better get a move on. Some of your patients have already arrived, and they’re anxious to meet you.’ He braked for the narrow gateway out on to the gravel road.

‘Is anyone concerned about the change of surgeon?’

‘Some parents are a little apprehensive, but that’s probably due to nerves about their children undergoing surgery.’ He hesitated. ‘You’ve got a lot to do this week. Wait until you see the stack of patient files on your desk.’

‘I’ve seen the surgical roster. Not a lot of time to spare.’ Not a lot of time to get alongside Tom. But she was here, in his village, about to work at his hospital, prepared to give him everything she had to assuage her guilt. That was a start. Then all she had to do was get him to understand that she’d left him for his own good.

That was all. She flicked her middle finger with her thumb. Might as well climb Mount Everest without an oxygen tank on her back.

Tom gave her his first full-blown smile. ‘Think of all the children you’ll be helping by making their worlds a happier place.’

It seemed crazy that an irrational jag of joy should strike her at the sight of that heart-melting smile, but she saw it as progress. One teeny step forward. His patients were the way through his barriers. ‘If I can fix things for any child then I’m very pleased to do so.’

And if she could fix what was wrong between her and Tom, then so much the better. Then she’d be able to get on with deciding what was the next phase in her life.

CHAPTER TWO

IT FELT weird to be sitting beside Tom as he drove them to the hospital. Strangely, Fiona felt as though the intervening years apart hadn’t happened. Yet she didn’t know what to say, how to make ordinary conversation.

During the short trip past alpine chalets lining the village streets Fiona felt her muscles tighten more with every minute she sat beside a now silent Tom. She wondered what he was thinking about. His rigid back and tense shoulders were a bit of a clue that he felt strange in this situation too. Gone were any remnants of that earlier smile.

Perhaps small talk would lighten the atmosphere. ‘Tom—’

‘Fiona—’

‘You first.’

‘After you,’ Tom muttered as he turned into a wide, tree-lined driveway and braked.

Her mouth fell open at her first glimpse of Tom’s hospital. Surprise rocketed through her, all thought of what she’d been about to say forgotten.

‘Welcome to the Specialist Children’s Hospital.’

‘Wow. It’s impressive. And gorgeous.’ An enormous brick dwelling dominated extensive well-groomed lawns. It was three storeys high and shaped like a square C, and ivy covered the majority of the old, darkened brick exterior.

‘Isn’t it?’ His tone softened, as did his taut muscles. Pride made his eyes sparkle.

‘I expected something new and utilitarian, but this looks like those mansions you see in English country magazines. How did you find it?’ When she’d left they’d been living in Auckland, hundreds of kilometres away in the North Island.

‘It belonged to the parents of a colleague. They’d lived here most of their married life, brought their family up here, but when it was time to move into a retirement village they were reluctant to sell. The idea of a place for children to come and heal excited them to the point that they negotiated a very good price with me.’

‘It still must have cost a fortune.’

‘It did.’

It did. That was all he had to say. She recognised a stop sign when she saw one. True, it wasn’t any of her business, but her interest was well and truly piqued. Tom had created something special here—something that she hadn’t even known he’d wanted to do. Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t heard him talk about his dreams? He’d become a brilliant paediatrician, and she’d supposed that was enough for him.

‘You’ve created something tangible, something that says This is what I do, who I am. It’s wonderful.’ Using these bricks and mortar he’d formed the basis of his future, whereas she’d led a nomadic life, moving from post to post as required. Her work had been no less important, but poles apart from his. Which said a lot about them as a couple. Had they always been destined to go in opposite directions? Odd when they both had the same goal at heart—to help people, and more particularly children.

The look he sent her suggested she’d let her tongue get carried away. But he did answer. ‘I like stability.’

And she’d wrecked that for him. But he’d obviously recovered enough to regain it. Tom would always live here, while she didn’t have a clue where she’d be ten weeks from now. He’d know what would be happening for the foreseeable future while all she knew was that she’d be performing plastic surgery. That could happen anywhere in the world.

Her eyes were drawn back to the hospital. In the cold, grey dusk the building was imposing. Where had the money come from? While at med school Tom had taken any job wherever possible to pay his way, and his parents had struggled to help him as much as they could. Even after he’d qualified and paid off his student loans—which he hadn’t let her help him with—he wouldn’t have amassed the sort of money required to buy this place. Even at a discounted price.

She said, ‘I could’ve helped financially if I’d known.’ If he’d told her.

‘No, Fiona, you couldn’t have. It worked better for me this way.’

Of course Tom hadn’t wanted her help. This was his project, and her money would have taken something else away from him. She’d already made one big mistake in their lives; he wouldn’t trust her not to make another.

‘I think I understand.’

‘Do you?’

She nodded. ‘After the years I’ve just spent living a life based entirely on my own abilities and not what my father’s wealth could buy me, I do understood what it means to achieve something on your own merits.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘You’re being harsh on yourself. No one else could make you into the surgeon you’ve become. You did that yourself.’

‘Thanks, but something like this is different. This is huge.’ A warm glow settled over her. Tom had given her a small compliment. She’d treasure it.

He didn’t know that she’d learned to give so much more of herself to other people than she’d ever done before. In the process she’d found that she got back truckloads more than she could ever have believed possible, often in the most unexpected and quite beautiful ways. Like the little Pakistani girl’s parents, who’d given her the family chickens as repayment for reconstructing the child’s badly burned face. She’d cried when they’d brought in the birds, their livelihood, and she’d had to dig deep to find an acceptable reason that wouldn’t offend the parents when she’d asked them to keep the fowls. She smiled at the memory, and again focused on the building.

‘How long have you owned the property?’

‘Nearly five years.’ Tom explained, ‘Andy set up a trust and raised an unbelievably huge amount of money. Not just to buy the building, but to help keep the place running.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m still not sure how he managed it, but it was above board and that’s all that bothered me.’

‘Andy? As in Andrew?’ The entrepreneur of Tom’s family, Andrew had got on well with her father. Sometimes she’d wondered if her father thought she’d married the wrong brother.

‘He’s done extremely well for himself over the years.’

‘It seems you have too.’ Despite everything that had happened to Tom, it seemed he’d managed to get his life back on track. ‘I’m really glad for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Just because our marriage didn’t work out doesn’t mean I don’t want happiness for you. Or at least a life that fulfils you.’

‘It’s full, that’s for sure.’ Tom gazed around at the immaculate lawns with oak trees lining the perimeter.

But not fulfilled? She wondered about that. She hoped he was happy, while at the same time the thought made her feel even more unsettled about her own future. Get over yourself. Don’t start the ‘what ifs’.

‘When did the hospital become operational?’ she asked. It was a bit awkward getting a conversation flowing, but she’d persevere.

‘My first patient walked through the front door a little over three years ago.’

‘It must have been exciting.’ She wished she’d been here to see it, to share that moment with Tom. Another thing lost because of her stupidity.

‘Incredibly so.’ His fingers drummed the steering wheel. ‘Well worth all the hard work. There were months when I didn’t believe I’d ever see the day this became a fully functioning hospital and not just a dream.’

‘You weren’t working?’

‘Full-time in the paediatric unit at Christchurch Hospital, which is about an hour and a half from here. Close enough to be harassed by builders and tradesmen, but too far to make the travelling back and forth easy.’

‘That sounds exhausting.’ But he’d have managed. This was a man who always focused completely on work, often to the detriment of everything else. Setting up a new facility would have just been another job to see through to the end.

‘Very.’

‘I read an article in a medical journal about the work you’re doing with children and their families coping with chronic diseases. Spending a week here with other similarly afflicted children must have huge benefits for the kids involved. Also for their parents. Getting together with other parents to share experiences must be a tremendous help. You’re earning a superb reputation amongst your peers.’

‘We’re booked up solid for the next six months.’

‘That’s a lot of children you’re helping.’ Tenderness for him slid softly through her. Helping children was what made him tick. And, if he was anything like her since Liam’s death, saving people would have become the prime focus of his life. But he didn’t know about the long, hard years she’d spent working with people in dreadful situations. ‘I think what you’re doing is absolutely wonderful. I’m looking forward to you showing me around.’

Tom stared at her for a long moment. What did he see? The woman she’d become? The pain in the backside she’d used to be? More importantly, would he give her a chance to explain herself? Show him how different she was these days? It suddenly became important that he got to know her again. Then he might begin to see her for the selfless woman she’d become, and not the lost and helpless creature who’d left him. Or the extravagant, spoilt girl he’d first met.

‘You’ll get the tour. Everyone does.’ He looked away, slid the vehicle into gear and drove forward. ‘Did you receive the case notes my secretary prepared for tomorrow’s operating schedule?’

Back to business. She swallowed her disappointment. ‘Yes, they came through late yesterday. I’ve read them thoroughly, and I’ll be taking another look through each one later tonight after I’ve seen my patients. I’ve read enough to answer any worries they or their parents may have. I’d also like to see where I’ll be working before tomorrow, if that’s possible.’

‘Of course.’

A young woman in a nurse’s uniform closed in on Tom as he stepped down from the vehicle. ‘Tom, thank goodness you’re back. Jarrod Harris fell out of a tree just after you left for the airstrip. He’s broken his arm.’

‘What was he doing climbing a tree?’ Even as Tom asked, he began striding towards the hospital.

Fiona followed quickly, almost trotting to keep up as Tom’s long legs stretched out, eating up the ground in his hurry to see his patient. And get away from her?

‘Who’s Jarrod Harris?’ she asked.

‘One of a group of haemophiliac patients staying this week for mentoring, friendship and medical talks,’ Tom explained, before asking the other woman, ‘Where’s everyone?’

‘Kerry’s with Jarrod. The interns went into the village earlier, to pick up a prescription for one of the children at the pharmacy and then on for a coffee. I haven’t called them as I knew you’d be back any moment.’

Tom slowed his pace enough to allow Fiona to catch up for introductions. ‘Stella, this is Fiona Sav—Fraser, the plastic surgeon.’

Fiona saw him blink, nearly trip, when he realised he’d been about to use her married name. She hadn’t gone back to her maiden name, but of course Tom had presumed so. She stared back, trying not to succumb to the wave of anguish spreading through her, bringing an ache in the region of her heart.

She said, ‘Actually, my name’s still Saville.’

It had never crossed her mind to change back to Fraser. That would have been another bond between them broken. It wasn’t as though she’d ever regretted marrying Tom.

He swallowed, then turned to the other woman staring at them both with curiosity scrunching her face. ‘Fiona is my ex-wife.’

Stella gaped. ‘I didn’t know you were divorced.’

‘I’m—we’re not.’

But they’d be getting around to it very soon, Fiona guessed by the startled look in Tom’s eyes. It made perfect sense now that they’d caught up with each other. Why did she feel so sad? Their marriage was long over. But I don’t want a divorce. Which begged the question, what did she want? Her thumb flicked her forefinger. Her heart thumped under her ribs. Definitely not.

Tom continued, oblivious to her feelings, ‘Stella’s our head theatre nurse. If you need to know anything, ask her.’

‘Hello, Stella. I guess that means we’ll be working together this week.’

‘Yes, we will.’ The nurse glanced sideways at her, a multitude of questions racing across her face.

Those questions brought another thought to mind. Had Tom settled down with another woman? Six years was a long time to remain single, especially for a warm, caring man like Tom. Women had always been attracted to him, so it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find someone else. Her heart squeezed tight. Of course she didn’t mind. She would be very happy for him if that was the case. Really. Her hands clenched at her sides. Really.

‘Jarrod’s in the recovery room.’ Stella broke through Fiona’s tumultuous thoughts.

Tom fired questions at his nurse. ‘Any other injuries? Did he knock his head? Lose consciousness? There’ll probably be internal bleeding from landing on the ground.’

‘He’s got a few scratches with light bleeding and says he didn’t hit his head. He seems remarkably happy, as though he’s done nothing wrong climbing that tree.’ Stella’s lips tightened with disapproval.

Fiona followed Tom into the theatre recovery room. A boy of about ten years lay on the bed. A light smattering of blood, which appeared to have come from a deep scratch on his hand, stained his denim jacket and jeans. A woman holding a penlight torch peered under his eyelids.

‘Kerry, thanks for coming in. Any major problems with our lad?’ Tom asked, reaching for an X-ray film lying on the end of the bed.

‘Apart from a broken arm, he’s a very lucky boy. His vitals are good, shock level low.’

The boy grinned, before wincing as pain snagged him. ‘It wasn’t a big tree.’

‘You shouldn’t have been up it at all,’ Tom growled. But understanding lightened his face as he put aside the X-ray to gently palpate Jarrod’s lower left arm.

Tom looked to Fiona. ‘Looks like our tour is on hold.’ He nodded to the woman with the penlight. ‘Kerry’s one of our anaesthetists. Kerry, this is Fiona Fraser, the plastic surgeon.’

And he was sticking to using her maiden name. Pain stabbed her beneath the ribs as she reached for Kerry’s outstretched hand.

‘I’m glad we’ve caught up before we start tomorrow’s surgery.’

Kerry’s dazzling smile made Fiona feel welcome for the first time since she’d touched down on the airstrip. The hard knot in her stomach finally eased a little. ‘So am I.’

Stella spoke to Tom. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I’ve got to prepare for my in-laws’ wedding anniversary dinner.’

Tom waved at her. ‘I’m sorry, I’d forgotten all about you wanting to leave early. You get going. We’ll manage here.’

‘I can help you with Jarrod,’ Fiona offered, watching Stella leave and thinking how different Tom’s attitude had become. He’d always used to expect his staff to put patients before everything. ‘I’ve worked with a lot of children recently,’ she added defensively.

Tom glanced up, an assessing look in those steely eyes. Then he dipped his chin. ‘Jumping straight in? Why not? I’d appreciate it. The haemophilia might mean this is not a straightforward fracture.’

Warmth spread through her at the thought of working with Tom again. Then Jarrod groaned, quickly dampening her mood. She queried Tom, ‘Have you got clotting factors on hand? Vitamin K?’

‘Plenty of those. With eight haemophiliacs here this week, we’re well prepared.’ Tom lifted his head from examining Jarrod and focused on Fiona. ‘We’ll set this fracture, clean up that cut and those scratches, then a shot of vitamin K and some clotting factor to stop the bleeding.’

‘Haemophilia A or B?’ she asked.

‘A, but I’d still like to check his notes.’

But he knew what was in those notes, which went to show how thoroughly he worked with each patient.

‘Here you go.’ Kerry handed a file over to Tom. ‘Do you need me for anything else? If not I’d like to get back to the twins. We were in the middle of baths when Stella phoned.’

‘Twins? How old are they?’ Fiona turned to the anaesthetist.

‘Three-year-old rascals.’

‘You must have your hands full at times.’ Fiona pushed down on a sudden spurt of longing to hold a small child. Often, especially after she’d spent time at one of the clinics where she worked, this need would overtake her, rattle her, and keep her awake at nights. But why right now, when she was with Tom for the first time in years? It wasn’t as though she would ever be having another child. And certainly not with Tom. But she had had a baby, a beautiful little boy, and here she stood beside his father, totally confused, ready to run and hide from all the emotion assailing her.

Kerry spoke as though from far away. ‘They keep us very busy, the adorable scallywags.’

Huh? What? Of course, the twins. Concentrate. On answering Kerry. On helping Jarrod. As if she could control her emotions that easily. But she had to. Her smile stretched her lips tight. ‘How do you manage to work as well as look after two children? Do you have a nanny?’

‘I only work every second week, and my sister-in-law looks after them for me those days.’

Tom waved a hand in Kerry’s direction. ‘Get out of here while you can. And give those two bundles of trouble a hug from their godfather.’

‘Come and do that yourself. If they don’t see you soon they’ll think you’re a stranger next time you arrive bearing armloads of gifts. And bring Fiona with you.’

Godfather? Tom? He’d be fantastic. He adored children, and seemed to know instinctively how to communicate with them at any age. Another familiar pain curled around her heart, stopping her from moving. Her head filled with the vision of Tom holding his dark-haired son in his arms and rocking him to sleep with infinite patience; and the old pain that she’d learned to breathe through, live through, but never to vanquish, seized her. Tom should have more children of his own. He was missing out on so much. So were those unborn babies.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she struggled to rein in her seesawing emotions. Meeting up with Tom again was turbulent. And with past issues already battering at her in a way she hadn’t expected she felt bruised internally. She leaned into the wall for a moment, gathering her strength.

‘Fi? Are you all right?’ A strong hand held her elbow with surprising gentleness.

Sweet mama, please don’t call me Fi. Fi belonged to another time, another life. A life when this man had loved her. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I don’t know what came over me.’

When she opened her eyes again she found Tom watching her closely. She dragged out a smile. ‘Where do you keep the clotting factors? I’ll get them for you.’

His hand stayed on her elbow, sending heat up her arm. Her body leaned closer to him. ‘Are you ill?’ he asked softly.

‘Not at all. Just a bit tired, I guess. It was a long flight and I’m out of practice.’

‘Keep Jarrod entertained for a few minutes while I fetch his shots. Then I’ll take you to get a cup of tea and some food. I bet you haven’t eaten in hours. Do you still get light-headed and cranky when you’re hungry?’ His lips curved ever so slightly upward.

‘Not normally.’ But today hadn’t been exactly normal.

‘Then I’m a lot safer already.’

Was he teasing her?

Fiona shook her head as he headed out the room. If Tom could find it in himself to tease her then things might be looking up.

He returned quickly, with a stainless steel dish containing vials and a syringe. ‘Okay, young man. Let’s get this over.’

Jarrod held an arm out, heavily scarred from numerous similar injections. ‘Bang it in there, Doc.’

As Tom filled the syringe with vitamin K, he spoke to Jarrod. ‘Tell me why you were climbing a tree in icy conditions.’

‘Because it’s fun.’ Jarrod’s lips squeezed together and his eyes were slits, daring Tom to disagree with him.

Fiona grinned. ‘Of course it is. Trees are made for boys to climb.’

‘See!’ Jarrod’s eyes lit up as he faced off Tom. ‘She understands, and she’s not a boy.’

Tom shoved his hand across his scalp in a gesture so familiar Fiona’s stomach knotted. Except in the past his hair had been a tangle of curls. ‘I guess I have to agree about the fun.’

‘Girls like climbing trees, too. But you still have to be careful, Jarrod,’ Fiona admonished gently.

‘Yeah, I know, but I wanted to go higher than the others.’

‘And now you’ve got a broken arm. No doubt you’re in some pain as well,’ Tom noted.

‘It does hurt.’ Jarrod winced. ‘But it’s worth it. This is a cool place, and I’ve got new friends.’

‘That’s what this week’s all about,’ Tom smiled at the boy, genuine warmth lightening his eyes. Then he turned to her. ‘When did you last plaster an arm?’

‘Probably when I was an intern.’ Was this a small olive branch? Working together on Jarrod’s arm?

Tom manoeuvred Jarrod through the door and into a smaller room. ‘What do you reckon, Jarrod? Should we let Dr Fraser loose on you?’

‘Yeah. Can I write on the arm so she gets the right one?’ Jarrod dragged up a cheeky grin, but his pale cheeks showed he was tiring.

‘How about I plaster your mouth and keep you quiet for a while?’ Fiona winked at the boy.

‘Mum would love that.’

‘Okay, let’s get this done. Fiona, I’ll hold the arm if you want to start.’ Tom nodded to the tape waiting on a benchtop.

Jarrod’s arm was soon in a cast and resting in a sling.

‘You be careful with that, young man.’ Tom sounded stern. ‘Don’t go hitting any of your new mates over their heads with it. I don’t want to find I’m stitching up skull wounds all week.’

Fiona grinned. Her tension had slipped away while they’d worked together. It felt good. There might be a lot of misunderstanding between them, but at least they were on the same side when it came to their patient. And they’d communicated without words as she’d wound the wet tape around Jarrod’s arm. So, they hadn’t lost everything that had been good between them. But was it enough to find their way back to a point where they could really discuss the past and lay it to rest for ever?

* * *

Tom explained everything to Jarrod’s parents when they arrived moments later, anxious and dishevelled. After hugs and affectionate growls at their son, they led a chastened Jarrod away to his room, and Tom turned to Fiona.

‘Come on. I’ll show you your accommodation. Then we can grab that cup of tea before your first appointment.’ He slung her pack over his shoulder and took her elbow. Instantly he knew he’d made a mistake. To hold her, no matter how lightly, zapped his brain, befuddled him completely. But she’d looked so lost that he’d had to take hold of her and lead her along. He’d acted without thought. The desire to help her was an integral part of him and had been from the day he’d first set eyes on her in the paediatric ward of Auckland Hospital.

He kept his hand on her elbow. He could still be professional and hold her like this. Yeah, right. So much for his self-control.

‘The tea sounds wonderful,’ Fiona murmured.

Her honeyed voice sent memories clawing through his mind. Memories that slammed through his body and lifted goosebumps on his skin. Memories that dredged up confusion and nostalgia. Heat and fire.

His reaction to her shocked him. He’d schooled his mind to accept her coming to Hanmer Springs. He hadn’t thought it would be too hard to keep her at arm’s length. He’d tried to convince himself that he was so over her that she could dance naked in front of him and he’d turn away.

‘Liar.’ He’d never be able to do that.

‘What?’ Fiona asked.

‘You caught me talking to myself.’ He’d made a mistake earlier when he’d called her Fi. His stomach clenched in a spasm. Don’t start thinking of her as Fi. That was a sure-fire way of getting entangled in emotions he didn’t want to face. He had loved her deeply, and some of those feelings still existed, pulling him to her even as he grappled with her presence. Did she know how shaken he felt by her appearance? He desperately hoped not. She must not know she still had the power to unnerve him. Ever since he’d learned that Jerome’s replacement was none other than Fiona he’d felt antsy, as if something he didn’t want to deal with was about to slap him across the face, and if anyone could make him face up to whatever that was, Fiona could.

He headed out into the corridor and strove for a neutral subject to talk about. ‘I take it from what you said you haven’t done much flying lately?’

‘I’ve kept current, but that’s about all. Hiring a plane isn’t always easy in some of the countries I’ve been to.’ She shivered, as though she had a chill, and hugged herself tight.

‘Look at you. You’re freezing.’ The building felt very snug to him. ‘We’ve got heat pumps everywhere.’

Her eyes rolled. ‘It’s not exactly the middle of summer in here.’

‘How long have you been back from Pakistan?’ He still had trouble believing she’d worked there. But according to her CV that wasn’t the only part of the world she’d been to.

‘I spent nearly a month in Australia with Dad, then came home a few days ago.’

‘All that heat? Those flies? I am finding it hard to imagine you in those conditions.’

That stung her. He saw it in the clenching of her hands, in the widening of her eyes and the tightening of her mouth. Unwittingly he’d insulted her.

Remorse mingled with curiosity within him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I seem to be overreacting to everything you say.’

Her reply was quiet, thoughtful. ‘I can understand your sentiments. I’d have said the same thing a few years ago, but believe it or not, I’ve changed.’ She hesitated, as though wondering how much to say.

‘Tell me more.’ He found he really did want to know all about her, and not because he needed the distraction. Where had she spent the years since they’d separated? Who had she worked for? How had she coped with her grief?

Her chin lifted and her shoulders tugged back, in that endearing manner of hers. ‘You’ve seen my credentials. I’ve worked in various countries where people have nothing but a tin roof over their heads. Mostly doing skin grafts over burns, repairing scars—anything to make their lives a little less horrific.’

‘Fi, it’s fantastic, but you have to admit you had no intention of doing anything like that when you were still specialising.’ Damn it, he’d used the Fi word again. But again she’d surprised him. Leopards didn’t change their spots. Neither would Fiona go to live in some of the most uncomfortable locations in the world. Not unless she took a jumbo jet full of luxuries to keep her happy.

Wait up. He wasn’t giving her a chance. Already he’d noticed small changes in her. Mostly physical ones, true. And in the kind of clothes she now wore. She also seemed a lot calmer than she’d used to be. So what was to say she hadn’t changed majorly in her attitude to life? She’d certainly had plenty of reasons to. If she had, he could only admire her for it. And wonder where she was emotionally. Had she got over Liam’s death enough to want children again? Had she managed to get to the point where she could look back on their marriage and remember the good things it had had going for it?

He remembered a lot of those good things, but that didn’t mean he wanted to repeat the experience. Friday nights had been especially lonely ever since she’d left, because Fiona had always made them special—closing out the world, tuning out work, cooking a meal that they had time to enjoy while they chatted and relaxed and laughed together. He’d missed her spontaneous hugs and the way she’d creep up behind him to slide her arms around his waist and lay her face on his back between his shoulder blades. That small act had always made him feel so loved. He shoved down on the knot of warmth creeping under his ribs and changed tack.

‘What happened to that fantastic opportunity to go into private practice with some of the country’s best plastic surgeons waiting for you once you’d qualified?’

‘I turned it down. It didn’t seem like the right thing for me any more. And as it happened, it was the best decision career-wise I ever made.’ As she talked her deep azure eyes lightened—eyes that had haunted his sleep for six long, unrelenting years.

Glancing at his watch, he told her, ‘I’d like to hear all about what you’ve been up to, but it’ll have to wait. Time’s speeding by.’ He strode along the corridor to the staff quarters and the door leading out to his cottage. He wanted to pretend she wasn’t right behind him. He needed space between them so he could put everything back into perspective. Fat chance. Hearing her trotting steps as her shorter legs tried to keep pace with his long ones made him smile inside, and he slowed down to accommodate her, as he’d used to before they’d crashed and burned.

‘Fi—’ Damn it. ‘Fiona, let me take those other bags.’ He reached for them, slipping them out of her grasp.

‘I can manage.’

‘I know, but humour me. I’m trying to be the perfect host.’

She smiled up at him, and his heart lurched. Just like that. A simple smile, and she’d tugged him even closer, had him remembering all sorts of sweet things about her.

Whoa. Go carefully. Put the barriers back up and keep your distance. Because, as much as he felt drawn to Fiona again, he couldn’t trust her not to trample on his feelings. In order to protect himself he had to remember to act professionally with her.

CHAPTER THREE

FIONA missed Tom’s hand on her elbow the moment he reached for her other bags. If it had meant carrying her bags to keep that small contact then she’d have gladly done so. But she didn’t have a choice.

So she’d try talking instead.

‘Tell me how it works around here. Where your patients come from, that sort of thing.’

‘There are two components to the hospital.’ Relief underlined Tom’s words, as though he might be grateful for the change in topic. ‘The surgical unit where you’ll be working is where we see children from all over the South Island who need various specialists’ care. I look after the general paediatric cases. Then I get in other specialists, usually for a week at a time.’

‘So this week is devoted to patients requiring plastic surgery?’

‘Exactly. A lot of the children are from underprivileged backgrounds, but I take everyone who needs us and find funding from various sources.’

‘Social Services?’

‘For some cases. We also rely on charities. In here.’ He waved her into a large room containing a kitchen and dining area at one end, an array of comfortable armchairs and a television at the other. ‘This is the communal living quarters used by specialist staff we draft in and the interns who rotate through here from Canterbury Medical School.’

He paused to draw a deep breath, and Fiona instantly sensed she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

‘All the rooms are in use, so originally I arranged for Jerome to share my cottage. We get on very well and have become friends over the years.’ His troubled gaze met hers with defiance. ‘Which means you are now sharing with me. I know it’s not going to be easy for either of us, but I hope we can make it work.’

‘You couldn’t change the arrangements?’ She couldn’t blame him if he’d wanted to, but nor could she stop the hurt that stabbed her.

‘Unfortunately not—because that would’ve been for the best.’ His tone was neutral, but his stance rigid.

‘I’m not here for an argument, Tom. I’m filling a gap at the hospital for you.’ Exasperation rocked through her. Her bottom lip trembled. Exhaustion had caught up, big-time. What else could be causing this reaction to him? Certainly not having him standing so close to her.

Moving away, she stared at up at his face, suddenly cross for putting them both in this situation. Drawing a deep breath—a steady one, she was surprised to note—she suggested, ‘How about I move into a motel or hotel in the village? It’s only half a kilometre away. I won’t need transport and I’d be available all the time.’

‘I already tried that but everything’s booked out. There’s a golf tournament on this week. Plus it’s school holidays, and many families come here for the snow and hot pools.’

‘Guess we’re stuck with this arrangement, then.’

Tom mightn’t be too happy about it, but she felt another surge of hope. This could be the opportunity that she wanted to get alongside him again. But first she’d let him get used to having her around.

* * *

‘I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. Now, where’s this place you live? I’d like to unpack and put on some warmer clothes.’

Tom stood looking at her as though he had more to say. But finally he turned around, wrenched open an outside door, and led the way along a path winding to a stone cottage set amongst young oak trees.

‘Here’s a key for you.’ He delved into his pocket. ‘Come and go as you please.’

‘Is there anyone else living here?’ Did he have a partner she needed to know about? ‘Am I going to get in anyone else’s way in the bathroom?’ Her stomach crunched as she waited for his reply.

His grey eyes darkened with sadness. ‘I live alone. And, for the record, I haven’t got a woman in my life at the moment.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’ She smiled, and her stomach relaxed. Why did this knowledge make her feel better? It wasn’t as though she’d come to claim Tom back. Something niggled at the back of her brain. Really? No, this week was about tying up the loose ends, not starting over.

‘I’m not saying I haven’t dated on and off, but this place takes up a lot of my attention. No one I’ve met has been able to deal with that. I guess I’m too selfish to make allowances.’

‘I’d say you were dedicated.’ And still working every hour there was in a day, to the detriment of everything else.

‘What about you? Have you taken any poor, unsuspecting man to meet your father over the years?’ A straightforward question, but did she hear more than curiosity behind the words?

‘No way.’ Then a chuckle tripped over her tongue at the memory of Tom meeting her father for the first time. ‘I’m not game enough to put anyone through that ordeal ever again.’

He nodded, gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Very wise. Meeting your father is not to be taken lightly, or without protection.’

She grinned, remembering the difficult introduction Tom and her father had had. From that day on they’d never agreed on anything. They’d both loved her for different reasons and in different ways. Her father had demanded too much of her. Her husband had asked nothing of her. ‘Believe it or not, Dad’s calmed down a lot lately, having finally accepted that I will live my life how I want to, not how he expects. And I’ve learned not to try and live up to his expectations.’

‘Bet that wasn’t easy.’ A twinkle lightened his eyes. ‘Let’s go in before you freeze to death.’

Inside the front door, Fiona stared around the tiny entrance-way and along the hall, avidly looking for anything from their life together. All she saw were stunning black and white landscapes: mountains, rivers, the ocean.

‘Your photography is still superb.’

‘The scenery around here lends itself to great photographs.’

She quickly scanned the photos, searching. Not one photo of the two of them. Nothing of Liam. As a keen photographer, Tom used to plaster the walls of their home with photos. Many of her, she admitted. Her mood slumped. She had been expecting too much. Disappointment stabbed her diaphragm, as though she had a stitch from running too hard. Putting a hand to the wall, she leaned against it, sucking air through her teeth.

Her pack landed with a thud on the floor of a room off to the left, and Tom called out, ‘This is your room. Mine’s opposite, while the kitchen, lounge and bathroom are at the end of the hall.’

With an effort, she dragged herself upright and clumped through the bedroom door. The furnishings in the small, neat room were sparse. The bed stood square to the wall, the coverings tucked in evenly. Only the vibrant terracotta and blue decorating made the room warm and welcoming. Tom had a good eye for colour.

‘This will be fine.’ It was luxury after Pakistan. Then she thought about the time she’d just spent in Sydney with her father on her way home. His new apartment overlooking Sydney Harbour was crammed with luxuries. What she’d once taken for granted now seemed obscenely excessive. This small room was perfect.

‘The kitchen’s well stocked, so help yourself to anything you want. There’s a firebox that runs day and night. You’ll soon feel warmer.’

Her body might feel warmer, but she doubted her heart would ever defrost. It had frozen all those years ago and she’d never known how to thaw it. She’d tried talking with Tom then, but she hadn’t been able to find the right words to get through to him. The harder she’d tried, the worse she’d made things and the further away from her he’d pulled, until they hadn’t been able to talk about anything. Not even what to have for breakfast.

Tom’s voice broke through her reverie. ‘Do you still take milk in your tea?’

A mundane question that spoke of a past they’d shared and hinted that now there might be things neither knew about each other.

‘Definitely no milk. I got used to drinking black tea while travelling.’

Again those eyebrows rose in astonishment, but at least his eyes were on the friendly side of the barometer. ‘As I said, I’m looking forward to hearing about your excursions.’

‘You’re still finding it hard to believe I could leave my feather duvet behind?’

‘Do you blame me?’

No, she couldn’t. Sometimes it had been hard enough believing it herself.

* * *

Tom stretched his legs out under his desk and yawned. ‘Sorry, late night last night.’

Fiona was with him in his consulting room, meeting the patients on tomorrow’s operating schedule. He’d sat quietly throughout each consultation, listening and observing. Now she’d just finished talking to the parents of a six-month-old baby born with a cleft palate, hopefully allaying their fears about their darling child undergoing surgery. She always felt a small thrill at being able to repair the fissure in a baby’s mouth, making that child’s life normal and saving them terrible angst as they grew up and mixed with more and more people.

‘A patient keep you up?’ she asked. Or one of those women who couldn’t deal with his dedication to his hospital? Fiona wondered.

Snap out of it. The guy had a life, and he didn’t have to explain himself to her. If his life appeared a whole lot more balanced than hers, then she’d be pleased for him. It wasn’t his fault hers lacked love and friendship. She’d made it that way. Deliberately. In an attempt to keep it pain-free.

‘No, a birthday party for one of the staff. Hanmer Springs isn’t as dull as some people would have you think.’ Tom smiled. ‘Though it does take some getting used to. At least it did for me, being a city dweller. There’s excitement, and then there’s excitement.’

She grinned straight back. ‘Late nights never used to wear you out. You showing your age, or what?’ Clapping her hand against her forehead, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, of course—it’s the big four O coming up at the end of this year. No wonder you’re so tired, you old man.’

‘Careful, you’re only five years behind me.’

He looked darned good, having matured from the boyish good-looks of the thirty-year-old she’d first met into a very handsome man comfortable in his own skin. Even the new lines around his mouth added character.

‘That’s a lifetime, buster,’ she quipped, before concentrating on the pages in her hand, needing to quell the sudden thumping in her chest. ‘There are some notes on a boy here that I didn’t receive by fax. Cameron Gordon?’

‘A late addition to tomorrow’s list. The paperwork arrived in this morning’s post. He had a cleft palate repaired when he was a baby but for some reason his harelip wasn’t corrected.’

‘But he’s ten. He must’ve suffered a lot of teasing over the years.’

‘I think he got lost in the system. His parents divorced when he was three, and from what I can gather he’s been shunted back and forth between them ever since. When his GP phoned on Wednesday asking me to help I couldn’t refuse.’

‘Do you ever turn a child away?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Not if I can help it.’

A gentle tap on the door interrupted them.

‘Sophie Clark and her father are here,’ the cheerful receptionist announced, and held the door wider to allow them through.

Fiona uncrossed her ankles and straightened up from leaning against the edge of Tom’s desk, then turned to greet her last patient.

A middle-aged man gently led a slight, shy teenage girl into the room. The girl hunched against her father, her face hidden behind a curtain of long hair.

Fiona’s heart went out to this girl, who obviously hated people seeing her damaged face. A jolt of sadness hit Fiona when she saw the jagged purple scar marring Sophie’s left cheek from just below the eye to the corner of her mouth. The medical notes mentioned a car accident.

Tom shook Mr. Clark’s hand, saying, ‘Jacob, good to see you again. Sophie, how are you? How did you do in the school’s short story contest?’

‘I won.’ Sophie smiled, the dullness in her eyes lifting. She was a beautiful girl, with fine bone structure and enormous eyes, and eyelashes that had to be the envy of every female alive.

‘Brilliant.’ Tom clapped his hands. ‘Now, take a seat. This is Dr Fraser.’

‘Hi, Sophie. I’m your specialist this week.’

‘Hello, Dr Fraser.’

‘Call me Fiona. It’s easier.’ And she was not used to being called Dr Fraser.

Sophie turned the left side of her face away again. ‘Okay, Fiona.’

Fiona sat opposite the girl and reached for her hand. ‘Sophie, you’re a very beautiful girl, and what’s happened to your face doesn’t change that.’

Scepticism clouded Sophie’s face, and her shoulders tensed. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘I mean it. You have the sort of strong bone structure that most women would give anything to have.’ Reaching for the hand mirror she’d placed on Tom’s desk earlier, Fiona tentatively held it up in front of Sophie. Then she leaned over to run a fingertip across the girl’s right cheekbone. ‘See how high your cheekbones are?’ she asked, in a soft, but determined tone.

Sophie darted a glance at the mirror, looked away, despair filling her eyes, tears welling up.

‘And your skin—it’s so clear of blemishes. How do you manage to avoid pimples at your age?’

‘Guess I got lucky with something.’ Sophie shrugged. ‘But no one wants to look at me now. I’m ugly. You don’t know what it’s like.’

‘You’re right, I don’t.’ Fiona cringed at the anguish this young woman suffered. ‘But I know you’re not ugly. Forget that idea. Let’s really look at you. Take the mirror while I show you the real Sophie Clark.’

Fiona held her breath as she waited for the girl’s response. No one in the room moved. Then, just as Fiona sensed Tom about to intervene, Sophie snatched the mirror out of Fiona’s hand and held it too close to her face to really see herself.

‘You can’t show me anything new. I used to see this every morning when I got up, but I don’t look any more.’

Fiona held back the hug she wanted to give this girl—a hug to repair some of the damage done to her. Instead she twisted her chair around and sat beside Sophie. With her forefinger she pointed to the big blue eyes glaring back at her from the mirror.

‘Not many people’s eyes are so dark, almost navy in colour. Very attractive.’

Sophie blinked, stared at herself for a moment before looking away.

‘Your hair is shiny and healthy, and, I presume, naturally blonde. The matching eyebrows are a giveaway. And when you smile your whole face lights up. Did you know that?’

After a slight shake of her head the gap between Sophie’s face and the mirror increased fractionally. Fiona waited patiently as Sophie ran her tongue around her lips, attempted a small smile, and tried to watch her eyes.

With great care Fiona turned Sophie’s face so that they were looking at her right cheek. Then with a gentle movement she eased Sophie around to look at the left side of her face.

‘I can’t take the scar away, but I can make it a whole lot better. It’s unfortunate that the scar runs across the muscles rather than up and down. It will always show a little, and more so when you’re tired. I’m going to make the scar less obvious, and over the years it will fade a lot. With the help of make-up you’ll be able to hide it—if you want to.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I’m sure you don’t, but I’d like you to trust me to help you.’ She was asking a lot from a traumatised teen. Whoever had first operated on her injury had not done the best possible job, and now Sophie believed the result to be as good as it would ever get. ‘I can help, big-time.’

Sophie’s enormous eyes were glued to her, sizing her up, and she felt a jolt of shock as she realised this girl was mature beyond her years.

‘That’s why I’m here,’ Sophie acknowledged.

‘Good.’ Now Fiona couldn’t help herself. She hugged Sophie. ‘I’ll see you again in the morning. And if you have any questions at all, any time between now and then, even in the middle of the night, get your nurse to call me. She’ll know where to find me.’

‘Do I have to eat at the hospital?’ Sophie’s eyes were filled with a mischievous glint.

Not knowing this hospital’s protocol, Fiona looked to Tom for guidance.

‘As long as you have nothing to eat after eight o’clock tonight you can have whatever you like.’ Tom smiled at the girl. ‘But if you’re thinking of a fast food chain, forget it. The population here is hardly enough to support one of those outlets.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ Jacob muttered as he stood up. ‘Show me a steak house and I’ll be happy.’

‘Dad! Not steak again.’ Sophie turned imploring eyes onto Tom. ‘There are takeaway places here? Aren’t there?’

Tom appeared to think about it, until Sophie stared him down.

‘There are a few.’ He pushed his sleeve back to look at his watch. ‘But of course, this is Hanmer Springs. They might’ve already closed for the night.’

‘Dr Tom, you’re so not fair.’

Fiona listened to the banter while watching Tom. He was at ease with Sophie, gently teasing her, diverting her mind from her operation. He would have been a great father. He had been a great father, who’d never got to see his son growing up. For both of them Liam was still five months old, as though stuck in a perpetual state of nappies and breast milk. Other children grew taller, learned to walk and talk, but not Liam. He’d never go to school, ride a bike, kiss a girl. Cot death had stolen him away, along with her heart. Along with Tom’s heart.

Her breathing grew tight. Her palms moistened. How she missed her darling boy. How she missed her marriage.

Had Tom ever thought about having another family? Her blood slowed. Why wouldn’t he? Then again, he had surrounded himself with a continuous stream of children. Were they his family now? That would be a shame. Tom was definite father material.

She bit down on her lip in an effort to distract herself from the ache that thought brought on. A long time ago she’d made up her mind never to take the risk of having more children. The thought of losing another child almost paralysed her, so nothing would ever change that decision. But she’d hoped Tom might have recovered enough to try again.

* * *

Tom returned from showing the Clarks out and made himself comfortable in a chair by propping his legs on the desk. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that after all this time Fiona was here, sitting opposite him in his office. It felt bizarre to be talking to her about patients, as though they hadn’t had all those years apart. He only had to reach across the desk and he’d be touching her.

Did he want to touch her? So far, every time he had, heated awareness of her had triggered a longing so deep it terrified him. Which meant the coming week would be an ordeal, because she was definitely forbidden territory.

So get back to being professional. Concentrate on why Fiona had come here. Think about the patients whose lives she would be making so much happier. ‘You did well with Sophie. It took me three visits to get that far with her. She’s had a difficult time coping.’

Fiona’s patience with the unhappy teen had surprised him. He had the feeling that she’d have sat with Sophie all night if necessary. But it hadn’t been necessary because of her empathy with the girl. Fiona seemed to intrinsically understand where Sophie was coming from, and what she needed from her plastic surgeon.

Patience had never been a part of Fiona’s make-up. Certainly not with him over the months following Liam’s death. She’d got so frustrated when he wouldn’t talk about it. At the time he’d been struggling to function enough to get out of bed every morning. In hindsight he could see that neither of them had known how to deal with what had happened. Neither of them had known how to give each other the compassion they’d needed to heal. They’d been too busy using it up on themselves.

Obviously time and events had taught her to stop and listen to people. Earlier he’d been wondering how she’d coped after they separated. He still didn’t know the answer to that, but from what he’d seen so far the result was impressive.

Looking at her, he was startled to see a warm glow colouring her cheeks as she replied, ‘Thank you. I see a lot of patients despairing because they think no one will want to look at them again. They mainly need listening to.’

How true. ‘Teenagers suffer especially. They’re so vulnerable when they perceive themselves to be different to their peers.’

‘Often their families and friends don’t know how to cope with the situation, which adds to their problems.’

Much as they’d both felt when they’d lost Liam, he realised. And they’d been adults. Both had been taken up with their own grief, unable to reach out to each other or anyone else. But he should have done more. ‘Especially those who try to help.’

A flicker of understanding sparked across Fiona’s face. ‘We didn’t manage very well, did we?’

His jaw clenched. ‘There wasn’t a manual.’ How did anyone know what to do? ‘I tried my best for both of us.’

‘We both did,’ she whispered. The colour drained from her cheeks. Pain flicked into her eyes.

The urge to hold her tight against him, to take that hurt away, swamped him. He longed to stroke her hair, craved her breath against his neck. He wanted to make her feel better. He focused instead on studying her, and was shocked to realise that the inherent sparkle in her eyes had flickered out, gone, replaced by a soul-deep tiredness. His chest tightened as he thought of all the pain she’d endured because of Liam’s death and the toll it had taken on her exuberant outlook on life. He looked closer at her drawn face. Was she unwell? Was she up to the job? Of course she was. She wouldn’t be here otherwise. That much he trusted.

Gravel crunching under tyres outside reminded him of the trip to the hot pools. ‘The haemophiliac patients and their families are waiting on the bus at the front door. They’re going to the thermal pools. We always send staff with them, and I like to tag along occasionally. It’s fun playing with the kids.’

‘I’ll see you later, then.’ Fiona shuffled files together, her face wistful.

‘Come with us. That way you’ll get really warm for the first time today.’ Now, why the hell had he suggested that when he needed to put space between them?

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit.’

There—problem solved. She wouldn’t be joining them at the pool. But the devil had hold of his tongue. ‘That’s easily fixed. There’s a shop next to the pools dedicated to swimming costumes.’ Fiona in a swimsuit? His gut clenched.

‘It’s very tempting.’

‘Then grab your purse, and a towel from my bathroom, and meet me at the front steps in five minutes.’ He watched her unfurl from the chair and leave his office. He squashed a spurt of fear. In no time at all she’d got under his skin, made him very aware of her. His banging heart seemed more than happy with her arrival. His head said the hospital needed her and that she was proving to be very good with her patients. Exactly what he wanted, demanded, from the specialists who came to work here.

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