Ellie took the mail through to her consulting room, aware yet again of the painful arguments that had split their oneness, and the gulf that had widened between them. Once Andy would have shared his interest in the team, and she’d have shared his enthusiasm…
This was no good, she needed to focus on work.
Ellie scanned the patient list, surprised to see Madeleine Courtney back again. Madeleine was a puzzle—one she would have shared with Andy had things been different.
But they weren’t, she reminded herself sharply, stamping down on the little kernel of unhappiness inside her before it could open, overwhelming her with memories and grief…
Only one other name stood out—Chelsea Smith. She frowned, trying to remember a patient of that name, then rubbed at her forehead because she knew she’d be frowning and it wouldn’t be long before she had permanent frown lines, and became known as Grumpy Doc Fraser.
‘Who’s this Chelsea Smith?’ she called to Maureen.
‘She’s a new patient. She phoned earlier so I put her in that space you leave every morning for emergencies.’
Thanks a bunch, Ellie thought, but she didn’t say it. New patients always took longer to treat as Ellie had to gather as much information as possible from them.
But Maureen had done the right thing, they made a point of never turning anyone away.
Shrugging off her rambling thoughts, she sorted through the mail, setting bills aside and tossing advertising bumf into the bin.
Andy sat in the tiny space that was his hospital ‘office’, scanning the internet for videos of soccer coaching, although images of Ellie as she’d sat in the kitchen again kept intruding. The hospital was quiet—too quiet—leaving him far too much time to think of Ellie and the mess their marriage was in.
Shouldn’t losing a child have brought them closer together, not thrown up a wall between them?
It was because thinking of Ellie caused him physical pain that he had thrown himself into establishing a Maytown soccer team, allowing soccer to block out all but his most insistent thoughts.
Would their son have played soccer?
The wave of pain that accompanied that thought sent Andy back to the videos.
How could he not have known how much it would hurt—losing the baby, losing his son?
He took a deep breath and went back to the videos. He needed to do something constructive and worthwhile.
The call to the emergency room—hardly big enough to deserve the name ‘department’—sent him in search of work, which was an even better diversion than the soccer team.
Although the ghost of Ellie always worked beside him, for this had been their dream: to work together in the country, bringing much-needed medical services to people who’d so often had to go without.
The patient was a child, a young boy—maybe twelve—bravely biting his lip to stem the tears while he clutched at his injured side.
‘Bloody fence strainers broke,’ a man Andy assumed was the father said. ‘The barbed wire whipped around him like a serpent. I’m Tim Roberts, and this here’s Jonah.’
Andy shook hands with the pair, then leant over to examine the wound. A red weal showed where the wire had hit the boy, but the serious wound was just above his right groin.
‘Bit of a barb got in there, but the wife pulled it out with tweezers and put some cream on it last night, but you can see how it is now.’
The area was red, swollen, and obviously infected.
‘I’ll need to open it up,’ he said. ‘We’ll just give Jonah light sedation and clean out the wound.’
There was no need to mention there could be damage to the bowel, but Andy would have to look carefully, which was why he’d chosen to give an anaesthetic over a local pain injection.
His mind ran through the roster of staff on duty. Tony was a good theatre nurse but Andrea—who was the only nurse trained to give anaesthetic—was off duty. He’d have to phone Ellie to come in and do it.
And the stupid flip of his heart when he even thought her name reminded him that the love he felt for his wife had never gone away.
Yes, they’d parted—pushed apart by the pain of loss—but the love he felt for her was as strong as ever.
Or was it longing more than love…?
‘I won’t be able to operate until later,’ he told Tim. ‘If you’ve other things to do in town, Jonah will be quite safe here. In fact, he’ll probably be thoroughly spoilt by the nurses.
Ellie was about to tackle her first patient of the day when her cellphone rang.
Her heart leapt when she saw it was Andy.
‘Sorry, El, love, but could you grab a half-hour later in the day to do a mild anaesthetic for me? Kid with infection just above the right groin. X-ray shows foreign object in there. He’s had breakfast so I’m happy to wait a few hours. How’s your day looking?’
Ellie switched back to her patient list.
‘I could do eleven-thirty,’ she said. ‘That would run into my lunch break so there’d be no rush.’
‘Grand!’
And he was gone, so suddenly that Ellie found herself peering at her cellphone as if it, rather than Andy, had caused the abrupt farewell.
Grand?
How could their love have grown so cold that ‘grand’ had become ‘goodbye’?
She was being silly, of course. It had been months since a telephone conversation had finished with ‘love you’.
Although he had called her ‘love’, the way he always had done…
That was just habit, she told herself firmly and hauled her mind back to work.
For all their separate lives at home, their professional lives had barely changed, their work lives remaining stable as they followed their usual routine, assisting each other when needed, discussing patients they shared.
They were even enjoying the togetherness of that side of things—well, Ellie did and she thought Andy seemed to…
Although that would stop—and soon—if she went ahead and moved.
Even thinking about it caused her pain.
Putting the mail aside for later, she powered up her computer, checked test results that had come in, then switched to her appointments list.
Back in work mode, she speed-read down the appointments, putting asterisks against the patients who’d be coming in for test results so she could be sure she’d re-read the results before the patient arrived.
Busy with the list, she barely heard the outer door open, but Maureen was greeting the first arrival, no doubt handing her the patient information forms to fill in.
She pressed the buzzer, and heard Maureen tell Chelsea to go on through.
It was a pregnant young woman who came in. A very young, not very pregnant woman, slight and blonde, who seemed strangely familiar.
‘Don’t I know you?’ she asked, smiling at the obviously nervous young woman.
A nod in response.
Ellie smiled again as she