She was driving herself crazy, going over all this. So she found Liz and did a round of the wards, looking in on all the children. None of them needed her, but it gave her something else to focus on. Then she tried to find something to do in Tom’s office. Nothing leapt out at her, and she was reluctant to go through everything on his desk. Down in Theatre everything that could be got ready for the morning’s surgery was ready—except they didn’t have an anaesthetist. Would that mean cancellations?
‘Go to the cottage.’ Liz turned her around at the entrance to the medical ward. ‘If Tom rings I’ll put him through to you there.’
If Tom rings. Reluctantly Fiona trudged through the quiet corridors and then outside. A walk would help. She headed towards the lights of the village. Maybe a very strong coffee would help clear her befuddled brain.
‘Maddy’s got a fractured skull, a large contusion, and is in a coma. The neurologist has seen her, but at the moment it is a case of wait and see.’ Liz was waiting for Fiona when she returned from the village.
Fiona shuddered to think of Kerry’s little girl in a coma, with tubes attached everywhere and monitors reading her every heartbeat. ‘It’s horrible, but at least she’s getting the best care.’
‘Tom’s words exactly.’
Tom had rung at last. And she’d missed him. ‘I’ll call him back. I need to know about today’s surgery list. I presume we’re cancelling?’
Liz looked at her, sympathy in her eyes. ‘Sorry, Fiona, but Tom said not to phone him. He’ll be out of contact for the rest of the morning at least.’
Why? What could he be doing that he wouldn’t have time to talk to her? Surely he understood that she needed to know what was going on?
Liz continued. ‘Tom got hold of John Newcomb, the anaesthetist who job-shares with Kerry. John’s coming up to fill in, but it will be in the afternoon as he’s working at a private hospital in Christchurch this morning.’
‘Right. Guess I’d better rearrange the schedule.’
Was Tom avoiding her? Pain gripped her. They’d come so close to putting things right, and now she felt as though they were further apart than they’d ever been.
Chapter Twelve
TOM gazed down at Maddy. She looked so fragile, so tiny. But she was obviously a fighter. Against all odds she was still here. Craig and Kerry were going through hell as they watched over their daughter, clinging to one another and to Maddy’s sister, unable to voice their worst fears.
He’d finally managed to persuade them to take a break from their vigil and head outside for a few minutes, taking Karla with them. They wouldn’t be long; their need to be with Maddy would soon draw them back here. He understood the fear that strangled them, felt the agony that lashed at them.
He leaned over the crib. ‘Keep fighting, little one. You’re holding a lot of people’s happiness in your tiny hands. People who love you.’
He adored his friends and their twins. He’d tried to be strong for them all, had wanted to take some of the pain for them, but knew he couldn’t. No one could. The fear that Kerry and Craig might lose their daughter was as real for him as it was for them. It wasn’t his daughter who lay there struggling for her life, but he knew the anguish that would follow if she died.
The little girl’s chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly, aided by machines. Her head was swathed in crepe bandages. Her eyes were closed, the skin around them black, as though she’d been punched by a welterweight boxer.
‘You can do it, little one.’ Please, he begged silently.
It was too hideous to think about the consequences of Maddy not making it, and yet he couldn’t stop the memories. The pain that never diminished, never disappeared, instead gnawed at him, sliced him into tiny pieces so that he knew he’d never heal. Excruciating pain that got between him and every other thing or person he believed in. It had undermined his confidence, made him feel inadequate as a doctor. Hell, if he couldn’t save his own child how could he expect other parents to believe he would look out for theirs?
Yet he had survived. The scars would remain for ever, but they were fading a little. He had gone on to be a good paediatrician, had saved many children from a life of poor health. He’d grown emotionally stronger, having come through the other side of the worst tragedy any parent could think of.
Yes, he’d survived, and he was ready to take another chance. A second chance of family. With Fiona. She was the only woman he wanted as the mother of his children.
What if she had already become pregnant? A long shot, for sure. But if she had then he would be more than happy to be a father again. More than anything he wanted Fiona back in his life, as his wife.
He kissed his fingertips and brushed Maddy’s cheek. ‘Sleep well, little one.’
He’d been in Christchurch twenty-four hours. As soon as Maddy came round he’d return to Hanmer Springs and Fiona.
On Saturday morning Fiona opened her eyes slowly and peered into the gloom of a new day. Her last day in Hanmer Springs. Three small procedures this morning, held over from yesterday because of their late start, and then she’d be done.
Completely done. With the hospital. With Tom. He hadn’t returned any of her calls, not even when she’d tried to get hold of him late yesterday afternoon. She could take a hint. She’d be on her way as soon as possible.
The cottage felt warmer than usual when she staggered into the hallway. As though someone had recently stoked the fire. Glancing at Tom’s bedroom, she frowned. The door was closed. So he had come home. When had he got in? She knew from Liz that he’d still been with Craig and Kerry at ten last night. Again she hadn’t heard a thing. But then she’d been exhausted after a sleepless night the night before.
She tapped lightly on Tom’s door and, getting no reply, quietly opened it and peeked round. Tom lay sprawled on his back, arms flung wide, dead to the world. Her throat closed around a lump of pain. Shutting the door again, she quickly got ready for surgery, then packed her bags and left them on the floor of her bedroom. She’d collect them later.
Surgery was very quiet that morning—except for John Newcomb. Having been told about Fiona’s experiences overseas, the anaesthetist talked incessantly, asking her many questions, which fortunately she didn’t seem to have to actually answer.
When Tom hadn’t shown up Fiona had sent a message to Evan to see if he could assist. The intern had arrived so quickly she suspected he’d been hanging around waiting to be asked.
Halfway through the last procedure Tom joined them, looking shattered. ‘Sorry I’m late, but I forgot to set the alarm.’
As if he needed to come in. She could have managed and he could have got the sleep he so obviously still needed. But she didn’t waste time pointing that out. He’d only disagree. ‘What’s the news on Maddy?’
‘She’s one very lucky little lady. She’s going to make a full recovery.’ Over his mask, Tom held her gaze for a long minute.
Relief poured through Fiona. ‘Thank goodness for that. Kerry and Craig must be over the moon.’
‘Very much.’ Tom watched her for a few minutes, then said, ‘Looks like you’ve got everything under control here, so I’ll leave you to it. I need to let the staff know about Maddy, and how Kerry and Craig are faring.’
And he was gone, and surgery continued.
Finally Fiona laid down her suture thread for the last time and straightened up. ‘There we go. All finished.’
She tossed her scrubs into the laundry basket and flicked the tap on with her elbow. Finished. No more patients to operate on. Her week in Hanmer Springs was over. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the mirror hanging over the handbasin. What had s
he achieved by coming here?
She knew she did not want to leave.
But there was nothing to stay for. Tom had made that obvious. Not once had he returned her phone calls. Not once had he let her know directly how Maddy was doing. She got the news, all right, but it always came through someone else.
Yet he’d looked exhausted and barely able to stand up straight when he’d popped into Theatre earlier. Right now all she wanted to do was give him a massage to ease those knotted back muscles she’d seen pushing against his shirt.
And later? She wanted to be there for him always.
It wasn’t to be. She felt sick to the core. She was going to have to start over—again.
She had tried to tell him how much she cared for him, had tried to show him how much she’d changed over the years, but he wasn’t seeing her. Or he didn’t want to, more like. She had to accept that and somehow say goodbye.
She straightened up. ‘I’ll go and see Liz. Give her the post-op notes on the morning’s cases,’ she muttered. ‘Then I’ll head off quietly, leaving everyone to get on with their jobs. Leaving Tom to do what he loves best—looking after his patients.’
She headed blindly for the door, brushing past two people standing outside talking.
It took Fiona less than five minutes to phone for a taxi, grab her pack and close down her laptop. While she waited for the cab she wandered around the cottage, touching Tom’s clothes that were strewn on the end of his bed, picking up his shoes from the lounge and putting them in the wardrobe, rinsing the cup he must have used before coming across to the hospital. She studied the photos she’d first seen on the day she’d arrived. Then went to look at the one of Liam with her and Tom. Her heart squeezed painfully as she placed a kiss on her son’s sweet face. Then one on her husband’s.
She breathed in, inhaling the scent of Tom and his life. The life he didn’t want to share with her. Wheels crunched on the gravel at the front door.
One last look. ‘Goodbye, Tom, and good luck.’