Reunited...in Paris!

Clicking on the email headed ‘Dean Cox’, Tori smiled at the cheeky-faced youngster dressed in street clothes and walking out of the clinic’s entrance, waving happily. Only weeks ago his health had been deteriorating, despite aspirin treatment for his heart inflammation, and she’d had no choice but to operate, inserting an assist device into his left ventricle to support his blood flow. That had been five days before she’d come away, and every day she’d checked in with her clinic staff to see how Dean was responding.

That photo said it all really. Dean would never be as robust as he’d been before the rheumatic fever had struck, but he was looking a lot better than she’d ever seen him.

Tori tapped in Dean’s email address.

Hey, young man, you’re looking awesome. Love that T-shirt, by the way.

The T-shirt read ‘I’m allowed to be noisy... I’m a kid’.

Bet Mum and Dad don’t. J Make sure you come and see me the moment I get home, won’t you?

Hugs, the Heart Lady.

Dean would have an appointment already arranged to see her but she liked her kids to know she was there for them anytime, that they always mattered to her. Dean and his parents had walked into her consulting room late one day and told her they’d come from Dunedin to see her because they’d heard the Heart Lady loved her patients so much.

Dean, with his huge eyes and cheeky grin, had stolen into her heart right from that moment. He was one brave little guy who had taken everything she’d told him, and had done to him, as though it had been easy, which it most certainly hadn’t been. He’d never complained about life being unfair, never cried—which had worried her sometimes. The counsellor had seen him and come away smiling, saying he was the most together kid she’d ever met. His family had never returned home down south, instead finding jobs and a home in Auckland.

Tori tapped in a reminder to herself to buy T-shirts for all her current patients. She had a list of sizes filed with her emails. A third bag would be needed for her return trip. What would they think at the border when she declared dozens of shirts and zillions of pairs of shoes?

The sun was shoving the night aside by the time Tori had done with answering her mail so she dressed in track pants and a T-shirt, grabbed the city map and went out for a fast walk.

Turning left, Tori headed for Quai Rauba Capeu and the hill overlooking Port Nice on the other side. The steps she found leading directly to the top were gut-busters and she was glad of the challenge. It kept her focused—and out of breath most of the way.

‘Wow.’ She sighed as she stared down into the port when she finally made it to the edge on the far side of the hilltop.

‘Worth those steps, isn’t it?’ a young man acknowledged in heavily accented English as he jogged past.

A yacht, if anything so large and opulent could really be called a yacht, was tied up to one of the wharves. As she watched two shining black Mercedes-Benz rolled up to the gangway. The uniformed drivers emerged to open the back doors for the four men dressed in suits disembarking.

Tori shook her head in amazement. A very different life from hers, more like something out of a fairytale. And equally unattainable—even if she wanted it, which in all honesty she didn’t. But, she sighed again, she could take a day or two of such luxury. Or a week. Or two.

Tearing her gaze away, she looked around for the Monument aux Morts and headed across to study it, before walking along the path to start back down, this time avoiding those steps. She’d find a café for breakfast before going back to the hotel and getting ready for the day.

Ben and his colleagues were first up this morning and she did not want to miss their panel discussion.

Back to Ben. He was never far away, lurking in her mind, waiting to pounce the moment she had nothing else to occupy her.

* * *

‘Hey, I called to see if you wanted to do breakfast again.’ Ben sat down beside Tori in the auditorium. ‘Get a better offer?’ He smiled to show he held no rancour, though he had been disappointed when she hadn’t picked up. Yesterday morning had been fun and he’d wanted to repeat it.

‘I went for an early walk.’

When Tori turned to him he saw the dark smudges above her cheekbones. ‘You okay?’

‘Lack of sleep’s catching up.’ Her voice was dull, missing yesterday’s excitement.

‘Got anything to take tonight so you get a good rest?’

‘I had a bad dream.’ She was staring somewhere beyond his shoulder and looking like she already regretted giving that much information.

‘What about?’ Tori used to need a bomb under the bed to wake up. As for nightmares, they had been something other people had, not her. But, then, he hadn’t been around lately to know what went on in her life, what might upset her so deeply as to give her bad sleep.

‘Your father.’

He barely heard the words, she’d spoken so softly. ‘Dad?’ A nightmare about his father? Why?

Her abrupt nod told him, yes, definitely.

Why? he repeated to himself, even as something deep and dark began unfurling in his gut. It had taken the malpractice hearing to open his eyes to Dad and see that no amount of hard work and achievement would ever satisfy the old man. That death had occurred partly because he’d been trying to impress Dad, but he’d also wanted the kudos that would’ve gone with being the first surgeon to use that procedure successfully. If only he hadn’t been so cocky and one-eyed. ‘What did Dad do?’ he asked uneasily.

‘He came to apply a little pressure.’

No such thing as a little pressure with the old man. It would’ve been full-on. ‘To do what?’ A memory flicked on. There had been a night when he’d come home to get a change of clothes and had seen his father driving away from the apartment. His phone had rung before he’d parked, calling him back to hospital urgently, and by the time he’d had an opportunity to talk to Tori it had seemed unimportant. Had he got that wrong, too?

Ben shifted his butt on the chair, still watching Tori, who lifted her head so he could see directly into those beautiful green eyes that now were apprehensive. He laid a hand on top of hers, which were gripped together on the table. ‘Tell me.’

Her eyes widened and she glanced around at the crowds filling up the seats. ‘Not now. You’re speaking shortly.’

‘Not for an hour. There’s been a change to the programme.’ He didn’t need to hear the first session as much as he needed to know what had caused Tori to look so unhappy. Making a decision, he stood and tugged her gently to her feet. ‘Let’s get coffee.’

Fully expecting her to refuse, he was relie

ved when she slung her bag over her shoulder and led the way out and around to a quiet corner in one of the smaller restaurants open for the breakfast rush.

The moment the waitress moved away with their order Tori said, ‘I’m so sorry, Ben. I don’t know why I told you that. It’s not as though I’ve dreamt about your father before. I guess seeing you after all this time has side effects.’ Her smile was lacking in conviction.

Her hand was cold under his. ‘Talk to me.’

Tori nodded slowly. ‘Jeffery insisted I make you see his way was the best, that you shouldn’t take responsibility for that woman’s death and should let someone else cop the fallout.’

Ben’s stomach sucked in so hard it felt as though it banged against his spine. Nausea swamped him. ‘You knew about that, then?’

‘Not the details, just the bare minimum.’

‘You told Dad to take a hike?’ That wouldn’t have been easy. Dad could be persistent.

‘Obviously.’ She locked her gaze with his. ‘He told me I’d be ruining your career if I didn’t do as he said. But I...’ She shrugged. ‘You had to make your own decision. What Jeffery or I thought didn’t come into it.’

‘Thank you. You were right.’ No wonder Dad didn’t mention Tori’s name at all any more. She’d stood up to him far more readily than he had—until then.

‘You did the right thing by admitting your error.’

‘I agree. But I should’ve told you everything.’ Yet despite him not doing so she’d stood up to his father’s threats. He could love her for that alone.

‘We weren’t doing talking very well by then.’ The sadness deepened, turning that emerald green shade of her eyes to something murky. ‘It started before your incident in Theatre.’

‘Incident?’ That was a tame word for what had happened. Though he was pleased Tori wasn’t dwelling on how bad that had been or what he’d done.

Another nod. ‘Our separation was gradual, had started long before that day, with us working opposing shifts and then studying every spare moment. We swore we knew what we were in for, and that we wouldn’t let it happen, but we did. I’d come home from work, have a few drinks to relax me, and then collapse in bed. I was so overwhelmed with the workload at times I’d go to the warehouse outlet to buy up a pile of clothes because I didn’t have the energy to do the washing.’