Sarah's Gift

‘Did you know him before? Is that why you chose the Audley for your research?’

Matt shook his head. ‘It’s just coincidence that he’s a fellow Canadian, but it made a link. He’s been really helpful, especially with Em. I hope she’s OK.’

‘Ring the school—ask.’

‘And do what if they say she’s unhappy? I’m at work—and, anyway, she’ll cope. She’s used to fitting in. She’s moved around a lot in her short life.’

Sarah poured the hot water into the mugs and stirred. ‘Can’t your wife go if there’s a problem?’

‘I don’t have a wife,’ he said, in a voice that brooked no further discussion. Sarah took the hint. There were things she didn’t talk about, too, things you didn’t want to get out and air. She could respect that. She moved on.

‘So how are you dealing with the after-school and weekends and being on call?’ she asked, concerned to make sure he’d covered all his bases. ‘Have you managed to sort all that sort of thing out already?’

‘I have a neighbour—or rather Ryan does—who will fetch her from school and sit with her until I get to pick her up. When I’m on call overnight Ryan said she can go to them until I sort out a better arrangement.’

Sarah nodded. Arranging for child care was difficult, especially if you were new to an area. She’d had to do it once…

‘There’s a crèche in the hospital, did you know?’ she suggested.

His smile was crooked and rather enchanting. ‘I think my five-year-old daughter might draw the line at going in a crèche, somehow.’

Five. Sarah felt a pang, and suppressed it. There were lots of five-year-old girls. Literally hundreds of thousands—probably millions the world over. And nine-and seven-year-old boys.

She slopped milk into one mug and cocked a brow at him, putting the thoughts away. ‘White?’

He shook his head. ‘Black, please, no sugar. That’s fine. Cheers.’

His fingers brushed hers and yet again there was that strange reaction, that little shimmy of the pulse that came out of nowhere.

‘So, how long have you been here?’ he asked, settling himself in one of the easy chairs with his outstretched legs shrinking the room again. She stirred her coffee and tried to forget about his blatant masculinity.

‘Two years. I started as a staff nurse—I became Junior Sister just over a year ago.’

‘And do you like it?’

‘The hospital or the work?’

‘Either.’

She smiled. ‘I like both. They’re a very friendly bunch here. The doctors are all very civilised and approachable, and the nursing staff make a well-knit team. It’s a good place to work, if you can cope with the gallows humour.’

He laughed. ‘I don’t know a single trauma unit where the staff don’t have a really sick line in patter. It goes with the territory—it’s just a way of defusing the distress. If you didn’t do it, you’d burn out in no time.’

Her smile was wry. ‘People don’t understand, though, unless they work there too. They think we’re saints, but if they heard some of the things that were said we’d fall off our pedestals big time.’

‘It helps if you have a partner who understands,’ he said, and she wondered if his wife hadn’t understood and if that had been the problem. He didn’t give her time to dwell, though, just carried on. ‘Didn’t Ryan’s wife work here?’

‘Yes, and Jack Lawrence’s, and Patrick’s.’

‘A regular dating agency.’

She laughed. ‘Sounds like it, doesn’t it? I think it’s just the pressure. There’s not much time to meet anyone else, and if you’re working together intensively you get very close. You have to learn to trust people and rely on them, and it’s only a short step from there to commitment. I won’t say romance, there’s precious little of that around here.’

He snorted. ‘Again, it sounds just like home.’

She tipped her head and looked searchingly at him. ‘Do you miss it?’

‘The hospital? No. The weather? Definitely no—well, not the cold, anyway. However, I hear the snow’s thick and I imagine they’re all skiing every spare minute.’

Sarah eyed him thoughtfully. ‘You sound wistful. Will you miss the skiing?’

‘That obvious, huh?’ He grinned, a mischievous, cheeky grin that made her insides flutter. ‘Yeah, I’ll miss it. I’m sure I’ll find something else to take its place—and, anyway, Emily isn’t too keen. She prefers to swim.’

‘There’s a good pool in the town.’

‘Is there? Do you go?’

She thought of the water and swallowed irrational panic. ‘Not recently. I don’t have children.’ She held his gaze steadily. Not any more, at least, she thought, and prided herself on not flinching. ‘I expect Ryan takes his kids—he’ll be able to tell you where it is.’

She was saved any further conversation by Ryan’s arrival. He shook Matt warmly by the hand, recharged their cups from the coffee-machine, which had gurgled and burped its way to completion, and sprawled out opposite Matt, filling what was left of the floor with his outstretched legs.

‘How’s Emily coping with school? Heard anything?’

Matt held up a hand, as if warding off evil. ‘Not a word. Please, God, she’s OK. I’m not calling the school—no news has to be good news.’

Ryan chuckled. ‘She’ll be fine. They’re very good there. Evie and Gus love it.’

‘Let’s hope she does, too.’ He drained his coffee, set the cup down and leant forward expectantly.

Coiled, Sarah thought. Like a spring, or a cat ready to pounce. She watched him as he chatted to Ryan about the unit, answering questions here and there, and then Ryan got to his feet and suggested they went on a grand tour.

‘Want me?’ Sarah asked as they headed for the door.

‘Sarah, you’re always wanted,’ Ryan said with a grin, ‘but just for now I think I can almost cope.’

She poked her tongue out and debated having another cup of coffee as she listened to them walking off down the corridor to Ryan’s running commentary on the layout of the unit.

She had work to do, despite her remarks to Matt. If nothing else there was stock to check and requisition, and after such a hectic weekend it wasn’t fair to leave it all to her juniors, quiet or not. All she needed today was someone on the hospital management committee coming round and asking why they’d used so many wrist supports over the past week, and she’d be sorely tempted to take the pad of requisition slips and post it where the sun didn’t shine!

Matt followed Ryan, taking in the details of the unit with half his mind while the other half dwelt on Sarah Cooper. Ryan had mentioned her, but more as a colleague than anything. He hadn’t touched on her looks. Maybe he hadn’t noticed, which wasn’t surprising considering how deeply involved he was with his wife.

Matt, though, couldn’t get her face out of his mind and he found himself looking for her around every corner, listening for the sound of her voice, waiting for her to reappear.

He wondered how long her hair was. It looked sleek and heavy, a very dark brown that owed nothing to a bottle. It was up, but down it could have been anything from shoulder-length. He wondered what it would feel like, and knew it would be soft and heavy for Emily’s was. The thought of this woman’s hair threatened to drive him to distraction.

Like her voice. Soft and lilting, no sharp edges or harsh notes—it was made for whispering tender words in a moment of passion. So were her lips, soft and kissable, full enough without being pouty, unadorned with lipstick, like early-morning lips.

And her eyes, hazel with a touch of gold, gentle eyes with a hint of sadness—eyes that had seen too much, endured above and beyond the call of duty.