Melting The Trauma Doc's Heart
‘But you’ve got a day off tomorrow, haven’t you? You could go shopping for a new dress. And this is how you get to know people. The important people.’
Attending functions like charity galas had been pretty much her mother’s only social life. It had been at a charity event she had attended with her mother that she’d met Patrick, in fact—the man everybody, including herself, had expected her to marry. That breakup had been the other, even bigger reason she had decided to come back to the country of her birth to make a fresh start in her life. Olivia knew that her mother would have shrugged off the failed relationship as no more than an inconvenience. She also knew what she would have said about going to this event.
Go, Olivia. It’s important to be seen. This is your career. The most important thing in your life. The only thing you can really count on…
‘You don’t have to go alone,’ Simon added with an encouraging smile. ‘I’ll be there. I’ll look after you, I promise.’
Olivia couldn’t help glancing at the door as if looking for an escape route. Simon couldn’t possibly know how much of a nerve he was stepping on. That he was reminding her of exactly how her relationship with Patrick had started—and its disastrous ending not that long after her mother’s death—when he’d moved on to someone who offered an even better step up the social ladder.
Simon had followed her glance. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’d better get on with seeing my next patient.’ He went to open the door for Olivia. ‘Let me know what you decide. Maybe we can meet up for a drink before the event and that way you won’t have to go in by yourself.’
Olivia fished her phone out of her pocket and turned it on as she left the building. It really was a very bad habit to turn her phone off but she knew that a staff member could easily find her if there was a problem on theatre days and she hated even the possibility of distractions when she was operating. Hearing the chime of an incoming message, she glanced at the screen, expecting it to be the message Simon had left about the invitation to the gala tomorrow, but it wasn’t. It was a voicemail that had been left a couple of hours ago. From an unknown number.
Curious, Olivia keyed in her code as soon as she was sitting behind the wheel of her car, turning on the ignition as the message started to play.
‘My name is Isaac Cameron,’ a male voice said. There was a hint of an accent there. An Irish lilt, maybe? ‘I’m a doctor at Cutler’s Creek Hospital.’
Olivia gasped. Hearing the name of that small Central Otago township was disturbing, to say the least. She had a sudden urge to cut the call and delete the message but it was too late. She had been captured by the sound of the stranger’s voice.
‘I don’t suppose you want to hear this, Olivia Donaldson, but—you know what? I’m going to tell you anyway.’
She could hear the indrawn breath, as if the caller was about to start a lengthy story. And there was something about his tone that sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine. Without thinking, she turned off the engine of her car and slowly leaned back into her seat, touching the speakerphone icon on the screen. She had no idea what this was about but it felt like it was going to be something significant. Potentially life-changing?
‘I thought you should know that your father’s dying,’ the voice continued. ‘He’s got pancreatic cancer, which is what killed his father about twenty years ago. Not that that bothered you, from what I hear, seeing as you apparently refused to come to your grandfather’s funeral.’
She could hear a judgemental note in his voice and that put her back up. For heaven’s sake, Olivia thought, I was only thirteen years old. I’d never even met my grandfather that I could remember. I hadn’t seen my father since he’d walked out on his family. Why would anyone think I was expected to travel from the other side of the world to go to a funeral for a stranger?
‘I wouldn’t have known anything about you,’ Isaac was saying now, ‘but I found your father crying over a box of old letters. And parcels. All the things that you’d sent back to him over the years without even bothering to open them.’
Olivia’s jaw dropped. He was accusing her of something she knew nothing about. Letters? Parcels? She’d never seen anything from her father. He’d never even made a phone call. She could remember being in floods of tears that first Christmas after he’d gone and her mother trying to comfort her.
‘I know it’s difficult, Olivia, but you wouldn’t want to grow up in a place like Cutler’s Creek, believe me. I don’t think there’s even a proper school there. My new job in London is going to give us both the most amazing opportunities, you just wait and see. We can even think about getting you that pony you’ve always wanted.’
Did her mother know something about that mail? Had she thought that cutting any links Olivia had to a small country town would help her embrace a new life in a huge city? She could imagine her mother being that determined. Convincing herself that she was doing the best thing for her daughter, even.
She tuned back into the continuing voicemail. ‘He loves you. He wants the chance to tell you that before he dies. I have no idea how long he’s got but I imagine it’s not that long because he’s refusing to seek treatment.’
Why would he do that? Olivia could feel the frown line between her eyes deepen. Pancreatic cancer could kill in a matter of weeks in some cases if nothing was done. Why didn’t he want to fight? Did he not have people in his life who could persuade him it was worth fighting?
As if to answer her question, Isaac was talking at the same time. There was a rising note of something like anger behind his words now.
‘You probably don’t know and maybe you don’t even care but there’s a whole community here in Cutler’s Creek that thinks a great deal of your father. He’s a good man and I think it’s a crying shame that you turned your back on him.’
‘I didn’t,’ Olivia said, her tone shocking her with both its volume and the outrage it contained. ‘It was totally the opposite…’
‘Maybe the past shouldn’t matter now,’ Isaac said, and it almost felt as if they were having a real conversation. ‘If the people around here knew about this, they’d move heaven and earth to grant any last wish he might have but your father doesn’t want anyone to know and, anyway, there’s only one person who can do that, and that’s you. You could stop him dying with that regret on his mind.’
There was a long moment’s silence, then, as if the speaker was taking a long breath. Trying to control his emotional outburst, perhaps? Yes…when he spoke again, it was at a much slower pace. In a much quieter tone.
‘I don’t know you, Dr Olivia Donaldson,’ he said. ‘And I’m not sure I’d want to know someone who could turn their back on someone who loves them that much but I thought you should know. Before it’s too late. Because…because if you’ve inherited even a fraction of the compassion for others that your father has, you wouldn’t want to refuse to give him the one thing that would mean so much to him.’
Olivia could hear a breath being released as a sigh. ‘You never know…one day it might be your dying regret. That you never gave him a chance…’
The click told her the call was ended. Another voice was giving her the automatic options of saving, deleting or listening to the message again. Olivia simply turned her phone off and, for the longest time, she sat there without moving a muscle. She was stunned. Shaking, even.
It shouldn’t matter this much. It was ancient history. Maybe she was just feeling angry that a stranger was blaming her so unfairly. Telling her that it was her behaviour that had caused someone grief. Enough grief that, after all these years—decades, in fact—this father that she hadn’t seen since she was a young girl had been crying? She tried to shake off the unpleasant knot that was trying to form in her stomach. She didn’t care about this man. She hated him, in fact. He’d walked out on her without a backward glance.
Or had he?
Was it true? About the mail? What had been in those parcels? Books, maybe. The thought slid into her head uninvited. Unwelcome. Her father had always given her books. He’d been the one to read the bedtime stories when she was too young to read for herself. She could remember the way he’d lounged on the edge of her bed, his elbow propped on her pillow so that she could snuggle into the crook of his arm as she listened.
Olivia closed her eyes tightly. She recognised that prickly sensation that was tears trying to form. She hadn’t shed any tears over her father for longer than she could remember. But remembering him reading to her had unlocked so many things that she’d buried. There had been a time when she’d missed him so much… She’d missed his hugs, that gleam in his eye that told her he was proud of her, that rich chuckle that was his laughter and…and even his smell, which came from that old-fashioned aftershave he insisted on using.
That knot in her stomach was tightening enough to be painful. Olivia felt like she was being attacked on all sorts of emotional fronts. She’d only lost her mother a matter of months ago and she was going to become an orphan now? With no close family at all? There was a possibility that her mother had betrayed her long ago but even if that was the case, why hadn’t her father tried harder? How unfair was it that he had given up and then blamed her? Okay, she had refused to go to her grandfather’s funeral when her mother had passed on the information and message from her father and she had written a response telling him that she never wanted to hear from him again but she’d only been a teenager. A kid. He’d been the adult. If he’d really cared that much, he would have tried again.
And, on top of all that, here was this complete stranger judging her and deciding she wasn’t a person worth knowing. It was so unfair that it couldn’t be allowed to go unanswered. Olivia flicked her phone on. She was going to return that call and tell this Isaac Cameron exactly what she thought of someone who could attack someone they knew nothing about.
Maybe she would write another letter to her father as well and put things straight about who had turned their back on whom. Or…her finger was still a little shaky as she poised it over the icons on the screen of her phone…she could do it face to face. Like an adult instead of a petulant teenager. Because, if she did that, she’d know for sure what the truth actually was. And maybe she needed to know the truth.
The icon that she chose to press instead was a browser. Just to find out how hard it might be to get to Cutler’s Creek. Dunedin was the nearest city but there was an airport in Queenstown, as well. With a rental car it wouldn’t take too long to get deeper into the centre of the South Island. If she left early enough, she could be back in Auckland by tomorrow night. Not early enough to attend that gala function but, to be honest, that added to the appeal of the plan she was formulating.
By the time Olivia Donaldson pulled out of the car park and was headed into rush-hour traffic to get to her central city apartment, she had been online to organise every minute of her day off. She’d also sent Simon a text message.
So sorry but I won’t be able to make it tomorrow night after all. Something’s come up and I need to head south for the day. It’s a personal thing…
CHAPTER TWO
RURAL NEW ZEALAND was a lot wilder and emptier than English countryside.
Olivia Donaldson had had memories of the country’s biggest city, Auckland, because she’d lived there until she was about eight years old but she’d never been to a small town like Cutler’s Creek.
The main street boasted a church, community hall, petrol station and a pub. A war memorial marked the start of the more intensive commercial area that was, surprisingly, big enough to warrant a decent-sized supermarket amongst cafés and quirky-looking second-hand shops and, on the other side of town before the buildings changed from shops to houses, Olivia spotted the fire station, where an ambulance was parked alongside the fire truck.
She pulled in to stop and stretch her legs after the drive, which had taken a fair bit of concentration—especially that last winding stretch through a gorge. She needed a moment to take a deep breath, too, before she followed the yellow road sign that indicated she would have to turn right off the main road to find the local hospital. Her heels tapped on the paved footpath as she walked a few steps to have a closer look at what seemed to be a deserted emergency response station. Were there people in there, she wondered, or were the firies and ambulance officers here all volunteers who would only come in if needed? She was pretty sure that would be the case. Government funding didn’t run to luxuries like paid staff for emergency services in every small town in the back of beyond. It was astonishing, in fact, that Cutler’s Creek still had its own hospital.
There was an equally deserted rugby field and clubrooms between the fire station and the first of the small wooden villas that were homes to the local people who weren’t farmers. Smoke curled from a chimney or two but no other signs of life. The place was dead. Eerily so, compared to Auckland’s bustling inner-city streets. Oh, wait…someone was coming towards Olivia now, on the other side of the road, walking a big, black dog. A middle-aged woman, wearing gumboots and a long, oilskin raincoat, who gave Olivia a hard stare as she went past. Even the dog seemed to be staring at her and it made Olivia feel suddenly even more of a fish out of water. Why had she chosen to wear a tailored pencil skirt and its matching jacket today? Had she really thought that swapping her stilettos for shoes with a lower heel were enough of a nod to country casual?
She turned her back on the woman and lifted her gaze for a moment before she got back into the rental car. She had to admit that the scenery was quite extraordinary with that imposing skyline of snow-peaked mountains looming over the town. On top of being an object of such curiosity for a local, the natural grandeur around Olivia was making her feel rather small and insignificant.
Vulnerable, even? No. She got back into the car and took the next right-hand turn. She had every right to defend herself and she was here to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. Vulnerable people didn’t do that kind of thing, did they?
The houses in this new street had big gardens. Some had empty sections beside the houses and there were animals in them. Goats on chains, a pig, a pony wearing a canvas coat to protect it from the weather. The pony Olivia had had as a child had never needed a canvas coat like that. It had lived in a warm stable, as pampered as Olivia had been herself in that exclusive, private boarding school an hour’s drive out of London. She hadn’t thought of that beloved pony for years and the memory, closely followed by the feeling of loss, was unwelcome—a bit like being poked with a sharp stick.
There was an older man working in a garden as Olivia turned into the grounds of Cutler’s Creek Community Hospital but he stopped for a long moment to lean on his long-handled hoe and watch her drive slowly past.
‘What?’ Olivia muttered aloud. ‘Do you never get unannounced visitors here?’
He was wearing gumboots, too. If he turned up on an Auckland street in that footwear, he’d get stared at, as well. Or maybe not. The bigger the city, the harder you had to work to get noticed. Her mother, Janice, had taught her that. She’d been very proud of how much notice Olivia had always garnered. Prizes in her school subjects and in the show-jumping ring at weekends or holidays, top marks at medical school, a career choice in a field as prestigious as plastic surgery and, most recently, for making such a good choice for a life partner in Patrick.
But she hadn’t enjoyed the spotlight of being noticed for her own achievements any more than for being her famous mother’s daughter. You got stared at when you were under any kind of spotlight and—like this place—the stares always had an element of judgement about them.
How different was this old, sprawling, wooden building that looked like an oversized villa from the gleaming modern structure that was the private hospital Olivia had been working in only yesterday? There were several parking slots designated for visitors near the front door of the hospital so she took one of them. A quick check of her lipstick in the mirror on the back of the sun flap and Olivia took another deep breath and slammed the car door shut behind her. She might be beginning to have doubts about the wisdom of doing this but she was here now so she might as well get it over with.
The grey-haired, bespectacled woman coming out from behind the desk in the large foyer looked as surprised to see Olivia as the gardener and the dog walker had but at least she wasn’t wearing gumboots.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
‘I hope so,’ Olivia answered. ‘I’m here to see Dr Donaldson. Don Donaldson.’
The woman blinked. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
Olivia raised her eyebrows, summoning every ounce of confidence she could. ‘Do I need one?’
‘Ah…’ The woman’s gaze flicked over Olivia’s suit. ‘Are you a drug rep?’
A good part of Olivia’s confidence was starting to ebb away. Did she look like a drug company representative who was here to peddle her company’s drugs or medical products? A salesperson?
‘My name,’ she said coolly, ‘is—’
‘Olivia.’ The deep voice coming from behind her was astonished. ‘It has to be.’
Olivia swung around to see who had followed her in through the front door. A tall man, with rather disreputably rumpled hair and looking like he could do with a shave to get rid of that designer stubble, was wearing a white coat over…good grief…jeans?
He was looking at her as if she was the last person he’d expected to see standing in the foyer of this hospital. Or the last person he wanted to see?
‘And you must be Isaac Cameron.’
The curl of one side of his mouth was nothing short of downright cheeky. Impertinent, actually. ‘Spot on. How did you guess? I have to admit I had the advantage of having seen your photograph when I stalked you online yesterday.’
It was Olivia’s turn to stare. It had been his voice, she realised. That accent with the hint of a Celtic lilt that was even more noticeable in real life. She’d had no idea what the owner of that voice would look like, however, and she was taken aback. More than that. She was more than a bit…gobsmacked, to be honest.
Isaac Cameron had to be the most attractive man she had ever seen in her entire life and, as a disconcerting thought that came from nowhere, Olivia wondered why she’d assumed that men like Simon—and Patrick, for that matter—were so good looking because of that groomed, perfect style. This Isaac Cameron was the complete opposite. He should have had a haircut weeks ago. He had curls of dark hair touching the collar of his white coat and the locks over his forehead had been pushed back, probably with his fingers rather than a comb.
‘I don’t imagine this hospital is big enough for more than two doctors,’ she said calmly. ‘And you’re not my father.’
The receptionist gasped and then stepped back as if she wanted the protection of being behind her desk again. Olivia could feel an appalled stare scorching her skin. So Dr Cameron wasn’t the only person who had judged her and found her to be less than a decent human being? She didn’t like being here, Olivia decided. It had been a mistake to come. And, while she might have managed to sound calm, she was feeling anything but.
This was shocking, that’s what it was. Or perhaps the shock was that odd tingle that was dancing somewhere deep in Olivia’s gut as she made eye contact with a pair of eyes that were the colour of a very rich caramel.
Dear Lord…she was attracted to this man?
A whole lot more than she’d ever been attracted to any man in the past?
He clearly wasn’t aware of any unwelcome chemical alchemy in the atmosphere. He broke the eye contact instantly to allow his gaze to take in her outfit and the curl of his mouth now suggested that it wasn’t at all to his taste but it was exactly what he might have expected her to be wearing. He was making judgements again, wasn’t he? About her clothes and her lifestyle. About the relationship she didn’t have with her father. About her…
‘Good to know you remember what he looks like.’
Olivia’s breath came out in a startled huff. The hospital receptionist cleared her throat as if she was trying not to laugh. Or convey some kind of warning, perhaps, about who might be overhearing their conversation?
The voice from someone coming into the reception area from an inner corridor was annoyed.
‘Ah, there you are, Zac. Where the dickens have you put Geoffrey Watkins’s file? I need to see his last ECG.’
The shock wave that shot down Olivia’s spine now had nothing whatsoever to do with any physical attraction. She knew this voice almost as well as she knew her own and the sound of it was like a door opening into an entire roomful of memories she didn’t want to revisit. Because this man had broken her heart so badly it was never going to be the same. She could never again in her life trust that it was safe to love someone that much…
She turned very slowly, steeling herself to face her father.
For his part, Don Donaldson barely gave her a glance before focusing on Isaac as he walked towards them, but then his steps faltered and his gaze returned to Olivia. He went pale. For a split second Olivia felt a beat of fear that the surprise of her visit might actually do physical harm to her father and give him a heart attack or stroke or something. Oddly, the fear made it feel like she had something to lose all over again.
Don opened his mouth and his voice came out as no more than a hoarse whisper. ‘Libby?’
Oh…that hurt with an unexpected ferocity. No one had been allowed to call her that since she’d been about eight years old. Ever…
‘My name is Olivia,’ she said, pronouncing the words as if it was of great importance that they were heard clearly.
‘But…but what the hell are you doing here?’
Olivia blinked. ‘What? This was your idea… What you wanted…’
Her father was still looking pale. Shocked. Not at all as if his dying wish was being unexpectedly granted.
‘Ah…’ Isaac held out his hands as if he was about to start directing traffic. ‘Let’s take this into the staffroom, shall we? I might be able to explain.’
‘My office,’ Don snapped. ‘I don’t want any more of my private business being broadcast, thank you very much.’
The receptionist was being scowled at. She pursed her lips. ‘I think you know me better than that, Dr Donaldson.’
His grunt might have been an apology but Olivia was frowning herself as she followed him. This grumpy, older man was a very different person from the father she remembered but perhaps that was a good thing. The past could be left in the past and all she needed to do now was to clear the air of any injustice and get back to where she belonged.
If Isaac Cameron had been wearing a tie, he might have felt the need to loosen it a little as he followed Don Donaldson’s daughter into his boss’s office. This was his fault but, in his defence, he’d never expected Olivia Donaldson to rock up to this hospital unannounced. On the very next day to him making that phone call? Man, he must have touched a nerve…
And, even though he’d seen her profile picture on the staff list of the Plastic Surgery Institute in Auckland, he’d never expected that she’d be quite so…so stunning in real life. Tall and slim, with that long, honey-blonde hair combed neatly back into a complicated-looking plait. Eyes that were so blue you had to wonder if they were real. He knew she was a well-respected plastic surgeon but she could have had a career as a supermodel if she’d wanted to. It wasn’t just her looks, though. There was something about her voice or the way she moved or…perhaps it was her perfume. Whatever… Isaac had never for a moment expected to be attracted to this woman but his body seemed to be defying any orders from his brain right now.