The Surgeon's Family Wish (3 page)

The luxury in which he lived was a far cry from Annabel Swain's living quarters, he thought as he put
his key in the lock. What was a woman like her doing in hospital accommodation, for heaven's sake?

His mother was in bed but not asleep, and the moment she heard his step on the landing she came out to ask about Lucy.

‘So far so good,' he told her. ‘She's rational, as you saw when she awoke, and the surgery that Annabel Swain performed was spot on from the looks of it.'

Mary nodded.

‘We owe that lady a lot, Aaron. I know that she was only doing the job she's paid to do, but I liked her the moment I saw her. She'd barely had time to get her foot over the doorstep at Barnaby's and she was operating on our precious girl. When Lucy comes home, why don't we invite her over for a meal?'

‘I agree with all you say,' he told her, ‘but she might think an invitation to dinner a bit over the top.'

‘Nonsense!' his mother exclaimed. ‘Annabel Swain looks as if she could do with some tender loving care herself. She's too thin and pale.'

Aaron was smiling. ‘And you'd like to turn her into a buxom wench?'

‘Not exactly. I wouldn't have thought that ‘‘buxom wenches'' were quite your type.'

‘What has it got to do with me?' he asked with dark brows rising. ‘You're not going to try and marry me off again, are you? Because it won't work.'

‘You can't mourn Eloise for ever,' she said gently.

‘It has nothing to do with that. I accepted long ago that she's gone and won't be coming back. But if and when I decide to marry again,
I'll
do the choosing.'

She laughed. ‘All right. I get the message, but I'm not getting any younger, you know. Lucy needs a younger woman in her life.'

‘Yes, I know,' he agreed, ‘and when the time is right I'll do something about it.'

He felt vaguely irritated that his mother was taking such an interest in a woman that he'd only just met. Yet he had to admit that he'd been drawn to her for some reason and there hadn't been many women he could say that about since he'd lost Eloise.

But reason said it was because she'd saved his daughter's life. It certainly wasn't because he'd been bowled over by her looks. Like a lot of other overworked doctors he'd met, she was white-faced, with dark smudges beneath those striking hazel eyes, and weary.

After he'd showered and changed Aaron unloaded his luggage from his mother's car and took out the gift he'd brought for Lucy. Mary was on the verge of sleep again, so he crept in and put the box that held a gold bracelet from one of New York's top stores on the bedside table.

He'd brought his daughter a doll, a miniature version of a pretty cheer-leader, and hoped that it might help to take her mind off the aches and pains that were the aftermath of surgery. Patti-Faye, she was called, and he thought whimsically that with her pouting red lips and glossy blonde bob she was an overstated version of the opposite sex, while the woman who had been in his thoughts was
understated
to say the least.

I
N THE
days that followed Lucy continued to make a good recovery. There had been no worrying after-effects from the surgery and every time Aaron looked at his daughter he rejoiced.

She was home now. She would soon be back at primary school and in the meantime was once more under her grandmother's wing while Aaron was working.

He was back in harness now. On the wards and in Outpatients. He also supervised paediatric care in local clinics, referring problems to a consultant at Barnaby's.

Aaron's own speciality was neonatal problems and on a cold Monday morning he was due to see a baby boy who had been born flawless but now had an unsightly birthmark on his face.

The child had been referred from the Infirmary where the birth had taken place, and the distressed parents would be hoping he was going to wave a magic wand...

But before that he'd seen Annabel Swain coming from the direction of the accommodation blocks as he was parking his car and had sat watching her approach.

As Lucy had recovered their brief affinity had dwindled. Almost as if it had been born only of the crisis and now that it was over they'd taken stock of each other and stepped back.

It wasn't exactly that on his part, but he had to admit that he might have given Annabel the impression that she'd served her purpose as far as he was concerned and that they were back on a footing of senior paediatrician
and surgeon. It wasn't the case, but now that his anxiety over Lucy was abating he was conscious that he had done nothing to further their acquaintance and she
had
saved his daughter's life.

And now here she was, hurrying along with a chill wind nipping at her ankles, snuggled inside a long winter coat, and still with the pallor that had concerned him when they'd first met.

On the occasions they'd been together during Lucy's stay in hospital he'd sensed melancholy in her and would have liked to have asked what was wrong, but had felt that he would be rebuffed if he did. After all they
were
strangers. Maybe if they'd met in the usual way of hospital staff, in a situation of a new member meeting a senior colleague and taking it from there, they would be easier with each other.

But they had been thrown together on an October morning with himself in a state of great anxiety and Annabel having spent her first hours at Barnaby's operating on his daughter. Consequently she now knew all about him, while he knew nothing of her, except that she was a cool and very competent surgeon.

She was almost level and when she saw him getting out of the car she stopped and said, ‘Hello there. How's little Lucy?'

‘Fine,' he said smilingly. ‘And you?'

‘Me?'

‘Yes...you. How are you? It seems we haven't spoken of anything other than hospital business.'

‘I'm all right, thank you.'

He didn't believe that, but now he saw an opportunity to get her out of that dreadful flat for a few hours.

‘We wondered if you'd like to come round for a meal one night,' he said casually, and watched her eyes widen.
‘My mother thought it would be one way of saying thank you for what you did for Lucy.'

So it wasn't
his
idea, she thought as her pleasure at the invitation began to evaporate.

‘Thank you. That would be very nice,' she said quietly. ‘I don't seem to have seen anything other than the flat, the operating theatre and the hospital grounds since I got here, but now that Mr Drury is back from his prolonged holiday and Mark Lafferty has also surfaced, I'm beginning to feel a little less pressured.'

‘Would Friday be OK?' he asked, hoping that his mother hadn't got anything planned, as she would be disappointed if she couldn't be there.

‘Yes. I'm not on duty and have the weekend free, so there would be no problem.'

‘Good. Friday it is. Shall we say eight o'clock?'

Annabel nodded.

‘Yes. Eight o'clock will be fine.'

‘I'll pick you up, Annabel.'

‘There's no need,' she protested. ‘I have my car.'

‘Yes, I know, but I'll come for you just the same. I don't like to think of you driving around in the dark in a strange town.'

She swallowed hard. It had been so long since anyone had cared whether she lived or died, it was nice to be fussed over for once.

She smiled and Aaron thought again that she would be really something if she was happy and cared for. But he wasn't going to be volunteering to bring about either of those conditions. He was content as he was with his mother and Lucy to cherish and a job he loved. He'd not forgotten his mother saying that she wasn't getting any younger, but that sort of problem could be resolved by bringing in extra help around the house.

He'd loved Eloise. She'd been an outgoing, bubbly blonde, curvy and petite. The woman standing beside him was her exact opposite. Tall, slender,
too
thin, in fact, with brown hair and eyes, and from what he'd seen so far, a restrained personality. So why did he have this curiosity regarding her?

It wasn't
that
intense, though, was it? It had taken him long enough to invite her to dinner. His mother would be surprised and pleased. She'd never mentioned inviting Annabel round after that first time but he'd sensed that the idea was still in her mind.

Mary had loved her daughter-in-law, but it didn't stop her from wanting happiness for him now, even though he'd made it clear that he wasn't in the market for a second marriage. He could imagine Annabel's expression if she knew that such an idea had entered his mother's mind.

‘Right, then,' she was saying. ‘If you're going to pick me up, I'm in Flat Twelve on the ground floor.'

‘Ground floor?' he echoed. ‘I hope there's good security.' And immediately felt that he was fussing.

‘Yes, plenty,' she assured him, eyes widening in surprise. Then, with her glance switching to the big clock above the hospital entrance, she turned to go and with the thought of his outpatient clinic that was due to start shortly, Aaron did likewise.

That was a bolt from the blue, Annabel thought as she took off her coat and hung it in her locker. An invitation to dine with Aaron Lewis and his family. It would be something to look forward to in her drab existence as she had to admit that he intrigued her.

When they were in each other's proximity she found her glance on him all the time, but she supposed that he
had that effect on most women. He was one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen...and the least approachable from a personal point of view.

Not workwise, though. With their small patients it was a different matter. They had that in common. Complete dedication to the children in their care. And while they were putting it into practice, the pain of what was
not
happening in the rest of her life was bearable.

* * *

The mark on the baby's face was red, round and raised. There had been no sign of it at birth. It had appeared during the first few weeks of life and now covered a large area of his tiny cheek.

Aaron recognised it immediately.

‘It is a kind of haemangioma,' he told them, ‘an abnormal distribution of blood vessels, commonly known as a strawberry mark. They enlarge rapidly during the first few weeks after the baby is born and will persist for six months or so, but the good news is that after that time the mark will gradually disappear. They're usually gone by the time the child is five but may take a little bit longer.'

The young mother breathed a sign of thankfulness but the baby's father wasn't so easily satisfied.

‘And so what sort of treatment are you going to recommend?'

‘Strawberry naevi don't usually require treatment,' Aaron told him. ‘We would only remove it if the birthmark bleeds frequently, or if it is on the lip, tongue or genitals. It is done by laser treatment, but not recommended unless distress is being caused.'

The beautiful baby boy was lying contentedly in his mother's arms and Aaron said, ‘Your son doesn't seem
to be in any discomfort so I don't advise surgery at present. But I would like to see him every three months, and if any problems do occur don't hesitate to get back to me.'

‘And so we've got to put up with him looking like this for years,' the father persisted.

‘Leave it, Peter,' his wife said. ‘At least we know that the birthmark is going to go eventually, and I don't want our baby to be operated on just to satisfy your male pride.'

When they'd gone Aaron thought he could see both their points of view. The young husband was no different to a lot of parents who couldn't cope with their child being different. His wife was only concerned about the baby, and rightly so.

The clinic was over. It had been the usual mixture of serious and small paediatric problems. Several of the children he'd seen today would need surgery. Annabel came to mind again and he had to tell himself that Charles and Mark were back. She wasn't going to find new zest if he started passing all his sick children to her to be operated on.

Like teenager Oliver Thomas, for instance, who was going to need brain surgery in an attempt to alleviate severe epilepsy. He would need a team of doctors for the operation that Aaron felt necessary in his case. Then there was nine-year-old James Leech. He'd seen him that morning and had suggested an operation to straighten his protruding ears.

He might have a chat with her about them on Friday night, but then thought better of it. She would think he was some bore if all he could talk about was work over dinner.

* * *

The moment Aaron stopped the car in front of the accommodation block on Friday night, Annabel appeared in the entrance. When he saw her he blinked.

She was wearing a cream cashmere jacket over a long black dress, with high-heeled shoes the same colour as the jacket, and carrying a matching bag.

Her hair was swept off her face and hung down her back in a shining coil, and as she drew nearer he saw in the light from the streetlamps that the pallor that worried him had been covered with light make-up.

Was this the same understated paediatric surgeon who had entered his life at the time of Lucy's accident? he asked himself as she opened the passenger door and slid into the seat beside him.

‘Hello, there,' he said as she smiled across at him. ‘You look...er...'

He wanted to tell her she looked wonderful, but suddenly felt she might think he was making too much out of an invitation to dinner.

She laughed. ‘Not as grotty as usual, were you about to say?'

‘Of course not,' he protested. ‘I wouldn't be so rude.'

‘But you might think it?'

‘Nothing of the kind. But I'll tell you what I
do
think.'

‘And what is that?'

‘I think that you're hurting for some reason. I saw you this afternoon when I was examining the baby with the dislocated hips.'