Dating The Millionaire Doctor(21)

He compartmentalised his life. He'd go nuts if he accepted that kind of need.

But then …  He turned and Glenda was on the verandah, watching him watch  Tori leave. 'Oh, my dear,' she said and he thought, She understands.

How could she understand? She didn't know him.

She'd known his father.

Community.

No, he thought savagely. What had his mother said? It was insidious. It sucked you in.

His life was in Manhattan and he had no place here.

'Dinner's ready,' Glenda said but her message was much deeper.

'You go in,' he told her.

'We're waiting for you.'

It'd be a long wait, he thought. He had limits.

He was not his father's son.

'We're waiting,' Glenda said again, gently, and he gave up and walked inside with her.

He could do dinner. He just couldn't do the rest of his life.





CHAPTER EIGHT




S HE bought a sewing machine and hemmed curtains. Yes, this home was  temporary. Yes, she'd eventually think about rebuilding up on the ridge  or selling and finding something else permanent, but right now that  decision still seemed too hard.

Sewing was therapeutic, trying to keep trailing drapes from Itsy. So was taking a complete break from injured wildlife.

So was letting herself think about Jake.

He was just a memory, she told herself, a gorgeous guy who'd helped her  move on. He'd been her five-minute date who'd turned into her two-day  stand.

But the thought of him still made her smile.

She should do something about getting a job, she thought as the days  wore on. She shouldn't settle here and let herself dwell on Jake.

But she wasn't dwelling. Or not exactly. She was simply savouring what had happened. Why she felt different.

This morning she'd sewn for a whole hour. Enough. She wouldn't mind a small nap.

This must be the lessening of pressure, she thought as she and Itsy and  Rusty headed for bed. It was another reason she wasn't accepting a job  right now. She was too tired.

'We match,' she told they dogs. They got up and bounced into frenetic  activity for an hour or so; Itsy wore Rusty out, wore herself out and  then, both exhausted, they slept.

Rusty loved it; he loved Itsy, and Tori loved watching them. But she was as exhausted as they were.

'We're like litter mates,' she told them, letting them sneak up to her end of the bed.

And she slept, dreaming of Jake.



He should have forgotten her by now, or at least he shouldn't be thinking of her as often as he was.

He needed more challenging cases, he decided. His patients were all too  healthy. He worked steadily through a surgery list that he purposely  left even longer than usual. He administered anaesthetic, he monitored  his patients like a hawk-almost hoping for a challenge-and they stayed  nicely stable and he didn't have to do anything and then his thoughts  drifted to Tori.

He should ring her and find out how she was doing. Or not.

He'd rung Rob to find out how the new direction of the lodge was going.  He'd spoken to Glenda, who told him how well Doreen was, and that she  was back at the lodge already, that she was without pain and that she  was getting better every day. Glenda herself was also better. She was  starting to be able to grip with her hand. Her life was so much better  without pain. Her cat was settling in. There were two more guests at the  lodge now, one with a cat and one with two chihuahuas.         

     



 

And when finally he got to talk to Rob and casually enquired about Tori,  Rob said bluntly he hadn't seen her, and his blonde had given him the  flick, so he was over women for the moment. Glenda was a bit more  forthcoming, but not much.

'No, dear, we haven't seen her either. Wasn't she taking a job down in  the valley? Doreen and I intend to find out where, so when Pickles needs  his shots we can see her again. But Pickles's shots aren't due for  another three months.'

Great. He was dependent for news on Pickles's shots. And he didn't have her phone number.

He wouldn't ring it even if he did, he decided. It'd mean …

It'd mean nothing. It was what friends and colleagues did. It'd make  sense to ring and ask her how Itsy and Rusty were doing, whether she'd  found a job, where her life was going.

He wanted to.

He didn't. He'd asked her to come to Manhattan with him. That request had changed things. Her anger had changed things.

He'd messed up their friendship, so he worked and he tried not to think about her.

He was currently on his fourth case for the day. The patient under his  hands was an obese diabetic. All the signs said his triple bypass should  be a nightmare, but every one of his vital signs was great. Every  monitor showed normal.

The surgical team was chatting between themselves but they let him be.  They knew Jake was normally silent. He had the reputation of being  aloof.

That was the way he liked it-wasn't it?

Only … it meant there was time to think, and right now thinking was the one thing Jake didn't know how to handle.



She wasn't quite sure when she started thinking it, but when she did she couldn't get it out of her head.

It started with a vague sense of unease-a wondering about the sleepiness. Why was she so tired? And then she thought …

And then she tried not to think. Only she couldn't.

It was only that she was thinking about Jake too much, she told herself, but it had her trying to remember.

Her files had been burned along with everything else. The important dates were gone and her memory had holes in it.

Many of the people from the ridge were suffering like this, she knew.  Trauma had left gaps in their collective pasts. Post-traumatic stress  disorder?

But giving a name to what was happening wasn't helping. Not when something else might be happening. Or might have happened.

She could phone Susie, she thought, only that'd give voice to her fears.

'Susie, when did I have my contraceptive implant put in? Am I overdue for renewal?'

She looked up the brand of her implant on the Web-cautiously-and found what she didn't want to read.

Effective pregnancy prevention for three years. After that, marked  decreasing efficacy. Replacement must be undertaken within the  three-year window.

Decreasing efficacy …

Surely she can't have been due to change. Surely she couldn't be that dumb.

Could she?

She wasn't ringing Susie, she decided. The problem with having a friend  as her doctor was that her doctor was also her friend. She'd never be  allowed to get away with a simple query. Like, when was … when am I due to  change.

So wait.

She woke three weeks after Jake had left and nothing had happened-again.  She showered and dressed and she felt too nauseous to face breakfast.  She took Rusty and Itsy for a walk into town. She came home and she felt  like a sleep again. Only first she'd just check out the package she'd  brought from the local pharmacy.

She looked.

A thin blue line.

She stared at it for maybe ten minutes. It didn't change.

She tried the second packet.

Another blue line.

Shock held her motionless. Strangely, though, she wasn't devastated. She  couldn't be. Even though she was stunned, there was a tiny part of her  that admitted … joy? Dumb or what, but there it was.

Maybe subconsciously she'd been expecting it. The lethargy that had  enveloped her for the past few weeks almost seemed to have prepared her.

She went out onto the front porch of her shoebox and stared at the distant hills.

She was pregnant.

She was twenty-nine. She had a great career-slightly stalled at the  moment but ready to resume any time she wanted. She had heaps of  insurance money.

She could have a baby.

She was having a baby.

Like Micki.

Her sister's face was suddenly before her, laughing, joyful. 'Tori, feel. He's kicking. My baby's kicking.'

Her hand went to her tummy and pressed. My baby.

And with the thought came a surge of joy so great it threatened to make her head explode.

'We're having a baby,' she told the dogs, trying the words out to see how they sounded.

After so much destruction …  Life.         

     



 

She was carrying Jake's baby.

'I'm going to have to tell him,' she told the dogs.

To not tell him was unthinkable.

Would he be angry? She deserved his anger. She'd promised him she was safe.

'It's early days, though.' She was talking out loud, thinking out loud. 'Something could happen.'

No. Both hands were on her tummy now, as if somehow she could protect it.

Nothing would happen to this baby.

'So tell him,' she whispered. 'Phone him tonight.'

She couldn't. She wasn't brave enough. He'd think she'd lied to him. He'd think …

'I have to explain,' she whispered, and then the phone rang.

'Doc Nicholls? We heard you were at a bit of a loose end. How do you feel about a flying trip to the States?'





CHAPTER NINE




T HE last case had been complex and he'd welcomed it. Finally, here was medicine that held his full attention.

Jeff Holden was someone he'd worked with before. Jeff had needed surgery  as a child and had recurring adhesions. Jake had recognised him as he'd  come in.

Jeff had been allocated to one of his more junior anaesthetists, but  almost to his surprise he'd found himself changing the list. Taking time  to talk to him before he put him under.

'Do you watch baseball?'

'No.'

'Do you watch football, then?' he'd asked.

To his surprise Jeff did, and so did the nurse assisting, and instead of  a tense few moments before theatre there'd been a heated discussion  about Jeff's team-and while he worked he figured he ought to learn more  about a sport he only took a fleeting interest in.