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Kaylee walked beside her as she steered through the self-opening doors and made her way to the busy waiting area, past Reception then to the doctors’ rooms beyond.
‘See you later,’ the teenager said as their paths diverged.
Tara nodded and forced a smile, eager to reach the privacy of her consulting room so she could take a minute or two to compose herself. She’d never had a panic attack at work and she wasn’t about to change that today.
Ryan scanned the room full of chattering staff but couldn’t see Tara. He lingered a moment in the doorway, taking in the table laden with a bounty of home-cooked food, but was soon approached by the principal doctor at Keysdale Medical Clinic, Rob Whelan. The man greeted Ryan with a welcoming grin.
‘I’ll introduce you to the mob, and then you can eat …’ his grin broadened ‘… and mingle.’
Rob reeled off a long list of names Ryan would never remember to associate with the endless stream of nodding, smiling faces. Then, his gaze automatically following his colleague’s, he turned, and it was as if the waters parted. People moved out of the way as Tara wheeled herself into the room with a barely suppressed scowl on her face and rosy colour in her cheeks.
‘And last but not least …’ Rob said, resting his hand lightly on Tara’s shoulder. ‘Dr Tara Fielding.’ He glanced at Ryan. ‘This is Ryan Dennison, our new visiting orthopaedic surgeon.’
Thank God Tara had reverted to her maiden name, averting a possible problem he hadn’t thought of until now.
At that moment Rob’s attention was taken by the timely arrival of Karin Hooper, the new paediatrician. Rob began the introduction ritual all over again, and Ryan was grateful the spotlight had moved away from him and Tara, who was still right next to him, waiting for her turn in the short queue for the food. She reluctantly shook his offered hand as he leaned over to talk to her.
‘I’m glad to finally meet you, Dr Fielding. I’ve heard so much about you.’ It was an attempt at humour to lighten Tara’s mood but he wasn’t sure if it had worked.
She answered him with a cool smile as she released his hand from a momentary grip of steel.
‘Ouch,’ he couldn’t help exclaiming.
‘Sorry.’ She was grinning now but still looked tense … guarded. ‘Sometimes I forget my own strength.’ She picked up two plates and handed one to Ryan, who promptly discarded the fleeting thought of offering to serve her food. He had much to learn.
‘How has your day been so far? Not too snowed under with Keysdale’s unique brand of orthopaedic problems?’ It was inconsequential small talk.
He laughed politely. ‘You mean crush fractures from being stepped on by livestock and strain injuries from overdosing on fencing?’
‘You’ve got the idea.’
While he was talking Ryan watched in wonder as Tara effortlessly multi-tasked, deftly moving her chair into impossibly small spaces while at the same time loading her plate with enough to feed a professional athlete.
She paused a moment and looked at his empty plate.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she asked.
‘Oh … er … yes.’ He stuttered his reply, not prepared to admit he’d been too busy watching her. After shouldering his way through the tightly packed occupants of the small lunch room, he began to select food from the abundance before him. By the time he’d filled his plate Tara had moved to the other side of the room and was deep in conversation with a woman he remembered, from her name tag, was a physiotherapist.
Balancing his plate in one hand, he headed in Tara’s direction but was stopped midway by a tap on his shoulder. He turned.
‘Sorry to desert you,’ Rob Whelan said amiably. ‘I wanted to have a word with you about the possibility of you doing some extra consulting—maybe on the Saturday mornings you’re not operating?’
If Ryan’s appointment book was anything to go by, the services of an orthopaedic surgeon in the town were desperately needed, but he was over-committed as it was.
‘I’m sorry, I’m on call at St Joseph’s one weekend in four, and …’ He hesitated, deciding whether Rob, a relative stranger, needed to know about the custody arrangements he had for access to his daughter. As it was, he only saw her one weekend a month, and that time was precious.
If things had been different … He sighed.
‘And?’ Rob raised his eyebrows, as if he sensed Ryan’s discomfort but his curiosity overrode tact. Maybe it was the country way—that everyone had a God-given right to know everyone else’s business. But it wasn’t Ryan’s way.
‘I have regular family commitments on most of my free weekends.’ His use of the word free was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but the vague comment was all he was prepared to give at the moment. ‘And I think you’ll find things will settle down in a month or two, once I work through the backlog of referrals and start seeing follow-ups.’
Rob rubbed his chin and pressed his mouth into a thin line.
‘I thought as much.’ The older doctor’s grin reappeared. ‘But, you know, if your situation changes the offer stands.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
At that moment Ryan noticed Tara heading off, and he wanted to talk to her. He felt oddly jilted. But he didn’t have any claim on what she did.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I just want to …’ His voice trailed off as one of the other GPs in the practice cornered Rob Whelan and let Ryan off the hook. Ryan dumped his barely touched food onto the table to follow Tara, but she’d vanished in the space of a few seconds. He went in pursuit and found her room off the corridor leading to Reception.
He knocked quietly but there was no response.
Maybe she hadn’t gone back to her room.
He knocked again, a little louder.
‘Tara?’ He opened the door but her spacious office was empty. He glanced around and noted the modifications that had been made because of Tara’s disability. Shelves and cupboards were no higher than shoulder-height. There were two patients’ chairs but a notable absence of a seat for the doctor. The examination couch was also low, and the pedal that raised or lowered the bed had been modified to accommodate hand controls similar to those used for hospital beds. In fact just about everything in the room was reachable from a wheelchair.
He heard movement from behind a door on the far side of the room, and then the sound of a toilet flushing and water running. The door opened, apparently remote-controlled, and Tara wheeled herself into the room, concentrating on the small joystick that controlled the direction of her chair. She obviously hadn’t seen him as he stood quietly by the door.
He cleared his throat and the muscles of Tara’s shoulders visibly jerked. She scowled as blood rose to her neck and coloured her face.
‘What the—?’
‘Sorry, I knocked. Twice.’ He cleared his throat again.
‘Well, did you want to see me for something?’ Tara said after they’d eyeballed each other for what felt like an age but was probably less than twenty seconds.
‘I …’
What was supposed to be a relaxed greeting and a little ice-breaking chat on his first day working in the Keysdale clinic wasn’t working out the way he’d planned.
‘I just wanted to touch base … er … in a professional capacity, of course.’ He smiled uneasily. It sounded ridiculous now. ‘But you disappeared before I had time to say much more than hello just now.’
Tara tilted her head slightly and the steely look in her eyes blocked any access to what she was thinking. Then the expression on her face softened, as if she’d had a change of mind. It was too much to expect she’d had a change of heart.
‘You took me by surprise,’ she said bluntly. ‘I have a fairly rigid routine at work. It means I can use my time here the most efficiently.’ She hesitated.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—’
‘You weren’t to know. After all, a good many years have passed since we last saw each other and a lot has happened since then. We’ve both been living our own lives and I’m not the same person I was back then.’
She was unable to hide her quick downward glance. He didn’t blame her for being bitter. Thoughts that had been tumbling through his mind over the last two weeks returned.
If he could change places with her, he would—a hundred times over; if he could turn back the clock; if only things had been different.
He felt totally helpless.
‘Yes.’ It wasn’t often Ryan was lost for words. He was now.
Tara fiddled with some papers on her desk, arranging them in a neat pile. Then she repositioned herself in her chair.
‘Well, while you are here, have you a minute to discuss a patient?’
‘Yes, of course.’
The atmosphere had definitely lightened. The tension of discussing the past evaporated like summer rain falling on hot asphalt.
‘Her name’s Pippa Morgan and I’ve asked her to make an appointment to see you but it could be a couple of weeks down the track. I’ve been told how busy you are, and that you’re booked up for the next month.’
‘Tell me about her.’
Tara swung around to face him.
‘She’s nineteen. Juvenile rheumatoid arthritis was diagnosed when she was six years old. She’s been managed by a rheumatologist from the early stages.’ Tara paused to take a breath. ‘Of course I’ve only known her as a teenager, and she’s been under the care of Liam Taylor for the past two years. She’s had just about every treatment in the book to control her pain and inflammation—non-steroidal anti-inflammatories, Prednisone, Methotrexate, a trial of a DMARD as well as joint injections.’
Ryan had treated many patients with the inflamed and sometimes deformed joints of the chronic rheumatic condition rheumatoid arthritis, but rarely saw children or young adults with the disease. Treatment by surgery was usually kept in reserve for when all else failed. And the bulk of his experience had been with the middle-aged and elderly.
‘Liam’s one of the best adult rheumatologists around.’
‘It was he who suggested she may need a hip replacement in the next year or two.’
‘And you want my opinion?’
‘That’s right.’
Their conversation was interrupted by Ryan’s mobile phone. He answered the call from his receptionist.
‘Sorry, there’s an emergency. A child with what sounds like displaced fractures of tib and fib.’ He looked at his watch and noted his busy afternoon consulting was due to start as well. ‘I’m going to have to go.’
‘Of course.’
‘We’ll talk about Pippa later.’ He paused in the doorway on his way out. ‘I’ll ring you.’
As Ryan strode down the corridor he tried to file thoughts of Tara Fielding deep in the back of his mind so he could focus totally on his work.
‘I’m taking two patient files with me tonight. Also, would you mind checking if we have a referral letter for a nineteen-year-old named Pippa Morgan—and have you typed out the theatre list for tomorrow?’ Ryan glanced at the wall clock behind his receptionist, eager to leave. He’d had an early start and a long day.
Liz extracted a file from the cabinet and leafed through a dozen sheets of paper before she found the letter Ryan had asked for.
‘Here it is. I’d have remembered if I’d scanned it into the computer records because I’d have made a file for her.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll just do you a photocopy.’
The efficient middle-aged woman smiled. She was a Keysdale local, and today was the first time he’d met her, but she’d certainly proved her worth. She seemed to have the ability to think and act one step ahead of him.
‘So you don’t trust me to return it?’
‘I’m sure you have the best of intentions but I know how busy doctors are.’
‘And it might get overlooked?’ He returned her smile.
‘Something like that.’ She handed him the copy of the letter as well as the theatre list, and jotted down the names of the patient files he’d laid on the counter. ‘And there’s one more thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I won’t be a moment,’ she said as she turned and headed for the back room, returning with a loaded plastic carry-bag. ‘You won’t need to think about what to eat this evening. There was so much food left over from the welcome party, and the girls didn’t want to waste it. Someone noticed you rushed off without touching your lunch so they thought you were a worthy recipient.’
Ryan took a quick peek in the bag and noted there was enough food to last for the next week.
‘Thanks, that’s a really kind thought, but I can’t possibly eat all of this.’
‘It’ll only get thrown away, so you might as well take it.’ He took the bag.
‘Okay, thanks, Liz. I’ll see you next week, then.’
When he arrived in the car park he offloaded the food and his gear in the back seat, climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. But instead of firing on the first turn the engine groaned and his state-of-the-art luxury car gave up.
‘Damn, this is the last thing I need,’ he muttered. He tried again with the same result, wondering if his usually reliable car had been interfered with. ‘The last thing I need …’ he muttered again, trying one more time to fire up the engine.
He phoned his roadside call-out service and was given the number of a local auto repair shop. When the mechanic arrived the news was not good.
During Tara’s busy afternoon every patient seemed to take longer than their allotted time, and at the end of her list she was running nearly an hour late. It was well past five o’clock. If she was running too late her parents worried. She understood why. The accident had fuelled what had become their almost obsessive concern about the safety of their only child, their precious, perfect, beautiful daughter—but it didn’t make her life any easier. No matter how many times she’d tried to persuade them she was capable of looking after herself they still waited up for her when she had the occasional date or night out with her friends. And she had to tell them where she was going, especially if she was driving on her own.
Right now she had to live with it. Tara owed her parents big-time and she didn’t want to cause them any more stress than they already had.
She packed her things in readiness to leave and headed to Reception. When she was barely out of her room Ryan burst through the outside door as if he was being pursued by a pack of rabid dogs. He’d certainly found a novel way of attracting attention.
‘Is there a taxi service in this town?’ he said in a voice laced with frustration and impatience.
Tara wheeled slowly closer, but Ryan hadn’t noticed her and went on without waiting for a reply.
‘My car won’t start. There’s something wrong with the ignition system and it needs to be towed to the local garage to be repaired—’
‘I’ve got some jump leads in my car if that’s any help,’ Jenny offered.
Ryan sighed. ‘I wish … Apparently the computer and security system is so complicated you need an auto electrician to reset and reconnect it, even if it’s simply a flat battery. Which won’t happen until tomorrow.’
Some of the edginess had gone from Ryan’s voice and he looked worn out. He’d obviously had a busy day and it appeared it wasn’t going to get any better.
Tara was at the counter now.
‘I’m just leaving and can drop you off. Taxis here are notoriously unreliable unless you make an advance booking. Where are you staying?’
Ryan looked stunned, as if Tara was the last person he’d expected to see, let alone offer a simple solution to his predicament.
‘Ahh …’
