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Well, he hoped it wasn’t, because he knew from experience that flesh-and-blood women were a lot more bother than ghosts, but in Annie’s case he was certain…he smiled to himself…she was worth the effort.
‘You don’t have to talk about the administrator issue,’ Annie said as they left the hospital and she guided him along a path that led around the perimeter of the park. ‘It’s really none of my business if you wanted to bring her out here.’
Alex was more than happy to accede to this request, but a tightness in Annie’s voice suggested he’d better get it settled or he’d be eight steps back.
‘Karen Ritchie, my old—no, ex—administrator, is a single mother who has worked sometimes at two or three jobs for the past ten years since her husband left her, to keep her kids and get them through college. They were old enough to be left on their own for a year, with relatives keeping an eye on them, and I thought the year out here, as well as being hard work, would be a treat for Karen.’
‘Oh!’ Annie said, in a very small voice. ‘Yes, she’d have enjoyed it, I’m sure.’
‘But, in case you’re now feeling bad about Karen, I can see it would have been impossible for her to function efficiently in such a different work environment. I discovered that in Melbourne when I needed administrative help to find my way around the workings of the hospital, and without you in the job here we wouldn’t be nearly as far along as we are. So stop worrying about it and let’s just go out and eat together and enjoy it.’
Now they were safely over that issue, Alex wondered what they should talk about.
Annie solved that problem.
‘I phoned Mayarma, the dog-walker I told you about, and she’s more than happy to add Minnie to her mob. She’d like to take her out on her own first to see how she behaves, but I assured her Henry would look after her—Minnie, not Mayarma—if she joins the group.’
‘And what do I have to do? How do I arrange things? And what is this wonderful service going to cost me?’
Annie explained the various ways owners left their dogs to be collected, and then named a sum that seemed ridiculously low to Alex.
‘That’s all she asks?’
Annie nodded.
‘It’s cash. She’s from the Philippines, married to an Australian, and she loves dogs but can’t have one as her husband’s getting on and could be knocked over by a big dog or trip over a small one. I’ll give you her phone number and you can speak to her direct about the arrangements.’
Which sorted out the dogs. Alex wondered if he could turn the subject to more personal matters, but Annie forestalled him with a question.
‘Did Maggie tell you why she didn’t want to stay with you?’
‘No, though I guess it could be something to do with sharing with two men. She might have imagined she’d have to do all the cooking and housework.’
‘Mmm.’
Alex waited for an explanation and when none was forthcoming asked, ‘That’s it? Mmm?’
‘It was a considering kind of mmm,’ Annie explained. ‘An “I’m not sure enough to say anything” kind of mmm.’
‘About what?’ Alex persisted, realising Annie’s conversation, first about the dogs and now about something to do with Maggie, was actually relaxing him quite nicely. It seemed so normal somehow, to be walking like this with Annie and talking trivia.
‘About Maggie,’ Annie now said, and Alex found he was intrigued. He liked Maggie and greatly appreciated the contribution she made to his work. A good anaesthetist was essential in all operations—but even more critical when working on hearts that could be as small as plums.
But they’d reached the restaurant, and his first whiff of the garlic-scented air turned his thoughts from staff to food.
And once again he made Annie laugh, his indecision over what sauce to have with his penne delighting her. Her laughter filled his heart with a heady gladness that went beyond the attraction he felt for her, and filled his mind with a resolve to continue this rather strange courtship.
‘It’s all very well for you,’ he grumbled. ‘You probably cook delicious sauces every day of the week. Once I’m past curry, it’s steak or steak. Not that you don’t have great steak out here in Australia, but it gets a bit boring after a while.’
‘You can buy prepared sauces then all you have to do is boil the pasta and heat the sauce and voila`, an Italian meal.’
‘Voila`’s French,’ he said, still grumbling, but now because Annie had slipped off the jacket of her suit, revealing a dark green blouse that made her eyes seem greener. And just as he was comparing the colour of the eyes to her blouse the top button popped, revealing a glimpse of a deep shadow between her breasts, so lust replaced the gladness in his heart, while an inner voice—a mean-spirited voice, sharp with jealousy—wondered if she’d had her jacket on or off at the meeting that morning.
‘The waitress asked if you’d decided,’ Annie said, indicating a young woman who’d materialised by his side.
‘I’ll have the Matriciana,’ he said, and silently congratulated himself on his recovery.
‘It’s about the only pasta sauce not on the menu. How about you try the Alfredo?’
Annie was just being helpful, but he glowered at her anyway, knowing he couldn’t ask what she’d had on at the meeting, suspecting he might be seriously love-struck to be thinking this way, and, as the wine waiter approached, wondering if it would be totally improper behaviour if he reached across the table and did up the wayward button.
He didn’t, asking Annie instead if she had a preference in wine, and when she settled on a glass of the house Chianti, he told the waiter he’d have the same. Thankfully, the man departed.
Which left him with Annie, and the revealing neckline of her shirt, which kept drawing his attention as surely as seagulls were drawn to fries at a picnic.
His silence must have stretched a fraction too long.
‘You’re frowning again. Is it Jamie, or are you still worried about Amy?’
Annie’s question—so work-oriented when his mind had been so far away—made him smile.
‘If I confess I was thinking of seagulls…’ not entirely true but close enough ‘…would you think I was totally mad?’
‘Not totally,’ she said, a smile lighting up her face and twinkling in her green-today eyes.
She sat back, obviously waiting for him to explain, but of course he couldn’t. Neither could he think of any logical thoughts he might have been having about seagulls.
Apart from them liking fries!
‘Jamie came through really well,’ he said, reverting to work as an escape from dangerous territory. ‘It’s hard to tell how older children will react. I think because they understand the concept of an operation, and have some knowledge of what’s happening to them, they can be more fearful. I don’t know of any studies that have been done to see how that affects recovery, but it would be interesting to test the theory. I had a teenage patient once, and though he was used to having catheters stuck up an artery or vein from his groin, and knew all the process, and watched the screen to see the tube travel to his heart, he told me, years later, how much he’d hated it and how he’d far rather have been knocked out before the procedure took place.’
‘Why wasn’t it an option?’ Annie asked, and Alex smiled to himself. He’d mentioned the case as a diversionary tactic but Annie was so eager to know things he enjoyed these discussions nearly as much as—
Boy! He’d nearly thought ‘the popped button’ and pulled himself up just in time.
‘A lot of older children enjoy being part of their treatment, and we’d assumed that was the case with this youth. However, him telling me how much he hated it was a wakeup call for me, because I’d made an assumption on his behalf. Early on, we did all catheterisations for testing and small ops while the patient was sedated slightly but not out of it, mainly because we didn’t have the mild, short-acting anaesthesia we have today. And though we knock the infants out, we’d continued doing the older children with just sedation.’
‘Until someone protested?’
Alex nodded. ‘Bad medicine, that!’ he recalled. ‘We should have asked. I always do now, and I make sure the cardiologists—they do most of the caths these days—know how I feel about it. I even gave a paper on it once.’
And as he said the words he remembered where and when he’d given that paper. At the congress at Traders Rest five years ago…
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANNIE knew from the way he looked at her exactly where and when he’d given that paper. And suddenly it was the right time to say something. Not a lot, but enough for Alex to decide if he wanted to keep seeing her or not.
Though it shouldn’t be his choice. She should decide. And she knew what that decision should be!
But her heart longed for the love she felt might be on offer, while her mind reached out for companionship and her body—well, her body just plain lusted after his!
So she had to say something!
She reached out and placed her hand over his, so they both rested on the table. Gave his fingers a squeeze because this could well be the last time she touched him.
Then she withdrew her hand and used it to grip her other one—tightly—in her lap beneath the table so no one could see them twisting anxiously.
She looked at Alex, at the grey eyes that seemed to see right into her soul, and with a heavy heart blurted out the words that needed to be said.
‘You’ve probably guessed I was with someone at the congress. My husband. I left him that night. I haven’t seen him since. I started divorce proceedings eighteen months ago, but as I haven’t heard from the lawyers I don’t know if it’s gone through so I could, technically, still be married.’
Alex seemed to be waiting for more, his eyes fixed on her face, then he smiled.
‘Are you telling me this in case I have strong feelings about dating married women? Believe me, Annie, if you haven’t lived with the guy for five years, I don’t think you count as married any more, so you can’t escape me that way.’
The teasing tone in his voice warmed all the cold places in her body that thinking about Dennis had produced, but as she replayed all the words—both hers and his—in her head, she realised she was still a long way from explaining exactly where things now stood between her and Dennis.
Not that she knew for certain…
Alex was talking again and she shut away the sudden tremor of fear.
‘Annie,’ he said gently, ‘you must know there are plenty of places in the States where divorce is cheap and easy. Maybe he’s divorced you.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, though she doubted it. When the first of the private investigators had called her father—only two days after she’d left Traders Rest—her father had said Annie was in the US and as far as he knew still with Dennis. Her father had also supplied the man with the name and contact details of the family’s solicitors and asked that all contact be made through the firm, which meant there’d always been an address available for the service of papers or for information about a ‘quickie’ divorce.
‘Well, as I said, it doesn’t matter,’ Alex reiterated. ‘Now, would you like to put your hand back on the table? I think on a first date, even in Australia, we’d be allowed to hold hands.’
Annie smiled at the weak joke, but as her fingers were now icy from remembering, she was happy to rest her hand back on the table, appreciating the warmth of his when he placed it on top of hers.
He gave her fingers a squeeze, thanked the waiter who’d brought their wine and then said, ‘My mother always said to show interest in one’s companions—ask about their jobs and so on. But I know all about your job and you know about mine, and we’ve already talked about the pets and the food, so I guess we might be up to families. Is it just you and your father in yours? Having had my sister visit last year, I can only see that as a blessing, although I suppose it’s been fun having her around. She was an afterthought, my sister. Three boys, then when the youngest was eight along came Frances. I was thirteen, old enough to understand the basic sex education we’d had at school, so you can imagine how horrified I was to realise my mother and father must have done that to have produced Frances! Totally grossed me out for a long time!’
Annie laughed.
‘I can imagine!’ she said, but though her laughter sounded genuine, Alex could still read strain in her face, and the cold fingers nestling beneath his suggested that telling him even the bare bones of her story had upset her.
She lifted her other hand up to pick up her wineglass, tilting it towards him in a toast.
‘To the new unit!’ she said.
Alex lifted his own glass and clinked it against hers, although he’d always thought the gesture corny.
‘Not to the new unit, Annie, but to us!’ He raised it higher, then moved it to his lips and took a sip. ‘This is a date, remember.’
A slight smile trembled on her lips.
‘I’m out of practice at dating,’ she said. ‘This is the first in a very long time, and I’ve probably already blown it with a confession about my dubious marital status, and now I’m feeling envious of you, growing up in a family with four kids. You asked if it was just Dad and me in our family, and it is. My mother died when I was eleven, so he and I are closer than most fathers and daughters.’
‘Nothing to feel envious about,’ Alex assured her, although he felt sorry for anyone who hadn’t experienced the kind of upbringing he’d had, and he couldn’t imagine not having the close connections he’d retained with his siblings. ‘After three boys my mother had always prayed for a girl so she’d have female support within the family, but when Frances came along Mom swore she was more trouble than the three of us put together.’
He could feel Annie’s fingers growing warmer and could see the tension draining out of her face. His imagination had provided him with a vivid image of her travelling to the US with her husband, separated from her father—the only close family she had—by an ocean. No mom at home to phone when things were difficult, no supportive letters like the ones he still received from members of his family—though now they were emailed, not posted.
The waitress set their meals on the table. Annie thanked her then took back her hand so she could handle her fork and spoon for some spaghetti-twirling.
‘I always order pasta in pieces because I’ve never mastered that art,’ Alex confessed, after admiring her expertise for some time.
‘Student meals!’ she said. ‘I trained in—in a city and Dad was posted in the country at the time, so I shared a flat with three other students. I think we lived on spaghetti for four years. When we were flush we had sauce on it, other times olive oil and garlic.’
She paused then grinned at him.
‘Come to think of it, I didn’t have many dates back then either!’
Alex knew she was doing her best to keep the conversation light, but her hesitation in mentioning a particular city struck him as off-key and he remembered other times she’d caught herself in conversation.
Were things not finished between herself and her husband in other ways—apart from the divorce? Was she fearful of him finding her?
Mental headshake. OK, so some men did get hung up on ex-wives or ex-partners—you read about it every day in the paper—but Annie had been at the congress with her husband—a congress of cardiologists and cardiac surgeons. Yes, there were ancillary services represented, and a clutch of representatives from drug companies, but to think of any of these people as…
Dangerous?
Annie was talking, about the food and some place at the beach that sold fresh pasta and a variety of sauces.
‘It’s really delicious, and well worth the drive.’
‘We could go together on Saturday—if all’s well at work,’ Alex suggested, then knew from the arrested look in Annie’s eyes that she’d mentioned the place as offhand conversation. And he knew, in her mind, this wasn’t just a first date. It was a final one as well.
But why? He tried to get inside her head. To work out what might have happened to make her so determined not to get involved with him when it was equally obvious she liked him.
And, from her response to his kisses, felt an attraction towards him.
She’d had a bad experience with marriage—that was obvious—but that wasn’t at all rare these days. People he knew had been married three or four times and had very few hang-ups about it. He didn’t think that kind of short-term arrangement would suit him, but still…
He considered how things must have been. Marrying fairly young then travelling to the US where her husband had been her sole support—probably, if she hadn’t worked, her sole contact with the outside world. If things had been difficult between them, she’d have been truly isolated. Living in the most civilised country in the world, yet so alone she may as well have been on the moon.
The waiter appeared to ask if he’d like more wine, and he realised he’d been sipping at his glass, emptying it, as he thought. He thanked the man and was about to wave him away when he realised Annie’s glass was also empty.
‘Would you like another glass of wine? Don’t stop because I did. I’m always aware I could be called in, so I usually stop at one—on rare occasions two.’
She shook her head and the waiter went away, then she smiled the slightly mischievous smile that made her eyes sparkle.
‘Just because I didn’t have a mother, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t warned about drinking too much on a first date. I think my father, having been on the other side of the dating game, probably knew more about it than any woman ever would. He typed up lists of warnings he not only read out to me before I went out the door but also taped all over the place.’
Alex chuckled at the image of fatherly concern.
‘How did it start? Boys are only after one thing?’
Annie relaxed for the first time since they’d sat down and Alex had mentioned the paper he’d given at the congress.
‘That was the first, fourth, sixth, eighth and eleventh, if I remember rightly. It was something he repeated with such regularity it confused me more than it helped. To begin with, I thought the “one thing” was a kiss, so for my first three years at high school, on the rare dates friends arranged for me, I refused to let any of the boys kiss me. Then the story went around that I had some terrible lip disease—far worse than herpes—and I didn’t have to worry about saying no because no one ever asked me.’
