A Life-Saving Reunion. Alison Roberts
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sorry...’ Julia had another handful of tissues pressed to her nose as he opened the door of the relatives’ room so she could step out before him.
‘It’s not a problem,’ Thomas assured her. ‘I’m always here to talk to you. And Peter, of course. Let’s set up that appointment to talk about the ventricular assist device very soon.’
Julia nodded, but her face crumpled again as her thoughts clearly returned to something a lot less happy than the thought of attending a picnic to celebrate the lives that had been so dramatically improved by the gift of organ donation. The urge to put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her and offer reassurance was so strong, he had to curl his fingers into a fist to stop his hand moving.
‘Um...’ Thomas cleared his throat. ‘Would you like me to find someone to sit with you for a bit?’
Julia shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. You go. I’ll just get myself together a bit more before I go back to Penny. I don’t want her to see that I’ve been crying.’
* * *
Even a view of only the woman’s back was enough to advertise her distress, but it was the body language of the man standing so rigidly beside her that caught Dr Rebecca Scott’s attention instantly as she stepped out of the elevator to head towards the cardiology ward at the far end of the corridor.
A sigh escaped her lips and her steps slowed a little as she fought the impulse to spin around and push the button to open the lift doors again. To go somewhere else. It wasn’t really an option. She had a patient in the cardiology ward who was on the theatre list for tomorrow morning and she knew that the parents were in need of a lot of reassurance. This small window of time in her busy day was the only slot available so she would just have to lift her chin and deal with having her path cross with that of her ex-husband.
How sad was it that she’d known it was Thomas simply because of the sense of disconnection with the person he was talking to?
He might have returned to work at Paddington’s but the Thomas Wolfe that Rebecca had known and loved hadn’t come back.
Oh, he still looked the same. Still lean and fit and so tall that the top of her head would only reach his shoulder. He still had those eyes that had fascinated her right from the start because they could change colour depending on his mood. Blue when he was happy and grey when he was angry or worried or sad.
They had been the colour of a slate roof on a rainy day that first time they had seen each other again after so long and she hadn’t noticed any difference since. He was as aloof with her as he was with his patients and their families.
She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy. She’d known that some cases were going to be a lot harder than others but, when she’d heard that he’d agreed to come back and work at Paddington’s, Rebecca had believed that she could cope. She’d wondered if they could, in fact, put some of the past behind them and salvage some kind of friendship, even.
That hope had been extinguished the first time their paths had crossed when nothing had been said. When there had been no more warmth in his gaze than if she’d been any other colleague he’d previously worked with.
Less warmth, probably.
The old Thomas had never been like that. He’d had an easy grin that was an invitation for colleagues to stop and chat for a moment or two. He would joke and play with the children in his care and he’d always had a knack for connecting with parents—especially after he’d become a father himself. They loved him because he could make them feel as if they had the best person possible fighting in their corner. Someone who understood exactly how hard it was and would care for their child as if it were his own.
This version of Thomas might have the same—or likely an improved—ability to deliver the best medical care but he was a shell of the man he had once been.
Part of Rebecca’s heart was breaking for a man who’d taught himself to disconnect so effectively from the people around him but, right now, an even bigger part was angry. Maybe it had been building with every encounter they’d had over the last few months when they had discussed the care of their patients with a professional respect that bordered on coldness.
Calling each other ‘Thomas’ and ‘Rebecca’ with never a single slip into the ‘Tom’ and ‘Becca’ they had always been to each other. Discussing test results and medications and surgery as if nobody involved had a personal life or people that loved them enough to be terrified.
It was bad enough that he’d destroyed their marriage by withdrawing into this cold, hard shell but she could deal with that. She’d had years of practice, after all. To see the effect it was having on others made it far less acceptable. This was Penny’s mother he’d been talking to, for heaven’s sake. They’d both known Julia since she’d been pregnant with her first—and only—child. They’d both been there for her a thousand per cent over the first weeks and months of her daughter’s life. He’d been the old Thomas, then.
And then he’d walked out. He hadn’t been there for the next lot of surgery Penny had had. He hadn’t shared the joy of appointments over the next few years that had demonstrated how well the little girl had been and how happy and hopeful her family was. He hadn’t been there to witness the fear returning as her condition had deteriorated again but now he was back on centre stage and he was acting as if Penelope Craig was just another patient. As if he had no personal connection at all...
How could he be walking away from Julia like that, when she was so upset she had buried her face in a handful of tissues, ducking back into the relatives’ room for some privacy?
Rebecca’s forward movement came to a halt as Thomas came closer. She knew she was glaring at him but, for once, she wasn’t going to hide anything personal behind a calm, professional mask.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked, her tone rather more crisp than she had expected. ‘Why is Julia so upset?’
Thomas shifted his gaze, obviously checking that nobody was within earshot. A group of both staff and visitors were waiting for an elevator. Kitchen staff went past, pushing a huge stainless steel trolley. An orderly pushing a bed came towards them, heading for the service lift, presumably taking the small patient for an X-ray or scan. The bed had balloons tied to the end, one of them a bright yellow smiley face. A nurse walked beside the bed, chatting to the patient’s mother. She saw Rebecca and smiled. Then her gaze shifted to Thomas and the smile faded a little.
He didn’t seem to notice. He tilted his head towards the group of comfortable chairs near the windows that were, remarkably, free of anyone needing a break or waiting to meet someone. Far enough away from the elevator doors to allow for a private conversation.
Fair enough. It would be unprofessional to discuss details of a case where it could be overheard. Rebecca followed his lead but didn’t sit down on one of the chairs. Neither did Thomas.
‘I was going to send you a memo,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting both Julia and Peter in the next day or two to discuss the option of Penelope receiving a ventricular assist device. It’s only a matter of time before her heart failure becomes unmanageable.’
‘Okay...’ Rebecca caught her bottom lip between her teeth. No wonder Julia had been upset. A VAD was a major intervention. But she trusted Thomas’s judgement and it would definitely buy them some time.
His gaze touched hers for just a heartbeat as he finished speaking but Rebecca found herself staring at his face, waiting for him to look at her again. Surely he could understand the effect of what he’d told Julia? How could he have walked away from her like that and left her alone?
But Thomas seemed to be scanning the view of central London that these big, multi-paned old windows provided. He could probably see the busy main roads with their red, double-decker buses and crowds of people waiting at intersections or trying to hail a black cab. Or maybe his eye had been drawn to the glimpse of greenery in the near distance from the treetops of Regent’s Park.
‘You’ve had experience with VADs? Are you happy to do the surgery?’