The Doctor, His Daughter And Me. Leonie Knight
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be doing sessional work, I guess?’
He also seemed grateful for the change of subject.
‘I’ll be operating on Thursdays and consulting Fridays, with the option to do an extra theatre session on alternative Saturday mornings. I’ll stay overnight.’
‘Where are you planning to stay?’ she asked, purely out of curiosity.
‘I thought one of the motels. But if you can suggest anything better?’
She thought for a moment.
‘The Riverside is the best of the three motels in town. It’s off the highway and not far from the clinic.’ That was all the advice she was prepared to give.
‘Right. I’m staying over tonight, so I can check out the consulting rooms and meet with the manager to go through all the paperwork tomorrow morning. I can book in to the motel you suggested. I plan to head back about lunchtime.’
To his wife.
Tara wondered what she would think of her husband working away. But she certainly wasn’t going to delve into his personal life.
‘Can I pick you up and take you out to lunch before I leave?’
No way! What on earth was he thinking?
Tara tried not to let her disbelief show on her face and mustered a smile.
‘No, thanks, I’m busy all day tomorrow,’ she lied. ‘And I’m sure you’ll be keen to get home to your wife and family.’
‘Pardon?’
Hadn’t he heard her or didn’t he understand?
‘You’ll surely want to get home,’ she repeated.
‘To my wife and kids?’
Tara nodded.
‘That’s what I thought you said.’ His brow crinkled in a frown. ‘Of course—I shouldn’t have assumed you’d know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Shannay and I divorced over a year ago and she has custody of our daughter.’
He was waiting for a reaction but what did he expect? Should she express regret at the breakdown of his second marriage? This was too much for her to deal with. She’d had the idea, set in her mind, that Ryan would find the perfect woman, that he would have the perfect family. But divorce! It had never been in the equation.
‘Sorry,’ she finally said. ‘I heard you’d married again, but—’
‘To separate was the best option for both of us. We weren’t compatible and it wasn’t working out,’ he muttered.
He stood to leave. He was obviously uncomfortable talking about it.
‘I’ll get going, then,’ he added.
‘Yes. I work Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. so I’ll probably bump into you when you start your Friday sessions.’
Before she had a chance to recoil he leaned down and placed a brief kiss on her cheek, and his questioning eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he strode down the steps and headed for his car.
He’d certainly changed, but in a lot of ways was still the same Ryan Dennison she’d fallen in love with. That was all in the past, though, dead and buried.
But he was single.
Of course that didn’t alter anything, did it?
Seeing Tara again was like a rebirth.
Ryan had to deal with all the raw emotion, the painful memories, the turmoil of indecision he’d held inside for so long. To overcome the reality of the wretched, haunting past that intruded into his dreams, that followed him during every waking hour of every day, was a challenge he wasn’t sure he was ready for.
Did he blame himself?
How could he not?
He’d had control, he’d been at the wheel and his reflex reaction had resulted in the horrendous collision that had left Tara without the use of her legs.
The moment he’d realised Tara’s future had been snatched away from her he’d desperately wanted to turn back the clock. If he’d seen the kangaroo twenty seconds earlier, if he’d reacted faster, if the massive tree had been a few metres further along the road, if they’d left the party ten minutes earlier, if he hadn’t insisted they stop to buy a bottle of wine on the way home, if he could change places with her, if … There were so many ifs he thought he’d dealt with, but deep down he still nursed a guilt that was so sharp, it cut directly into his heart.
Visiting Tara had made him wish he’d tried harder to convince her she’d been more important to him than a career or money or a tribe of kids. He’d felt sure they could pick up the pieces, but had been rejected when Tara had told him her love had dried up. He’d been devastated, but in the end had genuinely believed he’d done what was best for them, what Tara wanted. She’d not wanted to even give him a chance to provide the love and caring he’d thought only he could give. Tara had been determined and immovable in her resolve that getting a divorce was the only way she could put the past behind her.
And, in a way, she’d been right.
She now had a fulfilled life with a satisfying job and she was more beautiful than ever. It wouldn’t surprise him if she had dozens of admirers and could have the pick of the bunch. In fact Ryan was surprised she hadn’t remarried.
But that was her business.
He had no right to interfere with what she’d worked so hard to achieve.
It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d just have to ignore the churning deep in his belly and the ache in his heart and get on with his own life. Thinking that there was even the remotest chance they could get back together was an aberration. Tara’s attitude to him had verified that.
Ryan slowed down as he reached the outskirts of the town. He suddenly felt exhausted. It had been a long day and he’d had an early start, which made the prospect of a hot cup of coffee and a soft bed very attractive.
The Riverside Motel, Tara had said.
He travelled slowly through Keysdale’s sleepy town centre until he saw a sign pointing east towards the river. After about half a kilometre the motel came into view, and he shifted his focus from ruminations about Tara to the practicalities of organising his accommodation for the night.
Two rows of tidy units nestled on the banks of the Keysdale River. Most had views of the lush green paddocks beyond and it was quiet, away from traffic noise and had an air of relaxed tranquillity about it.
He pulled up in front of the office, got out of his black sports car and stretched. He’d done too much driving that afternoon, and his right hip ached from the bursitis he got when he sat for too long. A bell above the office door tinkled as he opened it but there was no one inside. He gazed around, noting the tourist brochures advertising the history museum, a dairy called The Milk Factory, whitewater rafting and half a dozen local restaurants.
He took a double-take and grabbed a leaflet, but before he had a chance to look at it more closely a plump, middle-aged woman emerged from a back room.
She smiled and greeted him.
‘Hello, sir. Do you want a room?’
‘Yes, just for tonight.’ He explained his requirements for regular accommodation and they came to an arrangement.
‘Here’s your key. Your room’s nice and quiet with a wonderful view.’ She paused to take a breath. ‘Dinner is served from six-thirty to eight-thirty and there’s a menu in your room for breakfast orders.’
‘Thank you.’
The woman glanced at the leaflet he was still clutching in his hand.
‘Well worth a visit