The Doctor's Longed-for Bride

Jack stared at her, his eyes holding hers, something unreadable in their bright blue depths behind the studious-looking glasses. Frankie looked at his tall figure leaning against the cupboard, his arms crossed over his chest and the hospital greens he was wearing open at the neck. Quite suddenly she realised for the first time just how damned attractive Jack was. It was utterly ridiculous, especially in the circumstances of having just been dumped by someone she’d thought was the love of her life. Of course, she’d always considered Jack a good-looking man, but quiet and unassuming. Damian was the type of man who held the floor, enjoyed being the life and soul of the party—Jack always seemed to be an amused onlooker. Her assessment of Jack had been sisterly, regarding him as an easygoing and sympathetic companion.

Now she realised that Jack’s diffident manner seemed to emphasise his appeal, and she suddenly understood that many girls would find him extremely sexy. She remembered Corey had found him drop-dead gorgeous…

With an effort she turned away sharply, giving the worktop another good polish to allow herself time to recover. How shallow could you get? She’d just been dumped by his brother-in-law, hadn’t she? She wasn’t supposed to have weak-at-the-knee feelings for other men!

‘Let’s change the subject,’ she said lightly. ‘I heard somewhere that you’d got engaged recently. When’s the happy day?’

He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m afraid that bit the dust as well. My fault—I got engaged for the wrong reasons far too quickly and it was never going to work out.’

She turned to him, genuine sympathy on her face. ‘Oh, dear, you felt it was too soon after Sue’s death?’

He looked down at the floor for a moment, his fists clenching together at his sides. ‘That could be the reason,’ he murmured.

‘Better to find out now than later,’ comforted Frankie.

Jack nodded, watching her as she folded the dishcloth and hung it over the taps. ‘Absolutely. Getting entangled in the wrong relationship is madness—it can ruin your life. One should be totally sure you’ve got the right person.’

Frankie picked up her bag and her mouth twisted sadly. ‘You don’t have to tell me that, Jack. Perhaps Damian’s done me a favour after all.’ She flicked her hair back from her forehead. ‘Now, tell me about Abby. I suppose she’s at a local school? I have missed her, you know.’

He smiled and pulled out a photograph from his trouser pocket. ‘This is her in her new school uniform—she’s very proud of it.’

Frankie gazed at the photograph he passed her, and said wistfully, ‘She’s grown since I saw her last—inevitable, I suppose. But she looks so sweet and still very young—and very like Sue!’

Jack nodded. ‘Yes, I’m relieved to say she’s taken after her mother in looks. In fact Abby’s the reason I’ve come to Denniston. My parents live here and they want to help me as much as possible with Abby, which will be great. It’s not much fun, coping on your own.’

‘Lovely for them, too, I imagine, to watch their little granddaughter grow up. I’d love to see her again.’

He took off his glass and polished them, then said rather diffidently, ‘Perhaps this is a bit of a cheek, but if you’re interested and have the time, Abby’s got a sports day at school next weekend—I don’t suppose you’d come if you’re not at work? She’d really love you to be there, I know.’

Frankie felt a little leap of pleasure—seeing Abby again would be lovely. Then she hesitated slightly, reluctant to restart a friendship that had seemed to founder so abruptly previously.

She replied lightly, ‘If I’m free, I’d love to come. I’ll let you know nearer the time.’

If he noticed her reserved tone, he didn’t show it. ‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘I’ll remind you about it.’

Frankie opened the door and looked back at him. ‘I’ll see you next week, then. Now I’m off to have a good sleep—so much has happened today I feel absolutely pole-axed!’

‘I bet you do, Frankie. And I’m so sorry that this has happened.’

‘Don’t be. I’m not going to let it ruin my future—but I would like to know just why the hell Damian suddenly felt he couldn’t love me any more!’

Her eyes bright with unshed tears, Frankie walked quickly out of the room.

* * *

Jack watched Frankie disappear and shook his head in disbelief at what she’d told him. How could Damian have finished with a girl like her—talented, fun, a knockout to look at, but most of all a kindly and generous person? The man was a fool—a restless soul who ran through money, lived life to the full and easily became bored. But even so, he’d thought that when Damian had met Frankie, his friend had found a soulmate.

Jack finished the dregs of his coffee and slumped moodily down in a chair, staring unseeingly at a poster on the wall in front of him that exhorted him to wash his hands. He remembered how thrilled his darling wife Sue had been when her brother had become engaged to Frankie. The two girls had become great friends and extremely close, seeing each other frequently—and, of course, that had helped to forge the friendship he and Frankie had had after Sue’s death.

His thoughts drifted to his friendship with Frankie now and he sighed ruefully. He’d obviously hurt Frankie very much by leaving the last job so abruptly, and it was going to take time to heal the wounds of bruised friendship. Who could blame Frankie for feeling offended when he’d gone without a word of explanation?

Jack picked up a pencil from the worktop and rolled it absently between his fingers. He’d thought he’d acted for the best when he’d left St Mary’s, that he’d had no choice, but he’d handled things clumsily and had ended up jeopardising that friendship. However, after all he’d done to distance himself from her, it seemed that fate had thrown them together again, and he was back to square one—except that now Frankie was a free agent. Would that make life easier between them? He sighed and flung the pencil back on the worktop as he strode out of the room.

* * *

It was Friday afternoon and Jack was scrubbing up in the little anteroom off the small clean theatre in A and E. His patient lay with eyes closed in a face so battered it was hard to tell what sex it was. The cheeks and eyes were swollen, as were the lips, bloodied and twice normal size. Her head had been raised so that there would be the least tension possible on her face.

‘Thanks for helping me out, Frankie,’ said Jack.

‘No worries. We’re reasonably quiet now,’ Frankie replied.

She started to scrub up beside him, lathering the soap well up to her elbows, massaging it between her fingers, trying to ignore the fact that she and Jack were so close together. Uneasily she had to admit that she had begun to think of Jack in a different way since that brief episode in the staff kitchen. Up until now Damian had been the only man who’d attracted her, but now she realised, that far from being a man she’d thought of more as a brother than anything else, Jack was extremely sexy in a quiet and restrained way. She gazed at her troubled face in the mirror above the basin. Her instinct was to keep out of Jack’s way as much as she could, but in a busy A and E department that was impossible.

She pulled a paper towel out of the slot and started to dry her hands briskly. She couldn’t understand the sudden attraction she felt for Jack—was it a case of off with the old and on with the new? She threw the paper towel in the bin and told herself that it was a reaction to Damian breaking off the engagement. The last thing she wanted now was to start looking for another man in her life.

‘Mr Caulfield, the plastic surgeon, is tied up with a complicated operation and we need to close up these wounds on Mrs Casson’s face and arm as soon as possible before a risk of infection sets in,’ Jack continued, looking at her over his mask.

Frankie nodded, hoping those piercing blue eyes couldn’t see her thoughts inside her head. ‘Poor woman. We don’t want to have to open them up later and risk scarring. What on earth happened to her?’

‘Some charming youths relieved her of her purse while she was shopping,’ he replied grimly. ‘I only wish I could use my scalpel on them in a place they won’t forget.’

They made their way over to the patient. Mrs Casson’s eyes were opened now, fearful and apprehensive. ‘What are you going to do?’ she whispered.

‘We’re going to take care of you, Mrs Casson,’ said Jack in his calm, firm voice. ‘You’re in safe hands. We’ll do a bit of stitching and clean up these wounds. It’ll take some time for the swelling to go down, but in a few days you’ll be back to normal.’ He grinned down at her and patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, we’re brilliant at embroidery.’

The woman attempted a stiff little smile at Jack’s reassuring manner and joke, visibly relaxing, and Jack was able to assess to a small degree the range of movement Mrs Casson had in her face.

Corey had been checking the instruments in the tray. She swung the overhead light so that the beam was fixed on the patient’s face and said, ‘Mrs Casson’s had an injection of Valium, just to keep her relaxed, and an anti-tetanus jab.’

‘Good—then we’ll make a start.’

The woman turned slightly towards Jack and said thickly, ‘Will this hurt?’

Jack smiled at her kindly. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Casson. I know it probably feels pretty awful at the moment, but we’re going to give you some local anaesthetic and we’ll stitch these deep cuts on your face—you won’t feel anything—then you’ll go for a scan to make sure you’ve no internal head injuries.’

Mrs Casson muttered something that sounded like, ‘They were horrible!’

‘I couldn’t agree more. Did you manage to get a description of the yobs that did this to you?’

‘They were all wearing hoods,’ Mrs Casson mumbled. ‘They reeked of drink.’ A tear rolled out of her swollen eye and coursed down her cheek. ‘I had all the money from the old folk for their shopping…I didn’t expect anyone to do this in a supermarket….’

Her voice trailed away, and Frankie’s and Jack’s eyes met over their masks in sympathy. ‘If it’s any comfort, I believe that the police are holding three youths,’ said Jack. ‘But first things first—we’re going to do our best to make you look as beautiful as you did before.’

‘If you can make me look better than I did before, that would be good,’ she whispered.

Corey held Mrs Casson’s hand as the doctors began to work on the woman’s face. It was a kindly gesture that always made the patient feel less isolated: it was important for her to feel the comforting contact with one of the nursing staff.

Frankie swabbed the wounds with a saline solution and Jack carefully inserted a fine-bore needle in the woman’s lower cheek to numb the area to be repaired then both doctors bent over the cuts they were going to suture. Jack concentrated on the long gash in Mrs Casson’s cheek, while Frankie worked on a deep cut in the woman’s arm. The Valium was doing its job—the patient lay calmly, sad eyes watching them, her muscles relaxed, making it easier to work on the wounds. They used fine-filament gut which Corey passed them in threaded needles.

The gash in the arm only took a few minutes to close, but the cheek wound took longer. It was a delicate job to close the muscle and ensure that there was no pulling which could cause facial distortion. Jack worked quickly, but it was still a lengthy and finicky business. His face frowned in concentration as he matched the opposite sides of the wound to each other, careful to stitch it without stretching the skin.

Frankie and Corey watched silently, both admiring the deftness Jack showed in such a precise exercise. It was weird, working with Jack once more, reflected Frankie, looking at the way his hair was cut rather raggedly on the nape of his neck. She’d never thought she’d see him again after his abrupt disappearance, but now they seemed to have slotted back into much the same routine they’d had before except for one thing—now she was aware of him as a man with an intriguing aura of sexual attraction. It frightened her, and because she was frightened she couldn’t stop thinking about it, playing with the idea of being attracted to him, as one touched a spot on one’s face to see if it had disappeared.

‘That’s that. All done, Mrs Casson,’ he said, standing up and stretching to unstiffen his back. ‘You’ll just go to the recovery room until they come to take you for a scan. In a few days that swelling should go down, and hopefully you’ll begin to feel a lot better.’

‘Thank you,’ whispered Mrs Casson.

‘She may feel physically better in a few days,’ remarked Frankie as Mrs Casson was taken away by Tim Mackenzie, one of the porters, to the recovery room. ‘But it’ll be a long time before she recovers mentally from a horrible experience like that.’

Jack flung his latex gloves into a bin. ‘I’d like the idiots who did it to see what they’ve done to her,’ he said grimly. He flicked a look at his watch. ‘I could do with a cup of strong tea,’ he remarked. ‘How about you?’

‘Sounds a good idea. I’ll be there in a minute when I’ve written up Mrs Casson’s notes.’

Frankie scribbled in the drugs dosages they’d given Mrs Casson and the procedures she’d undergone, slipping the paper into the patient’s folder and putting it in the tray to be filed away later. It was quiet in the unit at the moment. She could hear Sister Kenney in the office instructing Cindy Wallace, the junior nurse, on how to administer injections, and at the end of the corridor a cleaner was polishing the floor. Suddenly Frankie wasn’t sure about being in the kitchen alone with Jack—then she felt a surge of annoyance with herself. Surely it hadn’t come to this, that a few days after meeting the man again she was so frightened of her feelings towards him that she couldn’t have a cup of tea with him? Purposefully, she turned towards the kitchen and went in.

He looked up, smiling. ‘Ah, I wondered what had kept you. A cup of tea there for you—strong enough to stand the spoon in. I reckon we deserve it after dealing with poor Mrs Casson.’

Frankie sank into a chair. ‘Makes you wonder what some of these people are on, that they’d do that to a woman trying to do her bit for others.’ She took a sip of the tea and wrinkled her nose. ‘Ouch. You’re right, this is strong. Any more milk in that jug?’

He grinned and passed her the jug, and for a second their hands brushed against each other. With a jolt Frankie knew that she wasn’t imagining that zinging attraction she felt when she was near Jack. Her hands shook slightly as she put the cup to her lips again. He smiled at her, his intense eyes holding hers.

‘You did say that you might come to Abby’s sports day tomorrow. I hope you can manage it. She really really is looking forward to seeing you. My parents will be there as well—they’d love to meet you.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Jack,’ Frankie replied, flustered. ‘I don’t want to butt in on a family occasion. Some other time perhaps….’

His face fell. ‘Abby will be disappointed—and so would I. I’d really like to try and make amends for my rudeness when I left so abruptly before. Besides, aren’t you practically family anyway?’

‘That’s not going to happen, Jack,’ Frankie said firmly. ‘As I told you before, I’m not going to be your sister-in-law I’m afraid.’

‘I’m sorry—that was tactless of me. Still, I’m sure Abby thinks of you as an auntie.’

His expression was wistful and Frankie sighed. Perhaps she was being silly, not taking the proffered olive branch. In any case, she’d love to see Abby again, and if his parents were there, it would sort of dilute the gathering. She smiled and nodded her head.

‘If you’re sure—then I look forward it.’

‘That’s wonderful. I’ll pick you up at about two o’clock.’

‘No need. I’ll meet you at the school field—I know where it is.’

The wall phone jangled and Frankie got up to answer it, her eyes following Jack as he left the room. She attributed the little leap of excitement she felt at the thought of the next day to seeing Abby again and nothing to do with the fact that Jack would be there.

CHAPTER THREE

FROM THE CAR park Frankie looked across the school playing fields to the knot of people waiting to see their children take part in the sports day. She hadn’t felt like coming that afternoon—the post had brought several brochures about wedding venues that she’d sent off for several weeks ago and now, of course, they wouldn’t be needed. That peculiar lost feeling of rejection kept coming over her in waves.

She stumped crossly over the field, glancing up at a threatening-looking sky with dark clouds massing up over the town. Her heart melted, however, when she saw Abby, standing in a line with several other children, all looking slightly overawed by the occasion of sports day. Abby was a little taller but otherwise she hadn’t changed much, her curly hair framing a sweet little face. It was lovely to see Abby again and, after all, she hadn’t planned anything else for the afternoon.

Frankie glanced across at Jack, his tall figure making him easy to recognize. It would be good to feel, well, almost part of a family, cheering Abby on and showing an interest in her. Bringing up a little girl by himself must be hard—no one to share in the pleasure and delight of his child when she achieved little milestones, or to worry with him when she was ill. Abby wasn’t surprised that Jack had moved to be nearer his parents.

Frankie watched Abby’s anxious little face as she scanned the onlookers, making sure that her father was there. Somehow she looked very vulnerable, slightly lost. She wondered if the child would remember her after so many months without seeing her, but suddenly Abby spotted Frankie walking at them and a big smile lit her face. She waved her hand towards Frankie and turned to the child next to her, pointing over to the watching adults. Her clear little voice wafted over to Frankie above the murmur of noise around her.

‘That’s Frankie!’

‘Who’s Frankie?’ the little friend asked.

Frankie saw Abby flick a glance towards her again and then explained earnestly, ‘She’s a person that used to help look after me—she’s like a mummy.’

The other child nodded. ‘I see. She’s instead of a Mummy, is she?’

Frankie forgot her morning’s frustration in her pleasure that Abby should remember her so well after so many months, although she couldn’t help being slightly embarrassed that Abby should think of her as a mother-figure! She glanced at Jack to see if he had heard, but he was talking to his parents and seemed unaware of his daughter’s comments. He looked up as Frankie approached, and his face lit up, changing his reserved look and making him look younger and less austere.

‘Glad you managed to come, Frankie. Abby will be delighted. Can I introduce you to my mother and father—Brian and Sheila Herrick?’

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