Hot Single Docs: The Playboy's Redemption

‘You’re going to need a few stitches!’ Izzy had said instead. ‘How’s the cat?’

The relief in the room at Izzy’s small joke had been palpable, Evelyn had laughed and John Harris had said the cat would be in the naughty corner, or some other light-hearted thing, and Izzy had smiled back.

Had let him think, as he no doubt did, that she was stupid.

‘Vivienne?’ Izzy called out to a student nurse. ‘Could you set up the minor theatre?’ She smiled at Mrs Harris. ‘I’ll take you over and I’ll be in with you in a moment.’

‘I’ll stay with you,’ Mr Harris reassured his wife, and then explained why to Dumb Doctor Izzy. ‘She doesn’t like needles.’

‘Sorry!’ Izzy breezed. ‘We can only have the patient.’ She gave a very nice smile. ‘We shan’t be long, at least I hope not. You’re my last patient for the night...’ She chatted away, not letting the husband get a word in, acted dizzy and vague and rushed, as if getting home was the only thing on her mind, telling them both to take a seat outside minor ops. Then she headed for the annexe, checked who the on-call social worker was for the night and was just considering her options when Megan had asked the favour. With her emotions already bubbling to the surface, the thought of seeing Diego was the last thing she needed.

There was something about him that got under her skin, though in a nice way, and Izzy, right now, just wasn’t comfortable with nice.

Wasn’t used to nice.

And was nowhere near ready for it either.

As Izzy came into the minor theatre, Vivienne was just bringing Evelyn through and Mr Harris’s voice came through the open door as his wife stepped inside.

‘I’m right outside, darling,’ he said, only Izzy could hear his clear warning.

‘Lie down here, Evelyn,’ Izzy said, then headed over to the small bench in the corner and turned on the radio. ‘Let’s have some music to distract you.’ She washed her hands and pulled on some gloves and then gently gave the wound a clean before injecting in some local anaesthetic. ‘I’m fine on my own, Vivienne,’ Izzy said. ‘It’s pretty busy out there.’

‘I’m to cut for you,’ came the response, but Izzy could cut her own stitches and wanted to be alone with Evelyn, except Vivienne wouldn’t budge. ‘Beth told me to get into Theatre as much as I could.’

‘Could you get me some 3-0 catgut?’ Izzy said, knowing they had run out but checking the wound as if that was the thread she needed. ‘There’s none here, but I think there should be some in the store cupboard.’

‘There isn’t any,’ Vivienne said. ‘I did the stock order with Beth this afternoon.’

Vivienne needed a crash course on taking a hint, but Izzy didn’t have time right now. Evelyn only needed a couple of stitches and Mr Harris would no doubt start to get impatient soon, so Izzy dragged the stool over with her foot and given the time constraints realised she would have to be more direct than she would normally choose.

‘Evelyn,’ Izzy said, ‘is there anything you want to tell me?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I know,’ Izzy said gently. ‘I know that you didn’t just trip...’ She watched her patient’s nervous lick of her dry lips, her eyes anxiously dart to the theatre door. ‘He can’t hear,’ Izzy said. ‘That’s why I put the radio on. You can talk to me.’

‘Can you just do your job and suture me?’ Evelyn bristled. ‘I tripped! Okay?’

‘There’s a bruise on the opposite cheek, finger marks on your arms. I can sort out help...’

‘Really?’ The single word was so loaded with sarcasm, just so scornful and filled with dark energy that Izzy let out a breath before she spoke next.

‘I can ring the social worker. There are shelters...’

‘I’ve a seventeen-year-old son.’ Evelyn’s lip curled in bitter response. ‘The shelters won’t let me bring him with me. Did you know that?’ she challenged, and Izzy shook her head.

‘So what do you suggest, Doctor? That I leave him with him?’

‘No, of course not, but if I get someone to speak with you, they could go through your options. I can speak to the police. You don’t have to go back tonight.’

‘You’re not helping, Doctor,’ Evelyn said. ‘In fact, you could very well be making my life a whole lot worse.’

The stitches took no time, and Izzy knew that dragging it out and keeping

Evelyn’s husband waiting would only make things worse for her patient, but as Vivienne snipped the last thread Izzy had one more go.

‘Is there anyone you can talk to? A friend perhaps...’

‘You really don’t get it, do you?’

Except Izzy did.

‘I don’t have friends! At least, none of my choosing.’

Evelyn struck a dignified pose as she swung her legs down from the gurney and Izzy recognised the glare in her eyes only too well, because she had shot out that look many times before if anyone had dared so much as to assume that her life was less than perfect.

‘Do I need to sign anything?’ Evelyn asked.

‘No.’ Izzy shook her head. ‘If you...’ She looked at Evelyn and her voice trailed off. Evelyn’s decision to stay wasn’t going to change, not till her son’s future was taken care of. Izzy just hoped to God she’d survive that year. ‘When was your last tetanus?’

‘I had one...’ Evelyn swung her bag over her shoulder ‘...six weeks ago.’

I’ll bet she did, Izzy thought as she stood there, clearing the trolley. She could see her hands shaking as she disposed of the sharps and as Evelyn left Theatre, Izzy had to bite on her lip as the young nurse’s disbelieving voice filled the still room.

‘Straight back to him...’ Her voice was incredulous. ‘Why doesn’t she just lea—’ And then Vivienne’s voice abruptly halted as perhaps she remembered who she was talking to and what had had happened the night Izzy had tried to just leave.

‘She has her reasons,’ Izzy said. ‘And, frankly, if that’s your attitude, she’s hardly likely to share them with you.’

‘I’m sorry, Izzy.’

And she could have left it there, but Izzy chose not to. Vivienne was thinking of a career in Emergency and, well, it was time she faced a few home truths.

‘You’re a nurse,’ Izzy said, and her voice wobbled with long-held-in emotion, ‘not the bloody jury. Remember that when you’re dealing with patients in Emergency.’

Her shift was nearly over and all she wanted was out, so she left the messy trolley and was tempted to just go to the lockers and get out of there. She was angry and close to tears and there was Evelyn walking out of the department, her husband’s arm around her. Then he stopped and fished his phone from his jacket and took a call, and Evelyn patiently waited then she turned and for a second. For just a teeny second their eyes locked and and it was the secret handshake, the password, the club, and

Evelyn’s expression changed as she realised her doctor was a fully paid up member...

‘Mrs Harris...’ Izzy scribbled down her mobile number on a head injury information chart and walked briskly over. ‘Sorry.’ Izzy gave a busy shrug. ‘I forgot to give you this. Here’s your head injury instructions, have a read through...’

‘Thank you.’

‘And watch out for that cat!’ Izzy added, then gave a vague smile at Evelyn and one to her husband before they walked off into the night. Izzy’s heart was thumping, not sure what she had just done and not sure what she would even do if Evelyn did call.

She just wanted to do something.

‘Izzy!’

That Spanish voice was too nice for her mood right now.

‘Can I ask a favour?’ Diego gave her a smile as he poked his head out of a cubicle, but she didn’t return it.

‘I’m about to go off duty.’

‘I was off duty forty minutes ago and I’m back on in the morning.’ Diego wasn’t quite so nice now. One of his mums was about to tip into trouble, the mother of one his precious babies no less. He had spent two hours dealing with red tape, trying to get hold of her GP to fax a prescription, to no avail, or to get a doctor on NICU to see Maria, but of course she wasn’t actually a patient at the hospital.

Yet!

Maria was growing more agitated by the minute and no one seemed to give a damn. ‘I have a woman who gave birth four days ago, following twenty-four hours of labour. Her child has multiple anomalies, she has hardly slept since her baby was born and she and her husband have driven one hundred miles today as there was no room for them in the helicopter.’ Oh, he told her, even if it was Izzy, he told her, even as she opened her mouth to say that she’d see the patient, still he told her, because Diego knew Izzy was far better than that. ‘Now she can’t settle and is doing her best not to go into meltdown. Can I get a doctor to prescribe me some sedation?’

‘I’m sorry, okay?’ Izzy’s apology was instant and genuine—she had never been one to dash off at the end of her shift, but Evelyn had unsettled her, not to mention Diego. She was having great trouble keeping her mask from slipping, but it wasn’t the patients’ fault. ‘Of course I’ll see her.’

Maria was agitated and pacing and the very last thing she needed was endless questions and an examination, and Izzy could see that. Diego had given her a good brief and on gentle questioning Izzy found out what medications the patient was on.

‘If I could just get some sleep,’ Maria pleaded, and Izzy nodded.

‘I’ll be back in just a moment.’

She was and so too was a nurse from the neonatal unit to relieve Diego.

‘Take two tablets now,’ Izzy said, and gave the handover nurse the rest of the bottle. ‘She can have two more at two a.m., but don’t wake her if she’s resting. Will someone be able to check her?’

‘Absolutely,’ Diego said. ‘Maria’s staying in the parents’ wing, but I’ll get my staff to pop in and see her through the night.’

‘I’m sure,’ Izzy said to her patient, ‘that once you’ve had a decent rest you’ll be feeling a lot better. I’m on in the morning,’ Izzy added, writing some notes. ‘If Maria doesn’t settle,’ Izzy added to the nurse, ‘she’ll need to come back down to us.’

It was straightforward and simple and as the nurse took Maria back up to the ward, Diego thanked her.

‘I’m sorry if I came on strong.’

‘Not at all,’ Izzy said. ‘She needed to be seen. It’s just been a...’ She stopped talking; he didn’t need to hear about her difficult shift, so she gave him a brief smile and walked on.

Except Diego was going off duty too.

‘How’s faking it going?’ Had he fallen into step beside her that morning, or even an hour ago, Izzy would have managed a laugh and a witty retort, but even a smile seemed like hard work right now, so she just hitched her bag up higher and walked more briskly through the sliding doors and into the ambulance forecourt. But Diego’s legs were longer than hers, and he kept up easily.

‘Izzy, I was wondering....’

‘Do you mind?’ She put up her hand to stop him talking, gave an incredulous shake of her head. What was it with people today that they couldn’t take a hint if she stood there and semaphored them? ‘I just want...’ Oh, God, she was going to cry.

Not here.

Not now.

She hadn’t yet cried.

Oh, there had been some tears, but Izzy had been too scared to really cry, to break down, because if she did, maybe she wouldn’t stop.

Scared that if she showed her agony to others they would run when they saw the real her, and scared to do it alone because it was so big, this black, ever-moving shape that had no clear edges, that grew and shrank and transformed.

But she couldn’t outrun that black cloud tonight.

She was trying not to cry, trying to breathe and trying to walk away from him to get to her car, as she had tried to that awful night.

No, there was no getting away from it.

Her hands were shaking so much she dropped her keys and it took all her strength not to sink to her knees and break down right there. Instead she got into the car, sat gripping the wheel, holding it in and begging it to pass, but it held her a moment longer, pinning her down. She sat in her car and she was tired, so tired and angry and ashamed and sad...

Sad.

Sad was bigger than angry, bigger than tired, bigger than her.

It was in every cell and it multiplied. It was the membrane of every cell and the nucleus within, it spread and it grew and it consumed and she couldn’t escape it any longer. As she doubled over she could feel her baby kick inside and it was so far from the dream, so removed from anything she had envisaged when she had walked down that aisle, that the only word was sad.

She didn’t even jump when the passenger door opened and Diego slid into the passenger seat.

‘Can’t you just leave me alone?’

Diego thought about it for a moment then gave an honest answer. ‘It would seem not.’

‘You know, don’t you?’ Izzy said, because everyone else did and so he surely must.

‘A little,’ Diego admitted. ‘I didn’t at first, but that morning, when you came to my office, I’d just found out.’

‘I thought you were a bit awkward.’

Maybe for a second, Diego thought, but he’d been awkward for another reason that morning, but now wasn’t really the time to tell her.

‘I’ve done something stupid...’ Izzy said. ‘Just then, when you asked me to see Maria.’ He sat patiently, waiting for her to explain. ‘I had a woman, I think her husband beats her—actually, I don’t think, I know. She wouldn’t let me help her. I can see now that I rushed in, but I didn’t want her to go home to him. I knew what he’d be like when they got home, you could just tell he was annoyed that she was even at the hospital, even though he’d put her there. Anyway, she wouldn’t let me get a social worker or the police....’ She turned and saw the flash of worry on his face. ‘I didn’t confront him or anything, he’s none the wiser that I know.’

‘You can’t help her if she doesn’t want it.’

‘I gave her my phone number.’ Izzy waited for his reaction, waited for him to tell her not to get involved, that she had been foolish, but instead he thought for a long moment before commenting.

‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘that your phone number would be a very nice thing to have.’ She blinked. ‘And I’m not flirting,’ Diego said, and she actually gave a small smile. ‘Other times I flirt, but not then. Did you talk to anyone?’

‘No,’ Izzy admitted. ‘Megan, we’re friends,’ she explained, ‘asked me what was wrong once, and I remember then that I nearly told her. God—’ regret wrapped her words ‘—I wish I had. I was on my way to my mum’s when it happened—I was going to tell her. Henry and I had had a massive row that morning. I knew I was pregnant, that I had to get out of the marriage. I told him I was leaving, I still wasn’t sure how, but I came to work, scraped through the shift and afterwards I was going to land on my parents’ doorstep...’ she gave a shrug ‘...or Megan’s. All I knew was that I wasn’t going home.’

‘What if someone had given you a phone number?’ Diego asked. ‘If you had known that that person knew what it was like...’

‘I’d have rung them,’ Izzy said. ‘Not straight away perhaps.’ Then she nodded, confirmed to herself that she hadn’t done a stupid thing. ‘What do I say if she rings?’

‘What would you have wanted someone to say to you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Izzy admitted. ‘Just to listen...’

She’d answered her own question and Izzy leant back on the seat and closed her eyes for a moment, actually glad that he had got into the car, glad that he hadn’t left her alone, glad that he was there.

And she didn’t want to think about it any more so instead she turned to him.

‘I forgive you.’

‘Cómo?’ Diego frowned. ‘Forgive me for what?’

‘Having a satchel.’ She watched as a smile spread across his face and she smiled too. ‘I never thought I could,’ Izzy said, seriously joking, ‘but I do.’

‘Leave my satchel alone,’ Diego said, and he saw something then, her humour, a glimpse of the real Izzy that would soon be unearthed, because she would come out of this, Diego was sure of that. She would grow and she would rise and she would become more of the woman he was glimpsing now.

He knew.

And he knew if he stayed another minute he’d kiss her.

‘I’d better go,’ Diego said, because he really thought he’d better.

‘I’ll drive you.’

‘No, because then I would have to ask you in.’

‘Would that be so bad?’ Izzy asked, because it felt as if he was kissing her, she could see his mouth and almost taste it on hers. Sitting in the car, she didn’t want him to get out and she didn’t want to drive on. She wanted to stay in this moment, but Diego was moving them along.

‘If you come in, I might not want you to leave...’ It was big and it was unexpected and the last thing either had planned for, yet, ready or not, it was happening. ‘We need to think.’

He climbed out of her car and Izzy sat there. Without him beside her logic seeped in.

It was way too soon.

It was impossibly way too soon.

And yet, had he chosen to, he could have kissed her.

CHAPTER SIX

QUÉ diablos estás haciendo?

As Diego pushed through the waves, over and over he asked himself what on earth he was doing.

On leaving Izzy, he’d gone home to find Sally in the car outside his flat, with a bottle of wine and a dazzling smile, but instead of asking her in, he’d sent her on her way. The words ‘It’s been good, but...’ had hung in the air, as had the sound of her tears, but it had been the only outcome to their relationship, Diego had realised as he’d let himself into his flat.

It had been good.

Sencillo, Diego’s favourite word—straightforward, uncomplicated. Sally had been all those things and everything Diego had thought he wanted in a relationship. Only his life had suddenly become a touch more complicated.

He needed to think and he couldn’t do that with Sally. Wouldn’t do that to Sally and also he needed to be very sure himself.

Walking out of the water towards the beach, he wasn’t sure if he was even pleased that Izzy had taken his advice, for there she was, walking along the beach, her face flushing when she saw him.

‘I thought you were on an early...’

‘I’m on a management day, so I don’t have to be in till nine,’ Diego explained, then he teased, ‘Why? Were you trying to avoid me?’

‘Of course not!’ Izzy lied.

‘It’s good to see you out.’

‘It’s good to be out,’ Izzy admitted. ‘I used to walk on the beach each morning. I don’t know why I stopped.’

‘You’ve had a lot to deal with.’

Which she had, but Izzy hadn’t walked since her marriage, another little thing she’d given up in an attempt to please Henry, but she didn’t say anything.

‘Do you want company?’

And she looked into dark eyes that were squinting against the morning sun, his black hair dripping, unshaven, wet, and his toned body, way smoother than a name like Ramirez suggested, and she didn’t know what she wanted because, here was the thing, she’d spent the whole night in turmoil, telling herself she was being ridiculous, that it was impossible, that she should be sorting out herself instead of getting involved with someone.

She didn’t actually have to tell herself. The books said the same too, even Jess.

But here, on the beach, when she should be thinking alone, it was his company her heart required. Here in the lovely fresh start of morning it just seemed natural for them to talk.

They walked along the beach, admiring the rugged Cornish coastline. Despite the warmth of summer, the wind was up, making the beach the coolest place as the breeze skimmed off the ocean and stung her cheeks, and it was a relief to talk about him.

‘This beach is one of the reasons I choose to settle in St Piran. I love the beach.’

‘What about Madrid? Do you miss it?’

‘The nearest beach is Valencia. Over a hundred miles away...’ Perhaps he realised he was being evasive. ‘Sometimes I miss it. I have been away two years now...’ She glanced at him when his voice trailed off.

‘Go on.’

‘My family and I were rowing—we did not part on good terms,’ Diego admitted. ‘We get on a bit better now. I talk to my mother often on the telephone, but for a while there was no contact.’

He left it there, for now. But there was something about the ocean. It was so vast and endless that it made honesty easier, problems mere specks, which was perhaps why they found themselves there so often over the next few days. They would walk and talk and try to put on hold the chemistry between them and instead work on their history. They sat in the shallows, just enough for the cool water to wash around their ankles and up their calves, and they talked. It was absolutely, for Izzy, the best part of her day and she hoped Diego felt the same.

‘I told you it was expected that I would study medicine? It did not go down well when I chose to study nursing instead. Padre said it was women’s work...’

‘Not any more.’

‘He ridiculed it, my brothers too. I also studied partero, I’m a midwife too,’ Diego explained. ‘My mother said she understood, but she would prefer I study medicine to keep my father happy.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘That was the rule growing up and it is still the rule now—keeping him happy. Getting good grades, melting into the background, anything to keep him happy. I wish she had the guts to leave him.’ He looked over at Izzy. ‘I admire you for leaving.’

‘I didn’t have children,’ Izzy said. ‘And it was still a hard decision. Don’t judge her for staying, Diego. What made you want to do nursing?’

‘My elder sister had a baby when I was eighteen. He was very premature and my sister was ill afterwards. I used to sit with him and I watched the nurses. They were so skilled, so much more hands on than the doctors, and I knew it was what I wanted to do. Fernando was very sick—I was there night and day for ten days. My sister had a hysterectomy and was very sick too...’ There was a long silence. ‘She was at another hospital so she didn’t get over to see him—she was too ill.’ Diego suddenly grimaced. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this...’

‘I’m not that precious.’ Izzy squeezed his hand.

‘He died at ten days old. It was tough. In those ten days I really did love him and even now sometimes my sister asks for details about him and I am glad that I can give them to her.’

‘What sort of details?’

‘He loved to have his feet stroked and he loved to be sing to.’ He gave a slight frown and Izzy just sat silent rather than correct his grammar. ‘My sister had always sung to him while she was pregnant and I taped her singing and played the songs.’

‘It must be hard,’ Izzy said. ‘Your work must bring it all back...’

‘No.’ His response surprised her. ‘It has certainly made me a better nurse. I know, as much as I can know, how helpless and scared the parents feel. How you constantly watch the monitors and become an armchair expert, but never, not even once, have I come close to the feelings I had for Fernando with a patient. I suppose I detach, of course there are stories and babies that touch you more than others, but you could not do this job and care so deeply at that level.’

And she looked at him and couldn’t see how his parents could be anything but proud. She had seen his work at first hand, the way his colleagues and all the parents respected him. There had been an almost audible sigh of relief that Diego had been around when Toby had been born and she told him that.

‘There is a managerial position at my father’s hospital—I am thinking of applying for it. Of course, it has not gone down well. He says it would be an embarrassment to the Ramirez name if I take it.’

They were only just getting to know each other, but still her breath caught at the impossibility of it all, of anything happening between them, and she tried to keep the needy note from her voice when she asked a question.

‘Why would you go back?’ Izzy asked, ‘After all that, if they don’t respect what you do...’

‘I respect what I do now,’ Diego said. ‘That is the difference. I would like to go back and be proud.’