Second Chance With Her Island Doc / Taking A Chance On The Single Dad

‘The Castlavaran…’ Carla managed. ‘What…? Tell me…’

So Leo sat beside her and held her hand and told her. He wasn’t sure if she took it all in. You didn’t suffer a bleed on the brain without some repercussions, he thought, but her state of awareness now was a huge promise of a short rehabilitation and total recovery.

‘Do you remember banging your head?’ he asked, and she looked blank.

‘The Castlavaran, Anna, banged her head.’

She was remembering. Better and better.

‘She did.’

‘And you’re dating her.’

Hell. ‘I’m not.’

‘I remember—’

‘Carla…’

‘That would be so wonderful.’

And there was no response to that. Carla’s eyes were closing. With the amount of drugs on board, the battering her brain had taken, her body was demanding sleep.

But it was sleep, not lack of consciousness. What a gift.

‘Thanks to Anna,’ Maria whispered. ‘We need to let her know.’

‘I’ll see to it,’ he said, and he left Maria watching Carla like a mother hen with her favourite chick.

We need to let her know…

He had Anna’s number. He should simply ask the receptionist to ring a message through.

But before he could do anything he was hailed from down the corridor by two young men. One was Ben, Carla’s son, who he guessed had hitched a ride in with the evacuation team from Italy. The other was Bruno, the nurse-practitioner. The evacuation team was behind them, signing in at Reception.

He hadn’t realised how tired he was until he saw them. An almost-doctor to share his load. A son to take over his love for Carla and to accompany her on evacuation. Trained paramedics to take Carla to a world-class neurologist.

‘You look like a car crash.’ Bruno’s voice was filled with concern. ‘I came as soon as I could. And here’s Ben to be with his mother. Tell us the worst, Leo.’

But it wasn’t the worst. He felt himself growing even lighter.

‘There’s every reason to think she’ll make a full recovery,’ he told them. ‘She’ll need full neurological assessment but now…the real concern is how she came to have the bleed in the first place.’

‘I can tell you that,’ Ben said grimly. ‘When I rang her last night she said she’d had a headache, then hit her head on the open bathroom cabinet and made it worse. She was making light of it but I could tell she was rattled.’

‘But she still came to work this morning.’ Hell. They were so short-staffed. Carla would have come to work with more than a sore head.

He might have done the same.

‘I’ll be having words with her,’ Ben growled. ‘I know she’s popping aspirin for her arthritis. Once she’s evacuated to Italy I’ll insist on some enforced R&R, and have her visit an arthritis specialist while she’s there.’ He coloured. ‘I have the money to afford it.’

‘There’s no need to sound apologetic,’ Bruno said. ‘I just took my son to Italy to have a complex fracture seen to. We each look after our own as best we can.’ He glanced up at Leo. ‘I hear we even treat Castlavarans.’

‘She’s not that bad,’ Leo said grudgingly. ‘You know she’s a doctor? She gave the anaesthetic while I operated on Carla.’

‘She did what?’ To say they were both astounded was an understatement.

‘She did all she could.’ He told them briefly what had happened. ‘She’s a talented doctor.’

‘Well, pigs might fly,’ Bruno said, and whistled. ‘All this while she had her own sore head.’

‘I need to thank her,’ Ben said. ‘She’s still here?’

‘She’s back in the castle.’

‘Well, that’s that, then,’ Bruno concluded. ‘The castle walls have been broached and sealed again.’

‘We don’t know that,’ Leo told him.

‘Really? Does she intend to help anyone else in this country? Like repair the roof on this dump?’

‘You know the Trust stops her.’

‘Then I’m not interested,’ Bruno said. ‘It was good of her to help Carla but it’s over to us again. Tell Ben where his mother is. Give me a handover, sign off with the evac team and then go home for a sleep.’

Sleep. The word was like a siren song, infinitely enticing.

But he did need to ring Anna. She deserved to know how Carla was.

‘Go on,’ Bruno growled. ‘Out of my hospital. Now.’

‘Your hospital?’

‘Okay, it’s the Castlavarans’,’ Bruno admitted. ‘But there’s nothing we can do about that. We just have to make do with the scraps they leave us.’

He wasn’t wanted.

Well, he was. There was work for him to do, but Bruno was having none of it. ‘You’re no use to us dead on your feet. You know if there’s a need I’ll call you back.’

Bruno was right. He did need to sleep, but how could he head home and sleep after a day like today? He felt wired. Disoriented.

Seeing Anna had done that to him.

He’d promised to let her know.

He went to collect her phone number from Reception but then hesitated.

Anna was less than half a mile away, within the walls of the great castle that dominated the whole island.

She was with Victoir and his precious, urgent documents. Heaven knew what he’d have her sign. Would she even think about what consequences her signature could have over so much of the island?

He glanced out toward the castle walls, vast and imposing. Victoir wanted to turn the castle into apartments for the wealthy, but everyone knew the terms of Anna’s inheritance. Funds could only be used for her welfare or the upkeep of the castle. Luxury apartments… How could Victoir get away with that under the terms of the Trust? But if he could… Would Anna realise how much it would hurt the islanders?

Despite its generations of miserly owners, the castle still seemed the beating heart of Tovahna. For hundreds of years Tovahnans had lived within the shadow of its walls. Their forebears—Leo’s forebears—had fought for it.

He’d seen Victoir’s plans. What they proposed was tearing down sections of the wall to insert massive plate-glass windows, so those lucky enough to afford to stay here could see the islanders going about their business. Victoir knew his market. He wanted the world’s rich and famous to use this as a retreat, and quaint island life—at a distance—was a marketing tool.

Did Anna know that poverty was one thing, rubbing the islanders’ noses in the riches of others was another?

He thought of Victoir’s face as Leo had agreed with Anna’s assertion that she was unfit to sign. He’d have the documents out again already, he thought. She might have already signed.

She was his patient. More, she was his colleague and she’d helped save his friend. He needed to see her.

‘It’s the least I can do,’ he muttered to himself.

And then he turned toward the castle.

He took the sea walk to the castle entrance. The walk itself did him good. It was early evening and the harbour was alive with fishing boats unloading, families coming down to help sort the catch, kids playing between lobster pots, cheerful banter between rival fishermen.

It was an idyllic setting. It disguised the grinding poverty underneath.

The idyll paled as he reached the castle walls. The massive stone fortress cast long shadows, and by the time he reached the vast oak and iron gates he felt cold.

Apartments. According to the Trust they’d have to be for Anna’s private pleasure. She was a doctor and a good one. He’d seen her immediate concern for Carla. How could Victoir’s grandiose plan ever give her pleasure?

And with that came another thought, maybe just as crazy. If medicine itself gave her pleasure then…then…

Don’t, he told himself. You’re here to protect her, make sure she’s healing. Don’t think past that.

First, face Victoir.

Islanders worked here—of course they did. They used the tradesmen’s entrance, though, but tonight Leo was damned if he’d use the tradesmen’s entrance.

He rang the bell and heard its sonorous tone echo behind the great stone walls. Few people rang this bell, he thought. Few people were welcome.

As he’d suspected, it was Victoir who answered the intercom. Victoir who controlled all intercourse between the castle and the world beyond. He’d been Yanni’s private secretary, but under Yanni’s indolent, indifferent rule his role had gone well past that.

‘Dr Aretino…’ Leo glanced up and saw cameras above his head. Of course. The castle’s massive moat was no longer used for defence, but defences were still there.

‘Victoir,’ he said, struggling to keep irritation from his voice. ‘I’m here to see Dr Raymond.’

‘She’s resting.’ His tone was curt, dismissive.

‘That’s why I’m here. She suffered concussion. She needs to be checked. I gather you refused the offer of our district nurse when you left the hospital. She needs at least one more check within the forty-eight-hour period after injury.

‘I can do that.’

The thought of Victoir checking made his skin crawl. It was all he could do to keep his voice even.

‘You’ll tell Dr Raymond I’m here to assess her medically and to give her an update on Dr Carla’s condition,’ he managed. ‘I need to hear from her personally.’

‘You’re not welcome.’

He should turn around and leave.

He didn’t.

‘You have my patient in there,’ he said, each word ringing loudly in the warm dusk. ‘I’m concerned about her head injury. I need to be assured that she’s well.’

‘You can take my word for it.’

‘That’s not enough. Unless you can produce a medical power of authority, I need to either speak to Dr Raymond myself or I’ll ask the local justice to demand access. You know I can do that, Victoir.’

The island justice would like nothing better than an excuse to demand entry to the castle and Victoir knew it. Leo heard the hesitation, the doubt, the weighing up of options.

Having the local authorities demanding entry would not suit Victoir’s sense of control.

‘She’s asleep,’ he said, and he sounded almost sulky.

‘Do you know how to differentiate between deep sleep and unconsciousness?’

Another pause. And then a heavy click and the vast gates started opening.

‘A quick check and you’re out of here,’ Victoir growled, but Leo didn’t bother to answer.

She wasn’t asleep. She’d tried hard enough. Home from the hospital, she’d felt weariness envelop her like a dead weight. It was reaction, she’d thought. She’d headed for bed in her over-the-top bedroom but she hadn’t slept.

Victoir had opened the door and checked on her—twice—and that had freaked her out. The man gave her the creeps. She wanted to shove a chair against the door to make her secure but that’d show him he made her nervous. For some reason she didn’t want him to see that.

She was wearing her yoga gear rather than her pyjamas because that made her feel safer—but not much. She’d feigned sleep and he’d gone away.

This whole place was weird, this over-the-top castle, its living quarters a monument to excess, the rest a derelict shambles. Given other circumstances the gothic setting could have entranced her, but now, alone, her head aching, what was on the other side of her bedroom door made her shudder.

She’d thought fleetingly of ringing Martin or Jennifer. If she said she was in trouble she knew they’d be on the next plane. They were good friends and they were sensible. They’d pick her up and bundle her home.

That was what she wanted right now, her friends, her dog, her own bed in her own small cottage. And yet… Somehow the events of the last twenty-four hours had made her feel that leaving was cowardly.

But right now cowardly seemed a good way to describe her. This room seemed almost designed to make her feel insignificant, with its massive size, its vast crimson and gold wall hangings, its casement windows looking almost all the way to Italy.

There was a knock at the door and she clenched her teeth so hard she thought she might break them. At least this time he’d had the decency to knock.

‘Yes?’

‘Anna.’

It wasn’t Victoir. Leo.

Surely she shouldn’t feel relief, but she did. The tension evaporated in such a rush that she couldn’t respond. She lay absolutely still.

‘Anna?’ She must be lying too still, too rigid. There was deep concern in his voice.

Leo…concerned for her…

It made her feel like her world was settling.

She was being dumb, she thought. It was this castle that was unnerving her, this creepy gothic setting, these vast, opulent living areas, this huge bedchamber.

But Leo was here. ‘Come in,’ she called, and finally she allowed herself to open her eyes and look.

Leo.

Not professional Leo either. He’d ditched the white coat. He was wearing faded jeans and a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and the top buttons undone. His hair was tousled, as if he’d been walking in the wind.

Once upon a time she’d thought…she’d dreamed…

No.

‘Hey,’ she said, and summoned a smile—and saw relief wash his face.

He’d been worried. Despite her confusion the thought was comforting.

‘You’re okay?’ he asked, the crease deepening between his eyes. Oh, those eyes…

‘Nothing a good sleep won’t fix.’ She gazed up at him and saw her own weariness reflected. ‘Same for you, I bet. What are you doing here?’

‘Checking up on you. Victoir knocked back the offer of a district nurse.’

‘I don’t need the district nurse.’ She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘How can I need anything in this room?’

‘I guess you don’t,’ he admitted. He gazed around the bedroom. ‘Great setting.’

‘It’s ridiculous,’ she muttered, and decided she needed to be a bit assertive. She needed to sound as if she was in charge of her world again.

‘Really ridiculous,’ she emphasised. ‘Not just one but two—two!—chandeliers. For a bedroom. Ten guest chairs. Two settees and a window seat big enough to seat me, my dogs and a small army of minions—if I wanted minions, which, believe me, I don’t. And this carpet… Who chooses crimson and purple carpet with dragons woven into it? And it’s not even the main bedroom—I gather this was one of Yanni’s guest rooms. Urk.’

‘I guess you could learn to like it,’ he said neutrally, but there was a faint smile behind his eyes. He agreed with her, then. ‘Anna, now I’m here… Headache? Pain level? One to ten, you know the score.’

‘Two,’ she admitted. ‘Nothing an aspirin won’t fix.’

‘Let’s try paracetamol instead,’ he told her. ‘I gather aspirin is what was behind Carla’s bleed. She’s been taking it for arthritis and then bumped her head. On the medicine cabinet, her son says.’

‘Ouch.’ They both knew aspirin could make a small bleed worse. ‘But now…’ She couldn’t keep anxiety from her voice.

‘She’s awake and alert. She’s a bit confused but she knows people, events, and there’s no noticeable physical damage. Her son’s with her. She’s on her way to a full neurological assessment in Italy but she may well be in the clear.’

‘Oh, Leo, that’s wonderful.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ he said, and smiled and pulled up one of her overstuffed visitor chairs to sit beside her.

Which was discombobulating all on its own.

Leo. Beside her.

Get over it.

‘Where’s Victoir?’ she managed.

‘Do you care?’

‘He’s my…’ She hesitated. ‘Actually, I don’t know what he is. The boss of me? That’s what he’d like to think. I’m a bit over Victoir.’

‘Good for you. Are you going to sign the release so he can build his apartments?’

She stilled.

She hadn’t gone completely to bed. She’d put her head on the mound of glorious pillows and tucked the great crimson coverlet over her. Her yoga gear was pink and purple and covered her nicely.

She wanted more.

She wanted to be in crisp, professional work clothes. She didn’t want to be in a room lit by chandeliers and carpeted with dragons. Most of all, she wanted some sort of protection against this crazy situation, where on one hand she’d inherited power and on the other hand she had no power at all.

‘What’s that got to do with you?’ she asked, and then thought, I sound petty. He must have thought so, too, as his face hardened.

‘Everything. You turn this castle into apartments, you rip the heart out of my people.’

‘Why does that sound like the overstatement of the year?’

‘I’m not exaggerating. The castle takes up almost a quarter of the island. Your grandfather, your uncle and your cousin were appalling rulers but the islanders have accustomed themselves to this life for generations. The people should have risen up long ago but they haven’t. They won’t. And now… Turn the castle into a glorified gated community where the super-rich can fly in and fly out… Maybe there will be an uprising. I almost hope so, but it’ll take years, and meanwhile there’s nothing here. There’s no hope for the kids. This island needs help, Anna, and right now the only help available is from you.’

‘So how could I possibly help?’

‘By not being a Castlavaran.’

‘Don’t you get that I’m not?’ Enough. She shoved the coverlet back, folded her arms across her chest and glared.

His reaction wasn’t quite what she’d hoped. He looked totally distracted. ‘Great outfit,’ he said faintly, and the smile returned to his eyes.

‘I like pink.’ She folded her arms across her chest and glowered. ‘And purple.’

‘Why wouldn’t you? It’s amazing.’

‘Leo, the last thing I want is compliments,’ she snapped, and stood up.

Or tried to. The effects of the last twenty-four hours were still with her. She swayed.

Leo rose and caught her as she staggered. He lowered her gently so she was sitting on the side of the bed.

She should be thankful.

She wasn’t.

‘I just stood up too fast,’ she muttered.

‘I know. Anger makes us do all sorts of unwise things.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She had herself together again—a bit. Oh, she wished she wasn’t wearing pink and purple. More than that, she wished she was somewhere neutral, not in this ridiculous bedroom, and not feeling so defenceless. And, yes, angry.

‘Don’t mouth platitudes at me, Leo Aretino,’ she managed, anger growing. ‘For ten years you assumed I knew what you were talking about. That I was part of this system. You assumed my cousin’s, my uncle’s, my grandfather’s greed was not only known to me but that their actions were somehow partly my fault. It’s not my fault, Leo. So now… I’m not a Castlavaran but I’m stuck.

‘The terms of this inheritance are unequivocal. The money’s to be used for the castle’s upkeep. For my upkeep. Victoir’s plan is that he build the apartments, and nominally I holiday in one. The rest are for my so-called friends to join me. We can defend it by saying it’s “for my pleasure”. It’s a way we can close off the unsafe sections and keep the rest of the place functional, even economically viable, while I get on with my life. How else can I stop the whole place from falling down? The way Victoir presents it, I don’t see that I have much choice.’

‘You can look at options.’

‘As if I’d know what they are. So if you have any, tell me, Leo, and stop treating me as the enemy.’

‘I never—’

‘You did,’ she managed. She was so mad she was trembling. Was that still the residue from the bump on the head? Or residue from being dumped ten years ago. Who knew? Not her. ‘From the moment my mother told you her maiden name, you’ve treated me like some form of alien, more, one capable of contaminating anyone who came near. So now… I accept this is your country and your concern. You don’t like Victoir’s option? Give me another.’

Her anger was almost a tangible thing. There was so much past history here, betrayal, hurt—and a love that had once consumed her.

Get over it, she told herself. Listen.

Without prejudice.

‘There is a way,’ Leo said, his calm voice trying to break through her obvious fury. ‘Anna, can you listen? I’m not sure, but there might be.’

What was he about to say? Break the Trust? Martin had said it was inviolable.

‘Like what?’ Her anger was still obvious but she couldn’t help it.

‘Using Victoir’s idea,’ he said, and she blinked.

‘The apartments.’

‘No.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a couple of breaths. Calm or not, he sounded as if was holding himself in rigid control. Maybe the tension she was feeling between them wasn’t one-sided?

If so, good, she thought, and then had the grace to feel ashamed. Yes, he’d dumped her but she’d gone on to have a pretty good life. Maybe her anger was out of proportion. But still, he’d hurt her. She wanted him to acknowledge that.

But he was now intent on his plan. Focussed. For him the past was obviously well behind him.

‘Anna, maybe it’s a pipe dream,’ he told her. ‘It came to me on the way here, from something Carla said and from Victoir’s plans. But it’d take someone with a massive social conscience.’

‘And how can a Castlavaran have a social conscience?’ It was an angry mutter.

‘You’ve said you’re not a Castlavaran.’

‘You don’t believe that—or is your memory still selective?’ She glowered and then decided to be honest. To lay it all out there.

‘Leo, from the moment you told me you couldn’t marry me, you acted like you could hardly remember that my name is Raymond. I remember, though, and it still hurts. I know it’s stupid, but there it is. I even talked to our clinic’s psychologist about it. How needful was that? She says it’s tied up with my father walking away, my mother rejecting me over and over—and then you doing the same thing. She says I need to focus forward, not backward. So now… You judging me on my mother’s name looks backward to me. Leo, you’ve checked I’m not dying. I assume you’ve routed Victoir because he’s not here with his horrid documents. So what’s left? You can trust me with your pipe dream or you can leave. Take your pick.’

‘Anna—’

‘Just do it, Leo.’

He closed his eyes and she could see him almost visibly brace himself.

When he opened them again he’d changed. His look was one of pure challenge.

‘As you like,’ he said formally, as if what he was about to say was business and nothing more. What had been between them in the past was—of course—once again to be forgotten. He sat again so he could talk to her at eye level.

Doctor to patient? Not so much.

‘So here it is,’ he said. ‘I believe it’s possible. Within the terms of the Trust you have a chance to do something spectacular.’

‘What?’ She wasn’t bemused. She was still just plain angry.

‘You could turn part of this castle into a hospital. You could provide a base for us to expand and the facilities for us to give first-class treatment. You could be the first Castlavaran who cares. You could prove me—and all of this island—wrong.’

CHAPTER FIVE

TO SAY SHE was hornswoggled was an understatement.

‘A hospital.’ She managed to say it but it was a word, not a concept.

‘I know,’ he said, gently now, as if he still thought she was ill. ‘It’s a crazy idea. I guess you’re either a Castlavaran, in which case you’ve had greed and indolence bred into you, or you’re an English doctor who wants nothing to do with your inheritance because it’s twenty years until you can claim it. Either way, Tovahna is the loser. I’m sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean to throw this at you tonight. But I just said…’

‘Yeah,’ she said, dazed. ‘You just said…’

‘It’s something you could think about when you go back to England,’ he said. Could she hear a sliver of hope?

‘But…’ She shook her head and winced. ‘First of all you’re still being insulting. I’m either greedy or I don’t care. And if I’m neither of those then I’ll fall on what has to be a preposterous plan. Turn a castle into a hospital?’ Oh, her head hurt.