Midwives On Call: Stealing The Surgeon's Heart

CHAPTER NINE

COOGEE BEACH was arguably the best place in the world to get over a broken relationship or even to forge a new one!

Restaurants designed for lovers were on every corner, subdued lighting and informal couches where you could feed each other on today’s early morning catches. Or you could just wander along the busy streets and stop at any one of the trendy cafés and watch the world go by. But as Harriet’s strength, along with her confidence, returned more and more, they strayed from their haven, taking endless beachside walks right up to Bondi, following the tracks, stopping along the way to marvel at the sandstone, the colours so rich, from saffron-yellow to burnt orange, that they looked as if they’d been painted for effect, poking sticks into tiny rock pools or just stopping a while, Ciro lying on his side, watching with a lazy smile as Harriet popped seaweed.

‘Your skin is like the sandstone!’ Harriet gave him a queer look and Ciro laughed. ‘I meant the many colours, not the texture. First it was pale, then pink, then angry red…’

‘Don’t remind me.’ Harriet winced, her lobster impression not quite a distant enough memory to joke about yet.

‘But now it is…’ His hand brushed the sand from her thigh, staring thoughtfully at the million freckles dusting her legs.

‘Freckly,’ Harriet said for him, just a touch uncomfortable under his scrutiny, wishing she could be as olive-skinned and as long-limbed as the Mediterranean beauties he was undoubtedly used to, still scarcely able to fathom that a man as stunning as Ciro, a man so used to delectable women, could really find her as beautiful as he regularly insisted that she was.

‘Are you nervous about going back to work tomorrow?’ His hand was still there, stroking the tiny blonde hairs upwards, causing tiny shivers of electricity at his mere touch. Harriet finally nodded.

‘I feel like I’ve been away for months, not just two weeks.’

‘A lot has happened in that time,’ Ciro said, and Harriet forgot the seaweed she was idly popping and stared out at the crystal-clear water, one part of her wishing it was this time tomorrow, that her first awkward day back was over and done with, while the other wished that they could just stay like this for ever.

‘What’s everyone going to think? I know you tried to hide it from me…’

‘Hide what?’ Ciro asked, but from the way his foot was scuffing the sand Harriet knew he’d guessed what she was about to say! ‘I read that newspaper, Ciro. The one you said hadn’t arrived. Well, Judith rang to discuss it with me and I found it in the recycle bin—read for myself how I was so devastated that I took an overdose after I found them in bed together.’

‘Judith rang you?’ Ciro’s annoyance was obvious.

‘I’m glad she did. Someone at the hospital must have leaked it and we were trying to work out who.’

‘Why do you think someone from the hospital spoke to the press? Surely it would be from Drew’s PR.’

‘I doubt it,’ Harriet scoffed. ‘Drew’s hell-bent on keeping his image clean.’

‘It was only two lines in the paper.’ Ciro shrugged. ‘And they only insinuated that you might have done that. Anyway, no one will have seen it.’

‘Oh, please!’ Harriet rolled her eyes. ‘As much as it galls me to admit it, Drew is finally famous! OK, he’s not an international celebrity, but here in Sydney he’s pretty hot property, which means that me ending up in hospital the night we broke up…’

‘The hospital you work in,’ Ciro pointed out. ‘And everyone there knows that you had appendicitis that night—you had an operation, for heaven’s sake. No one thinks for a moment that you took an overdose. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

‘I guess,’ Harriet sighed. ‘That’s exactly what Judith said. Anyway, she didn’t just ring for that…’ A tiny proud smile wobbled on the edge of her lips. ‘There’s an ANUM position coming up.’

‘A what?’ Ciro frowned.

‘Associate Nurse Unit Manager,’ Harriet explained. ‘It’s probably where I should be by now, but I’ve never really been in one place long enough to apply for a promotion before.’

‘And are you going to?’

Swivelling her eyes to him, she gave an incredulous smile. ‘Of course I’m going to!’ Harriet announced. ‘Why wouldn’t I? I may not get it, but I’m thrilled Judith’s even considering me.’

‘Well, good luck!’ It didn’t sound particularly heartfelt, but he gave her a wide smile. ‘You’re going to be fine tomorrow.’

The frantic chewing on her bottom lip told Ciro she wasn’t entirely convinced.

‘What else is worrying you?’

‘Nothing,’ she answered quickly. Too quickly perhaps because Ciro’s hand was still now, the idle stroking halting.

‘Harriet?’

She heard the question mark, the summons for the truth, and taking a deep breath she finally faced him.

‘Can we keep it quiet? About us, I mean?’

‘If that is what you want.’ Ciro nodded. ‘We can keep it to ourselves for now.’

‘It’s just, I mean I know we only met that night, that we couldn’t possibly have been seeing each other before—’

‘That’s fine, Harriet,’ Ciro broke in, but Harriet was on a roll now, hoping that by somehow putting her jumbled thoughts into words they might even start to make sense.

‘Drew and I had been washed up for ages, but people didn’t know that. They’re going to think it’s just a fling or wonder how on earth…’ Her voice trailed off and after the longest silence it was Ciro who finally spoke.

‘Are you beginning to wonder?’ he asked perceptively.

‘No,’ she said, but her voice was saying otherwise. ‘No,’ Harriet said again more firmly, hoping that if she could convince him she could convince herself. ‘Of course not.’

‘Harriet, we need to talk.’ Ciro’s voice was serious, using that low, slightly urgent tone he had occasionally used these last few days when he had tried to bring up the difficult subject of their future.

If there could even be a future.

And she knew without him voicing it the sheer impossibility of the situation they were in—that Ciro was from the other side of the world, they spoke different languages, that if, if this relationship proceeded then horrible choices would have to be made. She felt cold fingers of fear creeping around her heart, just as they always did when the conversation turned this way. She felt a horrible sense of foreboding that she truly wanted to ignore, but Ciro wasn’t letting up, his deep, lyrical voice stabbing at her fragile mind. ‘There are things we have to discuss. Both of us are in other places…’ His fingers snapped in frustration as he struggled to find the right words, but Harriet didn’t want to hear them.

‘Different places,’ Harriet snapped back, jumping up quickly, determined to end this conversation before it even started. ‘Both of us are in different places right now. I know that, Ciro!’

‘Harriet, please, I just want to talk.’

His was entirely the voice of reason, but Harriet shook her head.

‘Can’t it wait, Ciro? I’m starting to burn, sitting here…’ She raked a hand through her hair, brushed some sand from her legs, pulled down at her T-shirt—anything other than looking at him, anything other than seeing again the exasperation in his eyes at her utter refusal to listen. ‘I just want to get the next few days over with. I’ve got work to deal with, solicitor’s appointments and real estate agents to deal with. Surely we can do this some other time? Surely?’ she said again, finally forcing herself to look at him.

Relief whooshed over her when finally he reluctantly nodded. He took her hand and they wandered in silence back to the apartments, watching a crazed cocker spaniel chasing the surf, the sun prickling shoulders Ciro would surely massage later. And she wished she could capture that moment, hold that slice of time in her hands and never move forward, keep it all as simple as it was when it was only the two of them.

‘Are you hungry?’

Ciro was flicking through his mail-box, pulling out letters and idly wading through his mail, as Harriet pressed the button for the lift.

‘Starving,’ Ciro moaned. ‘But I am thinking we should just call for room…’ He paused, standing stock-still for a moment, his eyes fixed on an envelope before he finished his sentence. But to Harriet every word was forced now, his smile impossibly false. ‘Room service,’ he said brightly. ‘Just a nice quiet evening on the balcony.’

‘Anything interesting in your mail?’ Her casual enquiry was equally forced as the lift made its way upwards, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as Ciro shook his head and, just as he had when the phone had rung in the middle of the night, he effectively dismissed her.

‘It’s nothing for you to worry about.’

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