CVID—as we believe it will be—Pippa will have immunoglobin replacement therapy, which should help end the cycle of recurring infections.’
‘I read that the immunoglobin infusions can be delivered either intravenously or subcutaneously?’ Ruth commented, a query in her voice.
Rico nodded, unsurprised by her thoroughness. ‘That is so. At first Pippa will have regular treatment at the hospital, but once she is stabilised, and if both mother and daughter can cope, they can be taught how to administer the subcut treatment at home.’
‘The subcut sounds scary,’ Ruth pointed out. ‘Especially for an eight-year-old.’
‘Patients generally find it easier than they first think and it is well tolerated. It is better than prolonged IV access, which can increase the risk of infection and also becomes difficult if the veins are hard to find. And, because the home infusions are given once a week, they help to keep the levels more constant than with the IV infusion in hospital,’ he reassured her, although her desire to keep her patient informed was typical of the caring doctor he was coming to know.
Aware that time was running out, he ran through some advice and suggestions that Ruth could pass on and which might help the Warrens as they faced the next stage of the journey in gaining a diagnosis and an ongoing treatment programme for Pippa.
A high-voltage smile hit him full on, testing his restraint. ‘I’m very grateful, Rico. You’ve given so much of your time and I know how Judith and Pippa really appreciate your advice. As do I,’ she added shyly, touching his heart. And he loved the way she said his name, how her refined English voice, melodious but throaty, made it sound.
‘It has been my pleasure to help, carissima. And I shall be interested to hear how things progress in the weeks and months ahead. You must keep me up to date.’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll do that,’ she promised.
Rico knew that whatever happened between Ruth and himself in the next couple of days, the Warrens’ case would keep their link intact and the avenue of communication open. He obviously didn’t like the fact that Pippa was ill, but without Ruth being concerned and searching the internet for information, he would never have met her. And even after a very short time in her company, he could not now imagine his life without Ruth in it. He just hoped he didn’t mess things up.
Rico wished the moment of intense closeness could go on forever but, much to his regret, the call came to announce the start of the conference’s second session that would take them up to lunch.
‘As I have told you in our email exchanges, I am genuinely impressed by your skills. You have an innate gift for learning, Ruth, and for caring, for healing.’ Aware of people moving around them and returning to their places in the main room, Rico leaned closer and focused on Ruth. ‘We have no more time now, and this afternoon I have the workshop.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she admitted, making him smile.
Private time with Ruth would be scarce, at least until the evening, but he was determined to be alone with her so he could learn all about her and do everything possible to persuade her to come and work with him. And be with him. Once more the line between professional and personal blurred.
‘We can continue our discussion later.’ He drew in a deep breath, realising how nervous he was, how desperate to get things right and not scare her away. ‘Will you have dinner with me tonight, Ruth?’
Time seemed suspended as he waited for her answer. He felt each beat of his heart beneath his ribs, was sure she must hear its anxious pounding. He watched her changing expressions, wondering what more he could do to convince her, nearly groaning aloud as she nibbled at her bottom lip, making him yearn to taste her, kiss her.
‘Yes…I will.’
The whispered words brought untold relief and gratitude that this first hurdle had been crossed. But he knew more lay ahead. They could sort out the details of the evening later. Now he had a few short hours in which to plan his campaign to get Ruth to say yes to a whole lot more than dinner.
’
CHAPTER THREE
FOR the tenth time in as many minutes, Ruth checked her watch. Any moment now, Rico would arrive to escort her to dinner and her anxiety was growing. As was her excitement. Her whole body felt alive with anticipation, her breathing was too fast and too shallow, and her blood was pulsing wildly though her veins. Unable to settle, she paced across the room and paused at the window, scarcely noticing the view out over the shimmering expanse of Morecambe Bay to the western horizon where the sun would soon be setting.
No matter how many times she told herself that the only reason she had accepted the invitation to have dinner with Rico was because of the work-related discussions they were going to have, she knew it was a lie. Just as she could not deceive herself about the extra effort she had made when getting dressed for the evening. She rarely wore dresses, but as well as insisting on swimwear, in the unlikely event she had time to try out the hotel’s indoor pool, Gina and Holly had persuaded her to bring her black dress—standard issue in most women’s wardrobes—in case of a smart dinner.
As promised, she had sent her two friends text messages to confirm she had arrived OK, but she had not divulged any information about Rico. Both were nurses. Gina McNaught at Strathlochan’s multi-purpose drop-in centre and Holly Tait on the children’s ward at Strathlochan Hospital. Both had expressed concern about her intention to accept the last-minute invitation to this conference, although Gina had been the most vociferous.
‘Being stuck with two hundred stuffy old doctors for a couple of days doesn’t sound like fun to me,’ Gina had complained in her soft Scottish burr. ‘Besides, you probably know more about the immune system and allergies than most of the delegates, even though you’ve only been learning about the subjects for the last month.’
Ruth hadn’t taken umbrage at the implication that she was a swot because she’d known no judgement had been intended. Not from Gina. Aside from the fact that her friend never said a bad word about anyone, there had been obvious affection and admiration in her voice. Far removed from the criticism, resentment and snideness Ruth had become accustomed to all her life…first at home, then at school, following on during her medical training, and now in her first job as a GP.
‘You’ll be too busy overseeing final preparations for your wedding on Saturday to even notice I’m away,’ Ruth had teased in an effort to reassure her friend.
‘I’ll notice. And I can’t get married without you and Holly beside me as my bridesmaids. So make sure you don’t let the mysterious specialist you’ve been emailing persuade you to disappear off to America to work for him.’ Genuine worry had laced Gina’s tone. ‘Remember how much we all love you here.’
Recalling the words now brought a lump to Ruth’s throat, just as they had at the time. She wasn’t good at emotion and personal involvement. And she had no idea how to deal with affection, especially when directed at her, as she had never experienced it in her life before. Not until she had arrived in Strathlochan a couple of years ago when, much to her surprise and bemusement, she had immediately been taken under the protective wings of Gina and Holly. Likewise, the warm and generous welcome she had received from many within the local medical community had been equally unforeseen and overwhelming.
Snapping back to the problem at hand, Ruth nibbled her lower lip in indecision, wondering for the umpteenth time whether
