into the steaming bubbles, where she remained for a good half an hour thinking about her life and about Bea’s. Her daughter’s question was spinning along with all the others she had for herself. Her mind was on overload and Bea’s innocent curiosity added another weight. While the travel was beginning to take its toll, the question of Bea’s paternity was now an issue and one that she had no idea how exactly she would answer. Soon she would want more answers. And Juliet would have to answer each and every question as honestly as she could without letting her know that her father was a cad.
Juliet’s eyes felt heavier and heavier as she reached for an oversized towel and stepped carefully from the bath. She was exhausted. Mentally and physically. It had been a whirlwind since she’d stepped off the final plane at Heathrow. Then she admitted silently the whirlwind had begun before she and Bea had even boarded the first aircraft. The push to hand over her patients at the Perth Women’s and Children’s Medical Centre in a matter of hours and packing their suitcases in temperatures hovering around one hundred degrees for freezing cold weather and all the while questioning the practicalities of travelling with a four-year-old. As she dried herself and slipped the nightdress over her head she heard the soft breathing of her sleeping daughter and knew that no matter what happened or what they faced they would do it together. And they would be just fine.
Barefoot, she tiptoed over to her side of the bed, slipped in between the brushed cotton sheets, turned down her mobile phone and turned off the bedside light. Sleep overtook her the moment her head rested on the softness of the duck-down pillows.
‘Mummy, wake up! Someone’th here,’ the lispy voice announced.
Juliet opened her eyes to see Bea standing beside the bed and looking in the direction of the hotel-room door. There was firm and unrelenting knocking. Not brash but loud enough to seem urgent. Juliet climbed from her bed, kissed the top of her daughter’s head and grabbed her robe from the end of the bed where she had dropped it the night before.
‘Who is it?’
‘Charlie Warren,’ came the response, but even without his self-identification his voice told her immediately that it was him.
Juliet’s brow knitted. What on earth was he doing at her door? The heavy drapes stopped her seeing how dark or light it was outside but she imagined it was early; she felt as if she had barely been asleep.
‘Is there something wrong? Has Georgina progressed to stage five?’
‘No. Georgina’s stable but they’ve made their decision and I thought I’d let you know first-hand.’
Juliet crossed to the door, running her fingers through the messy curls. She didn’t care at that moment about her appearance. She just hoped the news was good and they had chosen surgery. She opened the door ready to ask that question when she came face to face with a vision head to toe in black leather. Suddenly she felt senses that had lain dormant for many years awaken without warning. Charlie stood before her, once again dressed in his leather riding gear, and holding his helmet in his leather-gloved hand. The same hand that had so tenderly applied Bea’s cast the day before. This was the man that called Bea honey and made her think he might be her father. The look was intoxicating and took her breath and words away but allowing him into her life scared her too.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ she finally managed. ‘You startled me. I was still asleep. I’m as keen as you to know the answer but it’s still so early. Did the Abbiatis call you in the middle of the night?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘They spoke to me on my nine o’clock rounds.’
‘Nine o’clock rounds?’ she asked incredulously.
‘I called your phone but it went straight to message bank and you didn’t call back so here I am.’
‘I never heard your call,’ she told him with a slight frown. ‘What time is it now?’
Charlie looked at his watch. ‘Nearly ten-thirty.’
‘Really? That means we slept for twelve hours.’
‘I’ve been watching TV, Mummy.’
Juliet looked down at her daughter, who had cleverly managed to slip on her sling, and then turn on the cartoon channel on the television.
‘I can’t believe I slept in that long. You must be hungry, darling.’
‘A little.’
Charlie smiled. Bea was adorable and he was beginning to feel that there might be a slim chance Juliet might be just as lovely if he got to know her better. He admired the fact she told him exactly how she felt. She didn’t tiptoe around him like everyone else who felt sorry for the widower. He could see it in their faces and hear it in their voices. He had attended the hospital fundraiser in the hope the staff would see him as something other than a recluse. Charlie liked that Juliet was unaware of his wife’s death and he assumed that was why she was able to stand up to him. She was the first person to do that in two years. Being around her made him realise he missed being challenged and being held accountable.
And her conviction in her treatment plan for Georgina Abbiati made him feel slightly less concerned about the surgical intervention although he still did not agree.
‘What if I take you two ladies out for brunch?’ He wanted to spend more time with the beautiful woman with the messy hair and the gorgeous smile who was still dressed in her robe. He couldn’t explain it to himself—it was as if he had known Juliet and Bea for more than one day. His attraction was more than skin deep and it defied logic and his promise to himself that he would never get involved with anyone. But standing so close to Juliet, he felt that promise fading and the desire to know her increasing.
‘Is this a brunch to break good news or bad?’ she asked without a smile. ‘Are you here to brag of your victory and tell me that the Abbiatis have chosen your conservative treatment option? Is that the reason you’ve come in person?’
Charlie was taken aback. He had not seen that reaction coming. His agenda had been very different. He just felt a pull to be with Juliet, to learn more about her away from the hospital, and against his better judgement he had decided to act upon it. Now he knew that was a stupid idea. Reckless in fact. He barely knew Juliet and, for some ridiculous reason, he wanted to spend his free time with her. And with Bea. Suddenly he was grateful she had given him the perspective he needed. He had no business being at her hotel. He should have left a message and waited until she had arrived at the hospital. He was better off alone.
It was the way he liked it.
And the way it should be.
‘You’re right, it was a bad idea,’ he said as he stepped back and opened the hotel-room door. ‘I’ll leave you ladies to enjoy your late breakfast alone. And by the way, Juliet, the Abbiatis decided on the fetoscopic placental laser surgery. I guess I was just the gracious loser in a professional differing of opinion…offering to share a meal.’
With that he closed the door on Juliet.
And to stirrings he knew he had no right to act upon.
