‘You need to talk.’
‘Whatever.’ The flippant, dismissive drawl did nothing to disguise his pain.
‘Dragan, I mean it. Talk to me.’
‘There isn’t much to tell.’
‘Then tell me anyway.’ She tightened her fingers round his. ‘You trust me, don’t you?’ Even as she said it, she winced inwardly. A trust she hadn’t given to him. But this was different. She could live with her secret because it didn’t hurt her; whatever he was keeping locked inside was slowly eating him away.
‘Ye-es.’
‘Then tell me,’ she insisted softly.
He was silent for such a long time that she didn’t think he was going to talk. And then finally he spoke, his voice very low.
‘We lived in a little village on the Adriatic coast. My family had a boatyard.’
She could see it in his eyes—there was more to it than that. Much more. And she guessed that the only way she’d get him to tell her was to ask questions.
‘So you weren’t always going to be a doctor?’
He shook his head. ‘I was going into the family business when I’d finished my education.’
‘Sailing boats?’
‘In my spare time. My elder brother studied marine engineering and he was good with his hands—he designed and built the boats, just like my father. And I was the one who was good at languages and figures.’
She knew about the languages and could’ve guessed about the maths. Dragan was bright—in her view, he’d be good at absolutely anything he chose to do. ‘So you would be the finance director?’
‘For a while, then the idea was that I should take over from my father as managing director. He was going to retire and spend more time with my mother while he was still young enough to go out and about and enjoy their leisure time.’
She knew all about parents wanting to retire and expecting their children to take over. And she thanked God every day that she wasn’t the one who’d have to take over from her father. Being a girl and being second-born meant that she’d been able to choose her life—to do the job she loved instead of one that would have stifled her. ‘It sounds a good plan,’ she said. Even though she had doubts about the way it would work in her own family. She’d always thought Serena, her baby sister, would make a better job of ruling than her older brother. Rafael had too much of a wild streak.
‘So you were going to study economics?’ she guessed.
‘International law,’ he said. ‘In Zagreb—but I planned to spend the holidays at home in the boatyard.’
Clearly he’d loved the family business, had wanted to be part of it. He’d fitted in. Had been happy.
So what had gone wrong?
There was another long pause.
‘And then the war happened.’
Five tiny words. Spoken so quietly that she could almost hear his heart breaking in the silence that followed. And all she could do was hold him. ‘I’m here, amore mio,’ she said softly.
‘It wasn’t just our village. It was all over the country. The fighting, the bombs, the bullets. Such a mess. Such a waste. Dad and I had gone to Split for a couple of days on business. Everything was fine at home when we left. And we came back to…’ His breath shuddered and his jaw tightened.
She stroked his face, willing the tension to ease. Wanting him to speak. Let out the pain that was eating him away from the inside.
‘Everything was gone,’ he said finally, his voice flat. ‘The boatyard was in ruins. My brother had been killed, my mother, the people who worked for us. All dead. And others, too, in the village. Smashed glass everywhere from the bullets. Holes ripped in buildings by bombs. And…’ He swallowed. ‘It’s something I hope to God I never have to live through again. I know I should be working for Doctors Without Borders. Helping people, the way I wish my own people had been helped when we needed it most. But, God help me, I just couldn’t do it.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I’m such a selfish bastard. I couldn’t bear to go back into a war zone. There are too many memories.’
‘There’s no “should” about it, and you’re not selfish,’ she told him fiercely. ‘Some people want to do it—they have their own reasons for doing it. Just as you have a very good reason for not doing it. And you do help people, Dragan. You help them here. Where they need you just as much.’
‘I still feel guilty.’
She kissed him gently. ‘What happened wasn’t your fault.’
‘Not the war. But my father…’ His voice trailed off.
‘What happened?’
He dragged in a breath. ‘The shock was too much. He collapsed. I know now it was probably a stroke, but back then my first aid was pretty basic. I could do mouth to mouth and I knew what to do if someone was drowning, but I really didn’t know what to do with a heart attack or a stroke. The phones lines were out so I couldn’t call an ambulance.’ Back then, mobile phones hadn’t been widespread, Melinda knew—that wouldn’t have been an option. ‘I managed to find someone with a car that could still be driven, borrowed it and took him to hospital.’
She knew from the bleakness in Dragan’s eyes that his father hadn’t made it.
‘He died in the queue for the emergency department. And I vowed then that I’d get the medical skills. It was too late for my family, but I could stop other people losing what I’d lost.’
‘Dragan, if it was a stroke, you probably couldn’t have done anything for him anyway.’
His jaw tightened. ‘I could’ve done more than I did.’
It wasn’t true, but she knew that this was an argument she wasn’t going to win. And she didn’t want to hurt him even more by pushing the issue and forcing him to confront it. Instead, she asked softly, ‘So you went back to university, switched your course from law to medicine?’
‘My father’s last words to me—he told me to go to England. Where I would be safe. Where I could carry on and know my family would be proud of me, whatever I chose to do.’
‘They’re proud of you,’ she said softly. ‘I believe people still look out for you when they’ve passed on. Like my nonna—my father’s mother. She supported me when I said I wanted to be a vet.’ The only one of Melinda’s family who’d accepted her choice of career. The only one who’d admitted that Melinda just wasn’t princess material and was far happier—not to mention better at—treating sick animals than she was schmoozing with foreign dignitaries and trying to remember the finer points of etiquette. ‘She died before I graduated, but I knew she was there on the day, applauding as I stepped onto the stage and accepted my degree from the chancellor of the university. And you—look at you. The village doctor. Everyone looks up to you because you’re a good man and you’re really good at your job. Your family are proud of you, Dragan.’
‘I
