Samuel Benjamin. 2605 grams, 49cm. A precious son…’
The succinct words of the birth notice hardly did justice to the potpourri of emotions Joanna had felt—still felt—at bringing a new life into the world. It was a joy she thought she’d never experience.
Richard beamed, offering yet another extravagant bouquet of delicately scented yellow roses. He laid them, with the others, on the shelf above the compact desk. The room would be overflowing if she stayed in hospital much longer. He’d brought flowers every day since the birth and the tally now stood at three bountiful bunches.
She smiled. ‘Hi,’ was all she managed to say before her husband’s lips covered hers and he delivered a kiss loaded with gentleness and joy. Sam’s eyes opened briefly when his father ran a tentative finger gently across his little forehead. He then promptly drifted back into a peaceful sleep.
Taking a step back, Richard released a long, satisfied sigh.
‘What was that for?’ Joanna asked.
He hesitated a moment as if he needed the time to collect his thoughts. His voice was husky when he replied.
‘You’re beautiful. You’ve given me the gift of a perfect child and I think, at this moment, I must be the luckiest man on earth.’
He sat on the side of her bed and reached for her hand, covering it with his own before he added, ‘And I love you, Joanna Howell…More than you can ever know.’
But she did know, had always known, and she knew that those simple words didn’t do justice to the feelings they had for each other.
CHAPTER ONE
Eleven years later
IT was Dr Richard Howell’s first day at Lady Lawler Children’s Hospital and a mix of excitement, anticipation and uncertainty churned in his stomach like cement in a fully loaded mixer.
It wasn’t anything to do with the job, though.
The inevitability of bumping into Joanna again after spending three years working away in the U.K. had unsettled his nerves and filled his mind with memories, not all of them pleasant.
He snapped closed the latch of his briefcase at the conclusion of the interdisciplinary meeting which was held every second Monday morning in the paediatric oncology department. He still felt jet-lagged—he’d only arrived back in Western Australia three days ago—but was sure it wouldn’t take long to get back into the swing of his hectic oncology consultancy.
‘Coming for lunch?’ James Francis, the paediatric surgeon, asked as they left the meeting room and headed for the lift. ‘The food in the doctors’ dining room isn’t exactly gourmet but it’s far superior to the canteen.’
‘Not today.’ Richard had seen a notice on the pin board of the ward reminding the staff of ‘Shave or Colour for Kids’ Cancer Day’. Although he wasn’t sponsoring anyone he’d planned to go down and watch, with the aim of giving the participants some encouragement and handing over a donation for a very worthy cause that was close to his heart. ‘And I think I’ll take the stairs. I need the exercise.’
‘Suit yourself.’ The surgeon’s voice faded as the door of the lift closed. Richard bounded down several steps at a time and took a right turn at the bottom.
He remembered the canteen from when he’d worked at Lady Lawler on his paediatric rotation as a resident. That had been thirteen years ago, before he’d met Joanna and six months before he’d received his specialist training position at the Stirling, the largest children’s hospital in the state. A year later he’d met and married Joanna and she’d presented him with a beautiful son the following year. He’d thought his life was as perfect as it could ever be…until their world had been ripped apart. They’d decided to separate and he had taken up a posting in the U.K. Two years had turned into three and he’d extended his stay for the simple reason that he couldn’t face coming back—and seeing his wife again.
Yes, Joanna was still his wife, though they had been separated well past the official time necessary to apply for a divorce. Joanna had never pursued the matter, though, and he’d not had the desire or opportunity to remarry. So it hadn’t seemed important.
But now he was ready to lay the demons of his past to rest by somehow making up for his cruel abandonment of his wife after the heart-breaking death of their son. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it and it had been a difficult decision to make. He was home and there was no turning back.
Richard glanced around the busy hall. There were a couple of familiar faces but no one he knew well enough to sit with. The canteen hadn’t changed. Same monotonous menu of sandwiches, salad and a choice of a couple of hot dishes—usually a lukewarm pasta and one of an endless number of variations of chicken and rice. He chose sandwiches and juice and then made his way to one of the few empty tables on the far side of the room.
The ‘Shave and Colour’ was well under way on a makeshift stage near the exit. Members of the nursing staff seemed to be the main participants.
His attention moved to one of the nurses who sat with her back to them, submitting to a complete head shave. What struck him were her incredible tresses. Her hair wasn’t particularly long, but it was jet-black, thick and shiny.
This woman has guts, he thought. He couldn’t think of a more powerful or personal way to show how much she cared for the children she was sacrificing a truly stunning head of hair for.
Who was she?
Richard had a sudden need to know. He wanted to meet her and tell her how impressed he was with her courage. He was intrigued, and interested in her motivation.
A few minutes later the woman on the stage turned around, grinning, her skull as smooth as a billiard ball. Her assured gaze flitted around the room as the canteen occupants clapped and cheered. She waved and smiled at people she obviously knew.
Then her eyes locked on his. The connection lasted only a few moments but it had a profound effect.
It was Joanna.
His wife.
He hardly recognised her.
She’d always had long hair, braided or swinging halfway down her back. Every time she’d gone to the hairdresser, she’d come home with different-coloured highlights and he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten the magnificence of her natural hair colour.
And she’d gained weight. She wasn’t plump but had healthy, rounded curves and colour in her cheeks. She also exuded a self-assurance he’d not seen in her during the eight years they’d been together.
Her appearance now reminded him of how much Sam’s illness and tragic death had drained her. Now her trademark love of life had returned. He suspected she had managed to come to terms with the painful memories, as well as rid herself of any feelings she had for her estranged husband.
Her eyes were still fixed on his when her smile faded. It was if she was challenging him to pick fault with what she’d done…as if she knew he’d experienced a peculiar grief for her loss, both past and present.
The challenge was oddly exciting.
Richard’s
