Had she really thought that history couldn’t repeat itself? This was certainly beginning to feel like a re-run.
Maybe it had only been in her imagination that her scars didn’t matter.
Maybe having a woman in his bed had opened old wounds for Charles and he was realising how much he missed Nina and that no one could ever take her place.
Maybe it had been too much, too soon and everything had been ruined.
For a moment, Grace considered sending another message. Just something casual, like asking whether they’d been to the parade this morning or saying that she hoped they were all having a good day.
But this new doubt was strong enough to make her hesitate and, in that moment of hesitation, she knew she couldn’t do it.
Her confidence was starting to ebb away just as quickly as that happiness.
ANOTHER HOUR WENT past and then another...and still nothing.
Nothing...
No call. No text. No serendipitous meeting as their paths crossed in the ER, which was such a normal thing to happen that its absence was starting to feel deliberate.
Grace knew Charles had finally come to work this afternoon because the door to his office was open and she’d seen his leather laptop bag on his desk when she’d gone past a while back. She’d heard someone say he was in a meeting, which wasn’t unusual for the chief of emergency services, but surely there weren’t administrative issues that would take hours and hours to discuss? Maybe it hadn’t actually been that long but it was certainly beginning to feel like it.
She thought she saw him heading for the unit desk when she slipped through a curtain, intending to chase up the first test results on one of her patients.
Her heart skipped a beat and started racing.
She’d know, wouldn’t she? In that first instant of eye contact, she’d know exactly what was going on. She’d know whether it had been a huge mistake to get this close to Charles Davenport again. To be so completely in love and have so many shiny hopes for a new future that were floating around her like fragile, newly blown bubbles.
She’d know whether she was going to find herself right back at Square One in rebuilding her life.
Almost in the same instant, however, and even though she couldn’t see his face properly, she knew it wasn’t Charles, it was his twin, Elijah. And she knew this because the air she was sucking into her lungs felt completely normal. There was none of that indefinable extra energy that permeated the atmosphere when she was in the same space as Charles. The energy that made those bubbles shine with iridescent colours and change their shape as if they were dancing in response to the sizzle of hope.
‘Dr Forbes?’
The tone in her migraine patient’s voice made her swing back, letting the curtain fall into place behind her.
‘I’m going to be sick...’
Grace grabbed a vomit container but she was too late. A nurse responded swiftly to her call for assistance and her gaze was sympathetic.
‘I’ll clean up in here,’ she said. ‘You’d better go and find some clean scrubs.’ Pulling on gloves, she added a murmur that their patient couldn’t overhear. ‘It’s been one of those days, hasn’t it?’
Helena was in the linen supply room.
‘Oh, no...’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘You poor thing...’
‘Do we have any plastic bags in here? For super-soiled laundry?’
‘Over there. Want me to guard the door for a minute so you can strip that lot off?’
‘Please. I’m starting to feel a bit queasy myself.’
‘Do you need a shower?’
‘No. It’s just on my scrubs.’ Grace unhooked her stethoscope and then unclipped her phone and pager from her waistband. She put them onto a stainless-steel trolley and then peeled off her tunic. ‘What are you doing in here, anyway?’
‘We were low on blankets in the warmer and everyone was busy. I’m due for a break.’ Helena was leaning against the closed door, blocking the small window. ‘Past due to go home, in fact. We both are.’ Her smile was rueful. ‘How come we were among the ones to offer to stay on?’
‘We were short-staffed and overloaded. It was lucky Sarah Grayson could stay on as well.’
‘I know. Well, I’ve hardly seen you since this morning. You okay?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry—silly question. Crazy day, huh?’
‘Mmm.’ Grace was folding the tunic carefully so she could put it into the bag without touching the worst stains. ‘I certainly wouldn’t want another one like this in a hurry.’
Not that staying on past her rostered hours had bothered her, mind you. Or the patient load. She loved a professional challenge. It was the personal challenge she was in the middle of that was a lot less welcome.
‘What are you doing after work? There’s a group going out for Thanksgiving dinner at a local restaurant that sounds like it might be fun. I know you’d be more than welcome.’
But, again, Grace shook her head. ‘I can’t abandon my dog after being at work so much longer than expected. And I need to Skype my dad. I haven’t spoken to him for a while and it’s Thanksgiving. Family time.’
‘Ah...’ Helena’s gaze was mischievous. ‘And there was me thinking you might be going to some glitzy Davenport occasion.’
Pulling on her clean scrub trousers, Grace let the elastic waist band go with more force than necessary. ‘What?’
‘You and Charles...?’ Helena was smiling now. ‘Is that why you were looking so happy first thing this morning? Everybody’s wondering...’
A heavy knot formed in Grace’s gut. People were gossiping about her? And Charles? Had he said something to someone else when he hadn’t bothered talking to her? Or had someone seen something or said something to remind Charles that he would never be able to replace his beloved wife? Maybe that was why he was ignoring her.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said. ‘We’re just friends.’
‘That’s what he said, too.’
‘What?’ Grace fought the shock wave that made it difficult to move. ‘When?’
‘There was someone here earlier this afternoon. A journalist pretending to be a patient and she was asking for you. You’d taken a patient off for an MRI, I think. Or maybe you were finally having a late lunch. Anyway... Charles told her she was wasting her time. That you were nothing more than a colleague and friend. And never would be.’
Was it simply the waft of soiled laundry that was
