might begin to see her for the selfless woman she’d become, and not the lost and helpless creature who’d left him. Or the extravagant, spoilt girl he’d first met.
‘You’ll get the tour. Everyone does.’ He looked away, slid the vehicle into gear and drove forward. ‘Did you receive the case notes my secretary prepared for tomorrow’s operating schedule?’
Back to business. She swallowed her disappointment. ‘Yes, they came through late yesterday. I’ve read them thoroughly, and I’ll be taking another look through each one later tonight after I’ve seen my patients. I’ve read enough to answer any worries they or their parents may have. I’d also like to see where I’ll be working before tomorrow, if that’s possible.’
‘Of course.’
A young woman in a nurse’s uniform closed in on Tom as he stepped down from the vehicle. ‘Tom, thank goodness you’re back. Jarrod Harris fell out of a tree just after you left for the airstrip. He’s broken his arm.’
‘What was he doing climbing a tree?’ Even as Tom asked, he began striding towards the hospital.
Fiona followed quickly, almost trotting to keep up as Tom’s long legs stretched out, eating up the ground in his hurry to see his patient. And get away from her?
‘Who’s Jarrod Harris?’ she asked.
‘One of a group of haemophiliac patients staying this week for mentoring, friendship and medical talks,’ Tom explained, before asking the other woman, ‘Where’s everyone?’
‘Kerry’s with Jarrod. The interns went into the village earlier, to pick up a prescription for one of the children at the pharmacy and then on for a coffee. I haven’t called them as I knew you’d be back any moment.’
Tom slowed his pace enough to allow Fiona to catch up for introductions. ‘Stella, this is Fiona Sav—Fraser, the plastic surgeon.’
Fiona saw him blink, nearly trip, when he realised he’d been about to use her married name. She hadn’t gone back to her maiden name, but of course Tom had presumed so. She stared back, trying not to succumb to the wave of anguish spreading through her, bringing an ache in the region of her heart.
She said, ‘Actually, my name’s still Saville.’
It had never crossed her mind to change back to Fraser. That would have been another bond between them broken. It wasn’t as though she’d ever regretted marrying Tom.
He swallowed, then turned to the other woman staring at them both with curiosity scrunching her face. ‘Fiona is my ex-wife.’
Stella gaped. ‘I didn’t know you were divorced.’
‘I’m—we’re not.’
But they’d be getting around to it very soon, Fiona guessed by the startled look in Tom’s eyes. It made perfect sense now that they’d caught up with each other. Why did she feel so sad? Their marriage was long over. But I don’t want a divorce. Which begged the question, what did she want? Her thumb flicked her forefinger. Her heart thumped under her ribs. Definitely not.
Tom continued, oblivious to her feelings, ‘Stella’s our head theatre nurse. If you need to know anything, ask her.’
‘Hello, Stella. I guess that means we’ll be working together this week.’
‘Yes, we will.’ The nurse glanced sideways at her, a multitude of questions racing across her face.
Those questions brought another thought to mind. Had Tom settled down with another woman? Six years was a long time to remain single, especially for a warm, caring man like Tom. Women had always been attracted to him, so it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find someone else. Her heart squeezed tight. Of course she didn’t mind. She would be very happy for him if that was the case. Really. Her hands clenched at her sides. Really.
‘Jarrod’s in the recovery room.’ Stella broke through Fiona’s tumultuous thoughts.
Tom fired questions at his nurse. ‘Any other injuries? Did he knock his head? Lose consciousness? There’ll probably be internal bleeding from landing on the ground.’
‘He’s got a few scratches with light bleeding and says he didn’t hit his head. He seems remarkably happy, as though he’s done nothing wrong climbing that tree.’ Stella’s lips tightened with disapproval.
Fiona followed Tom into the theatre recovery room. A boy of about ten years lay on the bed. A light smattering of blood, which appeared to have come from a deep scratch on his hand, stained his denim jacket and jeans. A woman holding a penlight torch peered under his eyelids.
‘Kerry, thanks for coming in. Any major problems with our lad?’ Tom asked, reaching for an X-ray film lying on the end of the bed.
‘Apart from a broken arm, he’s a very lucky boy. His vitals are good, shock level low.’
The boy grinned, before wincing as pain snagged him. ‘It wasn’t a big tree.’
‘You shouldn’t have been up it at all,’ Tom growled. But understanding lightened his face as he put aside the X-ray to gently palpate Jarrod’s lower left arm.
Tom looked to Fiona. ‘Looks like our tour is on hold.’ He nodded to the woman with the penlight. ‘Kerry’s one of our anaesthetists. Kerry, this is Fiona Fraser, the plastic surgeon.’
And he was sticking to using her maiden name. Pain stabbed her beneath the ribs as she reached for Kerry’s outstretched hand.
‘I’m glad we’ve caught up before we start tomorrow’s surgery.’
Kerry’s dazzling smile made Fiona feel welcome for the first time since she’d touched down on the airstrip. The hard knot in her stomach finally eased a little. ‘So am I.’
Stella spoke to Tom. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I’ve got to prepare for my in-laws’ wedding anniversary dinner.’
Tom waved at her. ‘I’m sorry, I’d forgotten all about you wanting to leave early. You get going. We’ll manage here.’
‘I can help you with Jarrod,’ Fiona offered, watching Stella leave and thinking how different Tom’s attitude had become. He’d always used to expect his staff to put patients before everything. ‘I’ve worked with a lot of children recently,’ she added defensively.
Tom glanced up, an assessing look in those steely eyes. Then he dipped his chin. ‘Jumping straight in? Why not? I’d appreciate it. The haemophilia might mean this is not a straightforward fracture.’
Warmth spread through her at the thought of working with Tom again. Then Jarrod groaned, quickly dampening her mood. She queried Tom, ‘Have you got clotting factors on hand? Vitamin K?’
‘Plenty of those. With eight haemophiliacs here this week, we’re well prepared.’ Tom lifted his head from examining Jarrod and focused on Fiona. ‘We’ll set this fracture, clean up that cut and those scratches, then a shot of vitamin K and some clotting factor to stop the bleeding.’
‘Haemophilia A or B?’ she asked.
‘A,
