The Doctor, His Daughter and Me Read online

  A few moments later he finished the call.

  ‘Was Mum okay?’ Tara was feeling guilty about giving Ryan the task of bending the truth.

  ‘Anxious, but otherwise quite reasonable. I could hear Graham in the background and I think your mum knew he’d blow his stack if he got near the phone.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She reached out and stroked her fingertips over the smooth curve of Ryan’s buttocks and nuzzled a kiss into the wiry fuzz of his pubis. She inhaled the intoxicating scent of soap and their recent lovemaking. As he began to stir he pulled away.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t get me going again or your parents will be organising a search party. We’ll have the local police knocking on the door.’

  He pulled on his briefs and slipped sandals onto his feet.

  ‘They’d do that, you know. It’s not as outrageous as you think.’

  ‘Which is why we should be getting you on the road.’

  Tara wheeled towards the door and let Ryan open it for her. It didn’t take long to load the chair, settle in the car and dissolve into Ryan’s brief but deeply evocative kiss.

  ‘Now who’s delaying my departure?’ she said with a wink.

  Ryan moved away from the car and sighed.

  ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Or I won’t be accountable for my actions.’

  She laughed, wound up her window and reluctantly pulled away, thinking how wonderful it would be to spend the night with Ryan, wake up to the comfort of his warm body pressed against hers, to be his lover. To be his wife?

  As she turned into Hill Park Road she wondered if there was any point in dreaming. She was battling to make sense of what tomorrow would bring, let alone speculating about the rest of her life. Her lovemaking with Ryan had been a life-changing event for her. Did Ryan mean it when he said he wanted more from a relationship than simply sex? What she really wanted was the full romantic, happily-ever-after fantasy of marriage to Ryan. She wondered if the reason she’d never contemplated it with anyone else was because she had the same feelings for her ex-husband as before the accident. Had she nursed that frustration for all these years without realising?

  And there were so many things standing in the way. It would mean a huge change for both of them, mainly because of her situation, and Tara was fearful of any significant alteration to her structured, rigid lifestyle.

  But Ryan had said, ‘If we both want something enough we can make it work.’

  It made sense and it could happen if…Maybe…?

  A dozen questions tumbled through her mind as she turned into the road to the farm.

  She needed a clear head to think about the options, and right now she had her parents to deal with.

  * * *

  Both Jane and Graham were waiting on the veranda when Tara pulled up in front of the homestead. Lights blazed from just about every room in the house, and the yard spotlight illuminated the driveway and its surrounds for about a hundred metres.

  She knew the atmosphere at the Fielding farm would be tense and she wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable confrontation. At any other time the lights would be welcoming, but under the present circumstances Tara had a sudden understanding of the blinding numbness kangaroos felt when they froze in headlight beams.

  A moment after she stopped the vehicle Jane was at the window, with Graham hobbling not far behind. Her mother opened the door and leaned close, whispering so that her husband wouldn’t be able to hear.

  ‘I wasn’t worried, love—well, only a little—but your father started getting a bee in his bonnet about ten-thirty.

  I told him you’d ring if there was any problem, but when we couldn’t get through on your mobile—’

  ‘You imagined the worst. I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t realise the batteries in my phone were flat. I should have let you know what I was doing.’

  The choice was between an apology and an argument, and Tara didn’t have the energy to protest. Saying sorry to Jane was unlikely to placate her father, though. He was leaning on his crutches just behind Jane, the deep furrows in his brow and the tight line of his mouth reflecting his mood. He was not a happy man.

  ‘Where the hell have you been…?’ He paused to squint at his watch. ‘Until half past midnight?’

  ‘Shush, Graham. Let’s get inside out of the cold. I’ll make us all a cup of hot chocolate.’ Jane hesitated. ‘Or maybe it would be better to wait until the morning to…er…talk.’

  Tara had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t quite drowning but it was no easy task to come up for air.

  ‘Mum, Dad.’ Tara’s gaze shifted to her father. ‘I appreciate you staying up for me. If there was any way I could get into the house without your help…Um…I’m tired and we all have to be up before dawn so I’d really like to go straight to bed.’

  ‘Yes, love. That would be best. I’ll get your chair.’

  Graham remained silent, but it wasn’t difficult to guess how discontented he was. He turned and headed towards the house, and as he reached the steps of the veranda she heard him mutter, ‘I’m not going to let Ryan Dennison take her away from us again.’

  Ryan had a full operating list on Saturday, and with the addition of two emergencies and a ward round of his patients in the hospital he probably wouldn’t finish his working day until well into the afternoon. With his late night in the company of Tara—gorgeous, seductive, wonderfully sexy Tara—and his full-on day he felt exhausted. The prospect of the long drive back to the city with his lively young daughter minus her nanny had become less attractive as the day wore on.

  During a short mid-afternoon break he made a decision. First he rang the motel to check his room was available that night, which it was, then he rang Liz Tate’s place. He spoke to Christine and apologised for being late. Ryan had agreed he would take over the care of Bethany when he finished work on Saturday.

  ‘I plan on staying over and driving back tomorrow. Does that suit you?’ he asked Christine.

  ‘Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with the arrangement of going back on the first train Monday morning.’

  ‘Good, that suits me. You’ll be back in time to pick Beth up from day care?’

  ‘Of course,’ she assured him, and he wondered what he would do without her.

  The practicalities sorted, his mind began working overtime. He desperately wanted to see Tara before he left, and toyed with the idea of asking her to go on a picnic with him and his daughter. Tara and Bethany had seemed to get on well the previous evening, and Beth would act as a buffer between them. Not that he needed one, but he thought it might be reassuring for Tara’s parents that they wouldn’t be on their own.

  At that moment the scout nurse appeared in the doorway of the surgery staffroom.

  ‘Your next patient’s ready to go, Dr Dennison.’

  Right—two more patients, a quick ward round and he’d be finished for the day.

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  He’d ring Tara before he picked up Bethany. That would hopefully give them time to talk without the distraction of his garrulous daughter.

  Ryan crossed his fingers as he strode back to the operating room. He desperately wanted Tara to agree to his plan.

  When he’d finished his hospital duties and dialled Tara’s mobile phone number he felt fluttering in his stomach and had to concentrate on stilling the tremor threatening his hands.

  Tara’s phone rang a dozen times and then went to voice-mail.

  ‘Damn,’ he muttered, ending the call without leaving a message. He needed a moment to compose one, which was more difficult than he thought.

  Last night was wonderful and I’m suffering every moment I can’t be with you.

  The truth—but way too corny. He knew Tara’s mind and it would put her off for sure.

  Ring me. I need to talk to you.

  Too abrupt. After she got over being annoyed she would most likely worry.

  I’m staying over tonight and wondered if you could join Be
thany and me for a picnic brunch. Ring me when you can.

  That was more like it. Letting her know his plans without being too wordy. She’d have time to think about whether she wanted to accept his invitation before she answered. And if she didn’t phone that afternoon? He’d be devastated.

  He was about to press redial when the phone began ringing. It was Tara’s number. He knew it even without the prompt from the small screen. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Hello…Tara.’

  ‘I’m returning your call. Sorry I couldn’t answer. I was just winding up the dairy tour. We’ve had a busload of Japanese tourists. With Dad out of action, Mum and Pete—from the neighbouring farm—have been doing the milking and I’m the tour guide. I think you know what I mean when I say Dad’s not great with his people skills.’

  She paused, but began again before he could get a word in. Was she nervous?

  ‘What did you want? I can’t speak for long. I have to go back to the homestead and help Mum with the Devonshire teas.’

  ‘Oh.’ He’d finished his work for the day but she was obviously still going full-pelt through hers, and he suspected she’d probably started before dawn. With her late night she must be totally exhausted, he thought. ‘I can ring back later.’

  ‘No, back at the house Dad seems to be watching my every move. Best if we talk now. At least I’ve got a bit of privacy.’

  Ryan heard the rumble of a vehicle and the gentle lowing of contented cows.

  ‘How will you get back?’

  He could feel Tara’s all-knowing smile and imagined what she was thinking—that he didn’t have a clue—well, maybe not much more than a smidgeon of a clue—about the practicalities of her life.

  ‘I’m on the quad bike. Mum helped me and is on her way back to the house. It was weird, though. The visitors seemed to be more interested in me and my disabilities than the milking. I could tell they wanted to take photos but were too polite to ask. So when I gave them permission they went wild with their cameras. I felt a bit like I was on a celebrity photoshoot.’

  Ryan was smiling now. Her enthusiasm for the farm and letting others share it was palpable.

  ‘Sorry, what did you want? I’m talking too much.’

  Which didn’t worry Ryan. He could listen to her all day.

  ‘I’m staying over in Keysdale. I didn’t fancy the long drive this afternoon and I wondered if you would like to come with me and Bethany on an early picnic tomorrow? I thought about ten, and I’d have you home before the afternoon milking.’

  There were only a couple of moments of silence before she replied, but it seemed like an age to Ryan.

  ‘Um…’

  ‘I understand if you have to check with your parents.’ Silence again. ‘And that it’s short notice, but—’

  ‘Yes, I’ll come.’ There was a note of defiance in her voice. ‘I’d love to. Will you come and pick me up or would you like me to come to the motel?’

  Ryan had been expecting her to um and ah and was surprised by the confidence of her reply. It was as if he’d handed her a pair of scissors to finally sever the apron strings. Even if she hadn’t completed the cut yet, she was at least on the way.

  ‘Whichever you’d prefer.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll go to your place. I doubt Dad would give you much of a welcome, and it would be easier for me if we took my car. Would that be okay? I’m pretty sure we haven’t any tourist bookings tomorrow. I can bring scones. What time did you say?’

  It was like conversing with a tornado. He had to catch his breath, and he wasn’t the one talking at a hundred miles an hour.

  ‘About ten?’

  ‘Fine. I have to go now. Mum will be wondering where I’ve got to.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’

  ‘Looking forward to it,’ Tara said breathlessly, and then hung up.

  With a contented sigh, Ryan put his phone back in its cover. He felt as excited as a five-year-old going to a birthday party, and he imagined his daughter would feel just the same when he told her.

  * * *

  It hadn’t been as difficult as Tara thought. Her father had been busy with the accounts in the small office at one end of the back veranda when she’d broached the subject of the picnic with Jane. After her mother’s initial surprise she’d actually sounded pleased about the planned outing the following day.

  ‘Don’t worry about your father’s reaction. I’ll deal with him. You just go out and enjoy yourself,’ she’d said with a gleam in her eyes. ‘It’s about time you started having a life away from the farm and your work. And I like Ryan. I always have. The truth is I was sorry when you divorced.’ She’d paused, reached for Tara’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘You seemed so much in love.’

  Tara realised she’d never really talked to her parents about the important things in her life. Of course she knew what a powerful influence her father’s strong will had on his wife, but her mother’s open support of her seeing Ryan came as a surprise to Tara.

  ‘We were.’

  ‘And still are?’

  Tara blushed. She couldn’t lie to her mother.

  ‘I thought as much.’

  Jane had then gone on to explain her worries about what would happen to Tara when she and Graham became too old to look after her. She revealed that Graham’s injury had precipitated talk of them retiring and moving away from the farm. It was one of the uncertainties about their future Tara hadn’t even considered.

  ‘I hoped you would marry again—to someone like Ryan!’ She’d paused, giving Tara a chance to let the revelation sink in. It was powerful stuff. ‘But any men who showed an interest you, you pushed away or your father frightened off.’

  The conversation had finished when Graham limped in, asking for a cup of tea, but Jane had said more than enough.

  Marry again…to someone like Ryan.

  They’d talked of retiring, of selling the farm.

  The whole Fielding family dynamic was on the verge of changing.

  These were the thoughts scuttling through her mind as she drove along the highway towards Keysdale. Yes, she loved Ryan. In one night he’d released her from the prison of her body and proved she could be attractive, sexy, desirable—things she’d believed she’d lost when her back had been broken and her spinal cord irreparably damaged.

  And how did she feel about spending time with Ryan’s daughter? Nervous? Uncertain of Ryan’s expectations of her? She knew, from the brief contact she’d had with Bethany, that the child seemed to like her and was easy to get on with—not prone to tantrums or overly protective of her father. Her concerns were more about Ryan, and she had a niggling feeling the picnic might be some sort of test to see how she coped in a family scenario. Maybe she was reading too much into the situation and she should feel honoured that he wanted her to spend time with and get to know Bethany better. Yes, she did feel honoured, and was looking forward to the picnic.

  As she pulled in to the driveway of the Riverside her reverie was interrupted—by the sight of a beaming four-year-old sitting on the step waiting for her. As soon as she saw the car Bethany leaped to her feet, and probably would have run out to meet her if her father hadn’t appeared in the doorway and scooped the little girl up in his arms. Ryan’s grin was wider than his daughter’s.

  Her worries dissipated and she wondered how she could have had doubts about Ryan’s motives.

  When Tara stopped the car Ryan released the squirming bundle and they both came down the path to meet her, Ryan’s long stride keeping pace with Bethany’s chubby-legged run.

  ‘She’s been ready since eight-thirty and must have asked me how long until you get here about a thousand times.’

  ‘Oh, poor Ryan. And I bet you wanted the extra time in bed.’

  He leaned into the window and kissed her softly on the cheek whispering, ‘Only if I can share my bed with you.’

  She giggled. He was flirting again and making her feel ten years younger. She glanced down at Bethany, who had b
egun to express her youthful impatience by pounding the passenger door with her small fists. Ryan got the message.

  ‘I know,’ he said with a laugh. ‘In my dreams—for today at least.’

  ‘Mmm…Pity.’ Tara decided it was time to change the subject. ‘Are you ready to go? If you are it will save getting the chair out and I can drive.’

  ‘Yes, I have a picnic hamper, disguised as a cardboard box, and a small coolbag I borrowed from the hospital. I won’t be a minute. Oh, and I’ll need to strap Beth’s booster seat in.’

  Ten minutes later the food was packed in the luggage space next to Tara’s wheelchair, Bethany was safely strapped in the back seat, and Ryan, in the front seat, was unfolding a map.

  ‘I’m not sure where to go. There are a couple of places on the river that aren’t too far away and have wheelchair-friendly walk trails.’

  Tara glanced at the map and pointed to a spot about twenty kilometres south, where the river seemed to splay out into a small lake.

  ‘Rainbow Pool,’ she said without hesitation. ‘It’s a beautiful place—plenty of room for Bethany to run around in, an adventure trail and sheltered picnic tables.’

  ‘Sounds ideal. Let’s go.’

  * * *

  They turned off the highway onto a narrow sealed road that wended its way into the forest. The sun shone brightly but the tall jarrah and marri trees cast mid-morning shadows across the road. Just before they reached the picnic area the trees thinned, then opened out onto a grassed clearing running alongside the sparkling waters of a small lake that seemed to be fed by a tumble of water at the far side.

  The ground was firm, flat and easy for Tara to negotiate. She’d brought her manual chair, which was more robust than the electric one; comparing the two was a bit like the difference between a mountain bike and a slick city touring cycle. Ryan unloaded the car. He carried the box and gave the coolbag and scones to Tara while Bethany skipped along beside them both, humming the theme tune of a pre-school TV show.

  Tara felt happier and more relaxed than…well, she couldn’t think of a time she’d been more content with life since the accident. She sighed.