A Child to Heal Them Read online

  Tasha needed to get some space. She needed to take a step back. She wasn’t Abeje’s mother—she’d said it herself. Perhaps he needed to help her decide just who she was to the child? She could go either way, but then he’d know. Know what he was up against.

  He hated not knowing—the blind naivety that believed everything should be all right as long as they remained positive.

  His reflection stared back at him from the small shaving mirror and he let out a sigh, feeling terrible for the thoughts he was having. Who was he to say who she should care for?

  But he’d experienced the loss of a child and Tasha hadn’t, and she had no idea of what it could do to a person. He needed to warn her, somehow. He needed to make her let go—because if she didn’t she just might be devastated, and he wasn’t sure he could deal with that, with being the cause of her pain once again.

  Because he would be the cause, wouldn’t he? If Abeje died then Tasha would think it was because he hadn’t been able to save her, and he didn’t want the blame.

  He’d been blamed for a death before. Hannah’s family, in their guilt, their grief, had taken it out on him, telling him that as a doctor he should have saved her. Should have fought to make her take the chemo and have a baby later!

  ‘You should have made her take the chemo, Quinn! What kind of a husband are you?’

  The accusation of their voices was still bitter in his mind.

  He’d lost patients before—of course he had. All doctors had. But this case was different. Was personal because of Tasha. And he wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t ready for the intense emotions that were already playing out between them.

  He would fight and do his best for every patient, but Abeje had become a VIP. It was vital he didn’t lose her.

  Because he wasn’t sure he could be witness to Tasha’s collapse.

  And to her blame.

  * * *

  It was scorching away from the air-conditioning of the boat. An oppressive heat that weighed as heavy as his fears. Despite it, he decided to walk to the school where Tasha taught. He felt he needed it—a little time to gain perspective on all that was happening. A little time to think of what he needed to say to her. That maybe he was rushing into a relationship he hadn’t thought through properly. That maybe they ought to put the brakes on for a while—at least whilst Abeje was still sick.

  I’m too close. I need to be Abeje’s doctor, but I can’t do that properly if I’m involved with Tasha.

  All his patients deserved his utmost care, but he was beginning to feel as if Abeje should have more, somehow. His decisions and choices were being clouded by his feelings for her.

  It felt good to walk through the port, where the fishermen were offloading their catches and wares. It was busy and vibrant and full of noisy life. A good reminder that outside of the confines of the boat, where he was generally surrounded by sick people, there were others living their lives as best they could.

  There was happiness here, and warmth and community. People knew one another, and as he passed through the crowds he was greeted often and frequently by broad, smiling faces.

  He loved these people. He really did. They filled him with an energy and a purpose that he had never found elsewhere—not since Hannah, anyway. They were people with a genuine need...not like some of the people who would sometimes wander into A&E back home, complaining of a broken acrylic nail or a splinter, or something equally stupid.

  Medical care here wasn’t abused at all.

  Perhaps I should have pushed Hannah more.

  He’d kept his emotions contained after Hannah had died. And then, when he’d lost his son hours later, he’d bottled them up. It had been easier to retreat into a numbed state. His father, an ex-Marine, had raised him to believe that if he was to grow into a big, strong man then he would have to get control of the wobbly emotions he had inside him. That crying was for the weak.

  Quinn wasn’t sure that was true any more. He wished he could cry sometimes. It might help to let the lid off the pressure cooker.

  As he neared the school he could hear the children inside one class reading aloud from a book as one. He recognised the names of the characters and smiled, imagining Tasha standing at the front of the class, holding her book about wizards.

  She must have seen him through a window, because suddenly she was leaning out of one, smiling happily and waving him over. ‘Quinn! Come on in and I’ll introduce you!’

  He felt his heart lift at the sight of her beautiful face and gorgeous smile, and he smiled back and waved in return, feeling a cold lump inside his gut. He knew that he was about to hurt her. To do something he’d vowed not to do again. But he was doing it in the best interests of his patient and she would want that.

  At least that was what he tried to tell himself.

  She was energised. He could see that. She had to be a great teacher if she smiled like that all day long. Tasha was in a job that she loved and he could understand that. She made a perfect teacher. And she cared.

  Inside, a sea of smiling faces awaited him.

  ‘Everyone, I want you to say hello to Dr Shapiro, who works on the Serendipity—the hospital ship we visited a few days ago. Dr Shapiro is looking after Abeje.’

  ‘Hi, Dr Shapiro!’ the children all intoned, one or two waving from the front row.

  ‘It’s great to meet you all,’ he said, smiling. ‘Miss Tasha has told me all about you.’

  They seemed happy about that, and Tasha stood beside him, beaming. ‘We were reading, Quinn. Would you like to finish off the chapter before they all go out to lunch?’

  ‘I’d love to!’

  Anything to delay the inevitable.

  He took the book from her and she pointed out where they’d got to. Her fingers brushed his and he felt that frisson he always felt when she touched him. He swallowed—hard.

  ‘Okay, let’s see how this goes...’

  He began to read and the class listened intently.

  Something special seemed to wrap itself around him as he stood reading at the front of the class. It was the way everyone was listening and reading along with him. The silence of their expectation as he tried to do special voices and vary his tone, giving it everything he could. It felt so good he wanted it to last for ever.

  He had them all in the palm of his hand...rapt. And when he came to the end of the chapter and closed the book the classroom of children all looked up at him and began to clap appreciatively. He stood there, gave a slight bow, and looked at Tasha—who was also clapping.

  Was this what it was like for her every day? To have this? He could see why she loved it. He’d adored every second.

  ‘Okay, everyone. Put your books away and then I want you to line up by the door for lunch.’

  The children all did as they were told and quietly, one by one, they lined up as instructed. Tasha stood by the door, waiting patiently for the last stragglers, and then she let them out, saying something kind to each one, thanking all the children for their efforts that morning.

  When they were gone she closed the door and turned to him. ‘Wow. I didn’t know you could read like that!’

  ‘Neither did I. It just...happened.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure they’d love you to read to them from now on. I’ll be out of a job!’

  ‘No fear. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do. I think I’ll stick with doctoring.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m starving. Want to grab a bite to eat?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Great!’ She grabbed her bag from the back of her chair. ‘And whilst we’re queuing up for lunch you can tell me how Abeje is doing.’

  * * *

  They both purchased a small portion of stew that had been made with lamb and a variety of vegetables, served with some kind of wonderfully light dumpling that he’d never tasted before. He hadn’t realised how hungry
he was until the food was in front of him.

  ‘How has she got on this morning?’ asked Tasha.

  ‘Pretty much the same, I have to say.’

  Tasha sighed. ‘It seems to be taking so long. I can’t bear it—the not knowing.’

  ‘She has one of the most aggressive strains of parasitical infection.’

  ‘I know, but you gave her treatment for that. The two children from Mosa seem to be doing better than she is.’ She let out a sigh. ‘I’ll come and sit with her again tonight. Look at her chart...see if there’s something we haven’t thought of.’

  Quinn frowned, confused. ‘Have you been researching on the internet again? I told you not to do that.’

  She coloured slightly, stirred her stew. ‘I couldn’t help it.’

  He stirred his own stew with his spoon, his appetite disappearing as he thought of how to voice his next words.

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t come to the ship again.’

  She looked up at him, questioning. ‘Why?’ A frown lined her brow.

  ‘You need a break. You’ll exhaust yourself this way. Teaching for long hours, then spending all night by Abeje’s bedside. You’ve got to look after yourself.’

  ‘I’m not the one who’s sick. She needs me. I have to be there for her. She has no one else fighting in her corner.’

  He felt a little affronted by that. ‘Doesn’t she? My team are doing everything they can. I’m doing everything I can. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘I know that—but it’s not the same as having someone by your bed, holding your hand. Like a mother.’

  ‘You’re not her mother, though.’

  Tasha put down her spoon and frowned at him. ‘What? One minute you’re taking me to the maternity ward and showing me mothers, telling me that I’m like a mother, and now this about-face? Why are you being like this?’

  Perhaps he was giving her mixed messages, but his thoughts about the situation were all over the place right now. He didn’t want to have to give Tasha bad news. He didn’t want to be that doctor who had to stand in front of someone and tell them their loved one had died. He couldn’t do that to her.

  ‘I’m just trying to look out for you.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to. I’m not your concern. Abeje is.’

  ‘But this isn’t just about Abeje, is it? It’s about you. You see yourself in her so you’re trying to save her.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘An abandoned kid in a children’s home—’

  ‘Lots of my students are from the children’s home.’

  ‘But they’re not the ones you can’t tear yourself away from!’ He looked away, feeling an anger that he hadn’t known he had rising inside him. ‘You need to take a step back.’

  He could feel the pressure coming from her. The demand that he did not allow Abeje to deteriorate.

  ‘You need to remember you’re just her teacher. If anyone can save her it’s me, not you, and you’ve got to allow me to do my job!’

  Tasha stood up abruptly, her spoon clattering to the floor as she threw her napkin on the table. ‘I can’t believe you’re saying this.’

  Then she grabbed her bag, threw it over her shoulder and stormed away. Everyone else in the small dining room stared at him, wondering what he’d said to upset their favourite teacher. He hated the fact he’d made her angry. Hated the fact that he couldn’t make his mind up about what he wanted her to be. Who she needed to be. How she was making him feel.

  Were those thoughts more about his feelings than hers?

  He patted his mouth with a napkin and pushed his plate away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  TASHA STOOD OUTSIDE the school building fuming. How dared he say such things to her? What right did he have? He didn’t know her. Not really. He had no idea of all that she’d been through. Or what she was capable of.

  You’re not her mother...

  No. She wasn’t. But mothers weren’t just the women that gave birth to a child. He’d been the one to tell her that! Mothers were created through love. Created by the bond of a woman who cared for a child as if it were their own. Which was how she felt about Abeje.

  Abeje had no one else.

  Tasha couldn’t help but recall those long, lonely nights, sitting in her bed at the children’s home, wondering if life would ever get better. Her back against the wall, her knees tucked up against her chest, she had stared out of her open curtains and wondered if there was anyone out there who would care and love for her the way she wanted. With the intensity of love that would make them take a bullet for her. If there might be someone out there who would love her so much that they would be devastated if anything happened to her.

  She’d had no one else.

  She’d felt surplus to requirements. An overspill in a children’s home already fit to bursting with lost children. But she’d grown up, and now she’d come here, and she’d met all these kids, and Abeje had found a way into her heart.

  Abeje wanted to be a doctor, too. They were so similar! She couldn’t help that any more than she could help her need to breathe. She could make that girl feel someone cared. And having Quinn tell her to back off was just way out of line!

  She couldn’t tell her heart just to switch off. Because if she could she’d probably still be a doctor. She wouldn’t have nightmares. She wouldn’t be feeling all sorts of emotions that she didn’t want.

  She’d be happy.

  Not standing here with tears in her eyes.

  She looked up as the school door opened and Quinn stepped out, his magnificent form filling the doorway. He scanned the play area, looking for her.

  Wiping her eyes, she began to walk away.

  ‘Tasha! Wait!’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you, Quinn!’ She tried to run, but the strappy sandals she was wearing weren’t built for that. Agitated, she started walking fast.

  She thought she’d got away. She thought he’d understood her message and maybe headed back to the ship, But when she slowed down she felt a hand on her arm.

  ‘Tasha, please.’

  He looked dismayed to see she was crying, and tried to pull her into his arms. ‘Hey, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t, Quinn! Just...don’t.’

  She pulled her arms free of his grasp and stood there in front of him, feeling like a child, her arms hugging her body. It was like being thirteen all over again. He’d hurt her. The way he’d sat there and told her she wasn’t enough. Again! He’d promised. He’d promised to show her who he really was and perhaps he still really was that bully from all those years ago?

  ‘I should never have said anything. I was...projecting. I was trying to stop you from getting hurt. I...’

  She looked up into his face. ‘You were projecting what?’ She felt confused. What did he mean?

  You’re not her mother.

  You need to take a step back.

  I was trying to stop you from getting hurt.

  ‘I’m not just another case for you to worry about. I’m not a patient.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘How close I am to Abeje shouldn’t be a concern to you. It should be a cause for celebration. That someone out there in this huge, cruel world actually cares about her!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So why did you say such horrible things to me? I don’t understand.’

  He was looking at her strangely, as if he were deciding what to say. If he should say anything at all.

  His mouth moved silently, as if he were trying words for size. Trying to build his explanation in his mind first, before speaking the words out loud.

  He sucked in a breath. ‘I told you about Hannah.’

  His wife? What did she have to do with this? She remembered him saying their marriage hadn’t lasted very long.

  ‘Yes?’ />
  ‘We didn’t get divorced. I know I made it sound like a failed marriage, but Hannah and I were very happy. We married on impulse, but everything was great between us.’

  Tasha shifted, looking up at him, wondering what he was going to say next. He’d implied that his marriage was over, but if they hadn’t divorced, then that meant...

  ‘She had one or two bad days when she didn’t feel great. But she was a strong woman. She believed in soldiering on. It was nothing that concerned either of us to start with. We both worked hard, we were both exhausted, and when she learned that she was pregnant...we put it down to morning sickness.’

  He looked at Tasha uncertainly.

  Clearly he had never said those words out loud before. This wasn’t a well-practised anecdote. This was something intensely private. And painful.

  What was he about to tell her?

  What did this have to do with her taking a step back from Abeje?

  And Hannah had been pregnant. They had been about to have a baby.

  Tasha could imagine the sort of father Quinn would be—funny, sporty, involved, loving, adoring. She tried to imagine a baby in his arms and her womb actually ached.

  ‘You were going to be a dad?’

  ‘Yeah. But she began to suffer terribly—sickness, weight loss, pains, jaundice, exhaustion. We were both doctors, and we both knew that something else was going on.’

  Tasha ran the symptom list through her head, trying to work out what they might indicate. Sickness and exhaustion might have been from the pregnancy, but weight loss? Jaundice? Pain? None of those were good.

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘They diagnosed her with stage four aggressive pancreatic cancer. They did a scan and found metastases in her lungs, liver, spine and brain.’

  ‘Oh, Quinn...’

  Stage four cancer meant that it had already spread, as Quinn had said, to other organs. Typically, that would have meant the lungs or the liver, but the aggressive nature of Hannah’s cancer had clearly caused a spread to her bones and brain, too. Which she knew meant incurable. Terminal.