Like Doctor, Like Son Page 4

  It wasn’t until he was almost within touching distance of her that he saw for the first time that she wasn’t alone.

  From out of nowhere, fury boiled up inside him when he saw the solicitous way her companion was ushering her towards the door. How dared the young man take such liberties in public, with his arm wrapped around her slender shoulders in such a possessive way?

  ‘Faith?’ he said, pitching the single word just loud enough to carry over the hubbub of voices without drawing undue attention.

  To his surprise, she stopped in her tracks almost as though he’d shot her, then slowly, and all too clearly reluctantly, she turned to face him.

  Faith reflexively tightened her grip on her escort’s arm as she turned, automatically reaching up to adjust her glasses before she had to face Quinn.

  He was the one who had called her name. It may have been sixteen years since she’d last heard it, but she’d never forget the slightly husky tone of his voice, not till the day she died.

  ‘Quinn,’ she said, glad that this time the noise surrounding them hid the quaver in her voice. She lifted her chin, determined that he wouldn’t guess what the mere sound of his voice had done to her equilibrium. Playing ‘their’ tune had already affected her emotions too much.

  She deliberately straightened her shoulders and tilted her head to meet his gaze, silently reminding herself that there were far too many potential witnesses surrounding them to do anything but put on a good performance. She would have to manage to be cool and calm just long enough to observe the niceties. Once she was out of his sight there would be plenty of time for her to collapse in a heap.

  ‘Thank you for coming today in spite of your heavy workload. We…I really appreciate it. Molly told me that you were the one who came when Mother…when she collapsed.’

  In spite of the buzz of conversation around them, she heard Quinn’s murmur of dismissal all too clearly. ‘As I told Molly—it’s all part of the job.’

  ‘Oh, but it was much more than that, and Mother would have wanted…’ she began, needing to argue. She couldn’t imagine that it was common practice for a GP to sit holding a patient’s hand for that length of time, especially when the patient wasn’t even one of his, and she’d been stunned when Molly had told her of his patience and kindness.

  She didn’t get a chance to say any of it.

  ‘You can cut the social chit-chat, Faith,’ Quinn broke in sharply. ‘We both know your mother would never have willingly let me set foot over her threshold if she hadn’t been dying, so why would she welcome me at her funeral?’

  Faith felt her escort bristle beside her and tightened her grip on his arm, willing him to silence. The last thing she needed was to have to referee a brawl in front of the whole village. That certainly wouldn’t be in keeping with the low profile she deliberately maintained in her professional life.

  ‘It’s all right, DJ,’ she said quietly. ‘Quinn and I have known each other too long to take offence at a bit of plain speaking.’ She addressed Quinn again. ‘You’re right. She did have set ideas and once she’d made up her mind, she rarely changed it. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not grateful that you decided to honour her by attending, at least in recognition of the charitable things she achieved in her lifetime.’

  To her dismay she felt the threat of tears burning the back of her eyes and couldn’t be sure whether they were the natural outpouring of grief for a lost parent or the fact that this was the first time she was face to face with the reality of the far deeper loss of the man she’d loved with her heart and soul.

  She hastily fumbled for her pocket to find a handkerchief, desperate not to make a scene in front of all these people. She had to hold herself together for just a little longer. The last thing she needed was to become the object of gossip, especially if her name was linked in any way with such a public figure as the local GP. All it would take would be some unscrupulous reporter to sense a story and all her careful secrets would be laid out for the world to see.

  ‘Here,’ Quinn said gruffly. ‘Take this.’

  ‘Thanks.’ DJ spoke into the small beat of silence then pressed the handkerchief into Faith’s hand, his voice suddenly sounding very young against the rich depth of Quinn’s. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Doctor, it’s been a rather…distressing day.’

  ‘Faith?’ It was only the one word, her name, but behind it she could hear a hint of the vast reservoir of emotion that could drown her if it was released. She’d once believed that she knew him better than anyone else and could hear nuances in his voice that were inaudible to the rest of the world. She couldn’t possibly still be so sensitive to his feelings after all this time, surely. And if she was, what did that say about her feelings for him?

  Guilt and fear made a coward out of her. All she wanted to do was escape.

  ‘DJ’s right. It’s been a long day and I’m—’

  ‘Such a long day that you haven’t any time at all to talk to an old friend?’ he interrupted, and she knew he was deliberately challenging her. ‘I’m sure DJ wouldn’t mind giving us a few moments’ privacy.’

  There was also a clear note of animosity in his voice but she wasn’t certain whether it was directed at herself or at DJ. For a moment she hesitated, wondering if, in her muddle-headed distress, she might have given away more than she realised.

  When she’d heard that her mother had died, she’d known that this time she would have to come back to the Barton for more than a flying visit. Her autocratic parent seemed to have laid down instructions about almost every aspect of this last public performance, but it had still taken several days to set the arrangements in motion.

  After sixteen years of hiding her soul-destroying secrets, she’d really hoped that she wasn’t going to have to come face to face with Quinn. She didn’t think that she would ever be ready for that. But in the bleak silence after midnight last night, knowing that this would probably be the last time she came anywhere near the man she’d given her heart to all those years ago, she’d been filled with a perilous longing for him to be here today. Even if she only got close enough to hear the familiar sound of his voice—to hear if it had changed over the intervening years—she would have been satisfied.

  Well, he was here and it had changed—she’d recognised that fact even before she’d turned to face him.

  It was still unmistakably Quinn’s voice but it had grown in power and resonance in the time he’d changed from a youth on the verge of maturity to an adult male in his prime. Sixteen years ago, even the sound of it over the phone had been enough to send secret shivers through her as her hormones had awoken to desire for the first time. Now, years later and in person, the sensations his voice evoked were stronger, deeper, filling her mind with images of being stroked all over with lustrous chocolate brown velvet.

  Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the realisation of all she’d lost—all the things the two of them could have shared day by day for nearly half a lifetime. Knowing that the loss was all her own fault was too much to cope with, especially with Quinn standing there, right in front of her. If she were to break down now, under that all-seeing green gaze…

  ‘I’m sorry, Quinn…’ she stumbled to a halt, more sorry than he would ever know. ‘I can’t. Not today.’ And with a muttered word for DJ she hurried out of the room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘SO, CAN I give you a lift home?’ Quinn offered diffidently as he met her on the library steps.

  His hand was clenched nervously around his keys but as they were hidden in his pocket, Faith would never know how much his confidence depended on her answer. He still couldn’t believe that she actually seemed to enjoy spending time together while they completed their homework assignments.

  ‘You passed your test?’ Faith demanded, a delighted grin on her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because I wanted to get the car on the road first, so I could take you out to celebrate.’ He also hadn’t been certain that the car would be deemed roadworth
y, in spite of the number of hours he’d spent rebuilding it.

  ‘You finished the car!’ Her excitement made him feel almost ten feet tall. ‘Where is it? Show me! Oh, I’m so jealous! Mother’s never going to let me have a car and if she ever does, it won’t be something fun like your Mini.’

  Right then it hardly felt as if his feet touched the ground. It had been worth every scraped knuckle and missed hour of sleep to know he had her admiration. And as for the fact that they would now have the means to travel further afield no matter what the weather…that they could be together in the secluded confines of a car with their bodies just inches apart…

  He hastily tamped down the enticing image of the two of them parked in some secluded place with their arms around each other and their lips…

  ‘Your carriage awaits, my lady,’ he said with a flourish, gesturing with one hand towards the nearby parking area where he’d left the car while he offered her his arm.

  ‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she said with a giggle, and, instead of taking his arm, handed him the heavy pile of books she was carrying to call over her shoulder. ‘If I get there first, can I drive it? Please, pretty please?’

  ‘Women!’ Quinn muttered into the midnight darkness of his bedroom. ‘Will men ever understand how their minds work?’

  He heard the echo of his own words and laughed aloud. ‘What’s to understand? Whatever goes wrong, it’s always the fault of the nearest man, even if he had nothing to do with it.’

  He sighed heavily, seeing again in his mind’s eye the distress on Faith’s face. ‘And all I did was ask to have a few words with her.’

  He’d finally been standing face to face with her after sixteen years and for several long moments while all his hormones had suddenly woken up to the reason for their existence, all he’d been able to think was that she was more beautiful than ever, so cool and poised and every inch a sophisticated woman. Then had come the realisation that he’d missed seeing all the steps that had taken her from coltish teenager to this and it was such an agonising wrench that he’d suddenly been gripped by the need to know why.

  He laughed into the silence of the room and heard how hollow it sounded. How lonely.

  Was he mad, that he could be affected by her like this, even after so long?

  No. Not mad.

  He couldn’t do his job so well if his brain didn’t work as well as it did. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a small corner of his heart that had never recovered from the blow she’d dealt him. There was one small corner that was still filled with anger and disbelief and that still needed to know why she’d suddenly changed her mind like that…or had it changed for her…

  All he’d wanted had been a few minutes with her before she left the Barton again, this time, perhaps, for ever. Just enough time to ask her why she’d brushed him off so swiftly when they’d spent months planning for their future. Why she’d refused even to speak to him, let alone give him a chance to change her mind.

  It might have been youthful arrogance, but he’d been so certain that he could change her mind, if her mother didn’t interfere. He’d been so certain of the strength of the love they’d shared that the last thing he’d expected had been that she would refuse to see him.

  He hadn’t even been allowed over the Barton’s threshold, for heaven’s sake, as though he might contaminate it in some way.

  Still, he might not be mad, but he would have to admit that the memories of that long-ago day must have been festering inside him. Today, he hadn’t really thought beyond his need to know the reasons for her actions. He’d all but forgotten that her day had already contained more than enough distress until he’d seen the tears welling up in those beautiful blue eyes even through the camouflage of her tinted glasses.

  He’d immediately been struck by the once-familiar need to comfort her, and when she’d turned to the young man beside her instead he’d felt a deadly jealousy grip him.

  Thanks to the intrusiveness of the various branches of journalism he knew more than he ever needed to about the louche lifestyles of the rich and famous. To see Faith, his down-to-earth, sweet Faith with some young pretty-boy’s arm wrapped around her had been almost more than he could bear.

  For just a moment he allowed himself the luxury of imagining his fist spoiling the young man’s perfect nose with a splatter of scarlet blood and loosening a few of those perfect teeth, but the insanity didn’t last long. He’d been the victim of too much violence himself to ever want to inflict it on another.

  ‘Why, Faith?’ he demanded in the empty silence. ‘You were the last person I would have expected to need a toy-boy on your arm to make you feel good.’ Then he gave a snort of self-derision. ‘Tell the truth, Quinn. It made you feel old, didn’t it?’ he jeered softly. ‘There she is looking good on the arm of someone almost half her age while you…When was the last time you had anyone on your arm—other than eighty-seven-year-old Mrs Cobbledick when you helped her out of her chair this morning?’

  Yes, he’d been jealous. Absolutely radioactive-green with it, but he’d never have deliberately made her cry, especially today of all days.

  Not that there was anything he could do about it now, even if he could find the words to apologise…Or was there?

  For several moments he lay there in the dark while he searched his memory, his pulse beginning to skip with the enormity of what he was thinking, the blatant stupidity of it, then he rolled over and switched on the bedside light even as he reached for the telephone.

  As he tapped out the numbers he silently admitted that he hadn’t really needed to search them out in the back of his memory. For some reason he could recall them every bit as easily as in the days when he’d used them frequently. All he had to do now while he waited for a connection was decide whether he wanted the call to go through without a hitch or to find that the line had been cut off at some time in the last sixteen years.

  ‘Hello?’ The sound of her sleepy, husky voice was enough to stop his breath in his throat and send every hormone on that newly familiar mad sprint south. He’d never heard a voice as sexy as Faith’s when she was half-asleep.

  ‘Did I wake you?’ he asked, suddenly remorseful that he’d disturbed her much-needed slumber.

  ‘Quinn?’ Now there was disbelief in her tone and as she woke up she was losing that arousing huskiness. ‘Is that you, Quinn?’

  ‘Were you asleep?’ he demanded, trying to tamp down the elation that whirled through him when she recognised his voice without hesitation. ‘I’m sorry if I woke you.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ she grumbled, and to his surprise there was a familiar hint of laughter in her voice. ‘How did you get this number? It’s unlisted.’

  ‘It wasn’t unlisted sixteen years ago,’ he reminded her, not realising just how revealing his words were until they’d been spoken.

  He’d as good as told her in words of one syllable that he’d never forgotten her number. What sort of a sad, pathetic…?

  This phone call had obviously been a bad idea. Who knew what else he was going to blurt out while his brain stalled through lack of blood? But still he couldn’t bring himself to end it.

  ‘So,’ she said after an achingly long pause, leaving him wondering just what she was thinking. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why, what?’ He’d definitely lost the thread. He’d probably lost the plot, too.

  ‘Why did you wake me up?’

  ‘It wasn’t intentional, Faith. I just came in after dealing with a baby with breathing difficulties—bronchiolitis,’ he added before she could ask, knowing that their long-ago study of biology would tell her what he was talking about. ‘I hadn’t realised how late it was when I picked the phone up.’ He’d been so intent on speaking to her that he hadn’t even glanced at the time. ‘I could hang up if you’d prefer.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ she exclaimed quickly. ‘I’d never get back to sleep for wondering how the baby is, or why you rang. You’ll have to tell me now.’


  He chuckled. ‘You haven’t changed, then. You could never keep a secret and couldn’t bear anyone keeping one from you. You remember how you always had to buy presents at the last minute so you wouldn’t give the game away?’

  ‘That was a long time ago,’ she said quietly, her voice infinitely sad. ‘We all have to change.’

  Before he could seize on her words as a lead into what he wanted to ask, she continued. ‘Take you, for example. You were determined to be a doctor but I was sure you were going to specialise in oncology. I don’t think you ever mentioned going into general practice.’

  Now it was his turn to be assailed by sad memories.

  ‘Both choices were because my mother died of cancer,’ he said, and it wasn’t until he heard her soft gasp of dismay that he realised it must have been something he’d never told Faith before.

  For a moment he was surprised. He knew that the trauma of watching his frail parent die by inches had affected his life deeply. It had taken years before he could bear to mention it at all, but he’d honestly thought that in the months that they’d come to know each other he and Faith had shared everything of their pasts as well as their hopes for the future.

  Then he thought back and remembered that he hadn’t made the final decision to become a GP until he’d been part-way through his training.

  ‘I always knew that I wanted to be a doctor, long before she became ill,’ he said, deliberately omitting all mention of his father’s lifelong resentment and disappointment. ‘You were right about the oncology, though. For a while I was determined to go into that or cancer research. It was a typically high-minded knee-jerk reaction, of course—an idealistic teenager wanting to prevent other boys from losing their mothers the way I’d lost mine.’ He gave a soft snort of derision when he remembered just how deep that idealism had gone. ‘By the time I was ready to think about which branch of medicine really appealed to me most, I was a little more rational about it. I’d realised that she would have had a far better chance of beating the cancer if her GP hadn’t been so pushed for time that he missed a straightforward diagnosis.’