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St Piran's: The Wedding!
Alison Roberts


The last thing Dr Megan Phillips did before leaving St Piran’s was to save the lives of tiny twins: the babies of the man she loved – with whom a future was impossible.Now Megan’s back, turning single father Josh O’Hara’s world on its head…again! But is forgiveness really possible? Will St Piran’s ever really see the wedding they’ve been waiting for?










Praise for Alison Roberts:

‘Readers will be moved by this incredibly sweet story about a family that is created in the most unexpected way.’

—RT Book Reviews on THE HONOURABLE MAVERICK

‘I had never read anything by Alison Roberts prior to reading TWINS FOR CHRISTMAS, but after reading this enchanting novella I shall certainly add her name to my auto-buy list!’

—Cataromance.com on TWINS FOR CHRISTMAS

‘Ms Roberts produces her usual entertaining blend of medicine and romance in just the right proportion, with a brooding but compelling hero and both leads with secrets to hide.’

—Mills & Boon


website reader review on NURSE, NANNY … BRIDE!




St Piran’s:

The Wedding!

Alison Roberts











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dear Reader

Two years ago I had the pleasure of being part of the St Piran’s Hospital series.

I loved my story about Luke and Anna, and adding to the conflict of the characters Josh and Megan, whose tense relationship ran throughout each of the stories in the St Piran’s series.

When the series finished, it certainly looked as if these two star-crossed lovers could never get a happy ending of their own. Not only was there a wife still in the picture but, shockingly, she was now pregnant! I was honoured to be asked to revisit St Piran’s and find a happy ending for Josh and Megan, but I also thought: Hmm … this will be quite a challenge. Challenge is a good thing, I reminded myself. It takes us out of our comfort zone and makes us stretch our wings and achieve more than we might have thought we could. And isn’t it true that the more you put into something, the more you get out of it?

I really hope you love this story as much as I did in the end.

Happy reading!

With love

Alison




PROLOGUE


‘CODE ONE, DR Phillips.’ The registrar slammed down the phone as he swung his head. ‘Theatre Three.’

Megan’s pager began sounding at precisely the same moment, with the particular sound reserved for an absolute emergency.

The surge of adrenaline made everything else irrelevant. Even signing her resignation. Her ticket to finally escape.

She dropped her pen on top of the paperwork and leapt to her feet.

‘Let’s go.’

A code one was a life-threatening emergency. A life was at stake. More than one life, potentially, if Megan was being summoned. For a paediatrician to be called in with the same paging system used for something like a cardiac arrest meant that a newborn baby could be in need of specialist resuscitation. For it to be happening in Theatre meant the baby was arriving by emergency Caesarean. There were no scheduled Caesareans for the St Piran’s maternity department today so this one must have come in via the emergency department.

The registrar, Matt, was keeping pace with Megan as she ran for the elevator.

‘Suspected uterine rupture,’ he said.

Megan nodded, holding her finger on the button as if that would speed up the arrival of the lift. Then she turned away.

‘Stairs,’ she snapped. ‘It’ll be quicker.’

‘She’ll be bleeding out, won’t she?’ Matt was right behind her. ‘The baby won’t stand much of a chance.’

‘Depends.’ Megan was taking the stairs two at a time. ‘Internal blood loss can sometimes slow down or even stop simply because it’s filled the available space and that puts pressure on ruptured vessels. The real danger comes when you open that space and release the pressure.’ She blew out a hard breath as she pushed open the fire stop door on the theatre suite level. ‘But you’re right. It’s critical for both of them.’

The main corridor in St Piran’s theatre suite was deceptively quiet. The flashing orange light above the door of Theatre Three was a beacon. But so was something else that Megan hadn’t expected to see.

A lone figure, at the end of the corridor, in front of the tall windows. A figure that stopped pacing and was now poised, reminding her of a wild animal sensing danger.

There was no mistaking the intensity of the stare Megan knew was directed at her.

‘Get some scrubs on,’ she ordered Matt as they reached the door to the change rooms. ‘Then go in and make sure we’ve got everything we might need on the resus trolley. Check the incubator. I’ll be right there.’

The figure was moving towards her. It might only be a silhouette because of the background light of the fading day beyond the windows but Megan knew exactly who it was.

Josh O’Hara.

Oh … God …

Why now? When she’d successfully avoided being alone with him for months.

Ever since that final, devastating kiss.

She could have avoided it now, too. Why hadn’t she gone straight into Theatre with her registrar?

Because there was only one reason why Josh would be pacing the corridor like this. Why he wouldn’t be in the Theatre with a case that would have been in his emergency department only minutes ago.

Megan was holding her breath. She’d never seen Josh look this tense. Distraught, even. Not even when he’d come to tell her that he loved her but they had no future.

Or … maybe she had. Once. So long ago now that the memory of his face was only a faint chord in the symphony that nightmare had been.

They’d had more than one turning point in their star-crossed history, she and Josh.

Clearly, this was another one. The third.

Bad things came in threes, didn’t they?

That meant that this had to be the last. Of course it was, because escape was only days away for Megan now. She’d be on the other side of the world very soon. Just not quite soon enough.

Megan sucked in enough air to be able to speak. ‘It’s Rebecca, isn’t it?’

His wife. They might not be living together as man and wife at the moment but they were still married.

A single nod from Josh. God, he looked terrible. He always looked like he could use a shave but right now his face was so pale it looked like he hadn’t been near a razor for a week. And he must have been virtually scrubbing at his hair with his fingers for it to look so dishevelled. The expression in his eyes was worst of all, however. Blue fire that was born of desperation. Guilt. Despair.

And shame, perhaps, for what he had to beg for?

‘The babies …’ The words came out strangled. ‘Please, Megan. Do your best for them. They … they won’t let me in.’

Of course they wouldn’t. He was far too emotionally involved. This was his family in Theatre Three. The whole family. As if it hadn’t been hard enough for Megan that Rebecca was going to give him a child, she had to go one step further and present him with a complete family. Two babies.

And it might be up to her to save the lives of Josh’s children.

The irony would be unbearable if she gave herself even a moment to think of it. Fortunately, she didn’t have a moment to spare. As if any reminder of the urgency was needed, her registrar burst out of the changing room and went into the theatre.

Even then, something made Megan hesitate for just a heartbeat and, without any conscious thought, she reached out to touch Josh’s arm in a gesture of reassurance. Not that she needed to touch him to ramp up the tension. Megan opened her mouth to say something but there were no words available.

With a curt nod, she turned away and went to throw on some scrubs.

Of course she would do everything she could to save his family. She would do it for any of her patients but if heroics were called for in this case, she wouldn’t hesitate.

After all, it was Josh who had saved her life all those years ago.

That touch on his arm was almost enough to utterly unravel Josh.

His breathing ragged, tiny sounds escaping that could have been the precursors of gut-wrenching sobs if he couldn’t pull himself together, Josh went back to his pacing.

Back to the window end of the corridor where he was far enough away to keep his agony private but close enough to see who came and went from Theatre Three.

He got his breathing back under control and silent again but guilt was still threatening to crush him.

This was his fault. If Rebecca died, he would know where the blame could be laid. Why had he allowed himself to be pushed so far away? In recent weeks she had refused to see him. Or talk to him even. The only information he had been given had been that Rebecca was ‘fine’. That her GP was looking after her, with the implication that he was doing a better job than Josh ever had.

God … if it hadn’t been so hard, he would have been able to ask the questions that might have told him something wasn’t right. He might have given in to the urge to turn up on her doorstep and make sure she was ‘fine’ for himself.

As recently as this morning, he’d thought of doing exactly that on his way to work but it had been all too easy to talk himself out of it. He hadn’t really wanted to start his day by stopping by his old house, had he? If he was really honest, he wanted to avoid laying hands on the woman he’d once loved but should never have married.

But the way he felt about Megan had been the reason he’d married Rebecca at all, wasn’t it?

Oh … God … the threads of his life were so tangled. So confused … The pain of his childhood, knowing how much his mother had loved his father and seeing how she’d been destroyed bit by bit as she had been cheated on time and again. The conviction that, if this was what love was all about, he wanted nothing to do with it.

Knowing that he was falling deeper in love with Megan with every passing minute of that night they’d spent together.

Turning his back on her and everything that that kind of love could lead to.

Marrying Rebecca because he had been lonely. And because it had been safe. He had liked her. Respected her. Loved her the way you could love a good friend. A safe kind of love.

Had he allowed himself to be pushed so far out of Rebecca’s life because it had been so hard to face the irrefutable evidence that he’d cheated on Megan by having sex with Rebecca that one, last time? When he’d known the marriage was over and it was only a matter of time before he and Megan could finally be together.

But Megan believed he had cheated on his wife when he’d gone to her bed.

He couldn’t blame her for hating him for it.

At least he’d had the chance to save Megan’s life that time, ironically in not dissimilar circumstances, but right now he’d been rendered useless. He couldn’t even try to save Rebecca.

Did people think he wouldn’t want to?

She was the mother of his children, for God’s sake. Still his wife, even if it was in name only.

He had loved her once.

Just … not the way he’d loved Megan.

A part of him, so ruthlessly and successfully squashed months ago, was still capable of reminding him that he still loved Megan in that way. And always would. Not that Josh was going to acknowledge the whisper from his soul. It was a love he had chosen to forsake.

For his career and his sanity, that first time.

The second time it had been for his unborn children.

What would he have left if things weren’t going well in Theatre Three?

He’d lose his wife.

His children.

And he knew what that pain was like. It was years ago now but the memory of holding that tiny scrap of humanity in his hands would never leave him. He’d known, on some level, that it had been his own son that Megan had lost that day. That he had been holding. It was too neat a fit, not only with the dates but with the power of that night. The connection that had felt like it would last for ever. The kind of connection that made it feel right to create a baby. Make a family.

He’d lose Megan again, too, if things weren’t going well in Theatre Three.

No. A fresh wave of pain ramped up the confused agony Josh was grappling with.

He’d already lost Megan. Months ago.

Something made him stop the caged-in prowl back and forth across the corridor end. Made him freeze and whip his head sideways.

Of course it was Megan. In green theatre scrubs now, with her hair covered by a cap. Moving decisively from the door of the changing room to the one beneath the flashing orange light. She didn’t look in his direction.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the overwhelming emotions he was having to deal with, Josh allowed himself to be distracted from the agonising, lonely wait for just a heartbeat.

Baggy, shapeless clothes like theatre scrubs did nothing to stop Megan being the most beautiful woman Josh had ever known. It didn’t matter what she wore. Scrubs. Tattered old jeans. The gorgeous gown she had worn as a bridesmaid in a royal wedding party.

Oh … no … Tasha. Josh reached for the mobile phone clipped to his belt. He needed to let his sister know what was happening. She could be the one to break the news to their mother.

What time would it be in San Saverre?

As if it mattered. Tasha would want to know the trouble that both her brother and her best friend were in right now.

Her loyalty would be tested. She knew the empty space he was in now, having sacrificed a relationship with the woman he truly loved for the sake of his children. To keep a marriage, even in name only, so that he wouldn’t repeat history by being the kind of man their father had been. She would know how devastating it would be, being faced with the prospect of losing those children.

But she would also know how hard this had to be for Megan. To be expected to save his babies that were being carried by another woman. The babies she could never have given him because losing their son, all those years ago, meant she could never have another child.

Josh had to stifle an audible groan.

He was a reasonably intelligent man. He was damned good at the job he did, running the emergency department of St Piran’s.

How was it that he always messed things up so badly when it came to his relationships with women?

He could save lives.

But he was just as good at breaking hearts.

It was his fault Rebecca hadn’t had medical help in time to prevent this catastrophe.

His fault that Megan had become pregnant with his first child.

His fault that she’d lost the baby. That she’d never have another.

No wonder Megan had blanked him at Tasha’s wedding. He’d done it to her, hadn’t he?

Twice.

Every time he’d come to a point in his life where he was losing control … faced with the absolute vulnerability of loving someone—Megan—enough to give them the power to make or break him … he had frozen. Backed away and stayed with what he knew. What seemed to work.

He was an emotional coward.

Or a control freak?

As a modus operandi it was fine as far as his career went. Kept him on top. Moving forward. He could deal with a thousand people professionally and win acclaim. But he didn’t seem to be able to deal with even one person on an intimate level and not cause serious harm.

What made anybody think he would be a good father?

Maybe he’d end up just like his own father had been. Worse than useless.

Maybe he would fail all his children before they even had a chance of life.

No.

The word was wrenched from deep inside Josh.

These babies couldn’t die.

Megan wouldn’t let them.

The baby looked dead.

Delivered to Megan’s area of the theatre seemingly within seconds of the emergency surgery starting, the nurse laid her limp burden down under the lights, gave the paediatric team a grim glance and moved swiftly back towards the main table. Another baby would be delivered almost as quickly.

The resuscitation protocol was automatic for Megan. Airway, breathing, circulation, drugs.

She couldn’t allow the fact that this was Josh’s baby anywhere near the conscious part of her brain. Even a hint of distraction, let alone panic, could be disastrous.

‘Suction,’ she ordered.

Making sure the newborn’s head was at the correct angle to keep the airway open and holding the end of the soft tubing at a length that couldn’t go too far and trigger a laryngeal spasm, Megan cleared away any possible obstruction. Against the soft chugging of the suction machine, Matt was gently stimulating the baby’s body by rubbing the skin with a warmed towel.

To one side of them, the tension was escalating.

‘Pressure’s dropping again.’ The anaesthetist’s tone was a sharp warning. ‘Ectopic activity increasing.’

‘We’ve got to get this second baby out. Where the hell’s the suction? I can’t see a damned thing …’

On Megan’s side of the theatre the baby was showing no signs of starting to breathe.

‘Bag mask.’ Megan’s order was clipped.

With the tiny mask covering both the mouth and nose of the infant, she gently depressed the soft bag to deliver the tiny amount of air needed to inflate the lungs. Again. And again.

‘Not pinking up,’ Matt noted.

‘He’s in shock.’ Megan signalled for a technician to take over the bag mask. ‘Start chest compressions, Matt.’

‘You going to intubate?’ Matt was already slipping his hands around the tiny chest, keeping his thumbs in front ready to start compressions.

‘In a minute.’ Megan could see over her registrar’s shoulder. The second baby was lying on a towel a nurse was holding flat on both hands as the cord was cut. She was close enough to be able to see if there were any signs of life.

There weren’t.

They needed a second paediatric team in here but there hadn’t been one available. It was up to Megan and Matt here. At least they had a second resuscitation trolley set up.

‘Keep up the CPR,’ she instructed Matt. ‘One hundred and twenty beats per minute. He may need some adrenaline. We’ll need to cannulate the umbilical vein as well as soon as we can. Let’s see where we are with baby two.’

Baby two was a girl. Just as flat as her brother was.

Or maybe she wasn’t. After the first puff or two of air from the bag mask, the tiny girl gave a gasp and began trying to breathe on her own. It wasn’t enough, though. The heart rate was still falling.

At ten minutes the Apgar score for both babies was still unacceptably low. They needed intubation, stabilisation and transfer to PICU—the neonatal intensive care unit.

They were both alive, however, and Megan was fighting to keep them that way.

The battle on the other side of Theatre Three was not going so well.

Part of Megan’s brain was registering the increasing tension as she slid a small tube down the first baby’s airway to secure ventilation. The obstetric surgeon had found the torn abdominal artery but too much blood had been lost. The fluid replacement and the drugs being used were not enough. Rebecca’s heart had stopped.

CPR continued on the mother as Megan checked the settings on both incubators and watched the recordings being taken on both babies reach a level that meant it was safe to transfer them to PICU.

As the second incubator was wheeled from the theatre, she heard the defeated note in the surgeon’s voice.

‘Time of death … sixteen forty-three.’

November in Cornwall could provide a bone-chillingly grey day with an ominous cloud cover that threatened a torrential downpour at any moment.

The rain held off for the duration of Rebecca O’Hara’s funeral but the background was suitably grim for the final farewell of a young mother who had never had the chance to see her babies.

‘I hope nobody gets too sick today,’ somebody muttered as the congregation filed into the chapel. ‘Looks like practically the entire staff of St Piran’s is here.’

There were whispered conversations in every pew.

‘Who’s that sitting beside Josh?’

‘Tasha. His sister. The one that married the prince. I didn’t know she was pregnant.’

‘No. On the other side. The older woman. Is that his mother?’

‘Yes. Her name’s Claire. I heard that she’s planning to move to Penhally to help him look after the babies.’

Further up the aisle, St Piran’s CEO, Albert White, was sitting with a member of the board of directors, Luke Davenport.

‘Thank goodness the babies are doing so well,’ he muttered. ‘Josh looks wrecked enough as it is.’

‘It’s all so sad.’ Luke’s wife, Anna, tightened her grip on her husband’s hand. ‘All of it. Rebecca was so unhappy for so long. I think she really believed that the babies would make everything all right.’

She exchanged a glance with her husband. One that suggested that—given enough time—maybe things would be all right eventually.

For Josh, anyway.

At the very back of the church, a woman noted for her tendency to gossip wasn’t about to rely on meaningful glances.

‘You’ll see,’ she muttered to the colleague sitting beside her. ‘Now that the wife’s out of the way, he’ll be married to his fancy piece in no time flat. You just wait and see.’

‘Shut up, Rita,’ her companion hissed.

For once, Rita did shut up. She spent the next few minutes watching as the final people squeezed in to take up the last of the standing room at the back of the church. She’d been watching the congregation ever since she’d arrived. Early.

‘Where is Megan?’ Rita finally had to ask. The organ music was fading and the funeral director was taking his place to start the service.

‘Haven’t you heard?’ The person on the other side seemed amused that Rita was out of the grapevine loop for once. ‘She left St Piran’s yesterday.’

‘Where’s she gone?’

‘Africa.’

‘She’s coming back, though … isn’t she?’

‘Doubt it. Her resignation was permanent. She’s joined Medécins San Frontières’

‘But—’

‘Shhh. Leave it, Rita. It’s over.’




CHAPTER ONE


Almost two years later

WHY ON EARTH had she come back here?

Penhally, Cornwall, on this November day seemed grim. Grey and bleak.

And so cold. Megan was quite sure the temperature was a single digit and having come from an African summer where a cool day could still be thirty degrees Centigrade, this was like being inside a fridge.

It didn’t help that she’d lost so much weight in recent weeks, of course. Dengue fever took a huge toll, especially the second time around. Her old coat hung so loosely on her that Megan could wrap it around her body like a blanket. Which was exactly what she did as she stood there, shivering, a suitcase by her feet, looking out over Penhally Bay as the taxi disappeared down the hill.

The sky was a deep, ominous grey and looked ready to unleash a torrent of rain at any minute. The sea looked equally menacing with whitecaps on the steel-grey water, moored yachts rocking on the swells and huge breakers crashing onto dark, wet sand. Seagulls circled overhead and the sharp, plaintiff notes of their cries echoed perfectly how Megan was feeling.

It was too cold to stand here in the street, that was for sure, but the view as she turned towards the cottage was just as dispiriting. The gate was barely visible in the wild growth of what had been a neatly trimmed hedge. The small garden was a wilderness but not high enough to disguise the coils of long-dead plants in the hanging baskets on either side of the front door or the broken panes in the lattice windows, some of which had curled pieces of cardboard trying to fill the small squares.

How long had it been since the last tenants had gone? Since she’d fired the rental agency who had failed to fix the issues like the broken pipes that had driven the tenants away? At least six months, but Megan had been too far away and too busy to cope with the hassle of putting new arrangements in place. Angered too by the flood of queries coming in from developers who were always waiting in the wings like vultures to get their hands on such a desirable piece of real estate.

And then she’d been too sick.

It was a ridiculously hard effort to push the gate open and drag her suitcase along the flagged path now choked with weeds and the branches of perennials like lavender that looked like they hadn’t been cut back since she’d left two years ago. Megan felt the prickle of tears at the back of her eyes. This had all been so pretty once. Not that she’d ever managed to keep it as picture-perfect as her grandmother had but she’d tried her best to keep it the same.

To preserve the memories of how it had been in her childhood, when this cottage and her beloved gran had been the most precious things in her life.

And that, of course, was what had brought her back now.

This was where her roots were.

Not that she’d actually been brought up here. No. After her parents were tragically killed in a car accident, Megan had gone to live with her grandmother in London. But Gran had been brought up in Penhally and that was where she’d taken Megan for a seaside holiday, every summer. They’d rented this very cottage, year after year, and the memories of those weeks had always been tinged with the rosy perfection of being the best time in the best place in the world. The cottage had been the home of her heart for as long as she could remember.

When she’d been so dreadfully ill, nearly losing her life after losing the baby, Megan had been forced to finally tell her grandmother the truth. Despite being already frail, Gran had gathered up all her strength, wrapped it all with the unconditional love she had for her granddaughter and declared that they needed a new beginning, starting with a seaside holiday. When she’d found that their beloved rental cottage was on the market, Gran had simply moved their lives back to her home town and, by doing so, had allowed Megan to put the pieces of her shattered life back together.

So this cottage and its memories, the sea and the village all added up to home. And home was the place that drew you back when you needed comfort. A safe place to recover and reassess your life.

Besides, the cottage badly needed sorting out. It would have been unforgiveable to let it crumble into some sort of ruin. Megan could hear the kind of ‘tsking’ sound her grandmother would have been making as she pushed open a front door stiff with disuse and stepped into a space that felt just as cold as it was outside. A space that reeked of damp and mould and mice.

Oh … hell …

This was far worse than she’d expected.

It wasn’t just the evidence of appalling neglect. The horrible smell of the rubbish left by the tenants littering the hallway or the ominous sound of trickling water coming from the kitchen. Or was it the bathroom upstairs? Probably both.

It wasn’t the knowledge that there would be no electricity on yet and it mightn’t even be safe to have it turned back on until she found someone to check the wiring. It wasn’t even the wave of incredible weariness as Megan contemplated the energy it would take to sort any of this out.

No. It was the feeling of being so alone.

The result of the emotional punch of the memories of not being alone in this house.

Not that Josh had ever stayed here. But this was where it had ended, wasn’t it? Her feet seemed to be literally treading memory lane. Taking her down the hallway and into her kitchen while her head and her heart conjured up the figure of Josh following her.

Her feet crunched through pieces of broken glass on the kitchen floor.

Her heart had been broken long ago. How on earth could it still hurt this much?

Because it was here that Josh had prised that jug of water out of her hands? Just before he’d kissed her as if it was the end of the world and she was the only thing that mattered to him.

Here that Josh had told her how much he loved her?

When he’d told her that he couldn’t be in love with her any more because his wife was pregnant.

She could actually hear echoes of his voice.

I love you so much, which is why this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do …

It was just one night, weeks before you and I …

I love you, Megan … but no child of mine will grow up as I did, without a father. I won’t do that. I have to make this work.

Yes. That had been when her heart had really broken. With the realisation that Josh had been lying to her when he’d told her the marriage was over. When she realised he’d still been sleeping with his wife at the time as he’d shared her bed.

That was when she’d known that it was truly all over. When any hope had died. She had known that, despite the love they had for each other, they could never, ever be together. Nothing could change that. If Rebecca’s death hadn’t even made a dent, then being back in Penhally certainly wasn’t going to. That sense of betrayal was clearly still there. She’d thought she’d got over it all but the pain she was feeling right now was proof that she’d only managed to hide from it.

The chirrup of her mobile phone announced a text message. It was from Tasha—the only friend she’d really kept in touch with over the last couple of years. Maybe because Tash had also left Penhally. Or because she’d understood. How ironic was it that Tasha was Josh’s sister?

U there yet? The message read. How’s it going?

Megan’s breath came out in a snort of wry amusement as she pulled off a woolly glove and tapped a response.

Just got here. Bit messy.

Would Tasha wonder what she was referring to? The house? Her emotional state? Her life?

Maybe she knew. Hugs, came back. U OK?

I will be. Thnx. Call u soon.

Tasha would be worried about her. Her friend had been dubious about the return. Why not come somewhere sunny to recuperate? she’d suggested. Like San Savarre? Or London, which would be close enough to make sorting things out a little easier and she wouldn’t be so alone because Charles would be there, wouldn’t he? Being with such a good friend who knew the whole story would be the best protection from being vulnerable to ghosts from the past.

She could cope, Megan had assured Tasha. It wouldn’t be for long. Yes, she knew that Josh had moved from the smart St Piran town house he’d shared with Rebecca and was living closer to Penhally now. Of course he had moved. He’d needed a bigger house and a garden for the children and for his mother, who’d gone to live with them. By tacit agreement, she and Tash rarely talked about her brother but in those early days Megan had needed to know that the babies had survived their dramatic entrance to the world and had gone on to thrive. She hadn’t really needed the later snippets that had told her Josh was a perfect father to little Max and Brenna. Or that his emergency department at St Piran’s hospital was considered to be the best in the county.

Or that there were no women of any significance in his life. That he’d taken some sort of vow not to mess up anybody else’s life.

His children and his career were all that mattered to Josh now. He probably wouldn’t even be interested that she was visiting the area. There was no reason for their paths to cross other than the fact that this was a small village.

Megan closed her eyes to the view of Penhally Bay she still had in front of her through the kitchen window.

Maybe it was time to really let go of the past.

All of it.

Sell her grandmother’s cottage and move on for ever.

If the memories were this hard to handle, how on earth did she think she would cope if she actually met Josh again?

The sooner she got out of here the better.

Maybe she didn’t even need to think about fixing up the cottage. It wasn’t as if it would make much difference to the kind of money a developer would be happy to offer.

She did need to find a place to stay for the night, however, and she really didn’t want to contact any old friends from St Piran’s even though she knew they would be happy to help.

The information centre in the village should be able to direct her to somewhere that would have a room available. Too weary in both body and spirit to face carrying her suitcase, Megan locked it into the cottage, taking only her shoulder bag as she set off to walk down the hill.

When she went back through the gate, however, the small path down to the beach caught her eye.

Just a look, she told herself. A glimpse into part of her past that wasn’t associated with Josh. If she could feel the sand beneath her feet and close her eyes and breathe in the salty air, maybe she could remember something happier.

A summer’s day, even. Building sandcastles and collecting shells and pieces of seaweed. Sitting on the damp sand with her bare legs stretched out in front of her, waiting for the thrill of the last wash of a wave to foam around her. Running back to the cottage to show Gran her new treasures.

Maybe it should have been running into Josh unexpectedly that she should have prepared herself for.

The dog on the beach was large enough to be quite frightening as he came loping towards Megan with a piece of driftwood clamped between his jaws. In the periphery of her vision, however, Megan could see a woman and children who had to be the dog’s family because the beach was otherwise deserted. Nobody with children would have a vicious dog, would they? Besides, his teeth were occupied with the large piece of driftwood. And his tail was wagging in a very friendly manner.

‘Crash!’ The woman called firmly. ‘Come back here.’

Crash? The name was unusual enough to ring a bell. He’d only been a gangly, half-grown puppy then, of course, but Megan could remember him wearing a big, white ribbon around his neck at a summer beach wedding. Luke and Anna Davenport’s wedding.

It wasn’t Anna coming towards her now, though.

‘I’m so sorry.’ The woman, bundled up warmly in a coat, hat and huge scarf, was very apologetic. ‘He’s a bit too friendly, so he is. But he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

She had a strong Irish accent and the lilt took Megan immediately into a space she really didn’t want to be. Was everything and everybody here going to make her think instantly of Josh? She took a deep breath and focused on the dog.

‘It’s fine,’ Megan said. ‘I don’t mind.’ To prove it, she scratched the dog behind one of his ears, which was easy to do because Crash was leaning on her leg. ‘Isn’t this the Davenports’ dog?’

‘Indeed it is. We mind him during the day when they’re both working. The children love him to bits, so they do.’

The children were half hidden behind folds of the woman’s coat as she held their mittened hands. Megan could see cute hats with ears on them and bright plastic boots. A pink pair with red flowers and a green pair with eyes that made them look like frogs. The owner of the frog boots peered out from the folds of coat.

‘Cash naughty,’ a small voice pronounced.

Crash wagged his tail harder.

The woman looked down to smile at her charges. ‘Say hello, children.’

But the children said nothing. Neither did Megan. Her gaze had also dropped and she could see that the children were no bigger than toddlers. That they seemed to be close enough the same size as each other to be twins.

And … oh, God … the cheeky smile on the little boy’s face had a charm out of all proportion to his age. His eyes were too dark to determine their colour but they were so … alive. His face danced with mischief and Megan could feel the pull of a personality that went past being cute or attractive.

It was the kind of pull that made it impossible not to get sucked in.

To fall in love.

The kind of connection that could be overwhelming. That had the capability of derailing, if not destroying, a life.

Megan sucked in a deep breath. How ridiculous to be … what, afraid of a child?

But it was more than that, wasn’t it? Much, much more.

Her gaze jerked up again and now she could see past the folds of the scarf and a woollen hat pulled low over her forehead. She could see a woman who looked to be well into her sixties but could be younger because those lines suggested a life that had not been easy. Behind the spectacles she wore, Megan could now see the colour of her eyes and her heart skipped a beat. She knew who had inherited that shade of indigo blue.

‘Oh, my goodness. You’re Josh’s mother … Claire O’Hara?’

‘Indeed I am.’ Claire blinked in surprise. ‘Have we met?’

‘Just once. At the hospital. When the twins were still in the intensive care unit. The day before.’

The gaze Claire O’Hara directed at Megan was intense. And then it turned distinctly wary. ‘Oh … You’re Megan Phillips. The doctor. I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognise you. It was such a terrible time … the day before poor Rebecca’s funeral and …’

‘There’s no need to apologise.’ Megan was still caught by the undertone she couldn’t fail to have missed in the older woman’s gaze. Recognition of more than her identity.

Had Josh filled her in on his star-crossed lover history?

Unlikely. But this was a small village and St Piran’s hospital grapevine was robust thanks to people who loved to gossip, like that dreadful woman—the ward clerk in the NICU … what was her name? Ruth? No … Rita.

Oh … Lord. Had Josh’s mother heard about the way they’d met, way back when Megan had been a final-year medical student? That she’d become pregnant after a one-night stand with Josh, who hadn’t been remotely interested in seeing her again? That he’d saved her life but that their son had been too premature to survive?

That baby—Stephen—had been Claire’s grandson.

Even if she hadn’t caught up on ancient history, she couldn’t have missed the scandal of the way she and Josh had been drawn back to each other when he’d moved to St Piran’s.

“Poor Rebecca”, she’d said. Because her daughter-in-law had been badly treated by her husband, who had given up on their marriage and had been more interested in another woman? That Megan was the “other woman”? And that, in the end, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other?

Or maybe she felt sorry for Rebecca because she’d died knowing that Josh was only staying in the marriage for the sake of the children.

Megan was acutely embarrassed. Ashamed, even. The way she might have felt if Claire was her own grandmother and she’d disappointed her beyond measure. It had been a mistake to come back here. A dreadful mistake.

Except that Claire wasn’t eyeing her as if she was the cause of all her son’s troubles. ‘And you look … different,’ she continued. That wary expression had completely gone now. Claire’s face actually creased with a kindly concern. ‘You’re so pale, dear. Are you all right?’

‘I’m … um … fine.’ Megan nodded for emphasis and then tried to cover her embarrassment at the undeserved sympathy by looking down and smiling at the children. They stared back, wide-eyed and still shy.

‘This is Max.’ Claire smiled. She turned her head. ‘And this is Brenna.’

They were so impossibly cute. Small faces with perfect features and she could see now that their eyes were as blue as their grandmother’s and their father’s. She wondered if the hair beneath the animal hats would be glossy and black and so soft to run your fingers through it, just like Josh’s. Or had they inherited their mother’s blondeness?

Josh’s children. Josh and Rebecca’s children. Living proof that he’d gone back to his wife’s bed after his marriage was supposedly over, leaving him morally available to Megan.

Maybe something of how hard this was showed in her face.

‘Up,’ Brenna demanded, dropping her grandmother’s hand to hold both arms in the air. ‘Up, Nan. Pick me up.’

Claire had to let go of Max’s hand to pick Brenna up. Max immediately toddled off, at some speed, towards the waves. Crash loped after him.

‘Max. Come back. We have to go home now. It’s starting to rain.’

It was starting to rain. Big, fat, icy drops of water began pelting the small group on the beach.

Claire tried to put Brenna down to run after Max but the little girl shrieked a protest. Crash had dropped his lump of wood and was circling Max, who looked determined to get closer to the wild surf.

‘I’ll get him.’ Megan dropped her shoulder bag and took off.

It took only seconds to reach the toddler but the burst of energy it took was enough to make Megan feel faint. She really wasn’t fine at all, was she?

It was just as well that Max’s little legs had also exhausted their energy reserves. He grinned at Megan. ‘Puddle?’ he asked hopefully.

Oh, help … he was totally irresistible with that crooked little smile and the hopeful expression on his face.

‘Not today, sweetheart.’ She scooped up the toddler and held him in her arms. ‘It’s not sunny enough, is it?’

Her steps almost faltered as she carried the child back to Claire. She was holding Josh’s son. The closest she had ever come to holding the child she could have had herself. The shape of the soft little body cuddling into her was delicious. When Max wrapped his arms around her neck to hang on tighter, Megan felt a flash of pain in her chest, as if her heart was cracking. An old scar, perhaps, being torn open?

Thank goodness it was raining. If any tears escaped, at least nobody would know except her. All she wanted was to grab her bag and escape the moment she got back to Claire, but how could she leave her now? The rain was coming down harder and she had to get two small children and a very large dog off the beach and—presumably—into a car. Or was Josh now living this close to Penhally beach? To her cottage?

‘The car’s not far,’ Claire said. ‘Just down the road a bit.’ She put Brenna down and took a leash from her coat pocket, which she clipped to Crash’s collar. Holding the lead with one hand, she held out her other hand to Brenna. ‘Can you walk now, pet?’

‘No-o-o. Up.’

Relief that Josh wasn’t going to turn out to be a close neighbour made Megan take a deep breath.

‘Let me help,’ she said. ‘You’re getting wet and you’ve got a bit of a handful here.’

‘Don’t I know it?’ Claire picked Brenna up, managing to keep hold of the leash. ‘And there I was thinking that it would make my day easy if I gave them all a quick run on the beach before we did our messages in the village. I don’t know where these tots get their energy from.’

Megan had to hide a smile as she found herself struggling to keep up with Claire on the way back to the car. Limitless energy was clearly an O’Hara trait.

Not that she could leave Josh’s mother to cope alone once they reached the car either. The wind had picked up and was threatening to blow the heavy doors closed and it was a mission to strap two wriggling toddlers into their car seats and then shove a folder double stroller out of the way to make room for a big dog to jump into the back hatch of the station wagon.

Finally, everything seemed to be sorted but as Claire reached up to pull the hatch down, she suddenly stopped. She closed her eyes and bent her head, her breath escaping in almost a groan.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, I’m fine, I am. Just need to catch my wind.’

But Megan could feel a prickle of awareness. One that she’d learned never to ignore.

‘Sit down for a minute,’ she said. ‘Here …’ She pushed the stroller further back and guided Claire to sit on the edge of the car floor. Crash shuffled sideways to make room. The car was pointed into the wind and with the hatch cover still up they were fairly well protected from the weather. ‘You are a bit short of puff, aren’t you?’

‘It’s the cold, that’s all.’

But Claire was virtually gasping for air. She started loosening the woollen scarf around her neck but abandoned the action to start rubbing the top of her left arm through her coat sleeve.

‘Have you got any pain in your chest?’ Megan asked.

Claire shook her head. ‘It just gets … tight … that’s all. In the cold … and … if I hurry.’

‘But your arm hurts?’

‘Only an ache … It’s nothing … Goes away …’

Except it didn’t seem to be going away this time. And Claire’s face looked grey. Even as Megan watched with mounting alarm, beads of perspiration appeared beneath the edge of the woollen hat.

‘Go.’ A small voice came over the top of the back seat. ‘Go, Nan. Go-o-o.’ The plea trailed to a miserable sound. Beside Max, Brenna began to cry.

Claire tried to stand up but had barely begun moving before she collapsed backwards.

‘I don’t … I don’t feel very well …’ She tugged harder at her scarf and it came away and rippled to the ground.

‘Do you have any history of heart problems?’ Megan asked. ‘Do you carry spray for angina or anything?’

‘No … I’m fine …’ Claire’s face was crumpling. She looked terribly afraid. ‘I have to be,’ she whispered.

Megan had stripped off her gloves and was feeling for Claire’s pulse. The rapid, uneven beat made it very clear what had to be done. She reached for her shoulder bag to find her mobile phone.

‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ she told Claire calmly. ‘You need medical attention.’

‘No … I’ll be fine … Just give me … a minute.’

But the emergency services had answered Megan’s call with commendable swiftness and she was already describing their location.

‘Cardiac chest pain,’ she told the dispatcher. ‘Radiating to the left arm. Arrhythmia.’

‘You’re a doctor?’ the dispatcher queried.

‘Yes.’

‘An ambulance is on its way. Are you able to stay with the patient?’

In case of a cardiac arrest?

‘Of course.’

Megan made Claire as comfortable as she could while they waited for the ambulance. She took off her own coat to provide the older woman with some extra warmth. Picking up the scarf, she saw why it had been difficult for Clair to loosen. It had become caught on a necklace chain, which had broken.

Not that she pointed that out to Claire but, to prevent a possible treasure being lost, she put the chain into her own coat pocket, leaving the scarf in the back of the car. Her actions were brisk and organised but automatic because she was busy providing as much reassurance as she could, knowing that any stress could make this much worse. If Claire was, as she suspected, having a heart attack, then anxiety could tip the balance and stop her heart completely.

Would she have the strength herself to keep up CPR until an ambulance arrived?

Thank goodness she didn’t need to find out. The ambulance arrived only minutes later and the crew had Claire on a stretcher and attached to a monitor within a very short time. She had an oxygen mask on by the time the rhythm settled on the screen of the life pack and a paramedic was preparing to insert an IV line.

‘Marked ST elevation,’ her crew partner noted. ‘Looks like an infarct all right.’

‘Are you on any medication?’ the paramedic asked Claire. ‘Are you allergic to anything that you know of? Have you had any aspirin today?’

Claire was shaking her head in response to all the questions. Things were happening too fast for her to find any words. The children in the car were both crying loudly now but Megan was still holding Claire’s hand.

‘It’s going to be fine,’ she reassured Claire yet again. ‘These people are going to look after you and make sure you get checked out properly at hospital.’ She turned to one of the crew members. ‘Claire’s son is Josh O’Hara at St Piran’s. He may well be on duty at the moment so you might like to let him know in advance who you’re bringing in.’

‘Will do.’

Megan tried to let go of Claire’s hand but the grip tightened. She leaned closer to hear the words that were being muffled by the oxygen mask.

‘But who’s going to … look after the children?’

Megan felt a cold chill run down her spine. No. She couldn’t offer to do that. It would be too hard. The scars were still too fresh. Best not to go near anything that might pick at them. Her life was taking a new direction now. Having it derailed would be a disaster.

The paramedic was busy with her other hand. ‘Sharp scratch coming, Mrs O’Hara.’ She slid a cannula into a vein. ‘There. All done.’

Claire lifted the hand that Megan was still holding, trying to pull the oxygen mask away from her face. ‘I can’t do this … the children …’

Her partner was leaning over Megan. ‘Chew up this aspirin for me,’ he instructed Claire. ‘I’ll give you a sip of water to wash it down.’

Megan was in the way. She tried to pull her hand free but Claire’s grip tightened.

‘Please …’ Claire’s face looked alarmingly grey. Getting stressed was making her condition rapidly worse. ‘Can’t you help?’

‘Yeah …’ The paramedic gave Claire a very direct glance. ‘Can you drive?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘You could follow behind the ambulance, then. I’m sure there’d be someone else to look after Doc O’Hara’s kids once you got there.’

Claire was nodding. ‘Please, Megan.’

‘Otherwise we’ll have to bring them in the ambulance. Or wait for back-up.’ The paramedic was sounding impatient now. ‘And we really need to get going.’ The look he gave Megan was a direct warning. Hold this process up any further and if anything goes wrong between here and the emergency department of St Piran’s, she would have contributed.

Megan was caught. She couldn’t walk away. There were two crew members in the ambulance and one of them had to drive. If the other had to care for two toddlers, there would be nobody left to care for Claire. And she could get worse. Go into a cardiac arrest, even.

Her nod was jerky. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said tightly. ‘Are the keys in the car?’

‘Yes … oh … thank you, lovie.’ Claire finally let go of her hand but her eyes filled and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Megan closed her eyes for a heartbeat. There was no help for this, so all she could was do her best to cope with it. At least she had a kind of advantage here. She knew there was a high likelihood that she would have to see Josh and she would have a few minutes to at least try and prepare herself emotionally for that.

No doubt Josh would prefer to avoid this encounter as much as she would. And he probably wouldn’t have the luxury of any warning.

Megan opened her eyes and smiled at Claire. ‘Try not to worry,’ she told her. ‘I’ll be right behind the ambulance. I won’t let anything happen to the children. You’ll see them again very soon, I promise.’

The back door of the ambulance slammed behind her after Megan had climbed out.

The vehicle was pulling out onto the road as Megan checked the fastenings on the car seats, fastened her own safety belt and started the car, surprised to see how shaky her hands were.

The beacons on the ambulance were flashing and the siren began to wail as the vehicle picked up speed. Megan wasn’t going to try and keep up with it. Not on a wet road when she was feeling shaky. Certainly not with two precious children in the car.

She didn’t need to follow that closely anyway.

The route to St Piran’s was written on her heart, like everything else about this place.




CHAPTER TWO


‘INCOMING, DR O’HARA.’ The nurse’s voice came from just behind Josh’s shoulder as he scrolled through the images on the computer screen.

He grunted an acknowledgement, still focused on the screen. Surely something had shown up on the MRI of his earlier patient to explain her acute neurological symptoms?

‘Status two.’ The nurse sounded oddly nervous but, then, she was new and had only just learned that flirting with him was likely to earn disfavour. ‘Sixty-year-old woman who looks like she’s having an infarct.’

‘Put her straight into Resus, then. Is Ben around?’

‘Yes … but …’

The back of Josh’s neck prickled as he turned his head. ‘But what?’

‘The patient is your mother, Dr O’Hara.’

The prickle ran down the entire length of his spine now, turning icy cold. Josh was on his feet and moving before he gave the action any conscious thought.

‘How far away?’

‘ETA five minutes. They’re coming from Penhally.’

They? Were the children in the ambulance as well? This couldn’t be happening. Not now, when his life was exactly the way it was supposed to be. The children, the house, his job—none of it would have been possible without his mother’s help.

An infarct? Claire O’Hara had never had a day’s illness in her life. She’d never smoked. She was as slim now as she’d been in her twenties. Her blood pressure was fine. She had energy to burn.

Or did she? Had she been pushed too far by him taking up the amazing offer of her helping him to raise the twins?

If this was yet another disaster in his life, could the blame be laid, yet again, at his feet?

Ben Carter, another emergency medicine consultant at St Piran’s, was already in the resuscitation area. The defibrillator was being tested. A twelve-lead ECG machine was standing by. He glanced up and saw Josh.

‘Don’t panic,’ he said quietly. ‘We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with yet.’

‘Status two infarct,’ Josh snapped. ‘Unstable. What the hell happened? Have you had any details? Where was she? Did she … arrest somewhere?’

‘No. That much I do know. She’s status two because she’s throwing off a few ectopics. She’s on oxygen and she’s had aspirin, GTN and morphine. Her breathing’s improving.’

‘Improving? My God, how bad was it?’

‘Josh …’ Ben stepped closer to put a hand on his colleague’s arm. ‘I’ve got this, OK? It’ll be good for Claire if you’re here but you need to stay calm.’

‘What about the children? Were they with her?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ben was looking past Josh now. Towards the double doors sliding open to admit a stretcher and ambulance crew. A nurse was pointing them towards the resus room. He turned to a nurse. ‘Has the cardiology registrar been paged?’

‘Forget the registrar,’ Josh said. ‘Get Anna Davenport down here. This is my mother, for God’s sake.’

Claire looked terrified as she was wheeled into the resus room.

‘Josh …’ she gasped, reaching out a hand. ‘Thank heavens you’re here.’

‘Of course I’m here.’ Josh took hold of the hand. He knew he was getting in the way as the ambulance crew transferred Claire to the bed and gave Ben a handover but, for the first time in years, his mother needed him instead of the other way round. He kept his eyes on her face as the staff stripped away the clothing from her upper body and started adding extra dots so they could take a more comprehensive recording of the electrical activity in her heart. Ben was drawing off bloods for urgent analysis.

‘Let’s sit you up a little bit, Mrs O’Hara,’ a nurse said, slipping another pillow behind Claire. ‘And I’m just switching the oxygen over to this plug on the ceiling so we can get rid of the portable tank. No, don’t take your mask off.’

Claire ignored the nurse, pushing the mask clear of her mouth. ‘The twins, Josh … they’re …’

‘Please keep your mask on.’ The nurse gently moved Claire’s hand. ‘It’s important that you get some oxygen at the moment.’

‘I can hear you.’ Josh leaned closer. ‘What about the twins?’

‘They’re fine.’ The paramedic was loading the portable oxygen cylinder back onto the stretcher. ‘The doctor who called the ambulance for Mrs O’Hara said she’d be bringing them straight here. She can’t be far behind us.’

‘A doctor?’ Josh was confused. ‘Was she at the medical centre?’ Getting treatment, even, for some condition she’d never let him know she had?

‘No. She was at the beach. With the children and a big dog.’

‘Crash. Oh, no …’ The woman coming swiftly into the resus room sounded as though she was starting a conversation with an old friend. ‘What’s he been up to now, Claire?’ She was smiling down at her patient. ‘More importantly, what on earth have you been up to?’

The smile was reassuring but Josh could see the concern in the face of the head of the cardiology department. Concern that increased as a technician handed her the sheet of paper from the twelve-lead ECG machine. Ben was also reading the ECG over her shoulder.

‘What is it?’ Josh forgot his confusion about a doctor being on scene when Claire had become ill. He hadn’t missed the significant glance passing between Anna and Ben.

‘Left anterior,’ Anna said calmly. ‘ST elevation of up to three millimetres. Have we got anything back on the bloods yet? Cardiac enzymes? TNT?’

Josh had to take a deep breath as he heard Ben relay the earliest results. He didn’t want to let Claire know how serious this could be. An infarct that knocked out part of the left ventricle was more likely to have serious consequences. Every minute counted now so that they could save as much cardiac function as possible.

Anna had turned to Claire. ‘You’re having a heart attack, Claire,’ she said gently. ‘But there are things we can do to minimise the damage it might be doing to your heart. I’m going to take you up to the catheter laboratory and we can see exactly where the blockage is in your coronary arteries. We’ll clear it if we can and might put something called a stent in to keep the artery open.’

‘You’re going to … operate on me?’ Claire’s face was as white as the pillow behind her.

‘Not exactly. You’ll be awake. We put a tiny tube inside an artery and that goes into your heart. It’s very clever.’

‘And Anna’s very good at it,’ Ben put in. ‘You’ll be in the best hands, Claire.’

‘We’ll give you a sedative,’ Anna added. ‘You’ll be awake but it won’t hurt and we won’t let you get too anxious.’

‘No.’ Claire shook her head. She tried to peer past the medical team crowded around her bed. ‘I can’t go. Not yet. She said I’d see the children again. Very soon.’

‘Who said?’ Josh could feel the tension of this whole situation spiralling upwards. They couldn’t let Claire get any more upset because there was still a definite risk of her rhythm degenerating into a fatal arrhythmia. Who had his children? Where were they?

‘She does.’ Claire’s lips were trembling. ‘The doctor.’

‘What doctor?’

‘The one who … looked after them … when they were born.’

‘Megan Phillips? But that’s impossible. She’s in Africa.’

‘Not any more.’

Josh froze as he heard the voice coming from behind Ben and Anna on the other side of the bed. Everybody turned to see who was at the entrance to the room. Holding the handles of the double stroller that contained the twins.

‘Daddy.’ Both Max and Brenna’s faces lit up with smiles as they spotted their father. They held up four little arms.

But Josh didn’t even see the plea. His gaze was locked on the woman behind the stroller.

Oh, my God.

Megan.

For just a heartbeat, the world stood absolutely still.

Nothing else mattered.

That his mother was dangerously unwell. That he had two tiny, defenceless children calling for him. That he was the head of a department of St Piran’s Hospital that was gaining widespread recognition as a centre of excellence in emergency medicine.

None of those things could even exist in the space Josh was sucked into for just a second.

A space of such intensity, it pulled the oxygen from the air around him and made it feel impossible for him to breathe.

The space he’d been in on that New Year’s Eve party when he’d met Megan properly for the first time. When he’d sensed the power of truly falling in love. The power that had held his mother captive and broken her life.

He’d been there again in the trauma of that emergency when it had looked as though Megan might die. When he’d sensed the power of what a parent’s love for a child could be as well, and had vowed never to let that power control him either.

During the course of that one, incredible night when he’d shared her bed for only the second time—just before he’d found out he was going to become a father.

On the day he’d had to do the hardest thing in his life, and tell her it was all over.

In that moment when he’d had to beg her to do her best to save the lives of Rebecca’s and his children.

Daddy.

The echo of the word penetrated the space. Grounded Josh instantly. He was where he needed to be. Living his life the way it had to be lived.

The way he wanted to live it.

Nothing could be allowed to change that. Somehow, he had to resist the incredible pull that that space could exert. It felt like his life was depending on it. It was almost ironic to have his mother in the same room. The example he’d grown up with of the damage that that kind of love could inflict.

Stepping towards the newcomers, Josh was aware of the tension around him. The kind that came from a collective holding of breath, waiting to see what was going to happen.

Their story was hardly a secret, was it? Not that Anna or Ben knew that he’d slept with Megan while he’d still been married. While his wife had been in the early stages of pregnancy with the twins. But everybody knew their early history by now. And if anybody had missed the way they’d been drawn back to each other when he’d first come to St Piran’s, the hospital grapevine would have filled them in. Maybe everybody did know about that night in the on-call room.

Oh … Lord … Tash knew everything. How much did his mother know?

Josh pulled the barriers of his professional image around him like a force field.

‘Megan … What a stroke of luck you were there for my mother when she got sick. And thank you so much for taking care of my children.’

He stooped to release the safety straps around the twins. Not that he squatted down fast enough to miss the change of expression on Megan’s face. Had she been holding her breath like everyone else in here? Hurt by his deliberate focus on his own family? Himself?

He hadn’t even asked her how she was despite some alarm bell ringing faintly in the back of his head. As he stood up, with a twin under each arm, he couldn’t help taking another look at her. That warning bell hadn’t been a false alarm. She looked … terrible.

So thin. So pale. Something was wrong. Her emerald-green eyes looked dull enough to be frightening.

Except that Josh had no right to have an emotional stake in Megan’s wellbeing any more.

And even if he did, this wasn’t the time. Or place.

He held her gaze for the briefest moment, however. He couldn’t help it. He knew his concern would be transparent but that didn’t matter either. He tried to send a silent message.

We’ll talk. Soon.

‘The babies …’ Claire’s voice wobbled. ‘Let me give them a kiss before I have to go.’

Megan’s heart was hammering in her chest.

How ironic would it be if she provided another cardiac emergency for Josh to deal with?

What had she expected to happen here? A moment of pure fantasy where the existence of anyone else—including his mother and children and colleagues—simply evaporated? And Josh’s face changing as though he was witnessing a miracle? That he would come towards her in slow motion and sweep her into his arms? Kiss her again just like he had that last time.?

Maybe some tiny, secret part of her had hoped exactly that.

It didn’t mean that she’d wanted it to happen, though. Or that she could have coped with going down that track. It was the last thing she wanted when she’d fought so hard to find her new direction. A completely different track.

Josh had done exactly the right thing. Been professional. Cold, almost. But then, when she’d been trying to process that, feeling dizzy and bewildered, he’d looked at her again. Really looked at her. And she’d known that this wasn’t it. This moment couldn’t count as their first meeting after a long absence.

That had been postponed due to unforeseen circumstances.

Circumstances that were slightly chaotic right now, as staff bustled around, taking care of Claire and preparing to move her to the catheter laboratory even as Josh gave her the chance to kiss and cuddle each of the children. Max grabbed one of the wires attaching an electrode to the cardiac monitor and pulled it free, which set off an alarm. The sound frightened Brenna, who clung to her father and had to be persuaded to give her grandmother a quick kiss.

Meanwhile, Megan simply stood there, clutching the handles of the stroller. She could hardly walk out, could she? Not when these people were old friends. How rude would it seem to Ben and Anna if she just left?

Besides, she felt frozen. Watching Josh. Seeing the easy way he held his small children and talked to them. Knowing that his light tone and smile was an act. That the way those lines had deepened around his eyes advertised how much stress he was under right now.

And … he looked as gorgeous as he ever had. His palpable charm hadn’t changed either and it was being directed towards the twins right now and they looked as if they were being won over by that lazy smile as easily as she always had. He must have raked his fingers through his hair a fair few times to get it looking so rumpled, and to her horror Megan could feel the urge to smooth it with her own hands. To push that wayward lock back from his forehead and cup his face with both her hands so that she could really look and discover every tiny change that time had wrought.

She gripped the moulded plastic handles of the stroller more tightly. Forced herself to smile in response to Ben’s greeting.

‘We’ll have to catch up. I’d love to hear about Africa. You here for a while?’

No. She needed to escape as fast as she could.

‘I … I’m not sure yet.’

Ben’s pager sounded and he excused himself hurriedly. Megan wished she had one clipped to her own belt. A reason to disappear.

But she couldn’t leave quite yet. Anna needed to know that her dog was locked in the back of Claire’s car out in the car park and the cardiac surgeon had been busy on the phone for the last few minutes, juggling her responsibilities so that she could join the cardiologists and be involved in this emergency angioplasty case.




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