She’d hoped fervently that this wouldn’t be the case. An image of those two beautiful boys kicking a ball around the front lawn with Marshall sneaked into her head. Aged seven and eight, they were so young to be facing this. Some kids didn’t get a fair shot at childhood.
Like Aimee. She mightn’t have known what had been going on with her mother but she’d missed out on lots. The breastfeeding had stopped. There’d been many nights when her grandfather had put her to bed because her mother had been too ill to do something so simple and vital. Charlie sighed.
Aimee didn’t appear any the worse for her rocky start in life. She had yet to meet a happier, more well-adjusted little girl. Whether that was due to Aimee’s nature or her loving grandfather, Charlie didn’t know but she was very grateful. And now, with Marshall on the periphery of their lives, things had to be even better—for Aimee, at least.
Gemma placed a cappuccino in front of her. ‘How’re you doing?’ She dropped into the nearest patient’s chair and sipped her latte.
No need to ask what she meant. ‘Absolutely fabulous. Aimee’s talking non-stop—’ about her father ‘—and loves sleeping in a bed because that means she can get out and come find me whenever it suits her. Dad’s fishing regularly for the first time since I got sick and seems to be really enjoying it. But, then, you’d know that.’
Gemma’s mouth lifted into a smile.
‘Work’s humming with more patients than I know what to do with.’ She locked eyes with her friend, determined to brazen this out.
‘And Charlie? How’s she doing?’ Gemma stared her down.
Terribly. There didn’t seem to be a cure for broken hearts. Being a doctor, she should be able to come up with something to remedy what ailed her but so far that had been a big fail. ‘I’m running between five and six k’s a day now.’ And it’s boring on my own.
‘Still haven’t heard from Marshall?’
‘Only occasional emails, which tell me next to nothing about what he’s doing.’ Twenty-three days since he’d left. Not that she was counting. ‘Aimee will forget who he is soon.’ He’d promised to stay in touch. Foolishly she’d believed that meant regular phone calls or computer video calls, something where Aimee could see or hear him. Emails didn’t cut it with her.
‘And Charlie will pretend she’s forgotten him.’
‘I miss him so much it hurts physically.’ So much for being strong.
Admitting she loved him hadn’t softened the intensity of her feelings for him or about his disappearance. If anything, her emotions were stronger, more focused. As if admitting her love had painted the world a whole new colour—glowing golden when he’d been here, dull grey now he’d gone. ‘Unfortunately he’s in my head all the time. There’s no let-up. But I can’t get angry at him. I always knew he’d leave and I’d have to love him from afar.’
Gemma stood up and tossed her empty paper cup in the bin. ‘Give him time. I can’t believe he’s gone for good. His love for you and Aimee came through in everything he did. He might not realise how he feels yet, but he’ll get there.’
‘You’ve been reading too many romance stories.’ Or talking to Dad. Her despair was obvious even to her. Charlie shrugged. So what? It hurt. Beyond belief. ‘Even if he does work that out, he’s not giving up his army career for anyone. He doesn’t do settled down.’ Draining her coffee, she also aimed her paper cup for the bin. It went in. First thing to go right that morning.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get the day started and put all this Marshall stuff aside for a while. Take Aimee swimming at the pool after work.
‘Who’s your first patient?’ Gemma asked, obviously finished with Marshall for a while.
Relieved, Charlie smiled. ‘Faye Burnside and her baby. Can you give Ryan his shots after I’ve seen them?’ Smoothing down her skirt, Charlie followed the nurse out to the waiting room.
‘Faye, come through. How’s your wee man?’ She picked up the heavy day bag the young woman had left beside the chair and swung it at her side as she walked to her consulting room. Definitely getting fitter. A few weeks ago she’d have struggled to lift the darned thing.
‘Ryan’s only waking twice for feeding during the night now. Thank goodness. I thought he’d never get used to sleeping for more than a couple of hours at a time.’ Faye sank onto the chair Gemma had recently vacated. ‘To think I used to be able to party all night and get up to go to work the next morning.’
‘You weren’t doing that seven nights a week for weeks on end.’
Charlie smiled as she took Ryan from Faye. ‘Hey, gorgeous. You still being a good boy?’ Jiggling him in her arms brought memories of Aimee at this age flooding into her mind and whipping up another storm of emotions. The amazing sense of achievement that her body could produce someone so perfect and precious. The instant love, the need to protect. Being a mother was indescribable. Longing for another baby hit hard.
Get over yourself. You’re with patients. Not to mention there won’t be any more babies. But— No. No more babies. Be happy with the healthy child you have.
Faye interrupted her selfish mental monologue. ‘Can you look at Ryan’s tummy? Sometimes a bump comes up just below his ribs.’
‘Of course. Any other things you’re concerned about?’ Charlie didn’t mind asking new mothers about their worries. Better to clear them up than have mums stressing needlessly. ‘I know I had plenty of questions when Aimee was this little. Being a doctor meant diddly squat.’
Faye grinned as she took Ryan to undress him for Charlie to examine. ‘Not at the moment. I have bugged the Plunket nurses with loads of questions. They’re so patient, answering everything like I’m not crazy. It was one of them who said I should show you Ryan’s tummy.’
‘That’s what they’re there for.’ New Zealand’s Plunket Society had been around for ever, helping mothers with their newborns.
‘There. Do you see that?’ Faye gently touched a raised area below her son’s ribs.
Charlie carefully palpated the area. ‘I think Ryan has a small hernia, which is easily repaired with minor surgery.’
Faye gasped. ‘No way. Surgery? But he’s so little.’
‘Hernias are quite common with infants and the procedure is straightforward.’ She’d have been terrified if Aimee had had to have the op done, despite knowing the lack of risk involved.
‘Faye, I’ll refer you to a surgeon who’s excellent with babies. He’ll decide if Ryan needs surgery or if he’ll take a wait-and-see approach. You really mustn’t worry.’ Like Faye would take the slightest bit of notice to those words of wisdom. She certainly wouldn’t have if this had been Aimee. ‘Sorry. Silly thing to say. I’ll print out some information for you to take home and read. Show it to your partner, too.’
Faye’s face had turned pale as she snapped together the
studs down the front of Ryan’s romper suit. Lifting him into her arms, she hugged him desperately. ‘But he’s so happy, doesn’t cry like he’s in pain or anything.’
‘That’s because he’s not. Sit down for a few minutes. Ask anything that pops into your head.’ Charlie answered numerous questions while searching on her computer for medical information and quickly found the relevant notes on infant hernias to print out.
‘Here you go. And here’s a referral to the surgeon in Rotorua. I’ll get Molly to phone through for an appointment while you’re here. The sooner Ryan sees him the sooner you can stop worrying.’
‘Will we have to wait months for an appointment?’ Faye’s hand soothed Ryan’s back, even though he was the least distressed person in the room.
Shaking her head, Charlie reassured her. ‘I imagine you’ll see him within a week. Seriously, while this isn’t something you wanted to happen, you mustn’t get too wound up about it. I bet if you ask at your postnatal group you’ll find other mums who’ve dealt with the same condition and they’ll be able to tell you the same as I am. Ryan’s going to be fine.’
She escorted Faye to Reception and arranged for Molly to make the appointment. Glancing at the timetable, she turned to the waiting area. ‘Beau, come through to the surgical room.’
A twenty-three-year-old man lumbered to his feet, dwarfing everyone around him. ‘Sure, Doctor. How are you today?’
Grinning up at him, she replied, ‘I’m supposed to ask that.’
‘I know.’ He grinned back at her. ‘How many of these little suckers are you cutting out of me today?’
‘Three.’
‘Bet you don’t let your little girl out in the sun without layers of sun block on.’ Beau had a history of basal cell carcinoma. Two had been removed in previous years and now he opted to have anything remotely abnormal removed before it got too big. While non-malignant, the carcinomas would never go away without medical intervention.