How To Save A Marriage In A Million. Leonie Knight
to mention what had been his initial intention—that they finally divorce.
It had seemed to be the logical solution to a problem that had been simmering in his mind ever since he’d made the decision to accept the position of head of the oncology department at Lady Lawler. But now he’d seen Joanna again, it wasn’t that simple. He needed to find out if she still had any feelings for him.
‘Do you want—?’
‘A divorce?’
Apparently easy for her to say and there was no avoiding the issue. But the goalposts had moved. He needed time. They were both older and, he hoped, wiser. When they’d married, Joanna had been nineteen and pregnant with a child she expected she’d never have. The doctors had told her the scarring from a ruptured appendix three years previously had blocked her tubes and her only chance of bearing a child would be through microsurgery or IVF.
When she’d found out she was pregnant, they’d both been over the moon. Although they’d only known each other for a little over six months, they’d been insanely in love and the pregnancy had somehow validated that love. Maybe they’d jumped into marriage too quickly and for the wrong reasons. Many times he’d agonised over whether that was why their relationship hadn’t been strong enough to survive the shattering stress of what had happened to their son.
Was it a bad thing to want to start over?
It had to be Jo’s decision. She was the one who had suffered most and he didn’t want to cause her any more heartache.
‘Yes, I guess it comes down to that. We probably should have finalised things before I left for England, but—’
‘I was an emotional vegetable and you couldn’t bring yourself to add to my stress by going through a divorce.’ She was actually smiling. ‘I hated you for leaving me, you know. But I realise now that living with me at that time in our lives must have been a nightmare. Looking back, you certainly pulled out all the stops to try and bring me out of my depression. I don’t blame you.’ She sighed and then hesitated. ‘I’ve moved on, Richard. I have a fulfilling life that doesn’t involve a husband or children. Our marriage ended years ago and now it’s time to formalise our separation.’
He cleared his throat but couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking—he didn’t deserve to be forgiven and it had been fanciful to even contemplate that she would give him another chance. Even if he hadn’t gone away he had a feeling their paths would have diverged.
Why did he feel so gut-wrenchingly disappointed?
‘I suppose so,’ he finally said. ‘Do you want me to get the wheels turning? I should have time to contact my lawyer some time in the next week.’
He couldn’t go on. It all seemed so final, but Joanna was right. Why cling to the memory of something, no matter how beautiful, that could never be regained? They were different people from the young, naive nursing student and the indestructible, ambitious doctor who’d fallen in love more than a decade ago. Joanna had told him what he needed to know.
‘That’s fine by me. Let me know what I have to do.’ She glanced at her watch, took a hurried sip of her drink and then stood up to leave. ‘I have to go. I’ve got less than five minutes to get back to the ward and take over from Lynne.’
She paused a moment, as if waiting for his response, but looked anxious to leave. He needed a few moments to reprogramme his thoughts into work mode, though.
‘Yes, of course you must go back. I have an appointment with someone called Jodie to discuss accommodation, so I might see you later, back on the ward.’
She nodded, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, as if he was one of her charges to whom she’d had to impart particularly bad news.
At that moment he knew the thread he’d been clinging to in the hope they might get together again was finally broken. She’d stopped loving him long ago, and she was right. He needed to get on with his life. They both did. So why did it hurt so much?
CHAPTER THREE
RICHARD wasn’t sure what Jodie Francis’s job description was, but he was grateful she’d contacted him the previous day to enquire if he needed assistance to find accommodation. He’d forgotten about the block of half a dozen terraces tucked away two streets from the hospital and used as temporary lodgings for ‘homeless’ employees. In the past they’d been leased to visiting, top-level professionals who had temporary appointments such as post-graduate fellowships or academic posts. At the moment he was living in a holiday apartment, about half an hour’s drive from Lady Lawler, and he hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider more permanent housing. He was eager to find out what Jodie had to offer.
He knocked on the door of a small office in the administration wing.
‘Come in,’ the owner of the youthful voice sang out.
By the time he’d opened the door she was out of her seat and headed in his direction with her hand extended in greeting.
‘Hello, I’m Jodie, and you must be Dr Howell.’
The woman, who Richard estimated to be in her late twenties, grasped his hand and beamed.
‘That’s right. You phoned and left a message on the ward yesterday.’
He waited for her to sit down before settling in the austere, grey-upholstered chair opposite her desk.
She thumbed through a folder of papers and extracted a single page, which she placed on the top of the pile. ‘I understand you’ve been back in Western Australia for less than a week and, er…’ It was the first time the confident young lady had shown any sign of hesitation and Richard second-guessed what she was trying to say.
‘You assumed, since I’d been away for so long, I might be looking for somewhere to stay?’
‘Exactly.’ She paused again. ‘And am I right to assume…um…that you’re on your own?’
‘Yes.’
His heart rate quickened as a painful memory of a bleak conversation with his wife popped into his mind. When he and Jo had parted, he’d fully expected the break to be purely down-time to allow wounds to heal and that they would eventually reconcile. Their dream home, purchased midway through Joanna’s pregnancy and lovingly renovated and decorated to accommodate the needs of their expanding family, had been a symbol of his wife’s vision of their future together.
When Sam had died, that vision had been irreconcilably shattered.
Before he’d departed for the U.K. he’d assured Joanna the house was hers as long as she wanted it, but six months after he’d left she’d sent him a matter-of-fact email stating she wanted to sell the house and move into something smaller. ‘More suited to a single woman’ had been her exact words. But he’d suspected what she’d really wanted to say was without the memories.
It had broken his heart, and his phone call to her had done nothing to reassure him Jo had been coping any better than when he’d left. She’d stated calmly, when he’d offered to return to Australia, that it would be a waste of time and she didn’t want to see him.
It would upset her too much, he read between the transparent lines of her conversation.
He had a sudden thought that he didn’t even have her current address.
‘You were saying?’ the ebullient Jodie cut into his reverie, and he frowned, trying to remember the last thread of their conversation.
‘Ah, yes. I’m separated and in the process of getting a divorce.’ The words were out of his mouth, like a confession, before he had a chance to stop them. She’d not asked for any information on his marital status but he’d felt the need to explain why a thirty-nine-year-old consultant didn’t have the wife and family that were often expected of someone of his age and position.
Jodie looked embarrassed and busied