How To Save A Marriage In A Million. Leonie Knight
really didn’t want to do.
* * *
The next few days flew by in a blur of ward rounds, clinics, lectures and med-student tutorials. Richard’s only contact with Joanna had been on the wards in her capacity as an extremely dedicated and efficient paediatric nurse. There was no doubt in his mind she had a special relationship with her patients and she gave so much more than expected from the job description.
He certainly hadn’t had time to think about getting the ball rolling with their divorce but he would try and at least make a couple of phone calls, including one to his solicitor, on his afternoon off the following week.
He packed his briefcase with some paperwork he wanted to take home and then slung his stethoscope on the top before he clicked the case closed.
Friday already.
The reality of committing to even a brief appearance at the concert audition night had been intermittently interrupting his thoughts through the afternoon and now he longed for a quiet evening at home, with a glass of wine, listening to his favourite mood music…with Joanna snuggled up beside him on the couch.
An impossible dream.
He sighed as he walked out of Matilda Ward at the end of his first working week. In many ways it was good to be back in Australia; his only disappointment was that the grieving process was beginning again—this time not only for his son but for the demise of his marriage.
* * *
Joanna hated being late.
By the time she arrived, there were only a couple of stragglers in the foyer of the lecture theatre—a middle-aged man she didn’t recognise who was carrying a cello case and one of the new intake of medical students dressed as an outrageously eccentric clown.
She laughed. The young student stopped and turned around. He’d only been working at Lady Lawler for a few weeks but already had a reputation for his cheeky sense of humour and the occasional practical joke.
‘Guess what role I’m up for tonight?’ he said in a ridiculously high-pitched voice, but managed a deadpan expression. He waited for her to catch up with him.
‘Wow, that’s a hard one.’ She chuckled. ‘It’s a long shot but I am guessing it could be the stand-up comedian slot?’
His animated, black-painted lips drooped in an exaggerated expression of despondency as a bright blue tear trickled down one cheek. He whipped out a flamboyant bunch of daisies from somewhere in his baggy trousers and began waving them about as if he were conducting a full symphony orchestra.
‘I was hoping for the job of choirmaster.’
Joanna burst into laughter again. He would make a wonderful kids’ doctor. An off-beat sense of humour, as long as it was combined with sensitivity, made for ideal qualifications in an aspiring paediatrician.
‘Seriously?’
His face lit up again with a grin.
‘Seriously,’ he repeated, as he made an overstated gesture inviting her to enter the theatre before him. She walked in with a smile on her face, looked around and made her way over towards the section of stage with ‘CHOIR’ written in broad felt-tip pen on an upended cardboard box. It was part of a disparate set, which seemed to have done the job to guide the hopeful performers to different parts of the stage, depending on their abilities and aspirations.
She waved at the student as he headed towards the section designated ‘MISCELLANEOUS’. He was obviously enjoying the attention.
‘Good luck,’ she called.
But then she stopped dead in her tracks.
She’d been aware of the discordant sound of the various band instruments tuning up but she picked up the strains of a saxophone playing ragtime out of the din. It was a popular Scott Joplin composition but she couldn’t remember the name.
Oh, God!
The memories came flooding back.
Why was the saxophonist playing the song Richard had been playing when they’d first met? It must be simply a cruel twist of fate, she thought as she looked over to the crowded band section to see who it was. It certainly didn’t sound like Steve, the hospital’s long-time player. It wasn’t his style.
She scanned the group, telling herself it was simply an unusual coincidence.
Then she saw him.
Richard’s unruly hair flopped over his forehead but Joanna could see he had his eyes closed, concentrating fully on the music. He’d always had the ability to focus totally, blocking everything out but the sound of his own instrument. When he finished the lively tune, he stopped and took a deep breath before playing the soulful opening bars of an old traditional jazz ballad called ‘Sunset of Sadness’. It was a melody with lyrics about aching hearts, broken promises and shattered dreams. She knew the song by heart. The hummed melody had been a lullaby for Sam during his illness when he’d had trouble getting to sleep. And then, after it had all ended, the song had been comfort for her and Richard when there’d been no other way to express their grief.
Joanna began to mouth the words and then something strange happened. One by one the other instruments silenced and the rumble of conversation gradually ceased until all that could be heard was the clear, poignant sound of Richard’s saxophone. He seemed oblivious to what was happening around him, totally absorbed in the music.
But it was too much for Joanna. The memories stabbed at her heart and silent tears ran down her cheeks. She suddenly felt claustrophobic and had to leave. She stepped off the stage and, head down, walked quietly towards the exit.
But then, in her haste to leave, she stumbled. She grabbed hold of the nearest thing to steady herself. Unfortunately it was a fold-up chair—the top one in a stack leaning against the wall. She fell backwards, taking at least half a dozen metal framed chairs with her.
The music stopped.
The entire occupants of the theatre seemed to take a collective breath before…all hell let loose.
How humiliatingly embarrassing.
The first person to reach her was Richard, closely followed by the clown. At least a dozen concerned faces drifted in and out of her field of vision.
‘What happened…?’
‘Are you okay…?’
‘You’ve cut your head…’
‘Does it hurt anywhere?’
‘Did you faint?’
Joanna knew they were well meaning but all she wanted to do at that moment was to escape to somewhere quiet, on her own.
‘I’m sure she’s okay and I’ll take care of her.’ Richard’s authoritative voice silenced the curious and concerned. ‘I think it’s best you get back to the auditions.’
With a firm but gentle grip he lifted her to her feet, conveying the message with his eyes that he understood she needed time and space to regain her composure. It was her pride that was injured, not her body. To add insult to injury, she’d exposed her weakness in times of stress, not only to everyone in the lecture theatre but to Richard.
She sniffed, wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and untangled herself from Richard’s protective grasp.
‘I’m all right. You can go back now,’ she said in a voice as unsteady as her wobbly legs.
‘What are you going to do?’ His voice was as steady as a rock.
‘I can’t stay.’
The expression in Richard’s eyes told her he knew why.
‘I’m sorry…’
She swallowed, clearing her throat of tears and the rawness of her emotions.
‘Don’t be. It