A Sheikh To Capture Her Heart. Meredith Webber
found tremors in their arms and hands worsened when they relaxed but lessened when they held something. Would that hold true for tremors induced by encephalitis or was a different part of the brain affected?
And just why was she interested?
She sighed and tried to tell herself it was because the surgery world had been shocked to learn the results of his brush with encephalitis. Shocked that such a talented and skilful man had been lost to surgery.
But she wasn’t here to wonder about his tremor. That was his business.
She was here to watch him, not worry about his past or the problems he faced now.
She turned her attention from the monitor to the man.
His eyes were open, studying her in turn, and although she’d have liked to turn away, she knew doing so would be an admission that he disturbed her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, those strange pale eyes holding hers. ‘I had no right to throw such a petty, personal, ridiculous remark at you. All my friends tell me I’m over-sensitive about the results of my illness, but that’s no excuse.’
Now she did look instead of watching, looked and saw the apology mirrored in his eyes.
She almost weakened because the man had been through hell.
And to a certain extent hadn’t she opted out as well, heading away from home as fast as she could, taking a job that meant she didn’t have to settle in one place, make friends, get hurt by loss again?
But she hadn’t been a genius at what she did and this man had. The world needed him and people like him.
Straightening her shoulders, she met his eyes and said, ‘Well, if you’re expecting an apology from me, forget it. I meant every word I said. You must have any number of minions who could run around checking on the facilities and programmes you’ve sent up. By doing it yourself, you’re wasting such skill and talent it’s almost criminal.’
And on that note she would have departed, except she was stuck there—watching him.
Watching him raise that mobile eyebrow once again.
‘Minions?’
The humour lurking in the word raised her anger.
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ she snapped, and he nodded.
Thinking she’d got the last word, she prepared to depart, or at least back as far away as possible from him.
‘But we had met before—you’ll admit that now!’ he said.
So much for having the last word! He’d not only sneaked that one in but he’d brought back the memories—of that wonderful day at GOSH and the horror of its aftermath.
Her heart was beating so fast it was a wonder the patient couldn’t hear it, and a sob of anguish wasn’t far away. The curtain sliding back saved her from total humiliation as she burst into tears in front of this man.
Caroline Lockhart, one of the permanent nurses at the hospital, appeared, flashing such a happy smile that Sarah couldn’t not smile back at her.
‘I’m to take over,’ Caroline said quietly. ‘Sam says thanks for the hand. We were discussing how best to spend a rather large donation we’ve just received—working out what’s needed most. Since you overwhelmed us with the equipment needed for endoscopies and keyhole surgery, the theatre’s pretty well sorted. But if you have any other ideas, let someone know.’
Sarah nodded and stood up, wanting to get as far away as possible. Caroline’s words had added a further layer to her pain. Getting compensation for the accident that had taken her husband and unborn child four years after the event had been traumatic to say the least—how could money possibly replace a husband and son?—so her immediate reaction had been to get rid of it as quickly as possible.
And because it was the leisurely pace and overwhelming beauty of this magic island where she’d finally begun to put the broken pieces of herself back together again, wasn’t it right she give something back?
She made her way out of the rear of the hospital, down to the little villa where she stayed when she was here, and tapped on the door of the villa next door to remind her anaesthetist they had an early start in the morning.
Ben was clad in board shorts, his hair ruffled and a vague expression on his face.
‘Did I catch you at a bad moment?’ she asked.
‘Halfway through dismembering a body,’ he replied, and Sarah grinned.
Ben was an excellent anaesthetist and didn’t mind the travel, but apparently he was an even better writer, his sixth murder mystery hitting top-seller lists. It was only a matter of time before he was making enough money from his writing to support himself and she’d have to find a new anaesthetist willing to travel to isolated places in outback Queensland, and to Wildfire in the M’Langi group of islands.
‘We’re doing that thyroidectomy tomorrow. You all set?’ she asked.
He raised his hand in a mocking salute.
‘Ready as ever, ma’am,’ he said, the words telling her he was still lost in his book—one of his characters talking.
But lost though he was at the moment, she knew he’d be fully focussed in the morning.
‘Our patient came in this afternoon, if you want to pop over the hospital tonight to talk to her. I’d say the op will take three to four hours, depending on any complications, and she’s had some complications with her heart so we’ll have to watch her.
Ben nodded.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll be right. I’ve already read up on her and checked with my old boss back in Sydney about the level of drug use. We’ll be fine.’
Ben was about to back away, obviously anxious to get back to what he considered his real work, when he paused, then reached out and touched her cheek.
‘Have you been crying?’ There was suspicion and a touch of anger in his voice, and in his eyes. ‘Did someone upset you?’
Sarah forced a smile onto her lips and fixed it there. She was only too aware of how protective Ben was of her, once taking on the boss of an outback hospital when he’d wanted her to work beyond regulation safe hours.
‘I’m fine,’ she told him, taking his hand from her cheek and giving his fingers a ‘thank you’ squeeze.
‘Well, I hope you are,’ he said, before disappearing back into his villa, from which Sarah could almost hear his computer calling to him.
But the little white lie had made her feel better, so instead of hiding away in her island home, she walked to the top of the cliffs above Sunset Beach to catch the last fiery blast of the sunset.
Except she’d missed it. The soft pinks and mauves and violets, however, were still stunningly beautiful and like a soothing balm to her aching heart.
KEANU DROVE HARRY back to his bure, offering to stay for a while, though Harry could see he was itching to get into the newly refurbished laboratories. As well as Harry’s team working towards clinical trials of an encephalitis vaccine, other scientists were welcome to use the facilities, and Keanu’s passion at the moment—apart from his fiancée, Caroline, and saving the island’s gold mine—was examining the properties of M’Langi tea, a project started by his father many years ago.
‘Are you getting anywhere?’ Harry asked the young doctor.
Keanu shook his head.
‘We know we have fewer encephalitis cases than other South Sea islands and the only difference as far as diet is concerned is this tea we drink.’