The Wife He's Been Waiting For. Dianne Drake
with him, though. She’d just read a brilliant article in the New England Journal on advances in medication used to treat hypertension, and she would have loved some lively discussion on that with a colleague. But she had to remind herself almost daily that she’d left medicine behind her, then content herself with the void in her life that that decision had caused.
Unfortunately, the passion hadn’t left her, which was why she wasn’t engaging him this very moment. She stayed away from medicine because she could so easily be drawn back.
Although, as a doctor, she had noticed his limp. She hadn’t stared, of course, especially with the way he had been trying so hard not to limp. Male ego, probably. In her experience as a doctor, the one thing she’d learned well was that men preferred to grit their teeth and bear it rather than admitting a weakness. Actually, that’s what had almost killed Cameron. He’d been tired, he’d been losing weight. He’d blamed it on working too much, even though she’d asked him to have himself checked out. And he a doctor! Well, the dreadful truth had turned out to be leukemia. The other dreadful truth was that she should have insisted on him getting checked, then kept on insisting when he’d refused. Even tied him up and dragged him to a clinic, if she’d had to. But she hadn’t. Probably because avoidance and denial had been easier.
Luckily for Cameron, his ending turned out to be a happy one in so many ways. He’d beaten his cancer, found a perfect wife and now they had a family.
It seemed, though, that the good doctor lying next to her right now was much the same as Cameron. Too stubborn, or too large an ego…she didn’t know which. But it was on the tip of her tongue to say something to him. To ask him what was wrong, and if he’d sought medical attention. Which was none of her business. Still, he’d shown a sufficient amount of pain to someone with a trained eye, and whether or not she was calling herself a doctor these days, she was concerned. “Do you ever get time off?” she asked, not sure how to broach the subject without seeming too medical about it.
“Between cruises. A few days here and there.”
“Nothing sustained, though? Maybe a few weeks where you can go and treat yourself to some real rest? On one of these tropical islands where we’re going to stop on the cruise, perhaps?”
“Social worker,” he said.
“What?”
“Last night, I was trying to figure out what you do. My guess right now is social worker. You show just the right amount of concern for other people’s concerns, which would make you a very good social worker.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment because I admire anyone who has the dedication to be a social worker but, no, that’s not what I do. And I’m not a librarian either, if that was going to be your next guess.”
“I might have. I’ve always thought librarians have a smoldering, secret sensuality about them, which fits you.”
Sarah laughed. “Nothing smoldering in me.”
“But there is, Sarah. It’s there, and you do a nice job of hiding it, which is why you’d make a good librarian. They have that reserved exterior, but on the inside—”
“Let me guess,” she interrupted. “When you were young you had a secret crush on a librarian.”
“Not so secret. Her name was Mrs Rowe, and the way she pinned up her red hair, and those tight tweed skirts she wore…” Michael faked a big shiver. “I used to check out books every day. Big books, adult books that I thought made me look intelligent and old. As many as I could get in my canvas bag, like I thought she believed I was taking them home and reading them every night. I was eight, by the way.”
“So what brought an end to the love affair?”
“After a couple of weeks, Mrs Rowe asked me if I wouldn’t rather have books from the children’s section, then she handed me one about a precocious monkey and told me I’d do better with that than the one on quantum physics I was attempting to check out.”
“She was probably right, unless you were a child genius.”
“Not even close.”
“Then I’d say Mrs Rowe had good insight.”
“And a good figure, too,” he commented under his breath.
Sarah laughed. “Not to be missed, even by a boy of eight.” Which further proved her theory about men. They were not all alike, as some people said, but they were certainly similar in some ways. Even now, as he shifted in his deck chair, she saw a little grimace of pain on his face, yet, come hell or high water, he wasn’t about to admit it.
Well, back to the original premise and she was sticking to it. It was none of her business.
She was still concerned, though.
CHAPTER THREE
SARAH hadn’t planned on going ashore, yet when the passengers started to leave the boat to spend a few hours browsing the shops, seeing the sights and eating the food in Nassau, on New Providence island in the Bahamas, she’d changed her mind and followed along after them. Her cabin was small and she wasn’t enjoying her private time there as much as she’d thought she would. While it wasn’t her intention to join in with any of the activities on board ship, she wasn’t exactly avoiding some minor mingling…walking about, nodding a pleasant hello here and there, making idle chat where it was necessary.
Something about the sea air had caused this change in her, she supposed as she took one last look in the mirror before she dashed out the door, amazed that in only two days she’d taken on a little color. She’d probably gained a pound or two, too, since eating seemed to be the number-one cruise pastime for just about everybody, and the good doctor did keep watch over her to make sure she did her fair share. Michael deserved his due credit, though. Her blood sugar had been perfect three checks in a row now, and she was actually feeling better—not so tired all the time. His vigilance reminded her to take care of herself. That was the reason she was going off the ship this afternoon. For the first time since she couldn’t remember when she actually wanted to take a walk, soak up some of the local culture. Her past holidays had been lackluster affairs overall, where she’d showed mild interest at best and, more commonly, no enthusiasm whatsoever, and while she wouldn’t go so far as to admit to any enthusiasm over this little outing, she wasn’t dreading it as much as she could have.
Too bad Michael wouldn’t be coming along. At least, she didn’t think he would be. What he’d told her at the start of the cruise, that he didn’t usually fraternize with the guests, was holding true. She’d seen him only in passing since they’d spent a couple of quiet hours together in the deck chairs, and even her blood tests were done by somebody else and reported to Michael who, in turn, relayed messages back to her through somebody else.
Well, it didn’t matter, really. She would have enjoyed spending more time with him, catching the edge of a medical conversation where she could, but it didn’t seem that it was meant to be. Admitting she was disappointed was an exaggeration, but in all honesty she wouldn’t have objected to bumping into him on the docks. As it turned out, however, a casual enquiry of the medical technician who’d last tested her blood revealed what Sarah wanted to know—the medical crew probably wasn’t leaving ship at this port of call.
Oh, well…
Once Sarah was off the ship, she had several choices. She could see the area by taxi, take a walking tour, hire a horse-drawn carriage, or the one that appealed to her the most—take a jitney, a small bus overcrowded with locals. It made frequent stops, went to the areas the tourists avoided, and she was in the mood for that. She didn’t want to shop, didn’t want to see the museums or the city’s renowned colonial architecture. She didn’t even want to go have a dolphin encounter—swimming or snorkeling with trained dolphins—which was a very popular attraction. Instead, she wanted to ride, and watch. Meaning, be alone again. But that was fine. It was a beautiful day, the air was warm, and this sure beat staying in her cabin, reading another medical journal.
So Sarah caught the jitney,