Книга - Reunited With Her Brooding Surgeon

Reunited With Her Brooding Surgeon
Emily Forbes


He’s kept love at bay…Can she unlock his heart?In this Nurses in the City story, Grace Gibson loves her job as a transplant co-ordinator at a Sydney hospital. But she’s blindsided when a ghost from her past reappears. Devastatingly handsome surgeon Marcus Washington was her childhood neighbour—but he’s all man now, and hiding a wealth of pain. Will Grace be the woman to break down his walls and claim his heart?







He’s kept love at bay...

Can she unlock his heart?

In this Nurses in the City story, Grace Gibson loves her job as a transplant coordinator at a Sydney hospital. But she’s blindsided when a ghost from her past reappears. Devastatingly handsome surgeon Marcus Washington was her childhood neighbor—but he’s all man now, and hiding a wealth of pain. Will Grace be the woman to break down his walls and claim his heart?


EMILY FORBES is an award-winning author of Medical Romance for Mills & Boon. She has written over 25 books and has twice been a finalist in the Australian Romantic Book of the Year Award, which she won in 2013 for her novel Sydney Harbour Hospital: Bella’s Wishlist. You can get in touch with Emily at emilyforbes@internode.on.net (http://www.emilyforbes@internode.on.net), or visit her website at emily-forbesauthor.com (http://www.emily-forbesauthor.com).


Also by Emily Forbes (#u387d46e3-5bb5-5a9b-8b97-b9330bf8ac01)

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Reunited with Her Brooding Surgeon

And look out for

Tempted by Mr Off-Limits by Amy Andrews

Available now

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Reunited with Her Brooding Surgeon

Emily Forbes






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07535-0

REUNITED WITH HER BROODING SURGEON

© 2018 Emily Forbes

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the fabulous Amy Andrews,

We’ve done it again!

Thank you—it’s always fun to write with a friend.

Wishing you happy days as we send Grace, Marcus,

Lola and Hamish out into the world.


Contents

Cover (#u31a74da3-f33c-5b75-89a3-7438fe1ee9d2)

Back Cover Text (#u8bdafcc9-a336-5458-9153-0283ee384aee)

About the Author (#u3d7b6d54-cd56-589d-b861-c048dec86b0d)

Booklist (#u2f3b85cd-8b2e-5746-a4f4-9f3164bd636b)

Title Page (#u3e799e62-d3af-5aa6-ac51-923066d6fd7a)

Copyright (#u6c97e7aa-7914-5600-8011-de331523d461)

Dedication (#u51fe1c5d-207a-5dae-8ca7-dc573142079c)

CHAPTER ONE (#uaf9779b1-7dcb-5325-9772-6ca11134c6c9)

CHAPTER TWO (#u0d62a35a-1cf2-5f89-93a6-c74cbc709b53)

CHAPTER THREE (#u27021af8-b437-57f6-8945-6ba6180bc796)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u387d46e3-5bb5-5a9b-8b97-b9330bf8ac01)

‘DID YOU JUST say you have a spare kidney?’

Grace smiled. She knew her phone call would cause Connie Matera some disbelief but she also knew that would rapidly give way to relief and excitement once she explained the situation to her. ‘Yes. I have a spare kidney and it’s going to be yours,’ she repeated.

‘Did someone die?’

As the renal transplant co-ordinator at one of Sydney’s biggest hospitals Grace knew that for transplant recipients their good fortune was often tinged with guilt that someone had died in order to give them what they needed. But that wasn’t the case this time. ‘No. It’s from a living donor.’

‘How—why?’ Grace could hear Connie struggling to find the right words, to ask the right questions. ‘How do you just get a spare kidney?’

‘You’ve heard of the paired kidney exchange programme?’ Grace asked.

‘Yes. But I thought I needed to have someone, a family member or friend, who was prepared to give up a kidney in exchange for one for me? I thought that was how it worked.’

‘Normally, yes, but you got lucky.’ Grace knew that Connie’s family had offered to donate a kidney to her but, while her sister and mother had the same blood type, their tissue type hadn’t been a match and therefore they hadn’t been suitable donors. Which had left Connie having regular dialysis and waiting on the transplant list for a deceased donor. Until now. ‘One of our patients on the exchange programme was a match with a deceased donor so now they don’t need their living donation. That donor has offered to give their kidney anyway and you are the best match on the transplant list.’

‘A stranger is voluntarily giving me their kidney?’

‘Yes.’

‘Has that ever happened before?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’ Was it fear or scepticism Grace could hear in Connie’s voice? She didn’t want her to refuse this offer. It was too generous and meant too much. ‘This is good news, Connie. It’s your lucky day.’

Grace heard Connie’s deep intake of breath. ‘Yes, yes. Of course it is. What do we do now?’

‘I know you’re scheduled for dialysis tomorrow but can you come in today at two for a pre-op appointment? We need to run some tests and I’m hoping to get your surgery scheduled for next week.’

‘That soon?’

‘Your donor was already scheduled for surgery next Wednesday as part of a paired kidney exchange exercise. The theatres and hospitals are all booked and your donor is happy to go ahead as planned, albeit with a different recipient. If I can get one more theatre here, and if all your pre-op tests are good, we’ll add you to the list.’

‘No more dialysis?’

‘Hopefully this time next week, no more dialysis,’ Grace confirmed. ‘I’ll see you at two.’

‘Okay.’

‘And, Connie,’ Grace added with a smile in her voice, ‘buy a lottery ticket on your way in here.’

She was still smiling as she said goodbye and hung up the phone. She loved this part of her job. As a member of the organ donation team it wasn’t often she got to deliver good news without a side serving of sad news. But in the case of the paired kidney exchange programme, where living donors selflessly offered their organs, it was a rewarding part of the job and Grace was excited.

Some days were tough. Delivering bad news to people was never easy but today was a good day. Today she had a kidney to give away. And today she was going to be busy. The phone call to Connie had been the first piece in the final puzzle. All the other donors and recipients were checked and ready to go. Their surgeries were scheduled for next week but she needed to book one more theatre for Connie and pray that her tests results were what they needed to be. Then she needed to keep her fingers crossed that no one got sick between now and then. Or changed their minds.

She had twelve surgeries to schedule across five different hospitals in three different cities. It was going to be the biggest paired kidney exchange exercise that had ever occurred in Australia and she was part of it. She’d been working in the transplant unit for the past two years but had only recently been promoted to the co-ordinator position. She’d been involved in paired kidney exchange operations before but nothing of this magnitude.

She entered Connie’s details into the nephrologist’s appointment calendar and made sure all the relevant documents, recent test results, new test request forms and consent forms were attached before making a courtesy call to Connie’s GP. Hopefully this time next week six people would each have a new, functioning kidney. She knew how much this meant to the families involved. She’d been one of those families herself.

Now she needed to organise a team meeting. Initially she’d had three of the twelve surgeries scheduled to take place here, at the Kirribilli General Hospital, but now she had a fourth, which meant she needed a fourth surgical team—two for the organ retrievals and two more to complete the organ transplants.

Finally, she made a call to the hospital’s PR division. This would be a big story and some media coverage could be a huge benefit to the drive to encourage organ donation. If they pulled it off.

There was no if, she told herself. They had to do this. There was too much at stake for it not to work. It had to be a success.

* * *

Grace fought to subdue the swarm of butterflies that was taking flight in her belly as she stood out in front of the Kirribilli General and faced a barrage of television cameras and media crews. The countdown had begun.

The transplant surgeries were scheduled to begin tomorrow morning at eight, in just over seventeen hours’ time, but first there was a media statement to be made. She wasn’t alone, she was flanked by numerous members of the renal transplant unit and the hospital’s public relations department. It was a glorious sunny afternoon and the media had turned out in force. Grace didn’t know if it was because it was a slow news day or if they really were interested in the story. She hoped it was the latter. This was a fabulous opportunity for some good publicity and a chance to raise organ donor awareness.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves as the hospital’s PR spokesperson introduced Professor Elliot Martin, the head of the renal transplant unit. Elliot would introduce the other nephrologists and then it would be Grace’s turn to speak. Public speaking was so not her thing. She didn’t mind talking to the doctors, liaising with other transplant co-ordinators, and even talking to the patients’ families about death and organ donation. That she could handle, but ask her to stand up in front of a group of strangers, well that was a whole different ball game. And strangers with cameras and microphones were even worse. She’d been taking classes and learning a few tricks. She knew her topic so she didn’t need to be nervous but knowing that and convincing her autonomic nervous system of that fact were two different things.

Peering over the shoulder of the person standing in front of her and scanning the crowd, her gaze landed on Lola—her friend, colleague and flatmate. Lola had given her some advice this morning and as she caught her eye, Lola mimed undoing the top button of her uniform and gave her a wink. Grace bit back a smile. Lola’s advice had been to imagine the crowd naked—apparently that was supposed to make them less intimidating.

She flicked her gaze away from Lola before her friend revealed anything she shouldn’t on national television and before Grace herself burst out laughing. She continued to scan the crowd but it consisted mostly of middle-aged men, doctors and hospital administration staff, all approximately twenty years older than her twenty-seven years, and not anyone she wanted to picture naked.

Whoa, hang on a minute. Her eyes had skimmed the crowd but something, or rather someone, had caught her attention, and she quickly reversed her gaze.

On the opposite side of the crowd, right at the front, stood a man she wouldn’t mind seeing naked.

He was tall, easily over six feet, and his shoulders were broad and his chest solid, yet he seemed to balance lightly on his feet. Despite his size he looked calm and centred and relaxed and she wished she had a tenth of his composure.

His dark hair was closely cropped and a designer two-day growth accentuated his oval face. He had a strong jaw and full lips beneath a narrow nose. His forehead was smooth and there was a slight furrow of concentration between his eyebrows that belied his relaxed stance. His dark eyes looked brooding and serious but that didn’t detract from his looks in the slightest. He was incredibly handsome but that wasn’t the only thing that had captured her attention. It was the contrast between him and everyone else around him. It was more than his height and his perfectly shaped face and symmetrical features. All of this was enhanced by his coffee-coloured skin, making him different enough to stand out from the crowd.

He wore a steel-blue suit with a white shirt that highlighted his complexion. His suit fitted perfectly and was impeccably tailored and pressed. He looked like he took pride in his appearance, and when you looked that good, why wouldn’t you? He was delicious.

There was something vaguely familiar about him but surely that was just her imagination? She’d remember if she’d met him before, he was not someone who would be easily forgotten. It must be one of those déjà vu things, she decided as a flutter of lust rolled in her belly, competing with the butterflies.

She ran her gaze down the length of his suit jacket, taking note of his lean hips and powerful thighs. Hewas definitely someone she wouldn’t mind seeing naked. She pictured him shrugging out of his jacket and loosening the buttons on his shirt, her mind completely absorbed by the mental image she was painting until she realised she couldn’t recall a word of her speech.

Focus, focus, she told herself, but it was impossible to picture him getting naked and remember her speech.

She averted her gaze and caught Lola grinning at her, eyebrows raised. She dropped her eyes before her friend could make her laugh and focused on her breathing, hoping no one else had caught her ogling this glorious stranger.

* * *

Marcus could scarcely believe his good fortune. He’d arrived at Kirribilli General Hospital on an exchange programme from Western Australia to spend twelve weeks as a visiting specialist with the transplant unit and found that he was just in time to take part in a multiple paired kidney exchange operation. This was exactly why he was here. He’d always avoided returning to the east coast but Kirribilli General was the leading hospital in renal transplants and had pioneered the paired kidney exchange programme.

He’d been in two minds about whether to accept this posting before finally deciding that it was something he needed to do. The opportunity had been too good to pass up, given that he was advocating for the Queen Victoria Hospital in Perth to become involved in the programme too. It stood to reason that he should spend some time in Sydney getting first-hand knowledge.

He looked around at the media throng that was gathered in front of the hospital. He realised that this was a big news story and he appreciated the fact that the hospital’s PR division and the transplant team wanted to grab the opportunity for promotion but he could do without the circus. He itched to get going. He wanted to be in the operating theatre, with a scalpel in his hand. That was the one place where he always felt in control. Any surprises could be dealt with in a calm and clinical manner. He knew he had the skills to handle anything that could be thrown his way in Theatre. He’d spent years honing his skills. He liked to have control and being a surgeon afforded him that. Control and respect.

Elliot Martin, the head of the renal transplant unit, was speaking. Marcus knew he would be introducing the surgical teams soon and he returned his attention to his new boss, not wanting to miss his introduction.

He was excited. This was exactly the sort of opportunity he’d hoped to establish on his return to Perth and to get to be involved so early on was ideal.

He appreciated his good fortune and hoped that, rather than just observing the kidney exchanges, his surgical skills would be required due to the number of operations that were being scheduled. He breathed deeply as he thought of how it would feel to be offered the opportunity to conduct one of the surgeries himself. If it happened, it would most likely be one of the retrievals but he didn’t mind. He just wanted to be involved. Just wanted a chance to showcase his ability. It was one of the few things he knew he excelled at. And a retrieval was still a surgical procedure. It was a little more routine than a transplant but the margins for error were small and it was still an important process.

Doing a retrieval meant he would be removing a healthy kidney from a healthy person, which really contradicted the medical charter of ‘Do no harm’ but, in this case, he believed in the cause, in the greater good such a procedure would mean. He believed in this case that the benefits outweighed the disadvantages. The improved quality of life the selfless donor was offering to an unknown recipient was an amazing gift, although he still found it incredible that people were willing to sacrifice one of their organs, to offer it to a stranger, in return for one of their own loved ones receiving the same gift.

He couldn’t imagine loving someone that much.

He refocused, tuning back in to Elliot’s speech just in time to hear his introduction.

‘I would like to introduce you all to Dr Janet Hosking and Dr Marcus Washington from the Queen Victoria Hospital in Western Australia, who are joining the Kirribilli General renal unit for the next three months.’

He stepped forward as his name was announced and his gaze landed on a petite redhead who was standing to Elliot’s left but had previously been hidden from view behind someone else’s shoulder. She was staring at him with her mouth open. Her heart-shaped face was pale, her skin smooth and creamy but her lips were painted a bright red, almost the same colour as her fiery copper hair. He’d only seen hair that colour once before in his life.

That couldn’t be right. There had to be millions of people with that colour hair in the world.

Maybe he was mistaken. It had been twenty years ago after all. His memory had to be misleading him. Surely this couldn’t be the same girl? What were the chances of that?

But the coil of fear in his gut told him that the chances were high. It was just his luck.


CHAPTER TWO (#u387d46e3-5bb5-5a9b-8b97-b9330bf8ac01)

THE GORGEOUS MAN with amazing bone structure stepped forward and Grace’s heart skipped a beat and her mouth dropped open.

Marcus Washington.

She could not believe it.

It had to be him. Even though he no longer resembled the twelve-year-old boy she’d once known, it had to be him. There couldn’t be two of him.

He was a doctor? A nephrologist?

She hadn’t thought about him for years but if she had she never would have imagined he would become a doctor. She knew that sounded harsh and judgemental but what she remembered of Marcus did not fit with her image of someone who had clearly ended up in a position of responsibility and service to others.

But what did she really know about him? She had only been seven years old. What had she known about anything?

Her father was a doctor and, at the age of seven, everything she’d known or thought had been influenced by what and who she’d seen around her. Particularly by her own family. And Marcus’s family had been about as different from hers as a seven-year-old could have imagined. But she knew enough now to understand that it wasn’t about where you came from or what opportunities you were handed in life, but about what you did with those opportunities, those chances. It was about the choices you made. The drive and the desire to be the best that you could be.

She would never have pictured Marcus as a doctor but now here he was, standing in front of her looking polished, professional and perfect. It had to be him.

Grace knew a lot could change in twenty years and by the look of him, a lot had.

She was still staring at him, trying to make sense of what was happening, when he looked in her direction and caught her eye. Grace blushed and, cursing her fair skin, the bane of a redhead, she looked away as his gaze continued on over her. She finally remembered to close her mouth and hoped her reaction hadn’t been captured on camera.

Had he recognised her?

It didn’t appear so but, then, why would he? She was nothing like the seven-year-old he had last seen.

She must have missed an earlier HR announcement about him coming to her hospital. She would have remembered if she’d seen his name. What had Elliot said? He would be here for three months? Attached to her department?

She swivelled her eyes and observed him through the curtain of her hair as he shook Elliot’s hand. She took a second look. And a third. She had changed in the intervening years but so had he. There was nothing left of the skinny adolescent in him. Nothing at all.

Not that she was complaining. He looked just fine.

His dark hair was close cropped now, his wild curls a distant memory. And where had those broad shoulders and powerful legs come from? Her last memory of him had been as a tall and thin pre-teen with skinny brown legs in shorts that had always looked as if he’d outgrown them. That boy was gone now. Replaced by a taller, more muscular, more confident and far better dressed adult version.

She didn’t need to see him naked to imagine the toned, muscular body that was under the suit.She had always thought he was exotic in a slightly out-of-place way, but he appeared to have grown into his skin. She’d never known his mother but she’d heard she was Caribbean or something if she remembered correctly, and the mixture of her genes with Marcus’s Caucasian father had combined to give Marcus the best of both worlds. And that had never been more obvious than today.

But the one thing that hadn’t changed was that the adult Marcus was not paying her any attention. Just like the adolescent one. He had kept to himself as a child. It had seemed he’d never paid anyone any attention. Maybe he’d been trying not to draw attention to himself. He had been different from the other kids at school, different in looks and different in his background, and Grace knew that had made him a target for some of the other children. It didn’t pay to be different when you were a kid. It didn’t pay to stand out from the crowd.

But looking at him now it appeared that things had improved for him in the intervening twenty years. He still stood out from the crowd but now there was a sense of strength and confidence about him. All traces of the shy, quiet, reclusive child had been wiped out.

Grace was curious to know where he’d been, what had happened to him, but her questions would have to wait. It was almost her turn to speak and she needed to get her head back in the present. She was still new in this job and it was important to make a good impression. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by the past. No matter how good it looked.

She picked Lola out in the crowd. That was a mistake too. Lola had obviously seen Grace’s reaction to Marcus and was grinning wildly. At least she didn’t know the full story. Grace glared at her and looked for someone else in the crowd to focus on as she tried to ignore Marcus, who had stepped back with the other nephrologists. He was no longer front and centre, but that didn’t stop Grace from being totally aware of him. She imagined she could feel his presence even though she kept her eyes averted from him.

She took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone as Elliot introduced her.

‘As you know,’ she addressed the crowd, ‘we have four surgeries scheduled here tomorrow, which would not be possible without the generous gift of organs from family and friends of those in need.’

Her job today was to raise awareness about organ donation and, somehow, she managed to get through her spiel and ignore Marcus, even though she could feel his eyes on her. Most of the eyes in the crowd were on her but she could feel Marcus’s piercing gaze more than most. There was an intensity about it and she knew she couldn’t afford to look his way. She’d definitely lose her train of thought.

‘The majority of Australians are willing donors,’ she continued, ‘so the problem we have is not a lack of interest but a lack of knowledge coupled with a lack of suitable organs. We need suitable organs and then we need permission to use those organs. If your family don’t know your wishes or don’t support your decision, we cannot use your organs. But, in some cases, living organ donations are a possibility and that is the case for the surgeries we have scheduled for tomorrow.

‘All these surgeries are part of the paired kidney exchange, where living donors are giving up a kidney to a stranger in exchange for a better matched kidney for a loved one in need. There are twelve surgeries scheduled across the country, which makes it the largest paired exchange exercise ever conducted in Australia.

‘Transplants using organs donated by the living have a higher success rate and you can imagine the freedom that this will afford someone—no more dialysis and fewer hospital visits. So thank you to those wonderful donors who are giving not just a kidney but the gift of a better life.

‘If you are interested in finding out more there is further information on the organ donation website, but please also remember to talk about this issue to your families and let them know your wishes in this very important matter.’

Grace stepped gratefully back into her place after her speech and planned to bolt as soon as the media questions ended but Elliot called her name as she turned to flee. She stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath. She knew what he wanted. He wanted to introduce her to the two new doctors. Only they weren’t both new to her.

She wondered if Marcus would remember her.

She pasted a smile on her face and turned around. Sure enough, Elliot was standing between Janet and Marcus. Grace tried to take control and introduced herself to Janet first, shaking her hand before looking up at Marcus.

He towered over her. Grace was tiny, only five feet two inches tall. Away from the hospital she liked to wear heels but they were impractical with all the running around she did and now, in her flat, sensible shoes, Marcus was easily a foot taller than her.

He stared down at her with a look that was far from friendly. She could only assume he remembered her. And not fondly.

She didn’t think she’d ever given him a reason to dislike her yet his jaw was clenched and tense and his lips were firmly closed. No welcoming smile there!

She remembered other kids teasing him. But she never had, she’d been too young, and she doubted that her brothers would have either, they hadn’t been raised that way, but Marcus certainly didn’t look pleased to see her. He looked as if he was daring her to say something about his past and she wondered what he thought she might say after all this time.

She couldn’t actually remember him leaving town. One minute he had been there, living in Toowoomba, going to school with her brother. The next minute he’d gone. Vanished. Just like his mother before him.

But now here he was. Fighting fit, successful and gorgeous.

So what was the story? She was desperate to know.

She put out her hand, waiting to see if he would say anything, wanting to know if he would divulge their shared past.

‘Grace... Gibson, is it?’

You know damn well it is, she wanted to say, but the look in his eye stopped her short and made her hold her tongue. Which surprised her. Holding her tongue had never been her forte.

Her hand hovered in mid-air until Marcus’s fingers curled around her palm. Perhaps he was just trying to make amends for his lack of manners but his touch flummoxed her. His tone was cool but his hand was warm. Warm enough to send fire through her fingertips. Her whole arm tingled and set her heart racing. Her breath caught in her throat and she barely remembered to nod her head in acknowledgement of his words.

What was he doing to her? How was he doing it? She was breathless, frozen to the spot, yet her body felt as if it was overheating. The colours around her intensified, making her feel dizzy, and sounds receded. She felt overloaded, as if her body couldn’t cope with too many sensations at once. Marcus’s touch was enough to cope with. More than enough.

What was wrong with her? She wondered if she was having a panic attack or if her system was shutting down. What had he done to her? She never lost her nerve.

She could feel another embarrassing rush of blood beginning to flood her body, only this time it wasn’t in her face. This time it was starting somewhere south of that but she knew her face would soon be bright red also. She pulled her hand away, severing the contact.

Her hand was trembling. She was trembling.

She stuck her hand in her pocket to disguise her tremor and looked at her feet, unable to maintain eye contact.

If Marcus had been daring her to say something, he’d won the dare. She was completely tongue-tied.

Elliot was still talking, apparently oblivious to the feelings that were raging through Grace and completely unaware of the electric undercurrents flowing between her and his new colleague.

Perhaps it was all in her head, she thought, but she didn’t really believe that.

‘You’ve read the patient histories?’ Elliot asked, and Janet and Marcus nodded. ‘Janet, I thought you could perform the kidney removal on Rosa. I will assist and, Marcus, you are more experienced, you can observe that surgery and then you will perform the transplant later.’

Grace had decided not to be such a coward and had lifted her eyes again now that the attention was off her and she saw Marcus’s small double take. He looked surprised by Elliot’s words—had he not been expecting that?

Elliot continued speaking. ‘Grace will have any other information you might need pre-op. If there’s anything more you need, you can liaise with her. I will do the other transplant, with Janet assisting, and Andrew Murray will take care of the second organ retrieval. Your patients were admitted first thing this morning—’

‘Already?’ Marcus interrupted.

Grace knew it was unusual. Normally patients were admitted as late as possible, sometimes only on the day of surgery, mostly as a cost-saving exercise, but she’d advocated strongly that admission be brought forward.

Elliot nodded. ‘Grace thought it would be prudent to get them admitted early to avoid the media circus that we’re anticipating, and I agreed. We don’t want to increase their stress levels by having reporters jostling for a comment as they arrive, and this also means we don’t have to worry about traffic delays and other things that might be out of our control tomorrow.’

Marcus looked at Grace. She thought he might be about to say something and she wondered if it would have been complimentary but his expression remained guarded. Janet had no reservations. ‘Great, I’ll go and introduce myself to Rosa.’

Elliot moved away and Janet and Marcus followed him without a backward glance. Grace stood and watched them go. Had he forgotten about her already?

She watched as his long strides quickly put distance between them. Her legs were incapable of moving. Her knees were still shaky and she felt light-headed. She stood still and took a couple of deep breaths, getting the air back into her lungs, remembering to breathe as she sorted through her mental list of tasks ahead of her.

She had plenty to do before tomorrow. Final physical checks of their patients had to be co-ordinated, she had to confirm the courier arrangements and continue discussions with the other renal co-ordinators in Brisbane, Melbourne and North Sydney hospitals. She had a lot of balls in the air and she couldn’t afford to drop any. She couldn’t afford to worry about Marcus Washington and about what he was thinking or where he’d been for the last twenty years. There were far too many more important things waiting to occupy her time.

But that didn’t stop her from immediately racing back to her office and checking her emails. There must have been one announcing the three-month appointment of Janet and Marcus. She couldn’t believe she’d missed it. She typed Marcus’s name into the search function and hit enter. An email from a month ago popped up. The heading gave no clue as to who the doctors were, and she was certain that if it had included his name that would have caught her eye. It was also in amongst dozens of emails relating to the paired kidney exchange, which would explain why she’d skimmed over it without even opening it.

She opened it now. She was eager to see what information it gave her.

She ignored Janet’s CV and clicked on the file pertaining to Marcus. He had graduated from university in Western Australia. Had he moved there from Toowoomba? Why? Who had he gone to? Had his mother moved there? Was she alive? But if she was, why hadn’t she taken him years before? Grace had more questions than answers.

She continued reading. He had spent some time in the US during his speciality years, returning to work in Perth. And now he was here. His career history was brief and, of course, there was no personal information included. Nothing to tell her if he was married, engaged, straight, gay—although she was pretty sure he was straight—or if he had a wife and kids back home in Perth.

She closed her email down. She didn’t have time to do a wider search on him. She had all the final pieces of the transplant puzzle to put in place. She had dozens of phone calls to make, she needed to check in with the other hospitals to make sure that all their patients were still well enough to undergo surgery and that no one had changed their minds. One hiccup could ruin the whole exercise.

She was glad she’d made arrangements for her patients to be admitted early. As Elliot had outlined, her reasons were valid. There were enough other logistical arrangements to be made once the kidneys had been harvested, without adding to the complications with things going haywire prior to the surgeries. It would only take one problem to snowball and potentially disrupt all the surgeries, and she wanted everything to run smoothly.

By the time she ended her final call to one of the Melbourne hospitals it was dusk outside. She should have clocked off but there was still more to do. Her schedule didn’t stick to regular nursing shifts any more, not since she’d become the renal co-ordinator. Her shifts supposedly ran from nine to five but it was not often that she stuck to those hours. Transplant patients could receive news day or night and she was often called back into the hospital to speak to the families of donors and to the transplant recipients. Plus, she had no reason to race out the door at the end of the day. She had nothing to race home for. No significant other, no children, no pets. If it wasn’t for work, her life would be a bit empty.

She switched off her office lights but, still in no hurry to leave, she thought she’d check one last time on the four patients waiting for surgery.

She got two patients with her first visit.

‘Gentlemen, how are you feeling?’

She greeted Rob and Paul, two brothers, one a donor, the other a recipient. Rob’s donated kidney was going to Brisbane in exchange for a kidney for his brother, as unfortunately their tissue types didn’t match. They were sitting together, chatting, when Grace entered Paul’s room. They seemed quite relaxed but Paul had been through this before so it was nothing new for him. His first kidney transplant, from a deceased donor, had lasted twenty-five years but was failing now. It was wonderful to think that the paired exchange programme could hopefully give him another shot at a successful transplant.

As Grace chatted to the two men she quickly revised her opinion of how they were feeling. Paul seemed far more relaxed than Rob.

‘Are you ready for tomorrow, Rob?’ she asked gently when Paul went to the bathroom, leaving the two of them alone for a moment.

‘I was told that the research shows that kidney disease most commonly affects both kidneys, is that right?’

‘That does seem to be the case. You’re worried about your remaining kidney?’ Rob’s nerves were not unusual in Grace’s experience. The donor was often more on edge than the recipient. Grace didn’t know if it was fear of the unknown or a lack of experience with hospitals or the fact that the donor wasn’t actually sick but was giving up a perfectly healthy organ. Rob was going from being a healthy, intact individual to one who would be minus an organ. Granted, he could do without it but that was assuming his remaining kidney continued to function normally. Hence his question. She knew he’d heard these answers before but her role as co-ordinator was often as much about counselling as co-ordinating.

‘We don’t anticipate problems, Rob,’ she reassured him when he nodded. ‘We wouldn’t let you do this if we thought it could create problems for you down the track.’

‘There’s no way I’m backing out,’ he emphasised firmly, ‘and my kidney only has to last long enough to see me out.’

‘Okay. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.’

Grace made her way to Rosa’s room across the hall next. Rosa’s kidney would be going to Paul, not that either of them were privy to that piece of information, in exchange for a kidney for Rosa’s son in Melbourne. Despite being across the corridor from each other, Paul and Rosa wouldn’t meet.

Rosa was sitting beside her bed, knitting, the television on low volume. She was a widow with just the one son living interstate and Grace knew she was used to spending quiet nights alone. She’d told Grace she was fine as long as her hands were busy and she liked to knit. She seemed calm and only had a couple of questions for Grace, both of which had to do with her son’s prognosis. Rosa wasn’t worried about herself at all.

‘We have excellent results with kidney transplants,’ Grace told her again, happy to answer her questions. ‘Especially with living organ donors. Most kidneys will last ten years and some as long as twenty-five.’ She wished she could tell Rosa that her kidney was going to Paul and that he was one of the people whose first transplanted kidney had lasted twenty-five years but she couldn’t divulge that information, even though she knew it would make Rosa feel better. She said goodnight before popping into Connie’s room, her last stop for the evening.

‘Hey, Connie.’

Connie was the recipient of the spare kidney and even though in testing it had proved to be a good match there was a little bit of the unknown associated with this one, given the unexpectedness of the windfall, and Grace knew Connie was nervous.

Connie had moved to Sydney from the country eighteen months ago to have regular dialysis. She suffered from autosomal dominant polycystic kidney disease and Grace knew she was finding things difficult. She was only able to work part time and her support group of friends and family were not close by.

Because of her illness and medical appointments her social life was limited and Grace knew that this transplant would make a huge difference to her quality of life. Grace’s sister-in-law had suffered from the same disease and had undergone a transplant five years ago, so Grace knew from personal experience how different Connie’s life could potentially be. Connie was only twenty-seven, the same age as Grace, and because of that and her circumstances Grace felt a deeper affinity for her than for some of her other patients.

‘Where is everyone?’ Grace asked as she looked around. Although they weren’t compatible donors, Connie’s family were providing support to her in other ways, and when Grace stepped into the room she was surprised to find that Connie didn’t have company. She knew her parents had come to the city to be with Connie for the surgery and the recovery.

‘Mum and Dad will be back later, they’ve just gone to get some dinner.’

‘How are you doing?’ she asked as she flicked through Connie’s chart, pleased to see everything looked stable and normal.

‘I’m not worried about the operation. Just worried about what will happen if it doesn’t work. I really want to be able to have kids. I need this to go well.’

Grace knew pregnancy was not out of the question for Connie if the transplant was successful but, as that was an unknown at this point, she couldn’t make any promises. Who knew what would happen? The only thing you could do in life was to hope for the best. All they could do in this situation was hope the kidney was a viable, healthy and suitable match for Connie. And no one could control any of that. It wasn’t her place to promise Connie things she might not be able to deliver.

‘Have you spoken to Dr Washington about this?’

‘OMG,’ Connie gushed, ‘thank you so much.’

Grace frowned. Connie’s train of thought had clearly gone off at a complete tangent to the discussion Grace had thought they were having. ‘What for?’

‘Dr Washington. He is hot.’

Grace wasn’t surprised that Connie had noticed Marcus, as he was difficult to miss, but she did not want to have this conversation. It felt inappropriate, even though she knew it was just chatter. She didn’t want to talk about Marcus but she wasn’t sure why. ‘Seriously? You’re about to have major surgery and you’re thinking about your surgeon?’

Connie grinned. ‘Thinking about him is proving to be a good distraction.’

‘I guess I can see your point.’ Grace could understand the fascination but she didn’t have time to discuss Marcus’s myriad attributes. She didn’t know if she could be completely complimentary. ‘But I really can’t discuss him.’

‘I just wish I didn’t have to be asleep when he operates on me,’ Connie sighed. ‘He is totally gorgeous. Do you know if he’s single?’

Grace had no idea. ‘You know it’s against the rules for doctors to get romantically involved with their patients, right?’

‘I won’t always be his patient.’

‘He’s only in Sydney for a few weeks. He’s from Perth and once you get through tomorrow you will need to focus on your recovery, not chase after your surgeon.’

‘But it would give me something to look forward to.’

This conversation was making Grace feel uncomfortable. She needed to end it. She turned her attention to a box of medical supplies that didn’t need tidying but which gave her something to focus on. ‘You shouldn’t be getting excited, you need to keep your blood pressure stable,’ she commented as she shuffled and sorted the small packets of wipes and dressings.

‘What’s this about your BP? It’s not raised, is it?’

Grace had her back to the door and the sound of Marcus’s voice made her jump. She didn’t need to see him; his voice was already instantly recognisable. Deep, quiet and purposeful, it was a voice that commanded attention. When he spoke you wanted to listen. At least, she did. Grace turned and caught the tell-tale sign of a blush sweeping over Connie’s cheeks as she greeted her surgeon.

‘Nothing. It’s all good,’ Grace replied hastily.

Marcus swivelled his gaze to her but said nothing. He picked up Connie’s chart and flicked through her records.

Grace bristled. Didn’t he believe her? Not that she’d checked Connie’s blood pressure herself but she had checked the chart. ‘I am a registered nurse as well as the transplant co-ordinator,’ she told him, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of her qualifications. She’d only been the transplant co-ordinator for a few months but she was medically qualified and was gaining valuable experience all the time.

His gaze was cool and assessing when he looked at her again, his brown eyes imperturbable. He nodded once, but made no comment.

What was wrong with him? Did he have no warmth? Grace wondered, but then she recalled how her skin had burned when he’d held her hand. There was warmth in his touch but it was a pity it didn’t appear to extend to his character.

He put Connie’s chart away and perched on the edge of her bed and Grace watched as Connie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

‘Any last questions for me before I see you in the morning?’ He smiled at his patient and Grace felt an unexpected stab of jealousy. His smile was incredible, transforming his features from striking and exotic to jaw-droppingly handsome, and she wished desperately that he would smile at her like that.

‘Grace and I were just talking about what comes after the transplant. I really want to have children.’

Grace watched as Connie toyed with the ends of her hair and looked up at Marcus through her lashes. Was she flirting with him?

‘If everything goes according to plan, pregnancy shouldn’t be an issue after a transplant but it is recommended, and I certainly encourage my patients to follow this advice, to wait one year to ensure the transplant is functioning as we’d like and that your medications are stable.’

‘That’s okay. That will give me time to find a boyfriend.’

Yep, she was definitely flirting. She was all fluttering eyelashes and rosy cheeks. She certainly didn’t look like a person who was critically ill and about to undergo major surgery. Not that Grace could blame her. Marcus was gorgeous, but if he noticed Connie’s attempts to entice him, he didn’t take the bait.

‘You will need close monitoring during a pregnancy,’ he replied, leaving Connie’s comment well alone, ‘but you would be closely monitored anyway and we can discuss any other issues post-surgery.’

‘Great. If that’s all, we’ll leave you to get some rest now,’ Grace said, keen to usher Marcus out of the room before Connie could actually proposition him.

As Marcus stood and started to leave, Grace shot Connie a warning glance behind his back, but Connie just grinned and then laughed it off, making Grace smile back. At least she was in good spirits.

Grace followed Marcus out of the room. His strides were long and Grace found her gaze drawn to his hips. He’d removed his suit jacket, leaving the shape of his buttocks under his pants clearly defined as his legs ate up the length of the corridor. Grace forced herself to keep her eyes lifted. She didn’t want to be caught ogling him or running into something because her attention was elsewhere.

She got the feeling he was trying to put as much distance between them as possible. But she had no idea why. Her curiosity got the better of her and she hurried after him. She wanted to know what his issue was. Why he was so abrupt with her. She didn’t think she’d done anything to put him off, yet his aloofness was definitely directed at her. She had to admit he was an empathetic doctor with a good bedside manner and maybe she’d just have to be satisfied with that. But she still wanted some answers.

‘Dr Washington!’

He stopped and turned towards her.

‘Have I done something to upset you?’ she asked as she caught up to him.

‘No.’

Grace waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t say another word. Man, he could totally be the poster boy for the strong, silent type.

Oh, well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she thought as she asked, ‘Do you remember me?’

Marcus looked down at the petite redhead standing in front of him. She had her hands on her hips and looked as if she’d like to tear him to shreds. ‘What do you mean? Of course I do,’ he replied, attempting to use his most reasonable tone in an attempt to calm her down. ‘We were just in Connie’s room and I only met you a few hours ago.’

‘I meant from before.’

He watched her with his steady gaze but said nothing. He wasn’t going to admit to anything. Not until he knew what she wanted. She reminded him of a firecracker about to explode.

‘You grew up in Toowoomba,’ she said. It was apparent she wasn’t going to be intimidated and she certainly wasn’t asking him a question. She looked small and easy to handle but, just like a firecracker, he got the impression that once something set her off, you’d know all about it and there’d be nowhere to hide. ‘I lived around the corner from you. You were at school with my brothers, Lachlan and Hamish Gibson.’

It was obvious she knew who he was. He’d suspected as much. He had recognised her too. Well, not her face as such, but her hair matched with her name was a dead giveaway. Her striking copper locks were so distinctive. He hadn’t wanted to think she was the same person even though it was blatantly clear she was, just as it was clear she remembered him.

He cursed his luck. ‘Was I?’

He knew he was being bullish but he couldn’t help it. He’d spent twenty years trying to get away from his past. Twenty years spent reinventing himself and wiping away all traces of his childhood. He hadn’t been back to Toowoomba in all that time and he’d even debated the wisdom of returning to the east coast for this three-month stint but the opportunity of this experience at the Kirribilli General Hospital had been too good to refuse. Guilt and opportunity had brought him back. And now it seemed it was about to make him pay.

He hadn’t expected to run into anyone from his past and he certainly wouldn’t have expected to be remembered. He didn’t want to remember who he had been and the life he’d lived then. He didn’t want to think about it and he definitely didn’t want to talk about it. So he stayed silent, refusing to incriminate himself by admitting any recollection. He couldn’t admit to Grace that he had lied. That he had recognised her.

‘I guess I look a bit different,’ Grace admitted when he stayed mute. ‘I must only have been about seven the last time I would have seen you.’

Was there a question in there? Was she wondering why he’d never come back? Had she even noticed?

He wasn’t going to respond to vague insinuations but she was right. She looked nothing like he remembered. He remembered her brothers and he remembered their little sister with skinned knees and missing teeth. The only thing that remained of the seven-year-old she’d once been was her hair. Her fiery copper locks hung in loose waves over her shoulders, its rich colour bright and vibrant against the contrast of her navy uniform. He’d hadn’t seen a colour like it since leaving Toowoomba.

But everything else about her was different. She no longer looked like anyone’s kid sister. She had filled out in all the right places. She was tiny, a good foot shorter than his six feet two inches, but her proportions were perfect. Her shirt was tucked into navy trousers, pants which would have been unflattering on most figures, yet his eye was drawn to her small waist, the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. He felt an unexpected surge of lust. Bloody hell, that was inappropriate. He lifted his head and met her amber eyes. They blazed at him. She appeared to have the fiery temper to match her hair but what was getting her so riled up? Had she noticed his inappropriate once-over? He needed to douse the flames of her temper and make sure he didn’t set her off completely. Something told him there would be no stopping her if he did that.

Or maybe he should take up the challenge he could see in her eyes. She gave off an air of not being one to back down. Of having the courage of her convictions. That didn’t appear to have changed. He remembered more about her than he cared to admit. She’d been loud and boisterous, full of energy; he’d always known when she was around and he suspected that hadn’t changed in twenty years. He wondered what had.

The idea of putting a flame to her wick just to see what would happen was strangely exciting but he resisted the temptation. He didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to the two of them. He didn’t want anyone asking awkward questions. Going under the radar was always best. He’d learnt that from experience.

But what did she want? What was she after? What did she remember of him? What secrets could she spill?

He hoped not many.

As a child he’d been quiet, shy and nervous. The complete antithesis to Grace. He’d been nervous around the kids at school and nervous around his father. His life had been unpredictable and devoid of routine but it hadn’t been until he’d been at boarding school as a teenager that he’d realised that not everyone’s lives were like that. He’d never experienced anything different. Most of the time he’d just tried to get from morning to evening without being noticed. It had seemed his presence had irritated people—his classmates and his father—and he had never been sure about what was going to happen, how people were going to react to him, although more often than not it had been unfavourably. He’d learnt to keep his head down, to try to be inconspicuous, but that had never been easy when he’d looked so different.

Thanks to his Caribbean mother he wasn’t white but he wasn’t indigenous either. He was part black but not the black that was common in Toowoomba. There wasn’t another person in the town who had the same genetic mix as him and, if that wasn’t enough to make him stand out, his family history and his unorthodox father had certainly made sure that everyone had singled him out.

His mother had disappeared when he’d been six, leaving him behind with a father who had chosen to develop a relationship with alcohol instead of with his son. His young life had been full of disappointments and he’d learnt early on not to ask for or expect much, and that the only person he could count on not to let him down was himself.

He’d been determined to escape a miserable childhood and to avoid all memories of his past. He’d worked hard over many years to forget who he was and where he came from. He didn’t want to be remembered as that boy. That wasn’t him any more.

And he didn’t want anyone to remind him of it either.

Which made Grace the last person he wanted to see.


CHAPTER THREE (#u387d46e3-5bb5-5a9b-8b97-b9330bf8ac01)

‘I DON’T REMEMBER you from then,’ he told her as he shook his head, but Grace knew he was lying.

She just didn’t know why. Did he think he was above her now that he was a surgeon or was it for a more personal reason? He’d been perfectly pleasant to Connie. Not warm exactly but he was her surgeon and he certainly hadn’t brushed her aside like he’d tried to do with her.

His dark brown eyes challenged her to say something more and for a moment she was tempted to but something stopped her. She couldn’t have said what it was, and it was most unlike her to back down from an argument, but she had a sudden sense that she would regret the words that were itching to come out of her mouth so she bit down on her lip and kept quiet.

And Marcus turned and walked away.

Clearly the conversation was over and this time she didn’t follow him. For some reason he seemed to have an issue with her. She didn’t want it to be personal but, whatever it was, she wouldn’t let it lie. But it would wait for another day. She returned to her office and collected her bag before heading to Billi’s Bar.

As usual the bar was crowded with hospital staff. It was just across the road from the hospital and the staff kept it well patronised. She waved to Gary, who was serving customers, but made her way through the crowd, searching for Lola. She hadn’t intended on calling into the bar tonight but she needed to vent her frustration. She wasn’t sure why she was frustrated and that only made matters worse. Why did she care that Marcus was lying to her? Why did she care that he said he didn’t remember her?

She found Lola towards the back of the room. She smiled in greeting but was looking over Grace’s shoulder.

‘Who are you looking for?’ Grace asked.

‘I thought you might bring the hot doc with you.’

Grace didn’t need to ask who Lola was referring to but it had taken less time than she’d expected for the conversation to turn to Marcus. Was he all people could talk about? First Connie and now Lola.

‘I’m the last person he would want to have a drink with.’

‘Why? You haven’t upset him already, have you?’

Lola’s comment was not without merit. Grace knew she’d upset people before with her quick temper and tongue, but in Marcus’s case she couldn’t think of what she could have possibly done to make him behave so distantly towards her. She sighed and dumped her bag on the table then retrieved her phone. She needed to keep it handy as with so many surgeries scheduled for tomorrow she couldn’t afford to miss a call. ‘No,’ she replied, ‘but I don’t think he likes me.’

Lola frowned. ‘How can he not like you? He doesn’t even know you.’

‘So he says.’

‘What does that mean?’

She pulled out a stool and sat down. She needed to debrief. ‘He grew up in Toowoomba. He went to school with Lachlan and Hamish but he says he doesn’t remember me.’

Lola laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’ Grace’s nerves were already frayed and having Lola laugh at her only irritated her more.

‘You’re upset because he doesn’t remember you.’

‘No, I’m upset because he’s lying to me. He lived just around the corner from us. I used to walk past his house every day.’

‘Was he there?’

Grace actually had no idea. She remembered walking past his house because it had always spooked her. The memory from years ago was still vivid in her mind but Lola was right. She couldn’t actually remember if Marcus had been in there. She shrugged and admitted, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Was he friends with your brothers?’

‘Not really.’ From what she could remember, he hadn’t really been friends with anyone. She couldn’t remember seeing him with friends. She thought he had played rugby but she could be imagining that.

‘So maybe he really doesn’t remember you. When did you see him last?’

‘He left when I was about seven, so he would have been twelve. I haven’t seen him since.’

‘That’s years ago! You can’t blame him if he’s forgotten you.’

But Grace didn’t think she was wrong. She was certain he remembered her. There was something she couldn’t put her finger on but she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth.

‘Where did he go when he left Toowoomba?’ Lola asked.

‘I have no idea. He just disappeared.’

‘The whole family?’

Grace shook her head. ‘No, just him. His father was still there.’ Grace realised she hadn’t thought about Mr Washington for years and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him either. Was he in a nursing home? Dead? She wouldn’t have been surprised. Marcus’s old house had been bulldozed after Grace had moved to Sydney and a new one was now in its place. With another family in it. But she had no idea what had happened to Marcus’s father.

‘So he left with his mother?’

‘No. I never knew his mother. She disappeared years before.’

Lola leant forward, resting her elbows on the table. ‘So his mother left suddenly, and then him? That sounds intriguing.’

‘I really don’t know much about it.’

There had been plenty of rumours about the family. Grace had grown up hearing them and then when Marcus had disappeared as well, the rumours had only intensified. The most popular theory amongst the kids at school had been that Marcus’s father was responsible for the disappearances. They’d said he’d killed his wife and then he’d killed Marcus. As a seven-year-old that had frightened Grace immensely, and because of those stories it was unlikely she’d ever forget about Marcus Washington. The story of his disappearance had become an urban myth. The kids had been fascinated by it and Grace’s imagination had led her to not only believe the stories but to embellish all sorts of gory details.

Her parents had told her and her brothers that Marcus had gone to live with his aunt but at the age of seven she’d put that story in the same category as the one about the fate of their pet roosters. Her parents had told her that the roosters were sent away to live on a farm because they were happier there, but her brothers had gleefully informed her that they really ended up in someone’s pot with their heads chopped off. Grace feared Marcus had met the same fate and that her parents were lying to protect her because, surely, if he had gone to live with his aunt he would still come back to visit his father. And he never did. In Grace’s seven-year-old brain this meant the rumours must be true. Marcus was dead.

It wasn’t hard for her to believe the rumours and to imagine that Mr Washington had somehow played a hand in the disappearance of his family. When they were never seen again that story made sense. And, in Grace’s young opinion, Marcus’s father was a strange man. Walking past Marcus’s house had always spooked her and after his disappearance things had only got worse. The house had been untidy and unloved. Paint had been peeling off the woodwork, the iron roof rusty and the front garden overgrown with weeds. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Mr Washington had often sat or slept on an old sofa on the front veranda you would have thought the house had been abandoned. He’d always looked dishevelled and, if she saw him on his feet, unsteady.

She’d had to walk past the house on her way to and from school and after Marcus’s disappearance she had always crossed to the opposite side of the road just in case Mr Washington was out the front. Lachlan, who was then twelve, had told her not to be ridiculous. He’d insisted that if Marcus’s dad had killed him he’d be locked up, not wandering the streets, but Grace had remained wary for many years until she’d been old enough to understand Lachlan’s logic and recognise the rumours for what they were.

Later she’d understood that Marcus’s father had been an alcoholic but at the age of seven she hadn’t got any of that. When she’d learned the truth she’d then wondered what had made him drink. Had it been losing his wife and son that had done that to him?

But Grace didn’t share her thoughts with Lola. Normally she wouldn’t hesitate to gossip with her but something about this felt wrong. Obviously Marcus hadn’t been murdered and all her thoughts were based on rumour and supposition. She was sorry she’d brought up the topic now. She recalled the look in Marcus’s eyes. The look that she’d thought had been daring her to say something. Maybe it hadn’t been a challenge but fear? Was he afraid of what she might say about him?

What could she possibly say? What did he think she knew?

Did it matter? Even imagining she had tales to tell could be enough. She knew what that was like. After her boyfriend had taken his own life Grace had felt the eyes of a small town on her. Mostly the town had been supportive of her and her grief after Johnny’s death but she’d still felt horribly exposed. That had been one reason why she’d wanted to leave Toowoomba. Too many people knew too much about her. She knew what it felt like when others made assumptions about you. How it felt when things you’d rather keep to yourself were discussed in public.

Was that what Marcus was worried about? That she would reveal his secrets?

But what did she know about him? What could she know about him when she hadn’t seen or heard anything about him for twenty years?

Nothing.

The truth of the matter was it wasn’t her story to tell and she was sorry she and Lola had even been discussing him. She knew he wouldn’t like it and for some reason that bothered her. She picked up her bag and tucked her phone inside it. ‘I should go,’ she said. ‘I have a big day tomorrow.’

* * *

Grace was at the hospital bright and early the following morning. She had checked on her patients and found them in varying degrees of anxiety but otherwise okay. She’d contacted the renal transplant co-ordinators at the other hospitals, double-checking and making sure there were no last-minute problems, and now she was heading for the conference room to prepare her notes in anticipation of the doctors’ meeting that was scheduled for half past seven to have a final run-through of the day’s proceedings.

She scrolled through the messages on her phone, making sure again that she hadn’t missed anything important as she waited for everyone to arrive. Elliot was first, followed by Janet and then Marcus. She wasn’t watching the door but she knew the minute Marcus entered the room. She looked up to find him watching her. Was that what she could sense? The feeling of being watched? No, it was more than that. Her body recognised him. Her body responded to his proximity. But she suspected she was being fanciful. It was nothing more than an awareness of an extremely good-looking man. Who had absolutely no time for her.

He didn’t hold her gaze. Didn’t acknowledge her in any way. He didn’t smile. Or nod. He gave her nothing and she was disappointed. He greeted his colleagues as he found himself a seat but he did not make eye contact with her again. Was that deliberate or not? She wanted him to like her but she got an uneasy sense that something about her irritated him and that bothered her. She wanted him to like her but right now she didn’t have time to think about why that might be. She lowered her eyes and looked over her notes. She refused to waste any more time wondering about Marcus. She was just as capable of ignoring him as he was of her.

She listened as Elliot ran everyone through the day’s schedule. He was following the notes she had written on the whiteboard as soon as she’d confirmed every patient’s status and he checked a couple of minor details with her. The surgeries were scheduled to commence at eight o’clock with concurrent harvesting of the kidneys. The donor patients were being prepped for surgery as he spoke and once Grace received confirmation that every patient was anaesthetised the surgeries would begin. The timing and, in a way, the success of the surgeries depended on her. She controlled the process and she needed to focus.

The actual transplant timeline varied and was dependent on when the donated kidneys arrived at their respective hospitals. There was still a lot to co-ordinate and it was going to be a long day for her. She would be on deck until the last patient went to Recovery. She was the link not only between the surgeons and the hospitals but also between the patients and their families. It was going to be hectic but while she would co-ordinate the surgeries the actual outcomes of them would be out of her hands. It was almost over. The final day was here and all that was left for her to do was to continue to liaise and to watch and to hope. And to wait. She crossed her fingers and hoped the day would be successful.

The medical staff split into their surgical teams at the conclusion of the meeting and Grace headed for the observation gallery that overlooked two of the theatres. She watched as the patients were wheeled in, Rosa in one theatre to her left, Rob in the other. She would be able to communicate with the operating teams via an intercom and she waited and watched as the anaesthetists began their job. The surgeons hovered, gloved and gowned.

She held her mobile phone in her hand, waiting for the sound of incoming text messages and constantly scanning the screen to check she hadn’t missed anything. She saw Rosa’s eyes close as the anaesthetic took hold and then, one by one, the messages started coming in. One, two, three and four. She waited for confirmation from the two theatres in front of her before sending her own reply.

‘All donors confirmed asleep.’

Until everyone was under anaesthetic there was always a chance that one or more donors could change their minds. But no one could back out now. The six harvesting surgeries could begin.

Grace waited again, holding her breath until she got confirmation that all surgeries had begun. She breathed out and sank into a seat behind the viewing glass. Technically she could watch both Rosa’s and Rob’s operations but she concentrated on Rosa’s. That was where Marcus was. She had vowed to ignore him but her eyes were repeatedly drawn to him regardless of her decision.





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