Louisa George - A Nurse To Heal His Heart

Her mother sighed. ‘I’m sure if you came home and talked to him he’d take you back.’

Rose stopped outside the doctor’s house. No car. Which meant they were still out. Good—she’d just leave the food here then head back home. Stupid idea in the first place; God knew why she’d suddenly decided to bring it. Or why they had to talk about her pathetic love life and ruin this lovely evening.

‘Toby dumped me, if you remember. Because I’m not the fun-loving girl I used to be, apparently. Because I decided to do something to give back.’

And mainly—although she hadn’t had the heart to tell her mum this—because he couldn’t cope with the fact that there was still a good chance Rose’s life would be cut short. He didn’t want to back a lame horse when he could marry a perfectly normal woman with all her own body parts and an uncomplicated life expectancy.

‘You could give back in lots of other ways, darling. A little charity work or something.’ She cleared her throat and Rose waited for the Don’t let your one chance slip through your fingers talk. ‘Don’t miss out on your chance with Toby Fletcher just because you’re stubborn. He said he didn’t mind that children were out of the picture.’

‘He didn’t want them in the first place, Mum.’ Rose had been the devastated one when they’d been told that.

‘That’s good then, isn’t it? And he’d look after you, financially at least.’

‘For God’s sake, Mum, he didn’t want me, okay? Besides, are you saying I should marry a man just because he’s rich? Do what he says? Fit in with who he wants me to be? Try to be someone who I’m not?’

‘Rose?’ A man’s voice behind her. Gruff.

‘Oh!’ Her poor heart damned near thumped out of her chest. ‘Joe! You’re home? I didn’t realise. Got to go, Mum. Bye.’ Flicking her phone into her pocket, she turned to meet steady and distinctly unamused blue eyes. ‘No car here…’

His mouth twitched. A little wary. ‘It’s in the garage.’

Of course it was. She looked over at the dark shadow of a building on the left-hand side of the house. There was the garage. A faint smell of petrol in the air. She looked down at the plastic container in her hand and shrugged. Now she just felt stupid, like a kid trying to be teacher’s pet or something. She’d just planned to leave the container and a note and then go back to her cottage, not have an actual conversation.

And now there were tingles again and she was pretty sure her heart should have stopped bumping after he’d made her jump, but it was still rattling away. ‘I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. How is Maxine?’

He shrugged. ‘As I expected. Tired and still very poorly, so we literally just popped our heads round the door for a brief chat and then came home. The doctors are doing more tests but she’s scheduled for a bypass once she’s stable. Katy’s just happy to have seen her.’

‘It’s a long journey; you must be tired.’ Clearly they were all very close.

He nodded. ‘Worth it, though. She said to say thank you and that she owes you a lot.’

‘Seriously, she doesn’t owe me anything. Anyone would have done the same.’

‘Ah, but you get the Maxine tick of approval. That’s usually hard-earned. But you’ll see, if she takes you under her wing you’ll have the whole village eating out of your hand.’

He stood aside and indicated for her to walk into his house. Exhaustion etched his eyes and she ached to press her hand to his face and get him to lean against her. To take some of his stress away. But why? She couldn’t understand what this weird feeling inside her was…unsettled, yet excited.

‘So, did you want something other than to talk outside my window about marrying rich men?’

‘I—er…’ He’d heard? Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. Marrying anyone was the last thing on her bucket list.

‘Don’t, by the way. Don’t ever try to be someone you’re not.’ A small smile that tugged at her gut. He was trying to be nice. ‘Just be you.’

‘God, I’m sorry you heard that.’ She was still working out who she was. For her, time was split into before she got sick and after the operation. With a blur of pain and panic and dread, and a zillion promises that if she survived she’d do some good in between. But somewhere along the line she’d lost herself, and it was only now she was finding out what she wanted out of life and who she truly was. Today, it appeared to be blithering idiot with a dash of good neighbour. She held out the still-warm container. ‘I’m just dropping off something for you to eat.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘Because you probably didn’t get the chance to cook anything before you dashed to Lancaster. Unless Mrs Thompson’s cooked for you…but I assumed she’d go with you to see her mum. So, just in case you were all starving, I thought I’d—’

‘There is no Mrs Thompson.’ He cut her off, jaw tightening as he looked at his feet. An awkward silence dropped, heavy and thick, around them.

Oh. What to say now? His abruptness was disconcerting. Was it just with her? It seemed to be. With everyone else he was soft and friendly.

And what the hell had happened to his wife?

‘What’s that?’ The girl from this morning skipped into view, eyes zeroing in on the plastic container. Hair in messy lopsided pigtails and with gaps in her teeth and a very sunny smile, she was adorable. ‘Is that for us? I’m starving. Daddy said we’re not allowed takeaway ’cos it’s unhealthy.’

And Rose could have kissed her for breaking the uncomfortable atmosphere. Joe looked over at his daughter and his whole demeanour transformed: his eyes softened, his hiked-up shoulders dropped. Love for her was stamped in every gaze, every movement.

Rose smiled at the girl. ‘Kale and chicken pasta bake.’

‘What’s kale?’

‘The devil’s work.’ Brighter now, or putting on a show for his daughter, Joe lifted the lid and sniffed. ‘But it smells delicious. It is very late so I was going to do beans on toast, but this is much better. Go get some plates out, Katy. And say thank you to Rose.’

‘Okay, Daddy. Thank you, Rose. You’re nice.’

The kid’s smile tugged at Rose’s heart and she had a sudden urge to run her hand over the top of those messy bunches. Weird. Not something she’d ever wanted to do to a child before. Maybe the fresh air was going to her head?

She followed Joe through to the large kitchen/dining room. ‘Cute kid.’

‘Yes. Too cute for her own good sometimes. Or maybe I’m just a pushover.’

That was the last thing Rose imagined him to be, judging by his general manner. He frowned and leaned a little closer. The air around her filled with a scent that was light and fresh and yet very masculine.

She had to stop herself leaning into it as he whispered, ‘Kale?’

‘It’s healthy if that’s what you mean.’

‘In which case you’ll want to join us?’

Did she?

She looked round at the comfortable farmhouse kitchen. There was warmth here in the scrubbed, well-used pine table, the overflowing toy box, a cushion-filled window seat that, she imagined, looked out over the village. There was a sense of calm, a familiar smoky smell of wood-burning stove and coffee. A sense of family and love. Scuffed skirting boards and the faint bruises of handprints on the walls…the perfect family house.

On an old wooden dresser leaning against one wall stood myriad framed photos of Joe and a small baby—she imagined to be Katy—and a woman who looked like a younger version of Maxine. The same laughing eyes. Same corkscrew curls that made up Katy’s lopsided bunches.

No Mrs Thompson. Rose’s heart began to thud. Because the photos were all from when Katy was little. Not of now. Not of the intervening years. Divorce?