Annie O'Neil - A Return, A Reunion, A Wedding

That was when the first sting of tears had hit.

She’d crushed them, of course.

But it had been tough.

The donor heart had come with strings attached. Strings that went all the way back to the worst day in Jayne’s life. The heart she had successfully transplanted into Stella had belonged to a young woman who’d been out for a bicycle ride on a country lane.

Just like Jules. Jayne’s twin.

Neither young woman had returned home. Neither had heard their sister calling frantically for the car to stop. Neither one had lived to fulfil their destinies. Because both of them had been declared brain-dead at the scene. So if Jayne’s smile wasn’t hitting her eyes she had a damn good reason why.

She heard a page on the intercom and made a dash for the door. ‘Pretty sure that’s Stella’s room.’

Sana started laughing and body-blocked her. ‘Easy there, tiger. That was for Dr Lewis. It’s his wife.’

‘How do you even know that?’ She’d not heard a single word of the page.

Sana’s face softened with one of those warm, all-knowing smiles of hers. ‘She always rings around now, to find out whether or not she should put his supper on.’

‘Ah.’

A twist of envy squeezed the air out of her chest. She could have had that too. Someone who loved her enough to make her supper...cared enough not to burn it...cared if she came home at all...

An image of Sam popped into her head and swiftly she swept it away. No point in swan-diving into ancient history. Even so, she’d bet he wouldn’t be fazed by Sana’s Look . He’d shoot her one of those crooked smiles of his. Give her a wink, a hug, and promise they’d sit and talk all she wanted over a cup of tea and a scone down by the river.

He was one of those men who made time for everyone and the expression on his face when she’d handed him back his ring...

Sana gave Jayne’s arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Go home. Take a bath. Do whatever you do to unwind. Then take some real time off. You’ve dedicated yourself to Stella for months. This is when you let the rest of the team look after her.’

Jayne bristled. ‘No way. Until her body accepts that heart I’m staying.’

The Look reared up, strong and powerful. ‘When’s the last time you took a holiday? And I’m not talking about the two days a year you take off to throw some Christmas presents at your parents, either.’

Ouch.

‘You cried. In surgery.’ Sana rolled her finger. ‘And the reason why was...?’

Jayne tried to turn away, but it was as if Sana’s eyes were pouring invisible cement into her trainers. Lemon juice into her seven-years-old wounds.

Was this what The Sana Look did? Brought things to the surface that you’d tried for years to hide?

Sana blinked. Deliberately.

The tiniest hint of perspiration broke out on Jayne’s forehead.

Suddenly Jayne was beginning to see the advantage of taking a break. A chance to regroup. Get her emotions back under control. She could go to a boot camp. Or a Mastering Your Inner Ninja week.

The flash of another option sent a complication of emotions pouring through her heart. Maybe she could just... go home ?

Sana had a point. Everyone’s life needed balance, and her life was one hundred per cent devotion to her job. She had no life outside the hospital. She’d tried clubbing, rock-climbing, wild city breaks in Europe’s party places, and yet, years later it turned out partying till she dropped, terrifying herself with adrenaline-laced activities and fixing someone else’s heart, was never, ever going to bring her sister back.

Which meant...maybe going home to heal some wounds might be a good thing.

Oh. My. Word. What was happening to her?

It was The Look . No doubt about it.

Sana put her hands on Jayne’s shoulders, forcing her to meet her eyes.

‘Jayne.’ Sana’s voice was kind—loving, even. ‘You need some time off. What about your parents? They’re out near Oxford somewhere, aren’t they? Surely they’d love a visit from their surgeon daughter?’

Jayne shook herself free of Sana’s hands. Her relationship with her parents had altered irrevocably the day Jules had died. She knew they loved her, but Jules had been one of those rare souls who’d taken people’s breath away for all the right reasons. Beautiful, vivacious, crazy, smart...

Risk-taker. Unsettled. Adrenaline junkie.

All the things Jayne wasn’t.

‘My parents tend to go away in the summer.’

It was Scotland this year. Was it the Outer Hebrides? Somewhere remote, she knew. The fewer cars the better. She had the address in her phone, but the remit was always the same. No cars. Her mother, who’d once shone with a bright passion for life, had been all but literally wrapped in cotton wool ever since the accident.

‘Friends, then?’ Sana persisted. ‘Surely you’ve got someone back in Whitticombe who’d love to see you?’

‘Not really,’ she lied.

Her bestie, Maggie, would put her up in a heartbeat.

As if Sana’s inquisition was wringing the truth out of her, she silently admitted there were two very simple reasons she hated going home.

One: she couldn’t think of Whitticombe without thinking of her sister’s death. A death that never would have happened if she hadn’t asked Jules to come home that day to celebrate her engagement. Which led to reason number two. The only thing more painful than helplessly watching the life slip away from her sister had been handing her engagement ring back to Sam.

Urgh!

Sana’s suggestion was impossible. Six whole weeks of avoiding The Romance That Might Have Been? The Marriage She’d Always Wanted? The Life She Could Have Had?

Impossible.

She’d missed that boat a long time ago—had practically thrown him the oars. Besides, if Maggie’s newsy emails were anything to go by there’d been a whole lot of water under Sam’s bridge over the last few years. A marriage. A divorce. His mother’s death.

And yet here she was, still stuck on That Day ...

If she shut her eyes she could see it all in fine detail. It had been sunny. Tourists had been beginning to flood into town to enjoy the iconic sandstone cottages and, of course, the beautiful stone-lined river that lazily wound its way through the heart of the village. It had been early June, as it was now. The usual riot of flowers had been in bloom.

She’d had a shiny new diamond solitaire on her finger.

Jayne had come home from med school to see Sam and he had proposed. Of course she’d said yes. He was the love of her life. Had been since the first perfect kiss they’d shared the day she’d turned sixteen.

Jules had dropped everything and raced home from London. The family’s golden girl. They’d all adored her. As usual, she hadn’t wanted to settle for anything simple like a toast to celebrate. Jayne had suggested they ride their old bicycles down the lane and on to the pub they’d visited when they were in pigtails. Only this time they’d order a glass of fizz instead of the squash they’d used to ask for.

Jules had been pulling out their bicycles as soon as the suggestion was out there.

Their father had thrown them a distracted wave from his easel—another landscape. Their mother had laughed from her sculpting table and, before waving them off, had done what she’d always done—kissed them each on the cheek, then told them to be safe.

Then she’d thrown in an extra warning to Jayne, as though they were still kids rather than grown women, ‘Keep an eye on your sister. You know what she’s like.’

Stop at the end of the lane. Check for traffic a hundred times. Proceed to pub. That was the procedure.