Anne Fraser - The Wife He Never Forgot

‘You don’t have to worry on that score. Nick might be a fine doctor, but his type has never appealed to me.’

Sue groaned. ‘Don’t say that! If he sees you’re not interested, that will only make him worse.’

‘I doubt I’m any more his type than he is mine, so you can rest easy.’

Sue eyed her speculatively. ‘I would say you’re just his type.’ She drained her coffee mug.

Something Sue had said was niggling at the back of Tiggy’s mind. ‘Hey, before you go, what do you mean about Nick being a hero?’

Sue hesitated before sitting back down. ‘Well, I guess I should tell you, although I’m surprised you haven’t heard the story already.’ Sue looked across at Nick. ‘It was last year. Nick was out on an op with the men. They were making sure that a deserted village wasn’t being used as a base for insurgents. It was a joint op with the Americans.

‘Anyway, they got to the place—they call it a sangar—where they were going to base themselves for the couple of weeks they expected the mission to last when fighting broke out. To cut a long story short, Nick left the safety of the sangar and, despite being fired on, ran to the aid of an injured man who had been dragged into one of the houses.’

‘Good God!’ Tiggy glanced across at Nick with new respect. So he wasn’t just a playboy? Of course she already knew he was a great doctor but this latest revelation was making her assess him all over again.

Sue half smiled. ‘That wasn’t the end of it, though. While he was treating the American, one of his fellow soldiers came looking for him and took shrapnel to his upper thigh—straight into his femoral artery.’

Tiggy knew what that meant. The soldier wouldn’t have stood a chance so far away from a proper medical facility.

‘Poor sod.’

Sue rolled her empty mug between her hands. ‘That’s just it. He made it. And all because of Nick. Incredibly, Nick managed, while under fire and with the enemy practically at the door, to clamp off the artery. Thankfully he’d called in the medevac ’copter and God knows how but they managed to land close enough to get Nick and the injured man on board. Nick kept him alive until they made it back to camp. You can imagine how slim the soldier’s chances of survival were—never mind keeping his leg—but Nick refused to give up. Somehow, he and the rest of the team were able to save the soldier’s life and also salvage his leg.

‘Since that day he’s become a bit of a hero around here—and, believe me, there are no shortage of heroes in a place like this—as well as a talisman. The men believe that as long as Nick is with them, or as long as he’s here on camp, they’ll be all right. Sometimes I think they’ve invested him with supernatural powers.’

Perhaps that went some way to explaining Nick’s arrogance, the air of total confidence surrounding him like an aura. She only hoped to hell there would be someone like him around if ever her brothers needed help.

‘I had no idea,’ Tiggy said softly.

‘It’s not something he goes around telling people.’ Sue glanced at her watch. ‘Time to get to bed.’ When she looked back at Tiggy, her eyes were bleak. ‘He might be a hero to the men but I think it’s also a burden. Nick isn’t a miracle-worker. He’s human. I sometimes wonder if he hasn’t started to believe his own legend.’

‘And what’s that?’ Tiggy asked, rising too.

‘Believing he’s indestructible. And that as long as he’s here, he can save everyone who has a chance.’

Tiggy’s eyes strayed back to Nick. He had finished showing off and had picked up a towel and was wiping the sweat from his chest. Some six-pack, Tiggy thought distractedly. At that moment he looked up, and catching her staring at him, winked.

Tiggy blushed.

‘Oh, dear,’ Sue said. She picked up her mug again. ‘Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. See you at six.’

CHAPTER THREE

Nine years later

TIGGY RAN DOWN the hospital corridor with her heart in her mouth. A woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair flattened herself against the wall to make room for her to pass while a doctor, talking into her mobile phone, looked at her with sympathy.

Had a corridor ever seemed so long? Would she make it in time? What if his condition had deteriorated while she’d been on her way? What if he died before she had a chance to see him? A sob caught in her throat.

She skidded to a halt in front of the triage desk. Damn, damn, damn, there was a queue. She spun around, wondering whether she should risk slipping into Resus uninvited, but just then a doctor spotted her and came over.

‘Mrs Casey?’ he asked. ‘I’m Dr Luke Blackman. It was me who called you.’ She had already guessed that as soon as he’d started to speak. She recognised his voice straight away.

Today had started like any other day. She’d been off duty when the phone had rung. At first the American accent on the other end of the line had thrown her. Then, when the male voice had identified himself as a doctor from the Royal London, her first panicked thought had been that something had happened to Alan, who was still flying Apaches in Afghanistan. But it was Nick he was calling about. Nick had been brought into the hospital with a head wound and was asking for her.

Without waiting to hear any more, she’d dropped the phone and bolted for her car.

She searched Dr Blackman’s face, trying to read his expression for clues, but his calm exterior gave nothing away. ‘Why don’t we go into the relatives’ room? It will give us some privacy.’

She felt sick. People were usually invited into the relatives’ room so they could be given bad news.

‘Just tell me.’ Her lips were so numb she could barely articulate the words. ‘Is he dead?’

‘Dead?’ Dr Blackman’s mouth relaxed into a smile. ‘No the lieutenant colonel is very much alive. He was drifting in and out of consciousness for a while but he’s going to be just fine.’

Relief buckled her knees. Still, she had to see Nick for herself.

‘Take me to him,’ she said.

‘I think we should talk first.’

Tiggy straightened to her full five feet five. Whatever Dr Blackman had to tell her could wait. ‘Please, Doctor, I need to see him. Now.’

The doctor clearly realised she was in no mood to be thwarted. ‘Very well. If you’ll follow me?’

Nick was lying on his bed, as still and as white as a corpse. His head was bandaged and there was a dark bruise on his left cheekbone only partly hidden by the stubble of his unshaven face.

But it was still Nick. Her husband. The man she hadn’t seen for six years.

* * *

Nick’s head was filled with images. Bombs were exploding, helicopter blades whirled incessantly, scattering dust everywhere. There was blood, so much blood, and soldiers and civilians running in panic. Then someone was sticking something into his arm.

Slowly the nightmare scenes began to fade and a strange sense of calm filled him as Tiggy’s face appeared before him; her blue eyes were wide, her red hair a sharp contrast to the paleness of her skin. The vision shifted and he was holding her, kissing her——she was in his bed, in his arms, laughing up at him, giggling at something he’d said.

He liked it when he dreamt of her.

‘I’m here, Nick,’ he heard her saying in that quiet, determined way she had. ‘Everything’s going to be all right.’ Her voice was like cool rain on a hot night. Even in his nightmares the memory of her voice, her touch, always soothed him. It was when he was awake that the memory of her tormented him.

‘Can you hear me, Nick?’ a different voice said. An American, by the sound of him.

‘Come on, Nick. You need to open your eyes.’ It was Tiggy speaking again. Much better. He far preferred her voice to the American’s. But he was damned if he was going to wake up. The dream was so much better.