Prognosis Bad Timing Read online

  Charlie chuckled and sat on a roller stool in front of Carrie’s daughter and snapped some gloves on. ‘Can I have a look, Sleeping Beauty?’

  Dana stuck out her chin. ‘You can fix it, can’t you, Charlie?’

  Charlie’s heart melted at Dana’s four-year-old innocence. Her big blue eyes were irresistibly gorgeous. So this was how it would be to have your own child, your own flesh and blood, looking at you like you were Superman.

  Could he fix it? Right now he would have slain a dragon if she’d asked.

  He examined the damage. The cut wasn’t very deep and only about a centimetre long, but gaped in the middle. It had stopped bleeding. ‘I reckon I can fix that as good as new.’ The wound edges were straight, which would make for a neat scar.

  ‘Susie says that you sew it up just like Grandma does when she sews my buttons back on.’

  ‘Susie is very smart,’ Charlie confirmed. ‘Open your mouth, sweetie.’ Charlie smiled as Dana obeyed instantly, opening it as wide as it could go. Her neat white teeth all appeared to be intact. ‘Now, bite down, like this.’ Charlie demonstrated. ‘Like you’re eating a great big steak.’

  Dana followed suit. Her bite seemed even enough. He felt along her jaw up to the angle both sides. ‘I don’t think you did any more damage.’

  He glanced up at Carrie to assure her but she was looking at him with such an intense stare that he momentarily forgot about Dana. Hell, he momentarily forgot to breathe as his belly pulled tight.

  ‘Charlie?’

  He could hear Dana’s high voice but Carrie’s stare was distracting in the extreme.

  ‘Charlie!’ Dana tugged at his sleeve.

  ‘Sorry, sweetie.’ He broke eye contact with Carrie. ‘Let’s get you sewn up.’

  Standing, he walked to the tray of instruments he’d prepared earlier, thankful for an opportunity to put some space between him and Carrie. He took some cleansing breaths.

  What the hell had that look been about?

  Charlie didn’t know. But he did know that he hadn’t been able to look away.

  When he turned back, Carrie was fussing around a supine Dana, getting her into a good position. ‘OK, Dana.’ He rolled a trolley over and dragged the stool to the head of the bed. ‘What’s your favourite thing in the whole world?’ He snapped the light on above that was attached to the wall via a long angled arm.

  Dana smiled. ‘That’s easy. It’s my mummy.’

  Good choice, kid. ‘What else?’

  Dana looked at her mother for an answer. Carrie smiled and shrugged. ‘Hmm...I think...” Her tiny kiddie brow scrunched in concentration. “Ding rolls.’

  Charlie raised an eyebrow at Carrie. ‘Spring rolls,” she clarified. “She loves Chinese takeaway.’

  ‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘My favourite, too. What do you want to be when you grow up?’

  ‘A ballerina.’

  ‘So you like to dance?’

  Dana nodded vigorously and sighed. ‘I love it.’

  Charlie double-gloved and Carrie raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Second nature around here,’ he said dismissively.

  She nodded. Carrie supposed it would be in a place where drug addicts with who-knew-what needed regular resuscitation.

  ‘Now.’ He returned his attention to Dana. ‘I’ll do you a deal.’ He flicked the bubbles out of the syringe full of local anaesthetic. ‘If you can lie nice and still for me while I fix your chin, I’ll let you dance to my jukebox.’

  ‘What’s a dukebox?’ Dana asked.

  ‘Jukebox. Like at the wedding last week,’ Carrie explained.

  Dana’s eyes lit up. ‘You have your very own dukebox, Charlie? Really?’

  Charlie smiled. ‘Really.’

  ‘I promise I’ll keep very still, Charlie, really I will.’

  Carrie laughed at her daughter’s wide-eyed exuberance. ‘Charlie’s going to put some stuff into your cut to make it go all numb so you can’t feel it when he sews it up. It’ll sting a bit.’

  ‘Like what the dentist put in Emmett’s mouth?’

  Charlie raised an eyebrow at Carrie and then looked back down at his patient. ‘Who’s Emmett? Is he your boyfriend?’

  Dana giggled again. ‘No, silly. He’s my cousin. He’s twelve and he had to have a filling ’cos he doesn’t floss.’

  ‘Oh, dear. Do you floss?’

  Dana nodded solemnly. ‘Every night. Mummy makes me.’

  Charlie laughed, totally charmed by Dana. ‘That’s what mummies are for.’ He glanced at Carrie again and felt warm all over at the love and pleasure he saw in her eyes.

  Carrie swallowed hard. Charlie was being so good with Dana. Their rapport had been instant from the night of the accident. Damn it all - she didn’t need this man in her life. Making her crazy. Making her daughter laugh.

  Kissing her.

  ‘OK, now, enough chatter. Hold my hand, Dana, and shut your eyes. Remember to stay very, very still. Squeeze Mummy’s hand when it starts to sting. Squeeze it really hard. It’ll be over soon and then you can go and have a dance.’

  ‘OK, Mummy.’ Dana shut her eyes tight.

  Charlie smiled as he adjusted the position of Dana’s chin. He nodded at Carrie. ‘Ready?’ he mouthed. Carrie nodded back and he could tell from the way she was holding Dana that she was ready to use her body to keep Dana still if she bucked.

  Charlie inserted the fine needle into the edge of the wound. Dana flinched slightly but stayed still. But that was the easy part. Lignocaine stung like hell and he sent up a silent prayer that Dana would continue to be good. He slowly injected the local anaesthetic agent.

  ‘Mummy?’ Dana’s eyes opened. ‘It’s hurting, Mummy.’

  ‘It’s OK, darling, squeeze my hand hard. It won’t hurt for long.’

  Carrie half stood so she could hold her daughter better in case she tried to kick or twist. She could see tears shining in her daughter’s eyes and felt guilt and pride in equal measure. ‘Mummy’s giving you a special hug, see? You’re being so brave, isn’t she, Charlie?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Charlie agreed. ‘You’re braver than a hundred boys. There...I’ve finished now.’ He placed the syringe back on the trolley.

  Dana sniffled. ‘Really? You think I’m braver than a boy?’

  Charlie chuckled. ‘Definitely. Now I’ll wash my hands while we wait for the local to make you numb then I’ll sew you up, OK?’

  ‘Then I get to dance?’

  ‘I promise.’

  Carrie listened absently to the lively conversation between Charlie and her daughter as he washed his hands and they waited for the local to take effect. Charlie’s regulation three-day growth and shaggy hair seemed even more endearing when he was talking to her child as if she was the most important thing in the world to him.

  ‘Can you feel this?’ Charlie asked Dana, double-gloved again, giving her a light prick on the wound margin with the curved suture blade.

  ‘No.’

  ‘This?’ Charlie repeated as he prodded several places.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Awesome. What colour button do you want me to use?’

  Dana giggled. ‘Charlie!’

  Carrie smiled, too. ‘OK, hold my hand again, darling. Won’t be long now.’

  Charlie maintained a patter of conversation as he placed four sutures in the wound, bringing the edges together. Dana was perfectly still, making his job much easier and it didn’t take long.

  ‘Thank you, Charlie, that looks great.” Carrie inspected his handiwork as he placed the suture down on the tray. “Maybe your father is right?’

  Charlie screwed up his nose. Nope. ‘I’d rather watch paint dry. OK, Sleeping Beauty.” He tapped Dana on the nose. “Up you get. Your jukebox awaits.’

  He helped Dana into a sitting position, her legs dangling over the edge again. ‘What do you say to Charlie?’ Carrie prompted.

  ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’ Dana grinned then threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

 
Charlie sat stock still in the little girl’s embrace. He glanced at Carrie, who was looking as stunned as he felt. For a moment he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He was shocked to register how good Dana’s little arms felt clinging to his neck. And how sweet her skin smelled — like lollipops and sunshine.

  ‘Sorry,’ Carrie mouthed, remembering his fast exit from her house.

  He hadn’t seemed particularly interested in kids then and this one was clinging to him like a leech. Not to mention the mix of apprehension and something else she couldn’t quite make out in his expression.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he mouthed back. Charlie didn’t understand how anyone could hold such sweet innocence in their arms and remain emotionally distant.

  Like his father.

  ‘Can I dance now?’ Dana asked, dropping her arms.

  ‘Sure.’ He helped her off the couch and watched her hair bunches bobbing as she headed out followed closely by Carrie, her pinstriped hips swaying.

  What the hell was with these two females who had, in one week, totally consumed him? One charmed him, the other exasperated and aroused him in equal measure.

  Where the hell was his focus these days?

  Ten minutes later he emerged to find Dana charming everyone in the waiting room with her jiggle. Not even the bloodstained T-shirt detracted from her cuteness. Even two big gruff male teenagers were grinning stupidly at her.

  ‘She’s a hit,’ Charlie said, claiming the seat next to Carrie’s on the double sofa.

  Carrie laughed, trying to hide the sudden leap in her pulse as his thigh brushed against hers. ‘Yes, quite the performer.’

  They watched her for a few minutes in silence. ‘I’d better get her home,’ she said, stirring. ‘Could you keep an eye on her while I get my stuff together?’

  ‘Sure,’ Charlie agreed, not daring to look up at Carrie and exceedingly grateful when she left.

  Dana pirouetted and waved at Charlie. ‘Can you dance with me, Charlie?’

  Charlie groaned inwardly. Between the two Douglas women he didn’t know whether he was Arthur or Martha. ‘Sure, sweetie.’ He rose from the couch and swept her off her feet, swinging her round while she giggled in delight.

  ‘Here.’ He lowered her to the ground. ‘Step on my shoes.’

  Dana did as she was told and he swirled her around the floor as she clung to his legs and laughed. She looked up at him with those big blue eyes and Charlie was utterly captivated.

  Carrie came out and discovered them dancing and laughing together and her pulse slowed, the music faded away, her vision telescoped. They could have been father and daughter. Wasn’t that what fathers did with their daughters? Let them stand on their feet and dance with them? That’s what her father had done.

  Damn Rupert for denying Dana these precious memories.

  ‘Mummy! I’m dancing with Charlie.’

  Charlie stumbled slightly when he realised they were being watched by Carrie. Their gazes locked and he could see the yearning in her gaze.

  ‘So you are, darling.’

  ‘Your turn to dance with Charlie,’ Dana pronounced, breaking away and running over to clutch at her mother’s hand and drag her towards Charlie.

  ‘Oh...I...No, darling.” She shot a horrified look at him as she resisted Dana’s pull and Charlie almost laughed. “I’m sure Charlie doesn’t want to dance with Mummy.’

  ‘Oh, please, Mummy. Please, please.’

  ‘Sweetheart, you know Mummy’s not a very good dancer.’

  ‘He’ll let you stand on his feet, won’t you, Charlie?’

  Carrie gave a nervous laugh. ‘Darling, I’m too heavy for Charlie, I’ll break his toes.’

  Charlie thought how great her weight had felt against him the other night. Pushed against him. Rubbing against him. Naked heat rose on a surge of potent desire.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said, grabbing Carrie’s hand and twirling her towards him as ‘Rock Around the Clock’ blared out.

  Carrie spun crazily and landed against Charlie’s hard body for one cataclysmic second before he pushed her out again, spinning her away from him. He spun her around and twisted and jived, their hands linked, her heart hammering madly. Dana sat on the lounge and clapped excitedly.

  One of the teenagers wolf-whistled.

  By the time the music stopped and Elvis was crooning ‘Love Me Tender’, Carrie’s entire world was spinning and her pulse was fluttering madly.

  ‘Me, oh, me.’ Dana jumped up excitedly. ‘Let’s all dance together.’

  Carrie looked down to see her daughter had already commandeered both their hands. ‘Mummy, this is the song from the wedding.’

  Carrie shook her head, trying to clear her hazy thought processes. Her cells still rocking around the clock. ‘Oh, yes, it was the wedding waltz.’

  ‘Waltz with me, Mummy, like you did with Grandpa at the wedding.’

  Carrie smiled down at her beguiling little girl, finding her as hard to resist as ever. Even the suture line gave her a certain appeal. She hauled Dana up onto her hip.

  ‘Charlie, too,’ Dana said, hooking an arm around Charlie’s neck and drawing them into an intimate circle.

  Carrie daren’t look at him as Charlie’s arm slid around her back. She could hear his breathing and was excruciatingly conscious of his sheer male presence. From his spicy aftershave to his reassuring bulk.

  This was wrong.

  It was too intimate. Not in the way it had been on Friday night. But intimate in the way a family was intimate.

  And it felt so good. For something that was so wrong. Her and Dana were a family of two. It was pointless thinking otherwise. Or getting Dana too caught up in it.

  But oh...it was nice.

  Too nice to step away, despite the dictates of her very sensible brain.

  The song came to an end and it was Charlie who stepped away and she was again reminded of his quick-as-a-flash departure the other night when the reality of Dana’s existence had hit home.

  Why did a man who was so good with kids run a mile from them?

  ‘We’d better go,’ she said quietly, his message loud and clear. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. ‘Say good bye to Charlie, sweetheart.’

  Dana waggled her fingers at him. ‘Bye, Charlie. Can I come and dance to your dukebox again?’

  Charlie laughed and flicked one of her bunches. ‘Any time, Sleeping Beauty.’

  Then he stood in the middle of the lounge area, watching them walk away a heavy feeling in the vicinity of his heart. It had felt so good dancing in that threesome.

  So good.

  Maybe there was something to this commitment thing after all?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE week ground by with snail-like slowness. Carrie was there, a constant presence Charlie’s staffroom, hanging around, pestering him for figures while hers drove him crazy in those pinstripe suits. Joe popped in and out with annoying frequency, making banal observations and counting down the days.

  Angela ruled the place with an iron fist. The jukebox thumped. Kids came and went. Stressed-out parents came and went.

  Police came and went.

  When Friday finally came around Charlie welcomed the day with mixed feelings. It was hard to believe that it had been six months to the day that a Hep B positive drug addict had deliberately stabbed him with an infected needle. And that today was the day of his blood test.

  His final blood test.

  It didn’t seem to matter that all his previous ones had been clear and it was against all the odds for this one to come back positive.

  The possibility was still there.

  What if it was positive? What if he had to shift from maybe having the disease to actually having the disease? OK, the odds were on his side and even if it didn’t turn out as he hoped, there was no reason why he couldn’t live a long and full life if he did all the right things and managed his condition well.

  But still, it was a mental barrier that he hadn’t been able to get past. He’d b
een putting his life on hold for this moment. He’d shelved his expansion plans for the centre, denied himself a sex life and buried himself within these four walls from early morning to late at night.

  He’d lurched from his separation to his divorce to his health crisis and consequently work had been his solace for over three years. What the hell was he going to do if he couldn’t hide behind that anymore?

  ‘Today’s the day,’ Joe said, interrupting Charlie’s thoughts and dumping the regulation cup of coffee in front of him on his desk. ‘What time’s your appointment?’

  ‘I’m ducking out at lunch.’

  ‘And then it’s how long...?’

  ‘A few days. Should get them back early next week. Depends, the weekend might delay the result for a day or so.’

  ‘Then we’re hitting the town? Right?’

  Charlie nodded unenthusiastically. ‘Right.’

  Joe’s brow furrowed. ‘Stop it, your enthusiasm is blowing me away.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He grimaced. ‘Lot on my mind.’

  ‘I know. And I know you’ve had a shitty couple of years. I also know you’ve become a workaholic hermit. It’s not even seven in the morning and you’re at your desk.’

  ‘I’m dedicated, dickhead. And anyway, you’re here, aren’t you?’

  ‘But I’m hyperactive.”

  That was true. Joe had the attention span of a three-year-old with ants in his pants.

  “We’ll go to The Mill,” he pronounced.

  ‘Sure,’ Charlie agreed tonelessly. He didn’t care where they went.

  Joe shook his head and laughed. ‘Don’t worry, old mate. We’ll get you hooked up and this whole nightmare will be behind you. You’ll be able to get on with your life. It’ll be like it never happened.’

  Oh, no. One thing was for sure. This was one thing he was never going to forget had happened. ‘I think I’ve forgotten how to pick up women, Joe.’

  Had he forgotten or was it just so completely uninteresting to him now? Between his disastrous marriage and examining his mortality just about every day for the last six months, he’d had a lot of time to ponder things.

  Maybe some people were meant to be hermits.

  Joe cracked up. ‘You?’ He laughed. ‘Impossible. Even a wedding ring didn’t deter women. All you have to do is just sit back and let it happen.’