A Nurse Worth Waiting For

Book 3: Medical Romances

by Gill Sanderson

Genres: Romance; Contemporary Romance; Medical Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

A heartwarming medical romance by best-selling author Gill Sanderson. Six years ago, Jan Fielding was a trainee nurse and Chris Garrett a newly qualified doctor ? and they were in love. But that love vanished when Chris appeared to have left Jan?s father to die after he fell on a mountain rescue mission. Soon afterwards Chris left to work abroad. Now he is back and has joined her GP practice. They are professionals; they have to work together. Although wanting nothing to do with him, Jan has to admit that he is a very competent doctor ? and still a very attractive man. Then she learns a little more about her father?s death. Has she misjudged Chris?s actions on the mountain? Is it possible that the feelings they had for each other might be re-kindled?

Release date: May 16, 2017

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 146

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

It couldn’t be him! Please, no, it just wasn’t possible!

Community Nurse Jan Fielding’s summer holiday was ending with a bigger shock than she had ever thought possible. And whatever good the holiday had done her seemed instantly to drain away.

The call had come in the very early morning while she had been getting dressed. There had been that instant thrill of apprehension – early calls were often bad news.

It had been her boss, Dr John Garrett, calling, and his familiar voice had calmed her.

‘Hi, Jan – have a good holiday? Come back fit and ready for work?’

‘Both fit and ready, John. But why the early call? I’ll see you in a couple of hours.’

Now the thrill of apprehension was turning into a sense of excitement. This was an emergency call.

She glanced out her bedroom window as rain rattled on the glass. It might be summer but this was the Lake District. She guessed what was wrong.

‘Don’t tell me – you’re turning out the mountain rescue team?’

‘Sort of. I’m not turning out the full team, I don’t think it’s necessary. A couple of reasonably competent walkers have been stranded on the top of Yeaton Pike all night. They’re experienced, they had bivouac equipment and they’ve just used a mobile phone to say they’re on their way down. But the man seemed a bit doubtful about his wife. I told him to wait until someone meets them and leads them down Kelton Downfall.’

‘Not a good place to be if you’re tired and wet through,’ Jan agreed. ‘It can be treacherous in the wet. And there’s that cliff edge nearby. So what do you want of me?’

‘I want a couple of people to go up there, pick this couple up and escort them down. Walk in coils if necessary, just as a precaution. Are you up to it?’

Now, that was an insult. ‘Of course I’m up to it. And I’ll finish my normal day’s work later. Who’s coming with me? You?’ John was leader of the Calbeck mountain rescue team.

His voice was hesitant. ‘Not me this time. I’m getting a bit too old for it and, besides, I’ve twisted my ankle. Park at the head of Kelton Brook, there’ll be someone there to go with you. He’ll bring all the equipment you need. OK?’

‘I’ll be there. And I’ll be in surgery later. Thanks, John.’

After ringing off she turned and looked at her blue community nurse’s uniform laid out on the bed. Then she laughed, and reached in the cupboard for her climbing kit. She’d take her dress with her. She could change afterwards, in the surgery.

It was good to be back. As she drove her ancient Land Rover across country to the head of Kelton Brook, she felt a deep content. After the brilliant blue of the Mediterranean Sea and the dusty brown of the scrublands, the rain-soaked softer shades of the English Lake District seemed even more beautiful. She saw the peak of Sea Fell in the distance, half-hidden in mist. Yes, it was good to be back. She was ready to work among the people she knew and loved.

For two weeks she had luxuriated on the beach or at the poolside on a small Mediterranean island. She had picked a small, a quiet hotel. There was enough excitement in her life at home. Besides, she hadn’t wanted to be up half the night drinking, dancing and carousing. Not any more. Not for years now.

She had enjoyed the local food and wine. She had wandered through a village or two, comparing the white-walled cottages with the grey stone of her own home. She had photographed olive groves and ancient buildings, tried out her guidebook Italian. But mostly she had just slept and read.

A couple of men had invited her for a drink and she had automatically declined. The last thing she had been interested in was a holiday romance. But she had quite enjoyed being asked. Perhaps she was now ready to start a proper life again. But now she was home, rather proud of her carefully acquired tan, but more than happy to exchange her bikini for her wet-weather gear, and quite content that it was raining. She was home.

She drove to the head of Kelton Brook, stopped by a second Land Rover in a muddy field. Rain and mist swirled round her. She saw that the vehicle already parked was John’s Land Rover – strange, he had said that he was not coming. He must have lent it to someone.

She could see a figure inside, who jumped out as she switched off her engine. The figure was taller than John; the hood of his blue anorak was up and his head was bent against the wind. Jan felt the first touch of anxiety. There was something she vaguely recognised about the figure – but she couldn’t decide what. She knew all the other members of the rescue team, and it wasn’t one of them. She didn’t want to work with a stranger.

She felt more and more uneasy. Something was tugging at her memory. That walk?

Her passenger door opened, and the figure climbed in. He sat beside her, and pushed back his hood.

Then she knew why she had been apprehensive, as recognition came in a flash. She felt sick, clutching at the side of the door for support. This couldn’t be happening to her, this wasn’t possible!

Chris. Dr Chris Garrett. A man she hadn’t seen for six years. A man she never wanted to meet again.

Her heart was thudding with a tumult of feelings, emotions, memories. And slowly, one question emerged. Why had he come back to haunt her? This had been the man she had thought she loved – even, in those far-off days, had thought she might marry. Until … until …

She caught her breath, in a sigh, a sob, and he looked directly at her. He didn’t smile, and his voice was thoughtful.

‘Hello, Jan,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time.’

From somewhere she found the strength to reply.

‘Hello, Chris,’ she said. ‘It has been a long time. But not long enough.’

Somehow she managed to wrestle open her door, leaped out of the Land Rover and ran for the edge of the brook. One question hammered in her mind. What was Chris Garrett doing here?

She stopped and stared at the turmoil of waters, matching the turmoil of her own emotions. How could he come back? What did he want here? Had he come to torment her? She heard the squelch of his boots in the mud, and he came and stood facing her. She lifted her head, stared at him.

He seemed bigger. Before he had been tall, broad-shouldered, but also what her father had described as whippet-thin. Now he was heavier, but she could tell that the weight was muscle. Paradoxically, his face was thinner. There were lines down the sides of his cheeks, at the corners of his eyes. It was not the eager face of the young man she remembered. He looked older, like a man who had experienced more than he ought. But he still had the bluest of blue eyes.

At first nothing was said, and she was aware that he was studying her, too. Then he spoke and she shuddered as she heard that so-well-remembered voice.

‘This is not the place I would have picked for a reunion,’ he said. ‘But we’ve got work to do. Can we put off any arguing till later?’

Her voice shook. ‘I’ve got nothing to argue about with you. Anything I have to say I said six years ago.’

‘Quite so. I remember it well. Now, are we climbing to the top of Kelton Downfall or not? I can manage without you if necessary.’

‘Send you on a rescue on your own? You feel up to it? I think I’d better come along, just in case.’

She saw anger flicker in his eyes but he merely said, ‘I’ve got the necessary kit in a couple of rucksacks in the back. Let’s go.’

She followed him to the back of his Land Rover, and reached in to take the larger of the two rucksacks. He took it from her. ‘You take the smaller one. I’m bigger than you, stronger, too. It’ll be more efficient.’

She decided not to argue. But she led the way. Heads down against the howling wind, they set off for the bottom of Kelton Downfall. Jan set a hard pace. She was young, fit and trained, and there weren’t many people of either sex who could keep up with her. But Chris could. He stayed just behind her, slightly to one side.

They walked in silence for half a mile until they came to the bottom of Kelton Downfall.

The Downfall was a steep rocky slope, bordering a cliff edge. It didn’t get much sun. The rocks were covered with lichen; when wet, they were a slippery death trap. But it was the quickest way down from the top of Yeaton Pike. Jan started the ascent.

She had to alter her pace a little: it was necessary to be safe. But a mean part of her wanted to know just how good Chris was, so she kept moving quickly.

After five minutes he caught up with her. ‘If this is a competition, I suggest we keep it until there’s only the two of us. Moving at this pace is dangerous. And right now we have patients to think of.’

He was right, of course, which only made her more angry; but she slowed down. And mysteriously they fell into a rhythm. He seemed as sure-footed as ever, his pace matching hers.

They could have made a good team.

In time they reached the top of the Downfall. Yeaton Pike was largely flat, and the wind tore across it, making even standing upright a difficult task. There was a little outcrop of rocks two hundred yards away. Chris lifted his arm, pointing, and Jan saw a flash of red there, obviously from an anorak. The couple were sheltering. That was good.

They were Paul and Dawn Kerrigan, a couple aged about forty. Jan looked approvingly at their kit: they were properly dressed, and obviously knew what they were doing. But Dawn looked pale.

‘Sorry to put you to this trouble,’ Paul said. ‘It’s good of you to turn out.’

That wasn’t all that usual. Most people didn’t realise that the mountain rescue team was all volunteers, working in their own time without any reward.

‘No problem,’ Chris said. ‘Has either of you fallen? Any cuts, bruises, any aches that won’t go away?’

‘We’ve slipped a couple of times,’ Paul said, ‘but nothing serious.’

‘How d’you feel? Cold? Miserable? Tired?’

Paul answered. ‘I’m not too bad. I slept a little, Dawn didn’t.’

Jan noticed that so far Paul had done all the talking. And what little she could see of Dawn’s face was very pale.

Chris unslung his rucksack, and took out a Thermos and two mugs.

‘There’s something here to warm you up,’ he said, ‘but first I’d like to check your temperatures and then your pulse.’

Jan watched as he carried out a lightning check-up of the two. Then he turned and nodded curtly at her. Apparently nothing seriously wrong.

‘You’re easing towards hypothermia,’ he told Dawn. ‘You were right to send for us. We can get you down and then sorted out.’

‘I’ll take your rucksack,’ Jan said.

Dawn shook her head and spoke for the first time, her voice low. ‘You’ve got one already, and I …’

Chris took the rucksack from her. ‘It’ll be more efficient if Nurse Fielding takes it,’ he said simply.

Dawn accepted this and Jan slipped the rucksack easily on top of her own. She’d carried far more than this, both while training and when operational.

They waited until Dawn and Paul had drunk the sugar-thick coffee and then headed for the top of the Downfall. There, Chris took the rope from round his shoulders, tied it round his waist, round the waists of Dawn and Paul and then Jan’s. There was about twenty feet of slack between each person. ‘You’ve walked in coils before?’ he asked.

Paul answered. ‘Only in snow, on a beginner’s course in the Alps. Do we really need to here?’

‘This can be as hazardous as any snowfield.’

The small party would walk close together, each holding much of the slack rope in coils in their hand. If one person were to fall the other three would act as an anchor. It was a simple but sometimes very effective precaution.

They set off down, Jan leading the way, Chris coming last. He was the strongest, the heaviest. Progress was necessarily slow. Dawn was tiring rapidly, and slipped three or four times. Once the rope pulled taut, though, she was in no real danger. Each time Chris was there, to help her to her feet, to assure himself that she was all right, to keep up her spirits by a couple cheerful remarks. And, in time, they reached the Land Rovers.

Chris helped them both into his Land Rover, and came to speak to Jan. ‘I’ll take them back to the surgery. I don’t think it’s necessary to send them to hospital, but I’ll give them a quick check over and get them to rest.’

‘Shouldn’t your uncle look at them? After all, he is the doctor.’

‘I’m a doctor, too, remember. And at the moment I’m the locum at the practice.’

‘The locum! You mean you’ll be working with me?’

‘For a few months, yes.’

Jan swayed with the shock.

It was a half-hour drive to the surgery. Jan followed the other Land Rover and deliberately tried not to think about what had happened. Her calm, well-ordered life had been turned upside down, and this was something she didn’t know how she could deal with. This was not the time to think, but she needed to know what had happened. Why was Chris back when he had said so forcefully that he never wanted to see her again? And she had never wanted to see him again either. It had been six years ago, but she still felt the same way. Why didn’t he?

She couldn’t, wouldn’t think. She turned up the volume on her disc player and heard Ella Fitzgerald singing about the man she loved.

Great choice.

She wasn’t needed to look after Dawn and Paul at the surgery – that was already in hand. So she shook hands, accepted their thanks and went to the changing room. The surgery was the meeting place of Calbeck Mountain Rescue Team, so there was provision for people to change and dry their wet clothes.

Jan showered, changed into her uniform, dried her hair. And slowly she gained control of herself. . . .