Afraid to Love the Army Doctor (Medical Romance)

AFRAID TO LOVE THE ARMY DOCTOR

By

Shelby Tate

SMASHWORDS EDITION

PUBLISHED BY:

Shelby Tate on Smashwords

Afraid to Love the Army Doctor

Copyright © 2012 Shelby Tate

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Afraid to love the Army Doctor

Chapter One

Dr David Morgan sat in the hospital canteen moving the uninspiring ravioli around his plate whilst contemplating his new surroundings. He’d only been at St. Barnaby’s for six weeks and it all still felt very, very new.

A real hospital, a permanent building, was still a culture shock after the years as an army doctor. Eight years in the meatball A&E’s of Afghanistan had made him a little rough around the edges. He had always struggled with the interpersonal skills required to work in a hospital such as this, and his years in the military had done nothing to improve his ability for small talk.

He had always been used to not being able find any real connection with colleagues, but somehow now, here in this new place, he began to feel the loss of something he’d never really had.

He looked up from his plate whilst his thoughts wandered and spotted the one person he’d felt any degree of comfort with since his arrival.

Rosie Bowers, an A&E nurse, was leaning over the hot food counter with a look of concentration on her face. David smiled to himself thinking of her difficult decision. The dried up ravioli or the equally dry lasagne? The agony of choice.

Rosie was, in his opinion, about the most skilful A&E nurse he had ever worked with, either in a hospital or in a war zone. She had the wonderful knack of knowing exactly what she was doing in every technical sense, whilst still having the capacity for caring. Really caring. So many people could do one or the other brilliantly, but he’d found it so rare to see both qualities in one person.

Only that morning, Rosie had been dealing with an elderly lady who had slipped outside her home. By the time David arrived, Rosie had already correctly positioned the lady for what she had instantly realised was a broken hip. The drip was already attached to deal with the inevitable shock and, as he’d entered the room, Rosie was sitting at the side of the lady’s bed stroking the aged hands which she held gently in her own.

Dora, she had said, still holding her hand, is there anybody I can call to let them know what’s happened?

The elderly lady, though shaken, seemed comforted by Rosie’s manner.

My daughter, Elspeth. She’ll be at work but she has one of those mobile phones. The number is…. Um…

It’s alright, Dora. Take your time. Rosie’s big, warm smile was as much a delight for David as it was for Dora.

Oh… I’ve got a little book. It’s in my bag. Dora looked suitably triumphant. Rosie laughed good naturedly.

A woman after my own heart, she began, whilst scooping up Dora’s capacious bag, I like a bit of organisation myself! Then, indicating the bag, Rosie said,

May I?

Of course, dear. My, you are a lovely girl.

Rosie had looked up as he had entered the room. He just nodded and hoped he could make himself unobtrusive enough that she wouldn’t feel she had to break off from comforting the patient.

Unbelievably, given his previous experiences of non verbal communication, she picked up his cue and continued almost seamlessly to make a note of the name and number of Dora’s daughter from the little address book carefully extracted from Dora’s bag.

Rosie had then turned to him to give him a most professional handover, calmly explaining the circumstances and the actions she herself had already taken.

Ah, Dr. Morgan. This is Dora. She’s had a nasty fall outside her front door this morning. She’s hurt her hip to some tune, haven’t you love?

You can say that again! Dora managed a little laugh.

I think Dora might have a broken hip, so I’ve got a drip going… that’s just because you’ve given yourself a bit of a shock Dora.

He noticed that she periodically turned to look at the patient whilst talking to him and he marvelled at the way that, with this tiny action, she sought to include the patient in the process. So often medical professionals, when dealing with the elderly, spoke as if the patient wasn’t in the room.

David usually found the medical handover somewhat fraught with a mixture of misunderstandings and the either wounded, or overinflated, ego of the person doing the handover.

With Rosie, over those first few weeks at St. Barnaby’s, he’d experienced the complete opposite. Their conversation, in both the medical and patient care arenas, had been all ease and straightforward accuracy.

So impressed had he been with her nursing skills, he had almost missed the long dark auburn curls which constantly tried to break free from the clip holding them back, the long, shiny wisps framing the pale, flawless skin of her beautiful face. He’d almost missed the green eyes, so green that they flashed as grass after the rain under the fluorescent lights of the A&E. He’s almost missed the smile which, when it broke free, was the broadest smile he’d ever seen, lighting up her whole face, coaxing out the dimples which only appeared when she smiled. Almost.

Not that he wanted to dwell on any of that. He’d learned his lessons about work and relationships the hard way and wouldn’t be going down that road again.

Either way, it mattered not. Rosie was in a relationship already, with what seemed like a most unusual choice for her, from what he had gathered about her in those few short weeks.

David Morgan did not like Dr Tony Baker. It had been an instant dislike, and none of their exchanges over the last few weeks had done anything to change it.

Bang on cue, Baker broke David’s reverie as he entered the canteen. Entered being just the right word. The man made an entrance into every room he walked into. He wasn’t the sort of man who could walk in unnoticed. Everyone had to see him!

David looked on as Tony Baker ostentatiously pulled out Rosie’s chair for her. Rosie smiled her big smile in appreciation as David almost imperceptibly shook his head and looked down at his plate, ready to set about the dried up, and now cold, ravioli.

Rosie Bowers laughed as Tony pulled her chair out for her. She was a little embarrassed and rather wished he wouldn’t do things like that in public. She didn’t like drawing attention to their relationship and would rather nobody at work knew anything about them.

Not that she wasn’t proud to be with a man like Dr Tony Baker. After all, he was almost impossibly good looking and so very full of confidence. The sort of confidence that made him really good company. Nonetheless, she wanted that to be theirs. Just theirs. Rosie had always lived in fear of hospital gossip, despite the fact she had never done anything to court it. Up until now, that is.

Had a busy morning, Darling? he breezed through conversation. It struck her that sometimes words seemed to be something he almost shrugged off into the ether.

Bits and pieces to start with, then an absolute dear of an elderly lady who’d fallen and broken her hip. How about you?

Oh, loads of admin and politics. You know, the stuff you nurses don’t have to worry about! he laughed and winked at her, instantly diffusing the comment which Rosie might ordinarily have taken exception to.

She had avoided relationships with colleagues throughout her nursing career. She had been at St. Barnaby’s for three years before she had finally taken the plunge and agreed to go on a date with Tony. The last four months had been a whirl wind of dinners in the best restaurants, shows seen from the best seats in the house and weekend boat trips. Not that she had ever hankered for that type of lifestyle, but she had to admit to herself that she had thoroughly enjoyed it and was secretly impressed by Tony’s choices.

She had not expected to break her embargo on work relationships but somehow, when Tony began to pay her attention, she couldn’t resist it. That type of man was never interested in her and so, in the early stages, she had taken his flirting as nothing more than joking on his part. Whilst she, on the other hand, secretly imagined what it would be like if he really was interested in her. When finally he had made his intentions towards her very clear, she jumped at the chance to go out on a date with him.

That first date had been incredible. It was like a fantasy. He had picked her up from her cottage, arriving with the biggest and most succulent looking red roses, which she had hastily arranged in an inadequate vase before they departed for Cranleys Restaurant. Cranleys no less! She had never stepped foot inside the place before she met Tony. That first time, seeing the wonderment on her face at the beautiful surroundings, Tony had laughed and said,

Mmm, I can see you’re impressed!

Oh, my! Who wouldn’t be?

I can see I will have to keep upping the ante to hold your attention in future!

Now Cranleys was a weekly occurrence. She idly wondered if such a treat would ever become old hat to her, when Tony’s pager began to trill.

Leaning back in his seat, he checked it from his waistband without removing it and then immediately pulled his mobile phone from his top pocket and began punching at the keys.

Problem?…. Tony demanded of the unknown caller. No… don’t do that. Just wait ‘till I get there. Two minutes. He seemed to hang up, stand, move his chair back and slip his mobile phone back into his pocket in one fluid movement.

He looked down at her and, with a wink and a tilt of his head said Gotta go. Needed in A&E.

As she smiled up at him, he turned to walk away. A second later, he turned back, leant over her and kissed her on the lips. Smiling, he briskly walked away, leaving Rosie looking at her food, somewhat flushed, and wondering how many of her colleagues had seen that kiss.

Much as she had enjoyed it, she couldn’t quite ignore the gnawing sensation of unease as she began to poke at the vile looking ravioli.

From across the room, David Morgan watched. He wondered if her seeming embarrassment was genuine discomfort or girlish coyness. He rather suspected the former. But what did he know? He’d only known her a few weeks, and their conversation, as easy as it had been, was more or less limited to the job at hand. She didn’t discuss herself. He had wondered at first if it was because he was new at the hospital. As the weeks had progressed, he had come to realise that she was the sort of woman who did not volunteer the details of her private life, in the way that so many people seemed to.

Having been subjected to Nurse Shirley Martin in A&E, he knew just how different people could be. The opposite of Rosie, by the end of his first shift, David knew that Shirley was single, had just come out of a relationship, what music she liked, the names of all of her girlfriends and where she liked to go on her days off. He smiled to himself as he recalled how, whilst not caring about any of it, he had tried to appear genuinely interested. Knowing that false sincerity was not his strong point, he had worried that she would see straight through him.

He had since come to realise that his facial expression mattered not. She would talk about herself regardless of his demeanour, facial expression or feelings in the matter.

Everyone here’s great. A lot of us go out on the town regularly. You can join us.

Oh, can I? he thought

You’ll love it!

Oh, will I?

The thought of going out on the town with a gaggle of hospital staff filled him with horror. He couldn’t think of an excuse. It mattered not; she wasn’t listening to him anyway.

How Shirley reminded him of almost everybody he’d ever met. Pushing his unfinished meal to one side, David chastised himself for his attitude. If he was ever to fit in he would have to stop distancing himself from others. He would have to stop stepping back just because they were different from him; more open than him.

Already he was breaking the promises he had made to himself as he left Afghanistan. Impossible, contrary promises! To be more open with people, to get involved in the lives of others, but to steer very well clear of romance. He laughed quietly as he thought of himself sitting in a dusty shed in Afghanistan waiting for transport to start the incredible journey home, as drunk as a skunk, deciding what his new life should be like.

He wondered if that could really work. Could he be a more open man? And if he could, would he be so open as to want a relationship with somebody? Because that was the one thing he would not do.

Casting a glance over at Rosie, he wondered if he could actually just pick up his tray, with the remnants of his meal, and take the empty seat at her table. Maybe test how far he had really come since that dusty shed in Afghanistan. Could he hold a friendly conversation? Could he, with such a simple thing as sitting at the same table, offer friendship like a normal person?

Rosie looked up from the table just in time to see Dr David Morgan looking in her direction. He hurriedly looked back down at his plate and she thought she could detect some slight embarrassment. She wondered about him. He’d only been at St. Barnaby’s for a few weeks, but even so, she would have expected to have made a bit more of a connection with him. As colleagues went, he was a superb A&E doctor. Every case that she had worked with him on had been made easy by his knowledge and attitude; his attitude in particular. She had to admit that, on the whole, most of the A&E doctors had a somewhat superior demeanour. Even Tony, she conceded, could tend towards a certain way of speaking to her and the other A&E nurses when dealing with cases.

She put it down to the stress of being the person who makes the diagnosis. What an incredible responsibility that must be. Nonetheless, Dr Morgan had not yet fallen into that routine. But maybe that was down to being new. Maybe he was trying hard not to step on anyone’s toes whilst he tried to make friends? She picked up her juice carton and absently poked around with the straw until the thin film finally popped and the straw shot in, spurting the dark purple blackcurrant juice down the front of her pale blue tunic.

With a resigned sigh, Rosie ineffectively dabbed at the stain with her paper napkin, whilst she dwelt on the question of Dr Morgan making friends. She wondered if she