a bit about its history.’
Emma did her best to comply and it wasn’t until they’d come to the end of their meal and were sitting over coffee she said pointedly, ‘It’s been a long day, could we wind things up so we can both get on about our business?’
‘OK, then.’ Declan’s moody blue eyes were fixed unflinchingly on hers. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. About six months ago I received a letter from your father telling me about his deterioration in health.’
For a few seconds Emma stared at him in numb disbelief. ‘Dad told you and he didn’t tell me? Why? I was his daughter, for heaven’s sake.’
Declan could hardly bear to watch her grief. ‘I know it sounds an old chestnut, Emma,’ he said gently, ‘but perhaps he didn’t want to upset you any further than you had been. You had other things going on in your life, didn’t you?’
Emma’s face was tightly controlled. ‘What did Dad tell you about that?’
‘Almost nothing—just that you’d had a few personal problems.’
Like mopping up the emotional fallout after her rat of a fiancé had dumped her for her best friend…
‘And that you’d come back to work in the practice,’ Declan finished diplomatically.
Emma curled her hands into a tight knot on her lap. ‘What did he tell you about his health? That he had only a short time to live?’
Declan’s frown deepened. ‘Nothing like that. But, from what he told me, I drew my own conclusions. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I, myself, was in somewhat of a personal crisis at the time, I’d have come back to Australia to see Andrew immediately. Instead, I called him. He was concerned for you, for the future of the practice if the worst happened. We talked at length. It was then he offered to sell me his half of the practice.’
‘I see.’ Emma swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. But she understood now why her father hadn’t told her anything about his plans. He would have had to reveal the uncertain state of his health. So instead he’d trusted Declan O’Malley to set things right. But did that mean she had to accept him as her partner? She didn’t think so. ‘I’m sure Dad wouldn’t have wanted you interfering in my life.’
‘That’s not what Andrew had in mind, Emma.’
‘So, you’re here as some kind of…white knight?’ she grated bitterly.
‘I’m here because I want to be here,’ Declan said simply. ‘Because it seems like a worthwhile thing to do. You need a partner. I need a job. Isn’t that the truth of it?’
She looked at him warily. ‘Why do you need a job? You obviously have medical qualifications beyond the norm. Career-wise, the world should be your playground. Why aren’t you working in your chosen discipline somewhere?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘There’s plenty of coffee in the pot,’ Emma countered. ‘And we’re quite private here.’
Declan felt the familiar grind in his guts at the thought of rehashing everything.
At his continued silence, something like resentment stirred in Emma and she couldn’t let go of it. ‘Dr O’Malley, if you’ve ideas of entering into partnership with me, then I need to know what I’m getting. That’s only fair, isn’t it?’
He took a long breath and let it go. ‘My surgical career is, to all intents and purposes, finished. I can’t operate any longer.’
Faint shock widened Emma’s eyes. How awful. She knew only too well what it was like to have your world collapse with no redress possible. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ The words escaped mechanically from his lips.
And that was it? Emma took in the sudden tight set of his neck and shoulders. He had to know she needed more information. Much more than the bald statement he’d offered. She felt about for the right words to help him. But in the end it was a simple, softly spoken, ‘What happened?’
Declan rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘After I’d completed my general surgery training, I decided to go ahead and specialize in orthopaedics.’ His blue eyes shone for a moment. ‘On a good day when everything in the OR goes right and you know it’s your skill that’s enabling a patient to regain their mobility, their normal life, and in some instances their whole livelihood…it’s empowering and humbling all rolled into one.’
‘Yes, I imagine it is,’ Emma said, but she had the feeling he had hardly heard.
‘I was fortunate enough to be accepted at St Mary’s in Edinburgh.’
Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Their training programme is legendary. I believe they take only the brightest and best.’
‘I was lucky,’ he said modestly.
Hardly. Obviously, he was seriously gifted. Which fact made Declan O’Malley’s reasons for opting to come in as her partner in a country practice odd indeed, she thought, noticing he’d hadn’t touched his coffee. Instead, he’d spanned his fingers around the cup, holding on to it like some kind of lifeline.
‘After a long stint in Scotland, I’d decided to head back home. I was still finalizing dates when I had a call from an Aussie mate. He was coming over for a holiday in the UK, beginning in Scotland. I postponed my plans and Jack and I bought a couple of motorbikes.’
‘Fuel-wise cheaper than cars, I guess,’ was Emma’s only comment.
‘Jack and I found a couple of high-powered beauties for sale locally. Those bikes took us everywhere. Life was sweet—until we had the accident.’
Emma winced and she automatically put her hand to her heart. ‘How?’
He gave a grim smile. ‘A foggy afternoon, an unfamiliar road. A bit too much speed. And a truck that came out of nowhere. Jack received a broken leg. I was somewhat more compromised. I ended up with lumbar injuries.’ He expanded on the statement with technical language, ending with, ‘The outcome was partial paralysis in my left leg.’ He grimaced as if the memory was still fresh.
Emma gripped her hands tightly. He must have been sick with worry and conjecture. And fear. Her antagonism faded and her heart went out to him. ‘What was the result? I mean, you don’t appear to have any deficit in your movement.’
His eyes took on a dull bleakness. ‘I’ve regained most of it but my muscles are unpredictable, my toes still get numb from time to time. Added to that, I can’t stand for excessively long periods. And that’s what orthopaedic surgeons have to do. You need to have muscle strength, be in control. I can’t risk a patient’s life by breaking down in the middle of a long operation. So, career-wise, I’m stuffed.’
‘But you could do other kinds of surgery,’ Emma said hopefully.
‘I don’t even want to think about that. I want to do what I was trained to do—what I do—did best.’
But sometimes you had to compromise. Emma knew that better than most. ‘You could lecture, Declan.’
He made a disgusted sound. ‘Take up a chair in a hallowed hall somewhere? That’s not me. I’m a doer. I’d rather change direction entirely.’
‘In other words, come in as my partner—’ She broke off. ‘You might hate it.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Blue eyes challenged her although his mouth moved in the ghost of a wry smile. When she remained silent, he went on, ‘Emma, don’t you think it’s just possible Andrew considered he was acting in the best interests of both of us? He knew the extent of my injuries, the uncertain state of my career in medicine and he knew, without him, you were going to need a partner—someone you could trust. And you can trust me, Emma,’ he assured her sincerely.
Emma felt almost sick with vulnerability.