Capturing the Single Dad’s Heart (5 page)

‘You're not useless,' James said immediately. ‘It's not your fault you're ill.'

‘It's nothing that you did wrong,' Erin reassured her. ‘But try not to worry. My best friend's mum always used to say, “Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.” Right now it's very early days and we need to see how you respond to the initial treatment—and, as I said, if the steroids don't help, there are other treatments we can try. Remember, there's more than a sixty per cent chance you'll either make a full or a partial recovery.'

‘And what if I don't recover?' Judy asked quietly.

‘Then you'll learn to adapt,' Erin said. ‘You'd be surprised how quickly people adapt to a new situation.'

‘I guess you see a lot of that, here,' James said. ‘With people who've broken their back and what have you.'

‘We do,' Erin confirmed. ‘I'm not saying it's going to be easy, and a lot of people on this unit do suffer from depression as well as from the physical problem that brought them here in the first place, but we're here to help you as much as we can. We can give you lots of support and help.' She smiled at them. ‘And you have each other.'

‘But this isn't what you signed up for,' Judy said to James.

‘Yes, it is. “In sickness and in health”,' he corrected. ‘You're still the woman I fell in love with and married. And we're going to get through this, Jude. Together.'

‘I'll leave you to talk,' Erin said. ‘But if you have any questions, please come and find me. That's what I'm here for, OK?'

Judy nodded, clearly too upset to speak, and Erin left the room.

She sat in the office, writing up her notes, but it was so hard to concentrate. Judy was clearly worried that she wouldn't recover and then her husband would leave her. And, although James had reassured her, the whole thing had brought back a lot of painful memories for Erin. The early days after Mikey's accident, when his girlfriend had walked out, leaving him devastated...

At the rap on the door, she looked up. Nate was leaning against the door jamb. ‘Are you OK?' he asked.

‘Sure,' she fibbed.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I need a word. Can I borrow you for a bit?'

‘OK.'

‘Let's go to the canteen.'

She frowned, but closed her file and followed him. He bought them both a coffee and cake, and found them a quiet table.

‘What's the cake for?' she asked.

‘You look as if you need to talk—and someone very wise once told me that cake makes everything better.'

She smiled at him, recognising her own words. ‘Thanks. I probably just need cake.'

‘So what's sauce for the gander isn't sauce for the goose, then?'

He had a point, she supposed. But the words stuck in her throat.

‘For the record, I don't gossip, either,' he said gently.

She gave him a wry smile. ‘I'd pretty much worked that one out for myself.'

‘So what's upsetting you?'

She took the easy way out. ‘Judy Watson.'

‘The lumbar puncture showed more than inflammatory markers?' he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, it's definitely TM. I talked her through the prognosis, but she's not adjusting very well to the idea of not being able to walk, even for a few weeks. She thinks her husband's going to leave her.'

‘People adjust to their situations—and sometimes they surprise themselves by how well they cope,' he said.

She had a feeling that he was talking about his own situation, too. ‘I'm going to put her in touch with a support group. But this is the really hard bit, coming to terms with what's happened and what it might mean for the future—and for her relationship.'

‘This sounds personal, not just about a patient,' he said softly. ‘Am I right in guessing that you've been here before?'

‘Not with TM.' Maybe she could tell Nate some of the truth. ‘My older brother, Mikey, has a T5 injury from a car accident.' She knew Nate would know exactly what that meant: that her brother's trunk and legs had been affected by the injury and, although his arm and hand functions were normal, he needed to use a wheelchair and special equipment.

‘Is he the one who you said was helped by a sensory garden?'

She nodded. ‘And, yes, before you ask, this is exactly why I work in a spinal unit now. I want to make a difference to other people, the way Mikey's team made a difference to him.'

‘When did it happen?'

She couldn't quite bring herself to tell him that. Nate was bright enough to work it out for himself. If she told him it had happened nearly fourteen years ago, he'd make the connection. And if he worked out that that accident was all her fault, he wouldn't let her help him with his daughter. She wouldn't get the chance to make something right.

‘Mikey was twenty,' she said instead. ‘He was in the second year of his degree in politics. He lost an awful lot of things that mattered to him—being on the university rowing team, his girlfriend, his planned career.' And she knew she'd never stop feeling guilty about how much she'd taken away from her brother.

‘Did he finish his degree?'

‘Yes, though he changed career—he's a journalist now. Mainly politics. Unsurprisingly, he's usually the one on the magazine who covers the disability stories.' And she'd been the one to nag him into it. If she could turn her life round and ace her exams, then so could he. She'd visited him every single day—when her mother wasn't there, by mutual agreement—and nagged him until he gave in and agreed to go back to finish his degree.

‘So where does the garden fit in?'

‘I'd been doing research into spinal injuries and treatments, and I came across something about gardens. One of the rehab places had a project involving a garden, and patients were encouraged to help grow things. According to the early research findings, it made a real difference to the patients' mental attitudes. I talked to Mikey's rehab place to see if they could get him involved with the project or maybe become part of it themselves, and they thought it was a good idea. They arranged for him to go and stay at the other rehab place for a few weeks. I didn't get to see him while he was there, because he was too far away to visit, but we talked on the phone every day and we had email. And I could hear the difference in him, every time we talked. Working on the garden gave him hope that he could still do things and his life wasn't over. It made him think about what he
could
do instead of what he couldn't.'

‘Now I get why the sensory garden is so important to you,' he said.

‘Yes, though you're right, too, about checking costs—because if it's a pet project, you really want it to work and that's more important to you than how much it costs,' she said. ‘Which means you're not always getting the best value for money.'

‘Well, hey. Get this. We're almost agreeing about something,' he said with a smile.

‘It's the sugar talking,' she retorted.

‘Cake makes everything better. You're right.' He eyed the crumbs. ‘I might try that on Caitlin.'

‘Or get her to help make it. She might be into baking.' She paused. ‘Did you talk to her about the weekend?'

‘Yes.' He winced. ‘Let's just say she wasn't very forthcoming.'

‘We can play it by ear. I'll have a think about some different places we could go to, and maybe text you a few ideas to run by her?' she suggested.

‘That sounds great. Thank you. I'll do the same and run them by you before I try them out on her.'

‘OK.' She paused. ‘Thanks for making me come here and eat cake, Nate. I try to keep my personal life separate from work, but sometimes a case brings back the early days with Mikey and it gets to me,' she admitted. ‘Judy's worried about her husband leaving her if she can't walk—and that's exactly what happened to Mikey. His girlfriend said she couldn't cope with his disability and she left him.'

Nate winced. ‘I'm assuming his girlfriend was around the same age that he was when the accident happened—she was in her second year of uni?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then she still had a lot of growing up to do.' He paused. ‘James Watson seemed pretty supportive when I saw them together. I think Judy's worrying over nothing.'

‘Me, too, and I've told her that,' she said. ‘But thanks. You've made me feel a bit better.'

‘Any time. You've made me feel better, too.'

For a moment, their gazes met; again, Erin felt that funny little flip in the region of her heart. But nothing was going to happen. Nate had too much going on in his life to offer her anything more than friendship. Even if his circumstances had been different, she had too much baggage for a relationship to work between them.

If only she'd made some different choices, all those years ago. If only she hadn't gone to that party with Andrew. If only she'd left when he started pushing her. If only she hadn't called Mikey to come and get her and had called her best friend's mum instead...

But you couldn't change the past. You could only learn from it.

‘I'd better finish writing up my notes,' she said. She scribbled her mobile phone number down on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. ‘Text me later and I'll send you some ideas.' And maybe thinking up things to do to help Nate bond with Caitlin would help her to smother her guilt again.

* * *

‘We could go on the London Eye on Saturday,' Nate suggested. ‘Or the cable car over the Thames.'

Caitlin remained impassive. Obviously neither of those suggestions appealed to her.

‘Or shopping. Apparently there are good shops on Oxford Street.' He named the clothing stores Erin had mentioned as being popular with teenage girls.

‘I used to go shopping with my friends,' she said.

Meaning that she didn't want to go shopping with him? OK. He could see that it wouldn't be cool, hanging round clothes shops with your dad. ‘How about a speedboat ride on the Thames?'

Her expression clearly said,
Really?
, with only the scorn a teen could muster.

‘I'm very happy to hear your ideas,' he said.

She shrugged. ‘Whatever.'

He knew she was hurting, so he wasn't going to make it worse for her by yelling at her. He wanted to get closer to her, not push her away. But how?

She hates all the ideas I suggested,
he texted to Erin later.

OK. How about this? It's an escape game. You're locked in a room and you have sixty minutes to get free—you have to work as a team to solve the clues and puzzles. There's a countdown clock.

She sent him a link to the company's website. The more Nate read, the more he liked the sound of it.

That looks like fun,
he texted back.
But you have to book in advance. I just checked and they're not free on Saturday. Can we do that another time?

Or was he presuming too much, hoping that Erin would spend more time with them?

*Definitely* do it some other time,
 
was her immediate response. Then his phone pinged with another text.

What about food? We could do Camden Lock—the street market there has something for everyone and we could see who can find the most unusual food stall. Or go and spot movie locations, if you find out what her favourite movies are. Or we could go to Abbey Road and do THAT pose on the crossing.

All things he'd love to do. Georgina had only really liked posh restaurants and parties where he'd been just a tiny bit bored. And she definitely hadn't had the patience to deal with a troubled teen.

But Erin was his friend, he reminded himself. Even though he'd like her to be more than that, it wasn't going to happen. He needed to sort his life out, first, and he really didn't have the right to ask her to wait for him.

I'll check with her,
he texted back.
Maybe we could go and see a movie. Or a show.

Or Madame Tussauds™,
she suggested.
Depending on what sort of music and movies she likes. She could take great selfies with the waxworks to send to her friends at home.

Clearly she realised her gaffe as soon as she'd sent the text, because a second one swiftly followed.

I didn't mean it like *that*. I meant to her friends. Her home's with you.

I knew what you meant,
he texted back.

The problem was, what she'd written was true. Caitlin didn't think of London as her home. And he didn't know if she ever would.
Talk to you later. And thanks.

CHAPTER FOUR

A
FTER
 
SEVERAL
 
MORE
 
false starts, Nate and Erin decided to take Caitlin trampolining on Saturday morning. ‘Even if she's not in a good mood to start with,' Erin said, ‘bouncing about will get her endorphins going. And it's not just jumping on a trampoline. There's an obstacle course and an airbag, and you can play dodgeball—so she can enjoy chucking a ball at you. In fact, she can have a competition with me about who can score the most hits on you.'

‘You're a big kid at heart, aren't you?' Nate accused with a grin.

‘Oh, yeah.' She grinned back at him. ‘And if the trampoline place is as good as I think it's going to be, I'm so organising a departmental night out there.'

‘Sounds good. We'll meet you at the Tube™ station tomorrow at ten,' he said. ‘What do you have to wear?'

‘Anything you can bounce in, so jeans would be a good bet,' she said. ‘No jewellery, and you have to wear special jumping socks for safety reasons.'

He grimaced. ‘That might be a sticking point.'

‘Nope. No socks, no chucking a dodgeball at you. That's the rules,' she said with a wink. ‘Trust me on this. She'll do it.'

But when Saturday dawned bright and sunny, Erin was filled with doubts.

Was she doing the right thing?

OK, so this wasn't a
date
date. This was helping out a friend.

But would it help Nate to bond with his daughter, or would she be making things worse?

There was only one way to find out. And please, please, let this work out, she begged silently.

She changed into jeans, a neutral T-shirt and flat shoes, tied her hair back in its usual ponytail, and decided not to bother with make-up. By the time they'd bounced round on the trampolines for an hour, she'd be red-faced and glowing; besides, this wasn't the same as if she was dressing to impress a boyfriend. She didn't need to impress Nate. She knew he wasn't interested in a relationship. Even if he was, she was the last person he needed in his life.

Nate and Caitlin were already waiting at the Tube™ station when Erin arrived. It was the first time she'd seen him dressed casually—at the hospital he was always in a suit or scrubs—and her heart skipped a beat. Right now he looked younger. More approachable.
Touchable.

Oh, for pity's sake. How inappropriate was that? Today was friends only, not a date, she reminded herself sharply.

Like her father, Caitlin was tall and had dark hair, but her eyes were deep brown rather than blue and she had a slightly olive complexion, which Erin guessed she'd inherited from her mother.

‘Caitlin, this is my colleague Dr Leyton. Erin, this is my daughter, Caitlin,' Nate introduced them formally.

Erin held out her hand. ‘Good to meet you. Call me Erin,' she invited.

Caitlin said nothing and didn't take her hand. But Erin wasn't in the least put out by the teenager's lack of manners; she could remember only too well feeling awkward, out of place and totally miserable, at that age. Right now she thought Caitlin needed someone to cut her some slack.

‘Thanks for agreeing to come trampolining with me,' she said with a smile. ‘I've wanted to try this new place for the last two months, ever since it opened, but all my friends say I'm insane and refuse to go with me.'

‘I didn't agree. He made me come,' Caitlin said, jerking her head to indicate her father.

‘And you think it sounds like hell on earth?' Erin spread her hands. ‘Well, I can't guarantee that you'll like the music they play, and I might not either, but I can guarantee that you'll feel good after you've been on the trampolines for a few minutes.' She smiled. ‘I could give you a really long lecture about why endorphins are the best thing ever when you're having a bad day, but I'll be kind and spare you the science. Let's just say that I'm looking forward to the dodgeball section, and I was going to challenge you to a competition to see who can score the most hits on your dad.'

‘Hmm,' Caitlin said. ‘So did you ask me along just so you could get close to him?'

Nate looked horrified. Just as he opened his mouth, clearly planning to tell his daughter off, Erin forestalled him. The last thing he and Caitlin needed right now was a fight.

‘Are you asking me if I fancy your dad?' she said, looking Caitlin straight in the eye.

The teenager had the grace to blush. ‘I suppose so.'

‘Nuh-uh,' Erin said, shaking her head. That wasn't strictly true, but Nate wasn't in a position to start any kind of relationship and even if he was then Erin was the last person he should get involved with. Her relationships never lasted, and with his daughter living with him for the first time in years he needed something stable, not something that was bound to go wrong. ‘Walk with me, Caitlin, because I need to explain something to you. Nate, you're not allowed to listen, so you have to walk at least ten paces behind,' she said.

‘Why?' he asked, still looking horrified.

‘Because this is girl stuff. But if you really want to talk about period pains and things like that...' She waited for him to blush. ‘Then be our guest,' she finished, waggling her eyebrows at him.

‘Got you. I'll walk ten paces behind,' Nate said swiftly.

‘Good boy,' Erin said with a grin, and patted his shoulder before shepherding Caitlin through the barriers to the escalator leading to the platform. ‘Now, there are some people in the hospital,' she told Caitlin, ‘who call your dad Mr McSexypants.'

‘They call him
what
?' Caitlin looked horrified; but to Erin's relief she also caught a glimpse of amusement in the younger girl's eyes.

‘Mr McSexypants,' Erin repeated. ‘And yes, I know he's not Scots. Don't make me explain that bit.'

‘All right, but why Mr? I thought he was a doctor?'

‘He is. But he's a surgeon—and when you're a surgeon you can go back to being called Mr or Ms,' Erin explained. ‘So. Now you know. A lot of our colleagues fancy your dad and they think he's one of the most gorgeous men in the hospital. But I don't call him Mr McSexypants.'

‘What do you call him?' Caitlin asked, looking interested.

Erin laughed. ‘I don't think I should tell you. Not yet. But he's not my type.' Again, that wasn't strictly true, but she was working on a need-to-know basis. Neither Caitlin nor Nate needed to know anything about her feelings right now. ‘Now, if you made him blond with longer hair, gorgeous biceps and superhero powers, then we'd be talking.'

‘Oh, you mean like...' Caitlin named one of the actors in a popular sci-fi movie series. ‘He's nice,' she added, almost shyly.

‘Isn't he just?' Erin named a couple more from the same movies. ‘Actually, any of them would do nicely. I think some of them might have a waxwork in Madame Tussauds™, if you want to go and have a look some time.'

‘Maybe.' Caitlin frowned. ‘So if you don't fancy him, why do you want to go out with us?'

‘Obviously your dad hasn't told you what I told him in confidence,' Erin said gently, hoping that the girl would pick up that it meant she could trust her father, ‘so I'll tell you myself. The reason why is because I've been exactly where you are. I was a couple of years older than you when it happened, but my parents split up and then my mum got involved with a real creep. Things got a bit messy, and she sent me to live with my dad—and then I had to start all over at a new school.'

‘Just like me.' Caitlin looked at her. ‘So you're here because you feel sorry for me, then?'

‘No. It's empathy, not pity. I know how it feels to move home and school when you're a teenager. It's hard to fit in and make friends. You feel lonely—like an alien who doesn't belong. And you feel that everyone you left behind is going to forget you so you won't fit in at home any more, either.'

‘Yeah,' Caitlin said feelingly.

‘They won't forget you,' Erin said. ‘It might feel like it right now, but I promise you I've been there and they won't. You just have to learn to juggle a bit. And I was lucky because, although I wasn't getting on very well with either of my parents at the time, I could talk to my best friend's mum, Rachel. I'm guessing that right now that might not be an option for you.'

‘It's not,' Caitlin admitted.

‘I'm seeing this as my chance to pay forward what Rachel did for me and stop someone else feeling as lonely and miserable as I did when I was fifteen,' Erin said. ‘If you want a friend, someone who's going to listen and let you moan to them when things get you down, but who won't let you wallow in misery—then hello, my name's Erin, I work with your dad and I'm very pleased to meet you.'

‘And that's it? You're just being kind to me because someone was kind to you?' Caitlin looked as if she was having difficulty getting her head round the concept.

‘That's it,' Erin said. ‘But if you'd rather do something for me in return so you don't feel that you owe me anything, then you can always nag your dad about what a great idea the sensory garden is.'

‘Sensory garden? Like a little garden where you have plants that rustle and smell and are all different colours?' Caitlin asked, suddenly looking interested.

‘And textures and tastes,' Erin added.

‘We had one of those at my junior school. We used to have story-time out there in summer and watch all the butterflies. It was brilliant.'

Erin gave the girl a high five. ‘Oh, yes. That's
exactly
what I'm talking about.'

‘But why do you need a sensory garden?' she asked. ‘Aren't you a surgeon?'

‘No. I'm a neurologist,' Erin said. ‘I work in the spinal unit. Your dad does the surgery side of things and I do the other side, looking at the way our patients' nervous systems work.'

‘But don't all your patients come in because they've had an accident and broken their neck or their spine and it needs fixing?'

‘Nope. There are lots of other spinal conditions not caused by accidents—some are just caused by people getting older, and some are caused by viruses. Sometimes we can help patients go back to a normal life without any pain. Sometimes we can't get rid of all the pain or they might end up in a wheelchair because the damage is a little bit too much for us to fix, but then we can help them to adjust to a new life.' Erin smiled. ‘That's where my sensory garden comes in.'

‘So it's your garden?'

‘Strictly speaking, it's a community garden that belongs to the hospital, but it's my pet project and that's where a lot of my spare time is going at the moment,' Erin explained. ‘I know it makes a real difference to my patients, being able to be outside in a garden after they've been stuck inside in a bed for months.' She glanced over Caitlin's head at Nate and mouthed, ‘Catch us up—you need to hear this.'

‘Did you have much to do with your sensory garden at junior school?' she asked Caitlin.

‘We had a gardening club and we were allowed to do little bits. We had a tree nursery,' Caitlin said, ‘where we planted acorns. When the trees were three years old someone would come and take them to a local woodland to be planted.'

Nate said, ‘I didn't know you liked gardens.'

Caitlin rolled her eyes at him. ‘You never asked. Anyway, you're never home and you never talk to me.'

Erin said, ‘Hey, truce. When communications break down, there are always faults on both sides. Right now we're agreeing to disagree, OK?'

‘OK,' Caitlin muttered.

‘OK,' Nate echoed.

‘Good. Caitlin, would I be right in thinking you like plant biology?' Erin asked.

The teenager looked at her father and scowled, and then nodded at Erin. ‘If my new school actually
lets
me do biology.'

‘I'll make sure they do,' Nate said.

Caitlin looked as if she didn't quite believe that he'd fight her corner for her, but to Erin's relief this time she didn't argue.

‘You know what—it's really nice and sunny today, and it'd be a shame to spend a morning like this stuck indoors,' Erin said. ‘We could give the trampolining a miss and go and look round Kew Gardens instead, if you like.'

‘But you said you wanted to go trampolining,' Caitlin said, looking surprised.

Clearly she wasn't used to her views being taken into account, poor kid. Erin shrugged. ‘We can do trampolining another time—maybe when it's raining. I haven't been to Kew for ages. If you haven't been there before, I think you might enjoy the greenhouses. There's one with about ten different climates—it's amazing.'

‘I like the biodomes at the Eden Project,' Caitlin said. ‘I've been there on a couple of school trips—we live not far away, in Devon.
Lived
,' she corrected herself, looking miserable.

‘London's really not so bad, and there are some amazing gardens in the city,' Erin said. ‘In fact, there's a garden right next to the Thames where they have banana trees growing in the middle of a bed of sunflowers. We could go and look at them some time, too. And the Sky Garden. I haven't been there, yet, and it'll be nice to have someone to go with.'

‘What's the Sky Garden?'

‘How good's your phone?' Erin asked.

Caitlin just sighed.

‘That bad? OK.' Erin took hers from her pocket and handed it over. ‘Look it up on this. Your job today—apart from eating cake with me, talking plants and making your dad see that sensory gardens are totally awesome—is to make a list of gardens in London that you want to go and see. Then we'll work through your list together over the next few weeks.'

Caitlin's eyes grew round as she looked at Erin's phone. ‘But this is the latest...'