A Very Special Proposal - Josie Metcalfe

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not as if anyone else is ever going to know and think any less of you.’ And there would be a certain amount of satisfaction in finding out whether Zach had avoided coming to the ignominious end that their teachers had predicted.

      Or would she rather remember him the way he’d been then—forever flouting school dress code in a disreputable leather jacket as he’d thrown one long lean leg over the motorbike he’d been prohibited from parking on school property, then flashing her a wicked grin before he’d flipped the visor down on his helmet and roared off down the road.

      That night, in spite of the fact that she’d had an extremely busy shift at work and was totally exhausted, somehow she just couldn’t sleep.

      For some time she lay in the darkness and practised the relaxation and breathing techniques that had got her through her vivas unscathed, then she tried to read a light-hearted romantic novel, but the characters just couldn’t hold her attention, not when the fictional hero was having to vie with her memories.

      Finally, she gave in to temptation and padded through to the spare room that she’d set up as an office where her laptop sat waiting on the desk in the corner of the room.

      It was amazing how easily she found the site her colleagues had been talking about and how quickly she was able to find the name of the school she’d attended, but even before she began to scroll through the list of names, her misgivings returned, full force.

      ‘What on earth am I doing?’ she demanded of the gently humming machine, her hand hovering over the mouse. One more click would take her to the names beginning with ‘B’ and would tell her whether Zach’s name was registered. Part of her would love to know that he’d gone on to make a success of his life, but she really didn’t want to know that anything…anything bad had happened to him.

      Somehow that would sully the innocent passion of her memories…the soft-focus fantasy that she’d indulged in for years that, if only he’d noticed her…asked her out on just one date…he would have discovered that she was the only woman for him and they would have lived happily ever after.

      Except it had all been one-sided.

      They’d spent weeks as lab partners, assigned purely on the basis of their names in the register, Bowman coming directly after Bowes, so if he’d had any interest in her as even a moderately attractive female, surely he’d have said…something! Anything!

      He could have suggested they had a coffee together…walked with her after a study session in the library…taken her for a ride on his fearsomely powerful bike…

      Ha!

      The closest he’d ever come to that had been to throw her a wicked grin before he’d roared off into the distance, leaving her gazing wistfully after him.

      Even when she’d screwed up her courage to mention the school leavers’ dance, he hadn’t taken the hint. Instead of a blissful evening spent in his arms, she’d had to make do with a rather strained celebratory meal with her parents in an expensive restaurant, listening to the two of them rhapsodise about the glittering future that lay ahead of her. She couldn’t allow herself to be side-tracked by anything, they’d insisted. All she had to do was keep her eye on where she was going. There would be plenty of time for her to have a social life once she was qualified and surrounded by people with the same aims and aspirations…other doctors, for example…

      Amy deliberately shut Edward’s image away, refusing to allow guilty thoughts of the husband she’d lost just over a year ago to intrude on her present dilemma.

      The cursor continued to blink patiently beside Shelley Adams’s name at the top of the list but it almost seemed to taunt her. Just one more click and the section on display would be replaced by the next one and she would know whether Zach’s name was there, then one more click and she would see…what? A copy of that infamous school photo with his dark unruly hair defying taming and his dark eyes…those dark eyes that had followed her through her dreams for years, even into her marriage…? Or would it be a contemporary picture with his striking features blurred by weight and age and his hairline receding towards middle age?

      The idea that she might find out that he was now happily married with half a dozen beautiful dark-eyed children was somehow worse than the prospect of finding out that he’d had a fatal accident on that noisy bike of his or that he’d ended up in prison, and that was totally crazy, considering the way her own life had gone.

      With her parents encouraging her every step of the way, she’d accepted the place her stellar grades had secured at one of the most prestigious medical schools in the country, and immediately after she’d qualified, she’d married Edward in a fairy-tale wedding, much to their delight.

      Edward Willmott, who couldn’t have been less like Zach if he’d deliberately tried. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, he’d been totally focused on getting to the top of the tree in the shortest possible time, no matter what else he had to sacrifice or postpone along the way. Edward, who had died a hero in the middle of a motorway pile-up, leaving her without the child that they were always going to have next year, and feeling guilty that she hadn’t really appreciated what she’d had until it was gone and her life was totally empty.

      She’d had it all, so why should she resent the very idea of Zach finding the same fulfilment?

      ‘No reason at all,’ she said aloud as she decisively broke the connection with the internet and shut the computer down. ‘And no reason whatever to look him up, especially at this time of night when I’ve got to be getting up in another four hours to go to work.’

      She returned to bed, determined not to let her thoughts stray in his direction again, but discovered when she woke up too early, tired and out of sorts, that she hadn’t had any control over where her dreams had taken her.

      ‘So, what would have been so bad about clicking on his name and finding out once and for all?’ she demanded in the noisy confines of her little car as she headed towards the hospital at least an hour earlier than necessary. She pulled up at a pedestrian crossing as an elderly lady stepped off the pavement and started to make her shaky way across the road.

      ‘I hope your doctor’s referred you for surgery on that hip,’ Amy muttered under her breath, force of habit having her analysing the woman’s gait even as she smiled in response to the thanks the woman mouthed. She could only imagine how much pain the poor woman was in if she was moving that gingerly, clearly needing much more help than the inadequate support of the stick she was using.

      Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a car looming in her rear-view mirror. When she registered just how fast he was approaching, she cringed in anticipation of the squeal of brakes that would come when he realised he had to stop for the crossing…Except he didn’t brake, merely swinging out around her as casually as though he was doing nothing more than passing an unimportant vehicle parked at the side of the road.

      Time seemed to stand still for several long seconds but there was a horrific inevitability in the way the other car reached the crossing just as the elderly lady emerged beyond the shelter of Amy’s car right into his path, the driver apparently making no attempt to brake.

      At the very last second, the elderly lady seemed to sense what was about to happen and tried to get out of the way. Unfortunately, her painful hip limited her mobility and instead of stepping back into safety, her legs crumpled beneath her and she landed on the road with a thud.

      ‘Oh, my God!’ Amy shrieked as she flung her door wide, narrowly avoiding stepping into the path of the motorbike that was drawing up beside her. Automatic reflexes had made her reach for her keys and her handbag so that even before she’d reached the frighteningly still figure she’d found her mobile phone and was tapping in the emergency number.

      ‘Emergency. Which service do you require?’ said the voice in her ear as she sank to her knees beside the elderly woman and reached out to search for a pulse.

      ‘Ambulance and police, please,’ she answered crisply. ‘There’s been an accident on the pedestrian crossing about a mile south of the hospital…the one almost outside the

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