‘Except maybe for this left rear. But at least that means they’re easier to treat. We need to soak them first,’ she said. ‘Ten minutes in a weak saline solution so we can debride any burnt skin before we dress the burns.’
‘And just how to you do the soaking part?’ her helper asked.
Lauren heard the smile in his voice and looked up. Smiled back. ‘Give her a bath,’ she said, crossing to the sink and filling a basin with warm water. ‘She’d hate it if she was awake, but while she’s sedated it’s quite easy. She needs all the burnt rubbish out of her fur anyway, before we can check for any other injuries.’
‘Maybe you should be the vet here,’ Cam said, and Lauren grinned.
‘I have been for the last few months,’ she said, easing the koala into the basin. ‘The fires threw everyone out of kilter, and the locum Henry’s lawyers had appointed didn’t manage to get here until a couple of weeks ago. But nor did a huge number of our usual holidaymakers, so my practice wasn’t as busy either.’
‘You’re a doctor?’
She lifted the little bear out of the basin and placed her on a towel while she changed the filthy water, returning with a clean dish and pausing to glance at the man who’d asked the question, his head now bent over the bear as he tried to keep all four paws in the water.
‘I am—but I didn’t tell you that, did I?’
He looked up and grinned, restarting all her physical sensations.
‘I think the rescue team and the paramedics all calling you “Doc” was a bit of a giveaway,’ he said. ‘I owe the whole lot of you thanks for the rescue, but also an apology. I was so furious with myself for doing something so irresponsible as flying the machine, I was positively rude.’
‘You were hurting, too,’ she reminded him, inordinately pleased by the apology.
He smiled again.
Oh, dear.
‘That’s no excuse,’ he said. ‘I knew it was stupid, but Maddie was so excited when I told her I’d flown one before, well...’
A rueful smile this time, but just as effective at jangling her nerves.
If she concentrated on the job at hand she could ignore the smiles, she told herself, and changed the water for the second time.
‘There’s necrotic tissue turning white on the front paws.’ Cam pointed it out to her.
‘That’s good. We can take her out now, and dry her, and cut off all that dead skin before treating her.’
She dried the small animal carefully, then set her down on a clean towel.
‘Can you keep a hand on her while I sort out what I’ll need?’ she asked.
Cam reached out with his good hand to hold the animal gently, avoiding the damaged areas—learning through touch, Lauren thought, and respected him for it.
Knowing the sanctuary so well, she quickly found what she needed, and gave the little animal her first injection of fluids.
‘If I had two hands I could at least do the debriding for you,’ he said, but she brushed away his words.
‘I’ve done it often enough that it’s almost second nature for me now,’ she said as she snipped. ‘We use that antibiotic ointment and then a non-adhesive dressing,’ she said, as he peered at the different things she’d produced from the cupboard.
‘Then you have to bandage them?’ he asked, looking up at her.
His head was so close she found it difficult to answer. ‘Bandages—of course!’ she finally managed, turning away and all but running to the refuge of the supply cupboard. ‘We bandage the pads like we’d bandage the palm of a hand, leaving her claws free to hold a grip on her perch.’
The words tumbled out as she began the job, the table between them now.
‘And you just leave the nose?’ he asked.
Somehow the sensible question settled her nerves, and she was able to glance across at him. ‘I think that’s your job,’ she said. ‘What would you do?’
‘Leave it and keep applying the cream.’
His voice was beautiful—deep and rich—and the English intonation invested it with something special.
Not rude at all now...
* * *
Despite the ache in his shoulder, and a general sense of pain all over his body whenever he moved, Cam found himself enjoying this experience—enjoying being with this woman as well as learning about the treatment of the little bear. Not that they were really bears, koalas, but Uncle Henry had sent Maddie a toy one when she was born, so he’d always considered them to be bears.
There was something restful about this woman. Definitely competent, but quietly so, assured—and confident in her own skin. It was how he wanted Maddie to grow up—but how did you achieve that, given things like peer pressure and the widespread influence of the dreaded Internet?
‘Is something wrong?’ Lauren asked, and he realised he must be frowning.
He shook his head and had to smile. ‘I’m letting myself panic about things that might never happen—worrying about how to bring Maddie up to be herself and proud of it. Stupid, I know, when she’s only four.’
‘A very bright four-year-old, from the little I’ve seen of her.’
He sighed. ‘Yes, she is that! But so was her mother.’
A deeper sigh.
‘Was?’ Lauren asked. ‘Her mother’s dead?’
He gave a huff of laughter that sounded perilously close to a snort.
‘Not dead,’ he said, ‘but she might as well be for all the interest she takes in her daughter. She left us two years ago, certain that some god, or fate, or some higher power, had a purpose for her and she had to find it—to... Well, I think just to save the world, generally speaking. No big challenge! Last I heard she was here in Australia, way up north in the rainforest. Trees are one of the many things she’s dedicated to saving.’
He heard the edge of sarcasm in his own voice—weary sarcasm, for there’d been long battles fought on the subject...fought and lost.
‘Maddie barely remembers her—which is sad, as she was a good mother when she felt like it, thinking up fun games, telling stories, walking in the park to see the squirrels.’
Was that an echo of sadness in his voice now?
He hoped not.
He had realised very early on in their marriage that it probably wouldn’t last. The magical, mystical wild child who had so comprehensively spellbound him was, in reality, careless and unreliable, not to mention emotionally fragile, needy, and totally exhausting to be around twenty-four hours a day.
Realising his mind had wandered, he tuned back in to Lauren, who was saying something about the size of their patient—something to do with feeding.
‘I’m sorry, I was miles away,’ he said, and she smiled.
‘That’s okay—it’s actually a wonder you’re still able to sit there after the fall you had. I was saying I think she’s probably feeding mainly on leaves now, but I’ll give her some milk because it’s easy and should help her settle. We use a soy-based infant formula.’
She waved the feeding bottle she had in her hand and wrapped an old woollen cardigan around the wounded animal, which was just beginning to stir.
‘This might make her feel safer—remind her of her mother’s pouch,’ she explained. ‘There,’ she added, as she tucked the sleepy animal against her chest and looked down into button-bright eyes. ‘Would you like some milk?’
She slid the soft rubber teat into the koala’s mouth and Cam reached out and touched the soft fur on her head.
‘She really is quite beautiful...damaged paws and all,’ he said, in a slightly awed voice.
‘She is that!’ Lauren said, and they both watched as the little animal investigated the teat with her pink tongue before finally taking some milk. ‘Good girl,’ Lauren said.
And, although exhaustion was telling Cam he should take himself off to bed, he found he couldn’t leave, mesm
erised by this woman talking quietly to the injured and undoubtedly traumatised animal. It was a picture he’d probably keep in his mind for ever.
* * *
As the animal’s eyes closed, and the teat fell from her mouth, Lauren stood up, mentally wondering where to leave the little koala.
‘I’ll just settle her in a box under a tree, so she can climb out if she wants to,’ she said.
Looking up at Cam as she spoke, she read the grey pallor of exhaustion in his face.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! I’m so stupid—letting you stay here while I sort her out. You should be in bed. I shouldn’t have asked for your help.’
She slid the animal into a cardboard box, and pushed it up against a tree trunk that had some fresh green leaves tied to it about two feet above ground level.
‘Come on,’ she said, moving towards the man on the stool. ‘Let me give you a hand back into the house.’
He reached for his stick with his right hand but she waved it away, sliding her arm under his right shoulder to help ease him to his feet.
‘Now, put your free arm around my shoulder and lean on me,’ she said as he teetered unsteadily.
‘I’m really quite all right,’ he protested feebly.
‘And I’m a Martian,’ Lauren retorted. ‘Come on—one step at a time.’
The fact that he was leaning on her told Lauren just how exhausted he must be. At least he’d eaten and could go straight to bed.
Bed.
Bed was the last thing she wanted to think about, given the way this man she held so closely—for nothing but support, mind—was making her feel...making her body feel.
Forget all that—she’d think about it later. Right now she had to find somewhere for him to sleep—in a house where the bedrooms were all upstairs.
He’d never make it.
‘Let’s head for your living room,’ she suggested. ‘In Henry’s day there was a good couch in there. It won’t be long enough for you, but we can prop your legs up at one end and your head the other and it will save you the stairs.’
‘And who is “we”?’ he asked.
She turned to look at him—so close she could see the beard shadow on his chin and the tilt of a smile on his lips. ‘Me!’ she said, possibly with more force than was necessary as she tried to ignore her reaction to those smiling lips. ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor!’
Though a fine doctor you are to have let him sit for so long, she finished in her head, as the weight of the man pressed close to her.
It was disconcerting, to say the least.
No, it was far more than disconcerting. But that was also something she could think about later...
‘Nearly there,’ she said, far too cheerily, as they crossed the tiled entry and went into the living room, straight towards the couch. ‘Now, are you okay to sit?’ she asked when they reached it, thinking that if he dropped down onto it too suddenly he might jar his shoulder.
‘Very slowly,’ he growled, and she knew he understood.
Eventually, with cushions from the armchairs, she had his length settled.
‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘Stop fussing!’
So she did—although she knew the nights got chilly and he would need something to cover him.
She went back into the wildlife hospital area. Locals knitted and donated all manner of things for the animals, and there, in one of the cupboards, she found a couple of bright crocheted blankets.
‘They would be pink!’ he muttered at her as she spread them over him.
‘It suits you,’ she said. ‘Now—pain relief. Did the hospital give you something?’
‘I don’t need it,’ he said, and she laughed.
‘You’re doing that man thing of grinning and bearing it,’ she teased. ‘It’s not going to make you look like a wuss if you take a couple of tablets. Where will I find them?’
‘Wuss? I’m being a wuss, now?
‘I think you’re being a big baby.’
The small voice made them both turn to see Maddie, in a long nightdress, standing in the doorway, a toy koala tucked under one arm.
‘What are you doing out of bed?’ her father demanded. ‘And where’s your grandmother?’
‘She’s asleep,’ Maddie said, coming closer to her father and sidling up until he could put his arm around her small body. ‘And I heard voices.’
This probably wasn’t the time to tell the child she shouldn’t be coming downstairs on her own to investigate voices in the night, so instead Lauren asked, ‘Do you know where the tablets your father brought home from the hospital might be?’
Maddie nodded, and handed the toy koala to her father. ‘You hold Gummie and I’ll show you,’ she said, and she headed off out through the door, clearly expecting Lauren to follow.
‘I’ll get you some water as well,’ Lauren said. ‘You’ll be all right here with Gummie?’
She was smiling as she said it, and although all she received by way of an answer was a baleful glare, she was fairly sure he’d stay where he was. He was in too much pain to do much else, she guessed, as she followed Maddie towards the kitchen.
‘I imagine those tablets are up in that cupboard so you can’t reach them,’ she said, walking into the room to find Maddie dragging a chair towards a high kitchen cupboard.
‘Yes, but Daddy needs them,’ she said, abandoning the chair and pointing to the cupboard she’d been aiming for.
Lauren retrieved the painkillers, read the label and checked her watch, surprised to find that it was after ten. She’d come for help at about six, so he certainly hadn’t had any pain relief in the last four hours.
She washed her hands, then released two tablets from the aluminium strip, filled a glass with water and, herding Maddie in front of her, headed back to the living room.
‘Will you stay and look after my daddy in the night?’ the child asked, and Lauren looked down and saw the worry in her eyes.
‘He really doesn’t need looking after now,’ she said gently.
Maddie nodded, but Lauren couldn’t fail to read the mutiny on her face.
‘But I could stay if you’d like me to,’ she told the child, who lit up with utter delight.
‘I’ll stay and help too,’ Maddie promised.
And Lauren began to realise it was going to be a very long night.
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHAT ON EARTH are you doing here?’
The grouchy question brought Lauren out of her dreams of unburnt forests and back to the real world in a second.
She glanced over at the second armchair, wondering briefly if it was as uncomfortable as hers, but Maddie was still sound asleep. Finally she looked at Cam, who appeared exhausted, dark-jawed, and not very happy.
‘There are two painkillers on the table to your right,’ she said, ‘and some water. You might want them before you try to stand.’
‘I haven’t time to wait for them to work,’ he muttered, squirming as he tried to untangle himself from the crocheted covers.
‘Here, let me!’ Lauren said, standing carefully as she realised her cramped sleeping position had her own joints complaining.
She crossed the room and disentangled him, then shifted the cushions that had propped up his legs so he could swivel around and stand.
Handing him his stick, she bent her knees and slid her arm under his right shoulder to help ease him to his feet.
‘Just take it slowly,’ she warned.
He was pushing against the pain, and would probably have had them both on the floor if a woman hadn’t appeared in the doorway.
‘He always was stubborn, even as a child,’ said the woman—who must be the missing Madge. ‘And far too proud to accept a bit of help. Makes him cranky, people helping him. I put it down to losing his father when he was only young—Maddie’s age, really. Felt he had to be
a man from then on, and hated not being able to do everything his father had.’
Somehow they were upright.
‘Thanks, Ma,’ Cam growled at the woman, before turning to Lauren. ‘Now I’m on my feet, I think I can manage the bathroom on my own.’
‘I need to get home anyway,’ Lauren said, backing off with her arms up, surrendering. ‘I’m Lauren Henderson,’ she said, turning to the new arrival. ‘I live next door. I stayed because Maddie was worried about her father.’
Aware she must look a sight—still sooty in parts, and wearing slept-in clothes—she headed out of the room, across the entry, and escaped through the front door. It was only when she got to where the paths merged, and bent to retrieve her spiked shoes and rope, that she realised she was starving.
She could vaguely remember having a cup of tea when she’d returned from the gully the second time, and whatever she’d eaten with that had been her final meal of the day.
She should have raided her neighbour’s kitchen last night, but by the time she’d settled Maddie in one of the cushionless armchairs, and herself in the other, she’d been too tired even to think about it.
* * *
Cam brought the old motorbike slowly out of the scrub and looked up at the mellow yellow of the stone building in front of him.
He lowered his legs to the ground to get his balance.
He also tucked his left hand back into its sling, aware he shouldn’t have had it out for even such a short time.
He looked at the building again, seeing it as somehow warm and welcoming.
Had she—Lauren, he reminded himself—had the stone cleaned in some way so that it looked so much better than the drab greyness of Henry’s—his!—home?
‘Just nip inside and ask if we can see the doctor for a minute,’ he said to Maddie, who’d dismounted to stand beside him.
She didn’t hesitate, disappearing through the front door and turning to speak to someone in the entry. He smiled to himself, imagining the small but determined child doing battle with a receptionist—the guardian of the dragon’s lair.
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