‘That was hardly your fault.’
‘They won’t see it like that.’ He was confronting his worries now. There was something about this place, this woman...
No. It was simply that there’d been no one to talk to for so long. With Rachel... She seemed dispassionate, almost like a psychoanalyst, letting him go where he willed with no judgement. It was a weird sensation and he wasn’t sure why he was reacting to it, but the need to talk was almost overpowering.
‘Marcus is too serious,’ he told her. ‘He blames himself for Kit’s hand. He blames himself for everything. When his grandfather looked like he was about to hit Kit, Marcus shoved himself in between. ‘Hit me instead,’ he was yelling. ‘My report’s worse.’ Only of course it wasn’t, and afterwards he even asked me if he should try and fail a few tests at school to make Kit feel better.
‘Henry’s littler, less complicated, but he has nightmares. I carry a radio in my pocket. If I’m called out at night Rose listens in and so do I. It’s not great, not even totally safe, but it’s the best I can do when I’ve been on call twenty-four-seven. So Rose and I hear the minute he wakes and it’s a race to see who can get there first. Because of what I do, it’s usually Rose but he holds himself rigid, sweating, until I get there.’
He paused. Was he waiting for her to comment? She didn’t, just watched him, waiting for him to continue.
He wasn’t even sure if she was interested but... What was it with this woman?
‘And then Kit,’ he said. ‘Left alone... Well, his cut hand is the least of it. Sometimes he wants me to be there for him, but not often. Tonight he hugged me, but that’s unusual. There’s a part of him that actively tries to drive me away. It’s like he’s testing me, expecting me to leave like his parents, thinking the sooner it happens the sooner he’ll get it over with. So how do I break through that?’
Once again she didn’t answer. He finished his beer and stared at the empty bottle. Rachel gazed out over the ocean, watching the water turn a soft tangerine with the reflections of the setting sun. Somehow she seemed to be melting into herself, folding, tucking herself neatly away—to where no one could touch her? To where personal stories didn’t hurt?
‘Your parents?’ she said, almost absently, and why should he answer that? But he did.
‘Loving but absent,’ he told her. ‘Overseas. Caught up in their careers. These kids have nothing to do with them.’ And for the life of him he couldn’t keep his voice from sounding bleak.
He heard it and he flinched. He sounded needy. Him. He didn’t need anyone.
Except he did need help for the boys, and he didn’t know where to begin to ask.
The silence stretched. It seemed they were both staring into the future. Or the past?
What was her story? She wasn’t saying.
‘Kids are resilient,’ she said at last, breaking the spell. She stood up and brushed the sand from her legs. ‘You’re doing the best you can. They’ll survive.’
‘Like you survived?’
She froze at that. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Cigarette burns,’ he said neutrally. ‘Unmistakable once you’ve treated them.’
‘And none of your business.’
‘So I spill my all to you...’
‘And I don’t spill back.’ She shrugged. ‘You’ve been generous but one low-alcohol beer does not a contract make. I need to go home. I’m hungry.’
‘We have hamburgers at my place.’
A glimmer of humour returned and her lips twitched. ‘So you’re asking...what? You’ll give me a hamburger in return for me being third man in Dragon Doom or whatever?’
‘Hey, I never said...’
‘You didn’t need to. I guessed. So, no, thank you.’ The smile was still there. ‘I have home-made lasagne, which will heat while I’m in the shower. Then I have a date with a movie. So while Dragons are tempting, sorry. Bye.’
Home-made lasagne. A movie. Maybe a bottle of wine. It was like a siren’s song and it was so far out of his list of possibilities that he couldn’t even think about it.
He rose as well, aware of emptiness. Of leaving without her.
And then his phone vibrated.
He closed his eyes for a second, but this was almost inevitable, a call on Friday night. Why not?
He snagged his phone from his pocket. Unknown number. Local.
Work.
‘Dr Lavery.’
‘Doc? It’s Col Hunter here.’
His phone was set on loudspeaker—he set it every night as he left work because of the times he had to listen over the racket the kids were making. Col’s voice was deep and booming, disturbing the silence of the beach, but Tom left it on loud. After all, Rachel was a colleague.
‘How can I help you?’ Already he knew there was trouble. Underlying Col’s booming voice he could hear pain.
‘I fell over the pig,’ Col managed. ‘Got her in, got her fed, thought she had her snout in the trough and then suddenly she’s shoving her way between me and the gate, trying to get out again. It’s me ’taters she wants, Doc. Spent all bloody summer trying to get a decent crop. She’s been watching me water ’em, fertilise ’em and now she wants ’em. Dutch Creams—the best ’taters you can get—and Mavis isn’t bloody having ’em.’
‘You’ve hurt yourself.’ Cut to the chase, Col.
‘It’s me hip,’ Col said. ‘Had to crawl inside. Managed to get the sty gate shut though, so I won. Bloody pig.’
Tom almost grinned but didn’t. Col was in his eighties and had suffered osteoarthritis for years. A fall, a damaged hip...
‘Is there anyone with you?’ he asked.
‘You know Pat left me years ago,’ Col managed. ‘“The pigs or me”, she said and off she went with some life insurance fella. Kids are both in Melbourne. Doc, I can’t seem to pull meself up. Reckon I need you, mate.’
‘I reckon you do, too,’ Tom told him. ‘Your place is right up the top of Bellbird Ridge, right?’
‘You got it. I remember you coming here with your grandpa when you were a little fella.’
‘I’m coming again now,’ Tom told him. ‘It’s probably best if you don’t move until I get there.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that, Doc,’ Col said. ‘Passed out twice getting to the phone. Not risking that again. But...could you make it fast?’
‘I’ll make it fast,’ Tom said. ‘Grit your teeth, mate. I’m on my way.’
* * *
‘I’ll come with you.’
Where had that come from? She wasn’t on call. She and Tom had sat down last Monday and defined their call duties. Tonight she was off—unless for emergencies.
This was hardly an emergency—an old man falling, possibly breaking a hip. Shallow Bay had an ambulance service of sorts, a vehicle equipped with stretchers, manned by volunteers trained in first aid. Tom could easily assess the damage and call her in if he needed her.
So why was she offering?
She had no idea. Maybe it was the slump of Tom’s shoulders as he disconnected, a slump that spoke of regret.
Why, though? If he was back in Sydney she’d understand it. He’d be leaving his friends, his good time. Here, this call would mean little more than being home late for children who weren’t his, children who were already being adequately cared for.
Except he did care. That was the part she was struggling with. Taking children from their grandparents when they were being obviously mistreated—that was understandable. He’d had no choice. But she’d met Rose. She knew that lady was a carer in a million. The boys were safe.
Tom had already confessed he didn’t want to play their video game. This was the perfect excuse. So why the shoulder slump?
She didn’t understand—but neither did she understand the imperative urge to help.
‘Rachel, thanks
, but I need to go now.’ Tom was gathering the empty bottles, turning towards the track.
But she’d already hauled her dress over her swimsuit. She grabbed her beach bag and headed after him.
‘I can cope,’ he said as she fell in beside him. ‘There’s no need for you to come as well.’
‘You have trained paramedics?’
‘You know we don’t, but...’
‘But you’re sure I’d be useless? Tom, I can get you home to the boys faster. I’d go by myself but I don’t know the way and risk getting lost. Plus you’ve already told him you’re coming and it sounds as if he knows you.’
‘Everyone in Shallow Bay knows me,’ he said. He hadn’t eased his stride to accommodate her but she was keeping up.
‘Because you came here as a child?’
‘The people here loved my grandparents,’ he said, talking briskly as he walked. ‘My grandpa cared for everyone. My grandmother wasn’t a doctor but she cared even more. They only had the one child, my dad, but that didn’t stop their house being stuffed to the plimsoll line with people in need, stray dogs, pot plants Grandma was looking after for people in hospital—whatever. I was supposed to have my own bedroom in the school holidays, but in the end I carved out a niche in the attic and called it mine. I told Grandma if ever I found a needy anything in there, animal, mineral or vegetable, I was heading straight back to Sydney.’
‘Did you mean it?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘And now you’re right back in the chaos.’
‘As you say,’ he said briefly.
They’d reached his car, parked outside his cottage. He paused. ‘I’ll duck in and tell Rose what’s happening. But there is no need for you to come.’
‘You don’t want help?’
He gave her an odd look, as if considering. Then he nodded. ‘Of course. Two doctors are always better than one.’
‘Which is why I’m here,’ Rachel said. ‘Instead of where we’d both be happier, back in Sydney.’
‘Okay, then,’ he told her and tossed her his phone. ‘Accepted. Can you find “ambulance” in Favourites? Maggie coordinates the ambulance volunteers. Tell her we need a car up at Col Hunter’s place. Probable fracture. No lights and sirens, though, take it easy.’
‘Why not lights and sirens?’ Surely there was a need for haste.
‘Because our volunteers love lights and sirens,’ he said grimly. ‘And it’s getting dark and the roads are narrow. Once upon a time I lived and breathed adrenaline but not any more. Shallow Bay might have two doctors now, Dr Tilding, but let’s not go asking for trouble.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ONE ELDERLY FARMER. One injured hip.
As soon as she saw him, Rachel knew she’d made the right call to accompany Tom. The old man’s breathing was shallow and rapid, shock and pain taking their toll. She did the busy work, setting up an IV, organising oxygen, finding cushions and blankets to keep the old man as warm as possible until the ambulance arrived. Tom did the assessment—and the reassurance.
Tom was senior to her. She’d have been happy to take a back seat anyway, but Tom was offering more than medicine.
The old man reacted to his presence with humbling gratitude. ‘Thank God you’re here, Doc. I’ll be right now.’ She saw the absolute trust and she thought, that can’t have developed solely in the time Tom’s been a doctor here.
And then she thought of his grandfather, here for forty or more years. She’d read of his work when she’d accepted the scholarship. He’d been an old-fashioned family doctor, he and Tom’s grandmother devoted enough to their community to set up the foundation that had sent her here.
And it seemed Tom had inherited that trust. He was Doc Lavery. Shallow Bay’s own.
His grandparents would be proud of him, she thought. She watched his gentleness, his skill, and she thought Shallow Bay was blessed to have him.
But he didn’t want to have Shallow Bay. He’d been forced to be here.
As she had—but Tom was here for life. Because of emotional ties.
She didn’t have them. She didn’t believe in them. They let you down, over and over.
Claire had trusted them absolutely when she’d placed her boys in Tom’s care, she thought. The ties had obviously been bone-deep and he’d had no choice but to accept responsibility.
All this she thought as she worked in the background, preparing what Tom needed to make the old man comfortable. The ambulance arrived, two youngish volunteers, farmers by the look of them. Women who knew Col well. Who accepted orders willingly, yet who didn’t have the training to do more than lift and carry and keep safe.
How alone had Tom been before she’d arrived?
How alone would he be when she left?
There’d be another scholarship holder to take her place, she thought. Another itinerant. Tom was here, where he didn’t want to be. For ever.
They were supervising Col into the ambulance. The plan was for Tom to accompany Col to hospital while Rachel drove Tom’s truck. Yeah, well, she was used to Moby Dick now. Her own little Petal was gleaming again, but Tom’s SUV was far more sensible for the roads around here. He handed her the keys but took her arm, keeping her back for a moment, out of earshot of Col and his fussing attendants.
‘Rachel, how do you feel about operating tonight?’
‘Me?’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘Operate?’
‘Sorry.’ He gave a rueful shrug. ‘Wrong wording. The operator would be me. You know I trained as an orthopaedic surgeon before my life went pear-shaped? When I came here I brought all the equipment I need. I’ve hardly used it. We’re not set up for major surgery, but in this case... How do you feel about giving the anaesthetic while I operate?’
‘Tonight?’
‘It depends on the X-rays, of course,’ he told her. ‘But every indication is that he’s fractured his hip. He’s eighty-seven and he’s frail, but he’s mentally fine. He loves his farm. He’ll want to get back here as soon as possible. You know the odds on morbidity after hip fracture. It depends so much on getting him back on his feet fast. If he’s not upright in days, he may well never get back up. I’d like him to wake up tomorrow to Day One of recovery instead of Day One in Sydney, waiting for specialist assessment that may not happen until Monday. Cath from Ferndale will come if I need her, but she’s a couple of hours’ drive away. So...are you up for surgery?’
An anaesthetic for a shocked, elderly and frail man? She’d signed up for family medicine. This wasn’t in her contract. She had boundaries.
But it seemed her boundaries had been crossed almost the moment she’d arrived in Shallow Bay. Tom was looking at her expectantly. The ambulance ladies were watching them both, wondering what the problem was.
One old man was lying in the ambulance and Tom was asking for her help.
So get a grip, she told herself. This was peanuts compared to what Tom had committed to this place. Besides, she’d done an anaesthetic rotation in her internship. She could manage.
‘I read your CV,’ Tom said. ‘I know you have the skills.’
‘You don’t know how confident I am.’
‘And you don’t know how skilled I am. So...are we prepared to trust each other?’
And how was a woman to respond to that?
No! The question should be, How would a doctor respond? she reminded herself. This situation had nothing to do with her being a woman. It also had nothing to do with the way Tom was looking at her, those dark eyes watchful. Waiting to see if she’d help.
But when she nodded and said, ‘Let’s do it,’ Tom nodded his relief. Those gorgeous eyes smiled at her and she was forced to smile back...
No! This was crazy. She was in the middle of a medical crisis. She had no business to be even conscious that a colleague was smiling at her.
But she was only human.
/>
No, she thought as she beat back totally irrelevant thoughts. She was only a woman. And that woman needed to get herself back under control, fast.
* * *
He’d said he was surgically trained. He was so much more. What Rachel saw in the next couple of hours was a masterclass in surgical repair.
Col Hunter was a big man with big bones but those bones had been eroded by osteoarthritis. It wouldn’t have taken a huge knock to break his femur. It did take a huge amount of skill to repair it, but Tom was up to it.
Rachel focused on the anaesthetic, which took concentration, especially as she was working from a basic skill set. Col was frail and the shock of the fall, plus what seemed to be the tail end of a bronchial infection, had her hauling up everything she’d ever learned and more.
But they had a full theatre complement. Roscoe had come in, as had a couple of other senior nurses. They’d obviously operated with Tom before, anticipating his needs, leaving the way clear for Rachel to concentrate solely on the job at hand.
She had a little space at the edges to watch what Tom was doing.
This man could make a fortune as an orthopaedic surgeon, she thought. What a waste that he was stuck here, leaving those skills unused.
Except he was using them tonight. He worked swiftly, and Rachel thought Col couldn’t have had better treatment if he’d been brought into a major city hospital.
As it was, he’d wake in a hospital he knew, surrounded by people he knew. With Tom’s skill, he’d have a functional hip, far stronger than it’d been before the fall.
There was talk in the theatre, the banter that always went on between medical staff who knew each other well, but Rachel didn’t contribute. Her silence was respected, though. Maybe the nurses as well as Tom knew how much she needed to focus on what she was doing.
Maybe they didn’t notice that she was focusing just a little bit on Tom himself.
On his fierce concentration. On his skills. On the way he responded to the nurses around him.
Roscoe was anxious. He shouldn’t be here—his wife’s baby was overdue—but there was no way he’d have delegated tonight’s surgery to someone junior. Tom chatted to Roscoe as he worked, including him, making him maybe even busier than he needed to be. It didn’t deflect Tom’s focus on the work at hand, but Rachel realised it was lessening the look of strain she’d been seeing on Roscoe’s face for the last few days.
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