Which was dumb. I was just homesick. I’d be okay as soon as I was back where shoes cost more than a can of baked beans and where baked beans didn’t take up half the supermarket aisles.
Still, sleep refused to come.
Romantic love …
Lust! Ridiculous!
At a quarter to nine the next morning I fronted up at the hospital. Maybe he’d forgotten my promise, but I hadn’t. A coward would head back to the States right now, I thought. A coward wouldn’t go near Jack.
But the low-life doctor I’d kissed the night before was also the low-life doctor who was blackmailing me to care for Muriel. Running back to the States was impossible, as was not facing Jack for five weeks.
The only way to not face him was to stay in the cottage with the door closed. So no. The easiest thing to do, I’d decided after one very long night, was to face him as if nothing had happened.
If I could.
Courage, Jennifer.
I had fifteen minutes before I was supposed to meet Jack. I’d pop into Muriel’s ward first. Her leg was looking good. Any minute now, Jack’d say she could come home but the prospect wasn’t enough to cheer her. She greeted me with the scowl she’d been using all week.
I tried for insouciance. ‘Hi, Grandma.’
‘My name is Muriel.’
This could be another fast visit.
‘Jack said you had Drifter,’ I said, looking around for the dog.
‘He dumped her here last night. What sort of hospital is this that they let stray mutts wander the ward?’
‘She’s Grandpa’s dog. Jack said you wanted to keep her with you.’
‘What would he know? He’s been here and carted her off. Thankfully.’ She scowled. ‘And what do you think you’re doing, coming here dressed like that?’ She pointed at my suit and snorted. ‘And why don’t you fix your hair?’
‘My hair won’t straighten,’ I told her, touching my curls in something akin to desperation. ‘In this humidity …’
‘It looks ridiculous. If you can’t even control your hair … And with that suit it’s even stupider. You look like you’re dressed for the office—not for a hospital visit.’
‘In a way I am. I’ve agreed with Dr McLachlan—’
‘I know exactly what you’ve agreed with Jack McLachlan,’ Muriel threw at me. ‘He came in here smirking like the cat that got the canary. Work for him? Are you out of your mind? You’re in trouble enough already.’
But I was no longer listening. Jack had been smirking? Had he thought kissing me had been funny?
But Muriel was looking at me and Muriel had a habit of seeing more than I wanted.
‘You’re saying I’m trouble?’ I asked, cautious.
‘Yes, trouble,’ Muriel snapped.
‘If it wasn’t for you—’ ‘If it wasn’t for me then you’d probably be minus a leg.’
‘Maybe I would. And maybe I’d be dead and maybe I’d be grateful. I don’t know why the Lord’s making me hang around when Henry’s already gone. I should be with him.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I was suddenly astounded. ‘You should be with Henry now, a happily married pair, waltzing up to St Peter, hand in hand? Muriel, you haven’t seen Henry in fifty years.’
But Muriel refused to be distracted. ‘I never should have gone near him then. My parents warned me. He was a walking disaster. And here you are walking into exactly the same trap.’
‘Trap?’
‘Don’t think I don’t see the attraction of someone like Jack McLachlan. The man just has to smile to make a girl jump into bed.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You know what I mean.’
I sank heavily into the visitor’s chair and stared. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. Are you saying I’m risking falling for Jack McLachlan the same way you fell for Henry?’
‘They’re the same sort,’ Muriel said fretfully. ‘So damned honourable, and sexy enough to curl your toes. He came in this morning and I could see—’
‘Grandpa curled your toes?’
But Muriel was giving up nothing else. ‘Leave me be. Just go. Keep away from the McLachlan boy. Get yourself back to the States where you belong. To Richard. A man like Richard has money, prestige, family connections—with the family he has, he’ll never go near scandal. You’ll be safe. That’s what you want. Safety. Security.’
She was getting herself so agitated that I caught her by her shoulders and propelled her gently back onto the pillows.
‘Grandma, don’t do this. There’s nothing interfering with my relationship with Richard. You’re confused.’
Muriel glared. ‘It’s not me who’s confused. Why on earth did you agree to work for that man?’
‘He needs my help.’
‘Need has nothing to do with it. Do you think his need will make him hold on to you? No! Do you think I can’t see? He’ll use you and he’ll send you back.’
‘He won’t send me anywhere. I’m working here until you’re fit to fly home. This is hardly an earth-shattering decision, Grandma.’
‘I’m not Grandma!’ Muriel put a hand to her eyes and to my astonishment I saw that once again she was weeping. She never wept. ‘Don’t call me anything! I can’t bear for you to make the same mistakes. Just get out!’
Shaken, I made my way through to the rear of the hospital to the consulting rooms. To Jack.
He was alone, working through a pile of patient histories that looked a foot thick. The smile he gave me as I arrived held relief. Maybe he’d thought I wouldn’t come. Maybe that was the sensible option.
I’d offered and I wouldn’t back down, but there were a few things that needed to be cleared up first. How dare he smile?
‘First things first. About the kiss … Don’t you dare think of touching me again,’ I said, jumping right in. ‘Making advances towards the relative of a patient has to be right up there in the list of things you can be deregistered for, even in this who-knows-where-we-are place.’
This was good, I decided. Anger seemed the safest defence.
‘And if you think I was kissing you back you couldn’t be more wrong,’ I continued. ‘There’s no way. I was tired and confused and you come hanging around my garden at the dead of night …’
‘Like a peeping Tom.’
‘Exactly. I’m engaged to Richard. He’s a wonderful, intelligent, caring—’
‘Rich?’
‘—successful neurosurgeon. He’s everything I want in a husband and if you think I’d risk it …’
‘How did you risk it? Does Richard have you bugged?’
‘He knows what I do.’
‘This is creepy.’ The jerk was still laughing. ‘The nurses say Muriel was acting like Henry was flitting around here last night, too. Seems he’s still watching over you. You do know he had you watched as well as Muriel?’
‘He what?’
‘He was paying his private investigator to keep tabs on you both. To make sure you’re safe, he said.’
‘You’re kidding.’ Henry had me watched? The thought was … more than creepy. It was insane. To watch me but never come near me … To keep me safe …
Was I supposed to feel grateful?
‘I’m not kidding,’ Jack was saying. ‘So Richard …’
‘Richard would never have me watched.’
‘How do you know? You and Muriel need to keep the men in your life under control.’
‘Of all the—’
‘You really didn’t enjoy the kiss?’
That hauled me back from thoughts of creepy investigators. ‘No!’
‘Pity.’ He sighed and went back to his notes. ‘I’ll be needing to refine my technique somewhere else.’
I glowered, but my thoughts veered back to Henry.
I thought of the loneliness of my childhood.
I’d been watched. By someone paid to do the job.
It was more of the same, I thought bleakly. Muriel paid nannies. Henry paid PIs.
Mo
ve on, I told myself. Surely I’d accepted my childhood by now.
Jack was flipping through a few more pages. Giving me time to recover? From talk of the kiss, or the revelation of private investigators? Maybe both. They seemed equally unsettling.
‘So you still want me to work?’ I said at last.
‘You haven’t changed your mind?’
‘Did you think I would?’
‘I thought the kiss might have messed things up,’ he admitted. My face must have shown confusion, because his flippant tone suddenly gave way to concern.
‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re upset.’
Of course I was upset. A no-brainer, that. ‘The kiss …’
‘Forget the kiss,’ he said. ‘I have. What else is worrying you?’
What else? Everything else. I focused on the nearest worry.
‘Muriel.’
He nodded, moving seamlessly into doctor-talking-to-relative mode. ‘I’m beginning to think Muriel would worry anyone. She thinks I have no right to be asking you to work here. Apparently you need rest.’
Oh, great, did she employ PIs, too? Since when had Muriel ever worried about me, and how could she possibly know whether I needed rest or not? ‘Maybe she’s worried because she thinks your intentions are dishonourable.’
That caused a smile. ‘I don’t have any intentions.’
‘Good.’
‘And last night was an aberration?’ he asked, quite mildly.
‘What do you think? Love among the cabbages? I don’t think so.’
‘Then we can get down to work and forget about it.’
‘Yes.’
He nodded. I nodded. Fine. I could move on.
Except …
Except he’d just finished his ward rounds. His white coat was open to reveal his short-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. There was a glimpse of the muscled chest I’d seen when he was swimming. His body was … ripped.
Did New York obstetricians think about ripped bodies?
Not me. Not if I knew what was good for me.
Maybe I was using it as a distraction.
But Jack was looking at me now with a concern that threatened to be my undoing. How did New York obstetricians cope with concern like this? How did New York obstetricians cope with Jack?
They didn’t need to. People like Jack didn’t enter their lives.
‘So let’s get on with it,’ I snapped, with a lot more force than was needed. ‘I don’t know what Muriel’s worrying about.’
‘She’s worrying about you.’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘She’s not.’ I took a deep breath and moved on. ‘You, on the other hand, are pushed past the limit. What on earth is this pile? Surely not the list of patients I’m expected to see this morning?’
He smiled at that. ‘They’re old histories. I’ve inherited my grandparents’ patients. Many I haven’t seen yet, but I’m bound to see them in the future. Lots of the island’s women are reluctant to see me—they’re used to my grandmother and they hate the idea of a male doctor. I’ve been away for sixteen years, I’ve only been back for six months, and there are people who don’t know or trust me. I’m sifting through histories looking for things I should be aware of and this morning I’ll sift more.’
‘While Bridget watches?’
‘If you give me three hours, I’ll spend one with Bridge and two on these. It’s rare enough that I have the opportunity.’
I thought about it and came up with another plan.
‘I’m giving you time off to spend with Bridget. Not on work.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing.’ I had no idea why my conscience was causing hassles now, but it was. This man had milked my cows. He’d been good to Henry and had saved Muriel. I had to help. As long as we could keep our hands to ourselves.
I mean, as long as he could keep his hands to himself.
Deep breath, Jennifer.
‘Carrie lives with you full time?’
‘Yes.’ He sounded bemused.
‘Good.’ Because I surely wasn’t going to suggest this without a chaperone. ‘So Bridget and your housekeeper and you will be at your house tonight.’
‘As long as I’m not called out.’
‘Then I suggest we spend a couple of hours working through these together.’
He stared. ‘You can’t.’
‘I can’t what?’ I put my hands on my hips and fixed him with an old-fashioned look. ‘Henry’s cottage doesn’t have television. I’ve read every copy of Agricultural Digest I’m ever going to read.’ Plus the letters, but I wasn’t going there. ‘I don’t have a single client for my surfing school and I’m bored. And medically, I assume you have checked on me?’
His face coloured—just for a second. His features were under control fast but I’d seen. Good. I was putting him off balance for a change.
‘Well?’
‘Um … yes,’ he admitted, almost shamefaced. ‘I phoned a friend in New York last night. He made a couple of discreet enquiries. He says you’re good. He also said your bosses are concerned about a high profile baby due soon. They seem to think there’ll be huge repercussions if you’re not back.’
Isabella’s baby. Of course. I’d be lucky if I was allowed to practise in the US after letting Isabella down, much less Manhattan.
‘A lot of doctors are qualified to deliver the Clayburgh baby.’
He frowned. ‘Maybe you are facing complications.’
Now he showed concern. ‘So what do you care? Yes, there are complications if I stay, but seemingly more if I leave.’ He was looking at me strangely but I ignored it. What business was it of his if the Clayburghs made sure I was professionally ruined? ‘Did you check my medical references?’
‘The guy I spoke to gave me a glowing report.’
‘Then you agree I can work here?’ My tone said move on, and he obliged. Any further enquiries about my life in New York were useless and he had the sense to see it.
‘I’ve organised for provisional registration, yes. All you need to do is sign these forms and we’ll fax them through. I can work fast when I’m desperate.’ He was speaking lightly but I heard truth behind his words.
Still there was conflict. We were eyeing each other off like boxers in separate corners. He was seated behind his desk and I was before him, like an errant schoolgirl before the principal.
Which wasn’t how I was feeling. How I was feeling … well, it had to stop. Right now.
‘You’ll agree to share paperwork tonight, then?’ I demanded, forcing myself to sound efficient. ‘I can go through patient histories looking for outstanding pap smears as fast as anyone.’
‘It’s not as simple as that. I need to familiarise myself with them.’
‘If there’s anything the least bit interesting I’ll pass it on. If patients died two years back, or they’ve no history apart from the odd head cold, then I’ll put them in a pending file. Or “pended” in the case of the dead ones. If they’ve been on warfarin for three years without a check then I’ll wave a red flag wildly above my head until you notice. When am I expecting patients?’
‘The first one’s due in half an hour.’ He sounded dazed. ‘Sally, my receptionist, will be here before then.’
‘Then you’d better show me the setup. And leave your cell phone on. I might be good, but you guys have strange drug names and even stranger medical formalities. And if any turtle wanders in complaining of shell pain, I’m out of here.’
I was relaxing a little now, enjoying his confusion. ‘Right,’ he said faintly and I grinned. Getting this man off balance was fun.
‘How do you dispense medications? Hospital pharmacy? Yes? Okay. Show me how your documentation works, give me a drug list and a stethoscope and leave.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said, and I stifled another grin because, by some miracle, it seemed he couldn’t think of another thing to say.
Half an hour’s introduc
tion into the medical complexities of another country wasn’t nearly enough, but in Sally, Jack had a star. Jack’s receptionist arrived as he was going through the specialist listing, and she sized up the situation in an instant.
‘This is great.’ She was a little, round woman in her fifties, eyeing the world with intelligence and good humour from behind enormous, pink-rimmed glasses. ‘Time off … What a wonderful thing, Jack. You get yourself home to Bridget before the lady changes her mind. Leave Dr Kelly to me. Anything she doesn’t know she can ask.’
‘I need to stay for a bit. Jenny needs to know who to refer to.’
‘Nonsense,’ Sally declared. ‘All Jenny has to do is pick up the intercom and say “water works, urgent” and I’ll have the referral letter and a seaplane ticket booked to the urology clinic in Sydney before the patient can close his zipper. You might have a medical degree, Dr McLachlan, but I’ve been working in this office for thirty years. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t just boot you out and run the place myself.’
‘There is the little matter of medical qualifications,’ Jack said, but he was smiling.
Sally’s smile matched his. ‘That’s where Dr Kelly comes in,’ she told him. ‘Two women, one with a certificate, one with thirty years’ experience, versus one man. Are you telling us we can’t win the competency contest, hands down?’
‘No, I—’
‘Then why are you still here? Go on. Bridget’s waiting. Disappear, doctor, and let us take care of the world.’
And somehow we did.
It was a really odd morning. I saw a lot of people, but any fears were allayed straight away. Sally was as good as she’d promised. She’d pop in with each patient’s history and a verbal summary before I saw them.
‘This next one’s Peter Douglas. He’s here to have you check how the ulcer on his leg is healing, but Jack’s been at him about giving up smoking. Pete’s been off the fags for three weeks now so he’ll be really disappointed if you don’t ask how it’s going.’
Or …
‘This one’s Ellie McKie, sixteen, booked in for a sore throat but she’s a type one diabetic and rebellious enough to give us all headaches. Jack’d use this excuse to give her the once-over. She’s just coloured her hair green and purple and pierced her own nose. If you tell her she looks like the kids in New York you’ll make her day.’
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