Career Girl in the Country / the Doctor's Reason to Stay

by Fiona Lowe

  ‘Hi, sorry I’m late!’ Sarah Fielding, Poppy’s theatre nurse, slid into the bench seat, all sparkling green eyes, wild red hair and a handbag the size of the Outback. She looked very different from the competent woman who’d made the morning’s theatre session run so smoothly. ‘Justin got home earlier than I thought and as the kids were already in bed we took advantage of it.’ She winked and raised a glass. ‘To fast sex.’

  Jen laughed and clinked glasses with Sarah and threw Poppy a conspiratorial grin. ‘To long-distance phone sex. David’s out in the Kimberley for another month.’

  The hairs on Poppy’s arms stood up. God, this was why she never went out in a group. Joking about sex with women she barely knew wasn’t something she was comfortable doing.

  Let’s face it, you’re not comfortable doing sex, full stop.

  Shut up.

  But she wasn’t fast enough and the memory of Steven’s voice echoed through her. Sexually, a fridge is warmer.

  She realised with a jolt that the two women were staring at her, expecting a response to the toast. She gripped the edge of the table to keep her hand from touching her pendant. ‘Actually, I’m not planning on having sex here.’

  Jen’s eyes blazed with interest. ‘So it’s phone sex for you, too. Have you left a gorgeous man behind in Perth, pining for you?’

  ‘Uh, no.’ He left me.

  Jen’s brows rose in surprise. ‘So you’re unattached?’

  Poppy sipped her beer against a tight throat, wishing she could mutter a magic word and conveniently vanish. She didn’t do this sort of chitchat well, and she was even worse when the focus was on her. ‘I am, and I came here to work. Given the amount there is to do, I won’t have time for sex.’

  ‘You can’t go three months without sex!’ Sarah’s expression combined abject horror with good-natured scheming and she glanced around the bar as if she was looking for someone.

  ‘Oh, I can easily go three months.’ Poppy drained her glass.

  But it was as if Sarah hadn’t heard her and she turned back, her face fill of dismay. ‘Damien isn’t here tonight but, Poppy, you have to meet him. He’s the new flying doctor pilot. He’s totally gorgeous, unattached and he’d be the perfect diversion for you.’

  She was having trouble trying to align this sex-obsessed woman with the one who’d been so professional this morning, and it took a lot of effort to keep the biting tone out of her voice. ‘I don’t need diverting.’

  ‘We all need diverting. Life in this town is tough.’ Sarah gave a sincere and friendly smile with no agenda, while she refilled Poppy’s glass.

  Poppy stuck to her mantra. ‘I came here to do a job, pure and simple.’

  ‘But why not have some fun at the same time?’ Sarah tucked her curls behind her ear. ‘Damien would be the perfect reward for being stuck out here, although you will have a bit of healthy competition from every other single woman in town and probably the occasional married one as well. Any single, professional man who arrives is immediately considered as a ticket out of here, or a way of making the town work for you.’

  Poppy smiled stiffly. ‘Well, I don’t need a ticket out because I’ve got a huge job back in Perth.’

  Not necessarily. She tried to close her mind to the undermining thought and at the same time wrestle back some control in the conversation. She spun the spotlight back on Sarah and raised her brows. ‘So, did marrying Justin make this town work for you?’

  Sarah laughed; a big, congenial chuckle. ‘Touché, Poppy. OK, I get it—you don’t want to be matched up. But to answer your question, Justin and I met in Canberra during his intern year. He came out here as a med student, fell in love with the Outback and wanted to come back. As I loved him, I said I’d come out for a couple of years and see if I could love it too.’

  Love and career support. The answer slugged Poppy, totally demolishing her preconceived ideas and stabbing her with a combination of jealousy and remorse. Sarah had what she’d never been able to achieve. ‘And?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘It’s a man’s town and there needs to be more of a focus on the women. I’m on the neighbourhood house committee and we’re setting up groups based on interests that we hope will spin off into support, mentoring and friendship groups.’ Her face suddenly lit up. ‘Hey, what else are you good at besides surgery?’

  She tried to focus on the unexpected question. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Hobbies, interests, things like that.’

  Her mind was a blank space because for years all she’d done was haul herself up the surgical ladder with long and punishing hours, leaving no time for anything other than sleep. Often there’d been scant time for that. ‘The last few years have all been about work.’

  ‘What’s on your “to-do” list? What do you crave to do when you have the time?’ Jen leaned forward, her eyes filled with unexpected sympathy.

  Poppy bristled at the look. Why on earth would a nurse be feeling sorry for her? But her usually quick and logical mind struggled to think of an answer to the question. Desperate to banish Jen’s air of pity, she dug deep but nothing surfaced. ‘I’ve always wanted to …’ God, what had she always wanted to do?

  Win.

  Win Dad’s love. Steven’s love.

  She grasped at straws, needing to give them something, needing to show them she was a successful woman in control of her life and with interests. Interests she didn’t have. For some reason, she thought of how she enjoyed singing in the shower and belting out a tune. Shower singing was something she did most mornings and it reminded her of how she’d sung in the choir at school and at uni. Singing would do as an answer. ‘I’d go back to music and rejoin a choir.’

  Sarah squealed and clapped her hands together. ‘You sing? That’s fantastic.’ She high-fived Jen.

  Another prickle of apprehension washed through Poppy, this time stronger than the last. ‘Have I missed something?’

  Sarah beamed. ‘I’ve wanted to start a women’s choir because it’s so much more than just singing and so many women here would benefit. Jen plays piano and now you’ve arrived with choral experience so we have a musical director. It’s just perfect!’

  ‘Musical director?’ She heard her voice rise and she shook her head hard. ‘I don’t have time for something like that.’

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed and her carefree aura vanished, replaced with a very professional and determined one. ‘Poppy, you’re a successful woman in a field dominated by men and that makes you a mentor. We have women here who are isolated, living in tough conditions, dealing with their partners’ shiftwork and dislocated from their families because they’ve followed their partners out here for work. It can all add up to depression and low self-esteem.’ The passion in her voice carried clearly out above the noise of the room. She leaned forward. ‘I know you’re busy but seeing as you’re so adamant about not having sex while you’re here …’ she winked ‘… that frees up time for some community service. Think of it as improving women’s health, and as a doctor you can hardly walk away from that.’

  Checkmate.

  Poppy wanted to plead too much work and no time but she knew both these women were intimate with her workload and would juggle rosters to create the time for her if she didn’t find it herself. Sarah, with her air of good fun and no cares, had her over a barrel with her well-developed sense of social justice.

  Poppy sighed. ‘We start small, right?’

  Sarah gave a long, slow smile. ‘We’ll start with whoever’s interested.’

  Poppy reluctantly raised her glass. ‘To the Bundallagong’s women’s choir.’

  ‘To the choir and friendship.’ Jen titled her glass towards Poppy’s and gave her a wide, open smile.

  ‘To fun, friendship and service.’ Sarah joined the toast.

  A flurry of movement caught Poppy’s eye and she turned towards the door. A tall man had entered and was crossing the room towards the bar, where he pulled up a stool and sat down next to another man. The chatter of the room
dropped for a moment as all the women turned and followed his movements.

  She instantly recognised Matt as the guy already sitting, his wild hair gleaming like a dark and rumpled halo in complete contrast to the golden fire of the man next to him. Side by side the two men looked like light and dark, storm and sunshine. Her gaze should have been tempted by the freshness, youth and sheer vitality of the unknown man but instead it was stalled on Matt. Stalled on the way his hair curled around his ears, stalled on his toned shoulders that filled out his shirt, giving it a precise and square fit; stalled on him full-stop.

  ‘The blond delight is Damien and you have the right to change your mind about sex but not the choir.’ Sarah leaned back with a conspiratorial smile on her lips. ‘Rumour has it he can take a woman flying in more ways than one.’

  Matt had been quietly getting drunk when Damien had arrived. He hoped that after one drink, the pilot would be taken away by one, two or more of the many women who’d been waiting so patiently for his arrival. That would mean he could resume his relationship with the barman, and wipe himself out for the night.

  It had been a very long time since he’d got drunk, but during the first few weeks after returning to Bundallagong, alone, it had been a regular event. It had been the only surefire way to stop the dreams that broke his sleep and took him back to the heart of his grief, never allowing him any time to breathe without it. But the morning he’d woken up on the back steps after sleeping rough because he hadn’t been able to work out how to put the key in the lock had been the day he’d stopped drinking hard. That, and the fact he knew it was a very fine line between himself and the alcoholics he treated in Emergency.

  He’d been sober for weeks. He’d even started running again at dawn now he was able to get out of bed without a thundering headache, but Poppy Stanfield’s arrival had changed everything. The only way he was going home tonight was completely buzzed so he could fall into the black oblivion of deep and uninterrupted sleep.

  He threw back a shot. God, he hated himself. He despised the way he couldn’t get Poppy out of his mind when he should be honouring Lisa’s memory. He couldn’t believe that on Monday night he’d left the hospital on time and cooked a meal in anticipation of Poppy’s arrival home. All day she’d jumped in and out of his thoughts and he’d found himself looking forward to sitting down at a table with her, hearing about her day and sharing his own with a living person rather than the silent walls of the house.

  But he’d eaten alone. By 10:00 p.m. he’d thrown out the food and gone to bed—to bed but not to sleep. His silent monologue had veered between cursing life in general that he no longer had Lisa and Annie, and cursing himself that he’d been so pathetic as to think he could try and have a normal evening, although he had no clue what normal was any more. He’d heard her car pull in at midnight and when he’d finally fallen asleep, his dreams had been filled with a woman who had looked like Lisa but whenever he’d got close, he could only see vibrant blue eyes. Poppy’s eyes.

  He spoke to the barman. ‘I’ll have another Scotch and …’ He turned to the pilot. ‘What can I buy you, Damien?’

  ‘Soda water, thanks, I’m on call. Your night off?’ ‘Yep.’

  ‘Hey, Doc, third drink in an hour—time for your keys.’ Lewis, the barman, held out a container with a couple of sets of car keys at the bottom.

  ‘I walked, Lew.’ He had a standing arrangement with the barman so he avoided doing anything really stupid. A couple of times soon after Lisa’s death, when being alive had almost been too much to bear, he’d got way too close to stupid.

  ‘Good to hear it.’ Lewis slid the two drinks across the counter.

  Damien sipped his and surveyed the room. ‘So how’s that guy I flew down to Perth the other night getting on?’

  ‘Not bad. You’ll probably be transporting him back here in a couple of weeks.’

  Damien raised his hand in a wave and Matt glanced around to see who’d caught his attention. With a shot of surprise he recognised Sarah Fielding. Why on earth was Sarah beckoning Damien?

  She and Lisa had been firm friends from the moment the Fieldings had arrived in town and as a result the two young families had socialised together a lot. Since coming back to Bundallagong, he’d only seen Justin at hospital functions and at the GP in-service he conducted every few months. He hadn’t been able to face a social gathering with Sarah and the kids.

  He stared at her and then made out Jen’s profile behind her, before realising there was a third person at the table.

  Surprise rolled through him. Poppy sat on a chair, looking awkward and completely out of place.

  Sarah arrived at the bar, her gaze cautious, and she seemed to breathe in before she spoke. ‘Justin was sorry you didn’t make golf the other day, Matt. He’s on for next Wednesday and looking for a partner, so call him?’

  He didn’t want to play golf. ‘Sure.’

  She nodded, her expression worried, and then she turned and gave Damien a flirty smile. Sliding her arm through the pilot’s, she urged, ‘Come and meet our new surgeon. She has the most amazing eyes you’ve ever seen and is in town for three months with no one to play with.’

  Damien looked over Sarah’s head towards the table of women. ‘Ebony and ivory?’

  Matt didn’t like the way the pilot was scoping out Poppy and his voice came out on a growl. ‘That’s her, but be warned: just like a praying mantis, she’ll play with you and then she’ll eat you.’

  But instead of being put off, the pilot grinned. ‘I love a challenge.’ He slid off the bar stool and strode towards the table.

  The thought of Damien hitting on Poppy had Matt up and off the stool. What are you doing? She’ll probably tear strips off glamour boy and even if she doesn’t, what do you care?

  But he picked his drink up anyway and let his feet carry him to the table. He arrived just as Damien was suggesting to Poppy that the only way to really appreciate the Pilbara was from the air.

  Poppy’s fine black brows rose in a look Matt was starting to recognise as pure sarcasm. ‘If flying means not missing out on every single millimetre of the thousands of kilometres of endless, flat gibber plain and red dust, yes, I suspect you’re right. Fortunately I flew in on a clear day so I don’t feel the need repeat it any time soon.’

  Damien looked slightly taken aback that his usual invitation had failed and Matt hid a smile before sitting down next to Poppy. Her fresh floral scent hinted at the newness of spring and it spun around him, urging every cell in his body to lean in close and breathe deeply. ‘Actually, the only way to appreciate the unconventional beauty of this area is by four-wheel drive and getting a hands-on perspective.’

  ‘Unconventional is right.’ Poppy’s fingers closed around the base of the pendant at her neck.

  Jen’s quizzical expression moved between Poppy and Matt. ‘Matt’s right. You should make sure you visit Walker’s Gorge while you’re here.’

  ‘It’s a fair distance from here, though. I could fly you in,’ Damien countered. ‘Just let me know when you have a free day.’

  Poppy’s hand fell back to her lap and she gave a short laugh. ‘That’s very kind but given that my surgical list is endless, and Sarah’s already shanghaied me into starting a women’s choir, I think my time in Bundallagong is pretty much full.’

  A choir. Matt did a double-take, not able to imagine her in a musical role, but was that just another piece of the puzzle that was Poppy? His eyes met hers and he watched the vivid blue of her irises almost disappear into rapidly dilating inky discs. A flash of undisguised attraction burned bright for a heartbeat and then faded, but not before a wave of her heat crashed into him. Like a chain reaction, every part of him vibrated with hungry need.

  She pulled her gaze away and rose to her feet, her movements jerky. ‘Thanks, everyone, for the welcome drinks. It was really kind but it’s time to call it a night.’

  Damien moved towards her. No way, mate. For the second time, Matt found himself shooting to his f
eet and he spoke without thinking. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Her fingers tugged at the fine, silver pendant and her expression mixed hesitation with determination. ‘Really, there’s no need.’

  But he wasn’t letting her leave alone or giving glamour boy an opening so he shrugged casually. ‘I need the ride.’ Instinctively, he slid his hand into the small of her back and guided her around the group, through the crowd and out into the night, ignoring the stunned looks of his colleagues.

  The heat from Matt’s hand flooded Poppy, streaming through her veins like hot vapour and culminating in a tingling pond of undeniable lust. Her breath came too fast and the muscles in her legs threatened to melt as the sensations spun through her with their intoxicating promise of pleasure.

  Pull yourself together. It’s just the touch of a well-mannered man. Steven had exemplary manners and remember what happened? The thought grounded her momentarily. Gathering her tattered self-control, she passed through the doorway into the starlit night and stepped away from his touch.

  She hadn’t been surprised that Matt had been drinking alone at the bar, given the way he held himself aloof from people and coupled with the townsfolk not seeming to know how to treat him, but the fact he’d joined them at the table had caught her off guard. His offer to leave with her had totally floored her. From the moment he’d sat down next to her she’d struggled to keep up with the conversation as every part of her had been absorbed by his closeness.

  Now his gaze stayed fixed on her, and she shivered. Find your strength, defuse the tension. ‘Where’s your car?’

  ‘At home.’ He had no trouble matching her stride. Unlike her stiff and jerky gait, his was fluid. ‘I walked because I’d planned to drink more than the legal driving limit.’

  He didn’t look drunk and she wouldn’t call him relaxed but something about him was different. Less guarded perhaps? ‘And have you?’

  ‘Probably.’ He leaned casually against the car, waiting, with his toned arms crossed over his T-shirt-clad chest and the light from the streetlamp spilling over him. It gave him the quintessential look of a bad boy.