by Fiona Lowe
He grinned, loving the way this was heading. ‘That’s very true, not to mention all that standing takes its toll on your legs. I could massage those as well.’
‘Could you?’ She raised herself up; her pink nipples tightly budded against her creamy breasts. ‘An entire body massage? Now, that might just go a long way towards clearing your tab.’
He kissed her with a rush of heat that tangoed with heady affection, and carried her into the shower.
The mattress moved underneath Poppy and a cool draught zipped in around her naked back. Barely awake, she rolled over as part of her brain accepted it was about 3:00 a.m., the time Matt always left her bed. The fact the room seemed lighter didn’t really penetrate and sleep quickly pulled her back under. The next moment a shock of white light made her closed eyes ache and she moaned as her arm shot to her forehead to shield her eyes.
‘Whoa.’ She managed to crack one eyelid open and realised Matt was standing in the room, fully dressed. ‘Is it morning?’
His hands circled her wrists and he gently pulled her into a sitting position before sitting down next to her. ‘It is. Good sleep?’
She stretched languidly. ‘It was an amazing sleep. Best one I’ve had since arriving.’
‘Excellent.’ He brushed his lips against her forehead. ‘I got up half an hour ago and I’ve made breakfast.’
Half an hour ago? She could hardly believe it. Thirty minutes meant he’d stayed all night. She’d had her best sleep in—for ever, and he’d been in her bed all night. She didn’t want to let herself connect any dots about those two events but already her mind was doing it. ‘Is there coffee with breakfast?’
‘There is.’ He tossed her a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
She tugged the top over her head. ‘Can’t I have it in bed, seeing you’ve woken me up at …’ she squinted at the clock ‘… stupid o’clock?’
‘No. Breakfast is at my place.’
His place? She pulled up her sagging jaw as he walked out of her room. They never spent any time at his place. She fell into her shorts, wondering what was going on, and stumbled into the bathroom.
Five minutes later she slid, grumbling, into a chair at Matt’s kitchen table and found herself in front of a steaming mug of coffee. ‘You’d better have food as well as coffee.’
‘Are you always this delightful first thing in the morning?’ Matt sat down next to her, coffee in one hand and a photograph album in the other. ‘I’m short on fresh food but I’ll buy you something from the bakery on the way to work.’
‘You’re always short on fresh food because you never shop. Why are we here when I have fruit and yoghurt at my place?’
‘Because my coffee’s better and I need to show you this.’ He put the album on her placemat and opened it up. A little girl with eyes the colour of grape juice stared up at her. ‘I’d like you to meet my daughter.’
Her heart hiccoughed and she touched his hand as she continued to turn the pages of the album looking at photos of a loving wife and mother, a proud and loving husband and father, and a child they both clearly adored. She wondered about that kind of love; a love that encompassed everyone in the family, the sort of love she’d never known. A bright green streak ricocheted through her. What sort of a shocking person was she to be jealous of a dead woman and child?
One that wants the same thing?
No. Thoughts of the dark days of her childhood and her marriage shored up her momentary lapse.
‘All those curls. She’s gorgeous.’
‘Yeah.’ He ran his hand through his hair, the strands falling back and masking his face, and then his body shuddered. ‘Annie and Lisa died on a beach in Samoa when a tsunami struck. I was spending the day at an inland village and survived.’
She immediately wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead on his, wishing she could take away all his pain and knowing she couldn’t touch it. ‘I can’t even imagine what this is like for you.’
He absently kissed her cheek. ‘I know.’
She needed him to really understand. ‘I had no clue you had a daughter until yesterday when Jen and I argued over why she hadn’t called you to the ED.’ She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Matt?’
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps I wanted one person not to define me by what I’d lost. One person who could stare me down, argue with me and treat me just like any other bloke.’
She bit her lip and tried not to tear up, tried to be the same person she’d been yesterday. ‘I can argue the point.’
A quiet smile tugged at his lips. ‘You can, and you do it very well.’
She thought of Mr Simmonds and how he’d never told his wife about the war because he didn’t want to have to think about the horrors he’d been through when he was with his family. A shaft of clarity hit her and she realised why Matt was showing her photos of his family in his house and not hers. ‘I still plan to argue with you.’
‘I hope you do.’ He dropped his head into her hair and sighed. ‘Poppy, about last night. Seeing Ashley, who looks so much like Annie, and realising that you knew about her, well, I lost it. I haven’t lost it in a long time. I’m truly sorry.’
She cupped his jaw and raised his head to hers, fighting an irrational sadness about her role in all of this, which was crazy. She had no reason to feel sad because she wasn’t sticking around. She’d learned a long time ago that work was safer then relationships with all their inherent pitfalls and she knew Matt certainly wasn’t looking for one. Yet she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that perhaps together they could have something more. ‘It’s OK, I get it. Me and my house are a place for you to come and forget.’
Matt raised his head slowly and met Poppy’s eyes filled with tacit understanding and something else he couldn’t define. ‘You’re an amazing woman, Poppy.’
A ripple of tension shot along her mouth before she smiled. ‘That’s me. Brilliant surgeon and sex goddess.’
The quip reassured him that things hadn’t changed between them, that their loose arrangement would continue while she was in town and she wasn’t going to go all touchy-feely on him and want him to bare his soul even more. That was the beauty of Poppy: she didn’t do emotions very well, either. With her he could still pretend his life hadn’t been turned upside down and pulled sideways, and when that got too hard, he lost himself in her.
She drank more coffee. ‘Have you been back to Samoa?’
He shook his head. ‘I stayed there for a few months after it happened and then I thought it was time to come home.’
‘How’s that working for you?’
He didn’t want to analyse that at all so he gave her the bare minimum. ‘I think I mentioned the initial drinking binge but that’s long over and now, well, I get through each day. I know I can treat children again, even ones who look like my daughter, so that has to be an improvement, right?’
A thumping noise sounded from the roof and Poppy’s eye’s rolled. ‘And yet you let Rupert live in your roof?’
Unease shot through him that she was way too close to the truth. ‘Why are you so obsessed by the goanna?’
‘I’m not. I’m merely pointing out most people wouldn’t want something like that living in their roof, causing damage to the house.’ She stood up, taking her cup to the sink. ‘Are you sure living here is the right thing for you?’
He gripped his coffee mug, hating that she’d just asked the question he often asked himself. ‘Of course I’m sure. This is my home.’
Two small creases appeared at the bridge of her nose. ‘This house or this town?’
‘Both,’ he said, but knew he lied. He stood up, knowing the exact way to cut this conversation off at the knees. ‘You’d better hit the shower or you’re going to be late for work.’
She yelped as she caught the time on the clock. ‘Oh, hell, is it really seven-thirty? I’ve got pre-op consults in fifteen minutes.’
He saw a blur of colour, heard her feet on the bare boards and
then the door slam. He grinned. ‘Poppy has left the building.’ He went to close the photo album and saw Lisa’s face smiling up at him. He braced himself for the sear of guilt—guilt that he was still living, guilt that he’d found pleasure with another woman—but it didn’t come. He released a long breath, left the page open and headed to the shower.
Sweat poured off Poppy as she gesticulated, controlling the choir with her arm movements, and backed up by her silent mouthing of the words. The clear, true sound of a capella rolled over her as the words of ‘Amazing Grace’ soared along with such a wave of feeling that she felt tears sting her eyes.
With her fingertips touching, she slowly drew her hands apart, holding the last note until she fisted her hands to indicate ‘stop’. She grinned at the women’s awestruck faces. ‘Yes! You really did sound that fantastic. Well done. I think Sarah has posters about the concert she’d like you to put up so please take one with you before you leave, and on that note I’ll call the formal part of choir over for the night. There’s the usual tea and biscuits if you can stay.’
Shrieks of delight followed with the choir members breaking to give each other high-fives and Poppy turned as Sarah’s hand touched her shoulder. ‘Amazing.’
‘Grace.’ Poppy smiled.
‘Take a compliment, woman!’ Sarah hugged her. ‘They’re going to rock the town at the concert.’
‘You mean the five people who might actually come out on a Sunday afternoon.’
‘Yeah, well, there’s that, but Justin’s selling tickets at the surgery with the odd bribe, and I heard Matt Albright’s reply to a recovering Daryl Jameson when he was trying to thank him for saving his life. He said that all the thanks he needed was Daryl attending the concert.’
Poppy groaned. ‘These women deserve more than a pity audience.’
‘You worry about the music and let us locals get the audience.’
Us locals. An odd feeling settled in Poppy’s belly, and she tried to shake it off. It was ridiculous that she was letting two little words, two absolutely accurate words, make her feel uncomfortable. Sad almost. It didn’t make a lot of sense—in fact, it made none at all because it wasn’t like she planned on staying.
You’re just tired and emotional. This is nothing a good sleep won’t fix. Remember, this is a godforsaken place that’s just a blip on your career radar.
A small voice protested. The sunsets are amazing. So are the people.
People like Matt.
Her stomach flipped, scaring her, and she dragged her mind back so fast from the man who was turning her world upside down that she risked mental whiplash. It was time to focus on the choir.
She’d met some incredible women out here, women whose lives were far from perfect but they kept going, trying to improve their situation and those of their families. Local or not, she wanted to honour them and be involved.
‘I want this concert to be a success. How about we have a planning meeting at my place now? I got a hamper sent up from Perth yesterday with a fabulous Margaret River white wine, Swiss chocolate and a gorgeous runny Camembert that needs to be eaten.’
Sarah laughed. ‘First of all you give me the “no-sex” talk and now this. Are you asking me out on a date?’ She smiled, enjoying the teasing. ‘You found me out.’
Jen wandered over. ‘Found out what?’
Things had been a bit strained between Jen and herself since the incident in the ED and perhaps this was a way of building bridges. ‘Drinks at my place now—can you come?’
Jen visibly started. ‘Really? OK, why not? Can I catch a ride with you?’
‘Sure. We can ask Janice Simmonds to lock up, can’t we?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Janice will do anything for you now you’ve cured Harry. Your eyes were like saucers when you saw that sprouting pea in his lung.’
This time Poppy high-fived. ‘Well, it was a pretty amazing find and so unexpected, but in a good way.’ And not just for Harry Simmonds. The uniqueness of the case meant it had made it into the ‘odd spot’ in the Eastern papers and the Royal College of Surgeons had asked her to write it up for their journal. It was win-win for the patient and for herself, as well as a shot across the bows to Alistair Roland, William and the board. They might have sent her to the outer Barcoo but she was still a force to be reckoned with.
Sarah kept them entertained on the quick drive home with a story about a very tired Justin being called out of an antenatal clinic to stitch up a nasty wound when the patient had lost a battle with a bush saw. ‘He was stitching John Ledger’s hand.’
‘I don’t think Poppy’s had the pleasure of meeting John,’ Jen chimed in.
‘If you think most of the blokes in this town are tough then John is reinforced steel. Anyway, Justin’s going through the motions, asking all the important questions, but instead of asking John when he last had a tetanus injection, he asked the question he’d been asking all afternoon at the pregnancy care clinic, which was, ‘When did you last have a pap test?”
Jen started to giggle. ‘Poor Justin.’
‘John gave him one of his famous “you’re a moron” looks and said, “At the same time I had my last tetanus shot.” John went straight from the surgery to the pub and Justin’s never going to live it down.’
The laughs continued as they shared embarrassing work stories and Poppy poured wine and Jen opened chocolate and cheese.
‘OK, how are we going to sell this concert as a “must attend” event?’ Poppy tapped a pen against a note pad. ‘Offer food?’
Jen sliced the cheese. ‘Serve beer and the men will come.’
Sarah sat forward, wine glass in hand. ‘Poppy, remember your first week here when you operated on the head of transport for the mining company?’ She clarified, ‘The bowel obstruction.’
Poppy nodded as his name came to her. ‘Ed Papasoulis?’
‘That’s him. The miners who “fly in, fly out” get collected and taken to the airport. I’m sure with a word to him the bus could be early that day and come via the concert. It’s only going to be half an hour and it would double our audience. Any unsupportive husbands who weren’t planning on coming will be there on company time, and have the added benefit of being blown away by their wives’ performances.’
Poppy stared at her. ‘I’m in awe of your scheming.’
Sarah shrugged and gave her a grin. ‘Perhaps I’m learning from you. By the way, great sound bite and visual on the Perth news the other night about Harry. So how’s the battle for the Perth job going?’
‘I wish I knew. It’s just so hard being this far away and not being able to see my opposition in action and lobby.’
‘He can’t see you either so that levels the playing field a bit, doesn’t it?’ Jen remarked as she sipped her wine.
The support in the words both surprised and reassured Poppy. ‘I guess I never really thought about it that way. Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ Jen paused for a moment. ‘Listen, Poppy, I’m sorry about the other day with Matt. The thing is, just lately he seems to be coping better, looking less tormented and even cracking jokes and smiling, and I didn’t want seeing Ashley to bring the trauma back again and send him backwards.’
An apologetic look touched her face. ‘But you were right and I was wrong. He managed to hold it all together but I hated watching him have to do it.’
Poppy thought about how he’d fallen apart in her arms a few hours later. ‘It was a tough day all round and no choice was easy, but it had to be his choice.’ She offered the nurse a chocolate. ‘Truce?’
Jen frowned. ‘There was never a war, Poppy, we just differed in opinion. Friends can do that, you know, and then they talk it out.’ She popped the ball of rich praline chocolate into her mouth and murmured a sound of delight. ‘Oh, my God, Sarah, you have to try these.’
Sarah chose a chocolate and joined Jen in equal rhapsodising about the taste and texture, and Poppy leaned back and watched.
Friends. She realised with a start that these two
strong women really did consider her a friend. The feeling settled over her like a new pair of shoes that fitted but would become truly comfortable with some extra wear. She was looking forward to it.
The front door opened with its usual squeak and Jen and Sarah looked up as Poppy’s gut clenched. Matt. She’d been on such a high after the choir practice and enjoying herself with the girls, she’d forgotten to text him.
He walked in, talking. ‘I thought we—Ladies, good to see you.’
The change in his conversation was almost seamless and if Matt was surprised to see Sarah and Jen, his face didn’t seem to show it. He held up a bottle of wine. ‘I brought wine for the choir meeting.’
Shock rendered Poppy speechless but Sarah stood up and accepted the bottle with a smile. ‘Thanks, Matt. This is really thoughtful and will add to our spur-of-the-moment meeting. By the way, didn’t know you were psychic.’
He didn’t skip a beat. ‘It’s one of my many skills. I’ll leave you girls to it. Have a good night.’ He closed the door behind him.
Sarah spun around with a squeal and pointed straight at Poppy. ‘You are so having sex.’
Jen punched her gently on the arm and beamed. ‘No wonder Matt’s been looking better lately.’ She looked at Sarah. ‘How did we miss this?’
Sarah sat down. ‘Because Poppy is cagey.’
Poppy tried to deny it, shaking her head. ‘I’m not cagey and I’m not having sex.’
Sarah crossed her arms. ‘The game’s over, Poppy, and now it’s time to spill. But before you do, can I just say thank you?’
‘Thank you? I don’t understand.’
‘Matt and you as a couple—it’s just so great after what he’s been through.’
A ripple of panic set off through her and Poppy’s hands flew up like stop signs. ‘No, please, don’t make that leap. I’ve been married once and never again. This is just sex. I’m only here for a few more weeks and, like you said that night in the bar, why not have some fun? See, I took your advice.’ The words spoken with true conviction sounded strangely hollow.
Sarah frowned. ‘Does Matt know?’