by Leah Martyn
His dark brows rose in query. ‘How is she? Have you rung the hospital?’
Jane nodded. ‘She’s stable. I was just about to get over there and reassure her about a few things.’
‘I’ll take you.’ Riley eased himself off her desk.
‘Riley, you don’t have to,’ she said awkwardly.
‘I want to. And then I’ll treat you to lunch.’
Jane got to her feet. It was no use objecting. Expecting to divert her husband in this mood was like trying to stop an express train. She may as well save her energy.
‘How are you feeling?’ Jane looked over the end of the bed at her patient.
Leanne Cawley spread her hands. ‘A bit woozy…’
‘I see you’ve been given something for pain.’ Jane cast a professional eye over the chart. ‘If it doesn’t help, give a shout. They’ll top it up.’
‘I gather you and the new doctor found me.’ Leanne sank back on the pillows. ‘I must look a mess.’
‘I’ve seen your X-rays.’ Jane drew up a vacant chair and sat down. ‘Your nose shows a clean break. It should heal very well. In any case, I’ll check it again in a couple of weeks. By then we should know if you’ll need to be referred to a specialist. But at this stage I doubt you’ll need surgery.’ Jane smiled. ‘I’ve spoken to your mum as well. James is fine and she’ll contact the garage about your ute.’
Leanne’s expression lightened. ‘Mum’s rung already and left a message. I’ll get them to bring me a phone later on and speak to James…’
‘Good.’ Jane shot the young woman a questioning look. ‘In the meantime, anything I can do for you?’
‘You couldn’t wind the clock back, could you? So I could start the day over again…’
‘What happened?’ Jane leaned forward, listening. ‘Was it the brakes?’
Leanne drew in a shaken breath. ‘I depressed the pedal and there was nothing there. I was right at the top of the hill with a full load of rocks and the ute started to get away from me.’ She stopped and bit her lips tightly together. ‘I thought I’d tip right over so I aimed for the tree.’ She swallowed. ‘I figured, with the bull-bars to take the impact, I’d at least come out of it alive…’
Jane covered the other woman’s hand and squeezed. She couldn’t allow herself to become too involved with her patients, but when they were friends as well it was hard not to. ‘What about your kitten, Leanne? Could I pop out and feed it for you, perhaps? Or could Simon—?’
‘Simon’s away for the weekend,’ Leanne came in swiftly, looking down fixedly at her pale blue counterpane. ‘He’s at an anger-management seminar.’
Jane had always meant to sit in on one such programme but had never got round to it. But at least it showed that Simon Cawley was trying to modify his behaviour in the hope of getting his relationship back on track. She looked at Leanne’s shuttered expression, and said gently, ‘That has to be a step in the right direction, doesn’t it?’
Leanne merely shrugged. ‘We were happy until Simon lost his job. It hit him pretty hard, happened at an awkward age for him—forty-one.’ Her throat tightened. ‘Now he’s either too old or over-qualified for anything he applies for.’
But it still didn’t mean the man had to take out his frustration and disappointment on his wife. Jane held her tongue. If it was helping her patient to open up like this, the least she could do was listen.
Leanne’s mouth trembled. ‘We wanted so much for this to work. It’s the second marriage for both of us.’
‘I didn’t know.’ Jane’s soft heart was touched. The feeling of having failed once must be crippling. But twice?
Leanne’s chest rose in a long sigh. ‘If we get divorced, it seems such a waste of our six years together.’
Jane shook her head silently. Who was she to make judgements? Weren’t she and Riley another such couple contemplating writing off their marriage? The thought made her insides ache.
Her teeth clamped on her bottom lip and she remembered his face set in resolute lines before he’d kissed her. ‘Let me in,’ he’d said. Dear heaven, she wanted to. But dare she? They’d lost something in their relationship in the year they’d been parted, something that perhaps they were never going to find again…
‘James is so very important to us,’ Leanne continued to verbalise softly. ‘And Simon would never hurt him. Deep down I know that. Maybe we haven’t tried hard enough to make it work.’
‘Marriage is a tricky business at the best of times, Leanne.’ Jane got to her feet. ‘And as I’ve told you before, anything I can do to help or by way of referral, you only have to ask.’
‘I know. Thanks, Jane. And don’t worry about the kitten.’ Leanne turned her face to the wall. ‘Mum’ll go out and feed it.’
Riley tossed the magazine aside and got to his feet, glancing at his watch. How much longer could Jane be?
As long as it took, he reminded himself wryly, moving across to the big picture window. For all the time he’d known her, Jane Rossiter had never stinted on her time with patients.
But what of their marriage? His mouth drew in. Did she intend to allot any of her time towards fostering a reconciliation with him?
He had no real idea where her head was in regard to that. But he’d be a fool not to have noticed she was defensive around him. And wary. He let his breath go in a long hiss, ramming his hands into back pockets.
And as far as winning her back? His mouth compressed. It seemed he was going to have to measure every word before he said it. Gauge every step before he took it. And curb his impatience to have her back, sharing his bed, by taking cold showers for the next little while.
He swore under his breath, pressing his forehead against the window. Sunshine slanted through the glass, giving the patients’ lounge a cosy feeling, which was ironical, he thought heavily. He’d never felt so damned lonely. He needed his wife. Needed her like his own breathing.
The aroma of country cooking permeated the air, making his stomach rumble. He looked at his watch again and turned just as Jane came quietly from the women’s ward.
She came to a halt, looking uncertainly at him. ‘You didn’t have to wait, Riley.’
‘I said I would.’ He frowned. She looked shattered. ‘Everything OK with Leanne?’
Jane lifted a shoulder. ‘Physically, she’ll recover. But as for the rest of it…’
‘You’ll feel better after some food. Come on, Doctor.’ He steered her past Reception. ‘I’ve found a place for lunch.’
‘The hospital canteen?’ she asked sweetly.
‘No.’ He growled a half-laugh. ‘But don’t knock it. From where I was standing, the food smelled pretty darn good—for hospital grub, that is.’
‘I believe the chef does have his moments.’
Out of the hospital, they walked towards the car park, Jane trying to drown out her unease when they’d settled into the Land Rover once more. ‘So, where are we going?’
Riley’s gaze met hers briefly and slid away. ‘The Paragon. Know it?’
‘Mmm. It’s cheap and cheerful.’
‘Oh. It said ‘‘home cooking’’ on the sign. I thought—’
‘Stop worrying. The food’s plain but terrific,’ she elaborated, and patted his thigh.
‘Oh, good.’ He swallowed, almost reeling from the slight pressure of her hand. He knew her gesture had been made as spontaneously and as naturally as breathing. But, sweet heaven, it had felt so good…
CHAPTER FOUR
IT BEING a Saturday, the central business district was crowded. Riley found a parking spot in a side street and they walked back to the Paragon. The little restaurant was low-key, with plain white furniture and dark blue tablecloths, the boxed silk lilies at each side of the entrance lending a quixotic touch to the otherwise simple décor.
A waitress in the process of clearing a table looked up and smiled as they entered.
‘Looks like we’re in luck.’ Riley put a guiding hand on Jane’s waist.
‘Table fo
r two?’ The waitress gave a straightening twist to the cloth and stood back.
‘Please.’ Riley sent the pretty young woman a winning smile and steered Jane into a chair.
Halfway through their meal, he asked, ‘More wine?’
Jane shook her head. Had he actually forgotten she was a very moderate drinker and one glass was her limit at the best of times? ‘Is the food to your liking?’
‘It’s terrific. I think I could have a go at making these myself.’
They’d ordered stuffed potatoes. With their filling of crispy bacon and corn and melted cheese topping, Jane had to agree they were delicious and probably simple enough for even a relative amateur to achieve an edible result. ‘Let me know when you’re cooking, then.’ She dipped into the salad greens accompanying their meal. ‘I’ll come round.’
His hand reached out and found hers. ‘Do you mean that?’
Leanne’s words about trying harder came back with sudden, urgent impact. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘I’ll have to see what I can do, then.’
She gave a jagged little breath. The feel of Riley’s skin on hers was electric, and in an instant every fibre of her being was telling her she wanted more, much more.
Monday came round all too quickly, yet not quickly enough.
Jane hadn’t seen Riley since their lunch on Saturday. And she’d been restless, wanting to go to him, then not. And it had only added to her tension, knowing he was back in her life—barely half a mile away in the flat above the surgery.
As soon as she arrived at the medical centre, Jane felt the butterflies in her stomach begin to recede. Riley was already there, handling things with his usual aplomb, listening intently to Monica Lowe, the practice manager, who was making him feel at home and showing him where everything was kept.
‘Morning, Jane.’ He looked up and gave her a contained little smile.
‘Riley.’ Jane nodded. ‘Good morning, Monica.’
‘It certainly is, now we’ve our full complement of medical staff again,’ Monica agreed, sending her bright blue gaze from one to the other. ‘I gather you two already know each other. Met on the job, so to speak.’ Her smile was a blend of humour and friendly curiosity. ‘How is Leanne Cawley, by the way?’
Jane blinked, clearing her throat before she spoke. ‘The hospital kept her an extra night. All being well, she’ll be home today.’
‘Poor girl.’ Monica clicked her tongue sympathetically. ‘She didn’t need that on top of everything else.’
‘No.’ Jane went to move away, turning back for a moment. ‘Let me know if I can help you with anything, Riley.’
‘Count on it.’ He gave a brief nod and returned his attention to what the practice manager was saying.
Jane let the air slowly out of her lungs as she made her way along the corridor to the staffroom. How long could she and Riley hope to keep their secret? Perhaps they should rethink their decision. Be upfront with their work colleagues. She sighed in frustration.
Vicki, their receptionist, was busily making coffee when Jane popped her head round the door. ‘One of those for me?’ she asked, drumming up a reasonable smile.
‘Absolutely.’ Vicki’s blonde hair, tied back in its ponytail, swung jauntily as she clattered mugs onto the benchtop. ‘And Monica’s brought in some apple and cinnamon muffins.’
‘Lovely.’ Jane poured a dollop of milk into her coffee. ‘I might save mine until later.’
‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’
No guesses to whom Vicki was referring. Under the guise of sipping her coffee, Jane refrained from answering directly. Riley did manage to draw attention wherever he went with the kind of rugged handsomeness that attracted women like magnets to iron—but nice?
She swallowed, feeling the coffee make a warming trail down her throat, an unbearable sadness suddenly swamping her. When he’d walked out on her, he hadn’t been nice at all…
‘Oh, help—’ Jane’s gaze zoomed down on her watch. ‘I’m out of here. Thanks for the coffee, Vick.’
The morning began to unfold like a typical Monday. Before Jane had time to stow her case and switch on her computer, Trish Newland, the practice nurse, tapped on her door and came in.
‘Could you manage a visit to the women’s shelter after your clinic, Jane?’
‘New arrival?’
‘Marianne didn’t say.’ Trish shook her head. ‘I got the impression she just wants a chat. But she did mention that a couple of the little ones were a bit poorly.’
‘OK. I’ll look in. Thanks, Trish.’
Jane was thoughtful as she organised things for her morning surgery. Since she’d come to Mt Pryde, she’d formed a good rapport with Marianne Ross.
With her background in community health work, Marianne appeared tuned in to the needs of the women who fled domestic situations for whatever reason and, in Jane’s professional opinion, a very suitable person to manage the shelter. But obviously something was on her mind, otherwise she wouldn’t have requested a visit—
‘Grab your bag!’ Her door was flung open and Riley shoved his head in. ‘We’re needed at the primary school!’
‘What’s happened?’ Jane was on her feet, sweeping all thoughts of Marianne and the shelter from her mind.
‘Seven-year-old boy,’ Riley snapped. ‘Fell out of a tree and impaled himself on a wrought-iron fence.’
‘Ambulance?’ Jane snatched up her bag.
‘Both out on other calls. They’ll get one there a.s.a.p. I’ve spoken to the hospital. They can’t send anyone. A and E are already a registrar down. Ralph and Angelo are out on house calls so it looks like we’re it, Janey.’
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. Jane dragged her thoughts together as they hurried along the corridor towards Reception.
Trish had hastily assembled what they’d need. ‘Paeds drug box, IV kit and emergency oxygen, OK?’
‘Thanks, Trish, that’s brilliant.’ Riley slung the emergency pack over his shoulder. ‘I’m not sure how long we’ll be.’
‘Go!’ The RN shooed them towards the door. ‘We’ll juggle the lists around somehow.’
‘We’ll take my vehicle,’ Riley said shortly as they sped across the car park. ‘I’ve my abseiling gear in the back. From what the hospital implied, I’ve a feeling it may be needed.’
‘Which part of the body is impaled? Do we know?’ Jane felt sick at the thought of a little child so painfully injured.
‘Upper arm, apparently.’ Riley flung open the passenger door for her and sprinted around to the driver’s side. In seconds they were in and belted up. ‘What the hell is wrong with these people?’ His face closed in anger. ‘I can’t believe they still allow those lethal old spiked fences around school premises.’ He started the engine and shot the Land Rover towards the street.
‘Perhaps it’s heritage-listed.’ Jane bit her lips together. She could tell even without looking at him that her husband was already totally focused. ‘Do you know where to go?’
‘Direct me.’
It was barely half a kilometre to the school, but there was time enough for Jane’s nerves to begin gathering and clenching at the thought of the scenario they were facing.
If ever she was drawn to specialise, it wouldn’t be in paediatrics. She knew instinctively she would never have the objectivity long term. Not when she had to steel herself from falling to mush around sick and injured little ones just in the normal course of general practice.
John Abbottsford, the principal, was waiting for them at the school gates. ‘Good of you to come so quickly,’ he said, as Riley made swift introductions. He went on to explain that the seven-year-old, Max Davis, had fallen out of one the huge Moreton Bay fig trees that grew around the perimeter of the school grounds. ‘Little monkey. He knows the trees are out of bounds.’
‘Have the parents been informed?’ Jane asked abruptly.
John Abbottsford nodded. ‘It’s single Dad. He’s out on a phone-line repair for Telecom. About forty minutes a
way, his base said. They have it in hand. I’ve suggested he goes straight to the hospital.’
‘What about the rest of the students?’ Riley questioned. ‘Are they safely out of the way?’
‘Gone to their normal classrooms.’
‘It would be helpful if we could park as close as we can to the accident scene.’ Riley lifted a hand to scrub at his jaw. ‘We’ll need to unload some gear. Fire and rescue service alerted?’
‘They’ll be here when they can gather up a team.’ The principal ran a distracted hand over his crewcut. ‘As usual, in these rural communities, it’s a voluntary service. But we’ve a young fellow on staff who regularly climbs. Perhaps he could be of some help in the interim.’
One look at the accident scene told both doctors it was going to take skilled and painstaking effort from the entire team to achieve a successful outcome for little Max.
‘He’ll be bordering on shock from the pain.’ Riley’s face was grim. The child was glassily pale and sobbing uncontrollably.
‘Can you do something, Doc?’ The school’s groundsman looked frantically down at Riley. He’d tried to help by climbing a ladder placed beside the fence from where he was endeavouring to support the injured boy. ‘This is getting to me…’
‘Just give us a minute, mate,’ Riley said shortly, turning to confer with Jane.
‘That ladder set-up isn’t going to be effective, Riley.’ Jane shook her head. ‘There’s no way we can work on the child like that.’
‘Well, not for long,’ Riley agreed. ‘But if you could get up there and start the drugs regime, I’ll grab my harness.’
‘What will you do?’ She looked worried.
‘Secure myself to one of those big branches.’ Riley sent his gaze to where the giant fig spread upwards towards the sky. ‘I can lower myself almost to the exact spot, go underneath the boy and support him on my lap. That’ll allow me the freedom to use both my hands to work on him.’
‘OK.’ Jane swallowed the dryness in her throat. It all sounded very complicated. Just then, Max’s plaintive little cry, high-pitched and heart-rending, almost jettisoned her composure. ‘Just, for heaven’s sake, let’s move quickly! Oh…’ She turned, catching sight of the male figure sprinting across the quadrangle. ‘Here’s the promised help, by the look of it.’