The Doctor's Marriage

by Leah Martyn

  ‘See you on Monday,’ he called to her retreating back. Reversing out of her driveway, he turned the Land Rover in a swift arc towards the highway.

  With sluggish movements, Jane opened her front door and went inside, resting her head against the stained-glass panels. What a gullible fool she’d been to think that resuming their marriage would happen at her behest.

  She made a bitter little sound in her throat. In her self-righteousness, she’d pushed his loyalties too far. Was it any wonder he’d found something more interesting to do with the rest of his weekend than spend it with his wife?

  The cruel truth of it stripped her to the bone. Oh, Riley…

  Because she had nothing better to do, Jane went to work earlier than usual on Monday morning.

  And if she’d been asked why she was dressed to the nines, she wouldn’t have been able to explain. She only knew she was feeling vulnerable, miserable and crushed—or perhaps a combination of all three—and her spirits needed a lift. Unlocking her surgery door, she went inside.

  Shoving her bag out of sight under the desk, she hung up the jacket of her pale blue linen suit and then made her way along the corridor to the staffroom.

  A glass of orange juice earlier had hardly been breakfast, she thought wryly, filling the coffee maker and plugging it in. But it was all she’d be able to stomach. Her nerve-endings felt all cobbled together inside her.

  Wrapping her arms around her middle, she moved across to the window, looking out across the beds of multicoloured marigolds, daisies and ivy geraniums in their big earthenware pots. She let her mind drift, thinking that full-blown summer was just a beat away. And Riley’s birthday…

  ‘Is that coffee I can smell?’ The object of her thoughts stuck his head around the door. ‘Saw your car.’ He gave her a rusty smile. ‘You’re in early.’

  ‘You make it sound like I’m late every other day,’ she snapped, her emotions spilling over. Her eyes raked over him hungrily. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, unshaven. ‘You look terrible, Riley. Are you hungover?’

  ‘Don’t be crazy.’ He dropped into a chair, running a hand through his mussed-up hair, making it stand up in little tufts. ‘Why would I be out on the roads if I wasn’t fit to drive?’ he growled, rubbing his eyes and knuckling the dark line of stubble on his jaw.

  Tell me and we’ll both know, Jane simmered as she poured his coffee, sugared it and handed him the mug.

  ‘Thanks.’ He took it gratefully. ‘You’re a lifesaver.’ He took several mouthfuls before looking up. ‘You’re all dressed up, Janey. Got a heavy date for lunch?’ He chuckled, seeming pleased with his own joke, stretching out his legs under the table and cradling his mug on his chest.

  Her mouth thinned. ‘It must have been some party,’ she commented dryly, sitting primly at the end of the table with her own coffee.

  ‘It was.’

  ‘How many were there?’ she asked, more for something to say than because she wanted to know.

  He lifted a shoulder. ‘A dozen or so. Some of the nurses from the Nigerian team turned up as well. We talked for most of the night. You’d have been bored witless.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jane said quietly, one brow raised fractionally, her face carefully schooled. ‘It’s nice to know you think I’m socially inept, as well as everything else.’ She got to her feet, taking her coffee with her, and walked out. About to close the door, she heard Riley’s muttered expletive.

  Well, you handled that very well, Jane, she berated herself, her eyes filling. And why are you picking at him like a shrew? Because he’s being deliberately half-smart and he knows I hate him being that way. And because I’m jealous, she admitted with a hollow inward ache. Jealous of the time he chose to spend away from me when we could have had the rest of the weekend together.

  But how was he to know that? Her conscience pricked with unerring accuracy.

  She hardly had time to collect herself when there was a pounding at the front door of the surgery. Her head came up, her nerves clenching in the pit of her stomach. Trouble? She ran out, leaving the door of her consulting room wide open, and almost collided with Riley as he came sprinting out of the staffroom.

  ‘Wait!’ he cautioned, when she would have wrenched the outer door open. ‘Let me.’ He stepped in front of her. ‘We don’t know who it is yet.’

  Jane’s eyes snapped wide. ‘But surely it’s an emergency?’

  Riley’s jaw tightened. ‘With what’s been happening lately, let’s just make sure, shall we?’ He turned off the alarm, unlocked the door and slid it open. ‘Yes?’

  A man dressed in shorts, a bush shirt and heavy work boots rocked agitatedly from one foot to the other. At Riley’s appearance, he pulled back uncertainly. ‘You a doctor, mate?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Riley’s response was clipped. ‘What’s happened?’

  The workman jerked a thumb backwards. ‘I’m from the building site across the road. One of the guys has taken a fall off the scaffolding—torn his hand on a wall spike. There’s blood everywhere—’

  ‘You go!’ Jane practically pushed Riley out the door. ‘I’ll get my bag!’ Turning back inside, she ran the length of the corridor and grabbed her bag from under her desk.

  What else would they need? Her thoughts were spinning. In the treatment room, she gathered an emergency pack, including a space blanket, and ran back out to the entrance, remembering to shut the door behind her. The last thing they needed was to leave an open invitation to a burglar or a drug addict.

  ‘Has someone rung for an ambulance?’ At the accident scene, Jane addressed the shocked faces around her.

  ‘I did.’ One of the workers tapped the mobile phone on his belt. ‘The base said they’ll be a while.’

  ‘Terrific,’ Jane muttered. ‘What’ve we got?’ She dropped beside Riley.

  ‘De-gloved hand.’ Riley’s dark head was bent over his patient. ‘He’s in some pain here. Did you bring morphine?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tight-lipped, Jane handed him the drug, plus an anti-nausea medication. Poor man. She shuddered inwardly, seeing where the skin had been forcibly pulled back from his hand. The injury would assuredly need microsurgery. And heaven knew when he’d be able to work again.

  ‘Oh, hell.’ The workman was pale and sweating. ‘This is killin’ me, Doc…’

  ‘I know, mate. Hang in there. We’ll do what we can.’ Riley’s expression was serious as he administered the painkiller. ‘IV please, Jane. Normal saline.’

  Jane knew they were staving off shock. Prompting a vein to the surface, she slid the cannula into place.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Riley asked gently, checking for any other injuries on the workman’s body.

  ‘Rob—Rob Crossingham.’

  ‘You’re Emma’s dad?’

  He nodded his fair head. ‘You the doc who sorted my little girl?’

  ‘Riley Brennan.’

  Rob make a weak attempt at a smile. ‘I’d shake your hand, if I could…’

  ‘Time enough for that.’ Concentrating, Riley ran the stethoscope over his patient’s chest. ‘Breathing OK,’ he said in an aside to Jane.

  She nodded, gently securing the pressure bandage over the injury. ‘Could you give me a hand with the sling, please?’

  ‘I think your worker would be more comfortable if we could get him across to the surgery to wait for the ambulance.’ Riley spoke to the site foreman. ‘And I take it you’ll be doing a report for the Workplace Health and Safety people?’

  ‘Goes without saying.’ The foreman stood his ground. ‘I don’t know how it happened. I run a safe operation but for some reason that scaffolding was dodgy this morning.’

  ‘Might’ve been the high wind yesterday,’ someone said. ‘Loosened ’em or something.’

  ‘Or vandals,’ another voice growled. ‘Nothing’s safe any more. Not your wife or your kids…’

  Thinking of the recent fire at the women’s shelter, Jane felt sick.

  ‘Good thinking,’ Riley said approvingly,
as a couple of the men produced a new timber door from inside the shopfront. Gently, Rob Crossingham was lifted and lowered and, with Jane supporting the drip, transported by four of his workmates across the road to the surgery.

  The rest of the practice staff were just beginning to arrive. Vicki avidly sought details of what had occurred.

  ‘I hope it’s not an omen for the rest of the day.’

  Monica grimaced at the smattering of blood on Riley’s T-shirt and disappeared into her office.

  ‘I’ll get on to A and E and alert them,’ Jane said quietly. ‘Trish, could you check with the ambulance base again, please?’

  ‘And I need to shower and change.’ Riley held the offending T-shirt away from his chest.

  ‘And shave,’ Vicki reminded him cheekily.

  ‘And shave,’ he echoed ruefully. ‘Stall my first appointment, would you, Vick?’

  Jane began to walk away to her room. ‘Didn’t Riley look terrible?’ Vicki’s barely whispered exclamation followed her.

  Trish snorted. ‘Probably been out on the tiles.’

  Jane closed her door on their soft laughter.

  It was a full list for a Monday morning. With a determination born of desperation, Jane shoved her personal problems to the back of her mind and worked slowly through her patients. Her last one for the morning was Leanne Cawley.

  ‘You said to come back to have my nose checked.’ In neat, khaki, knee-length shorts and blue shirt with the garden centre logo on the pocket, she’d obviously come straight from work.

  ‘Any headaches?’ Jane asked, making a thorough examination under the light.

  ‘Nothing major, and I’ve got paracetamol.’

  ‘Your nose is reducing nicely, Leanne. Still a bit to go, but you won’t need surgery. How’s it been?’

  ‘Really sore at first, especially when I needed to blow it.’ She grimaced. ‘I never realised there were so many sayings about noses either.’

  Jane smiled. ‘Can’t say I’ve thought about it. But I see what you mean. Like having a nose for business?’

  ‘And on TV police shows—they always warn the villain to keep his nose clean, don’t they?’ Leanne slid off the treatment couch and went back to her chair. ‘And we accuse people of being nosy.’ She chuckled. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’

  Jane rested a professional eye on her patient. ‘It’s good to see you so upbeat, Leanne. Things going well?’

  ‘For a change.’ Leanne’s mouth curved in a wry smile. ‘I think Simon and I are making headway at last. He came for dinner a couple of nights ago.’ She looked wistful for a moment. ‘It was nice to have him home…’

  ‘So you’ve had the restraining order lifted?’

  ‘Yes. He hasn’t moved back home but I felt I had to give him some leeway and he really is making progress with his counsellor, lightening up about a lot of things, getting his self-esteem back.’ She bit her lip and hesitated. ‘Of course, it would help if he could get a job…’

  Jane nodded. ‘What is Simon’s line of work exactly?’

  ‘He used to work in a bank. But they’re downsizing all over the place these days. And jobs with his background are not exactly thick on the ground in Mt Pryde.’

  ‘No, I can imagine. What about the local council offices?’

  ‘That was one of the first places he’d tried.’ Leanne shook her head mutely. ‘He’s thinking he may have to try further afield—Brisbane.’

  And that would split the little family even further.

  ‘I won’t take up any more of your time, Jane.’ Leanne suddenly stood upright and hitched up her shoulder-bag. ‘But thanks for listening. It really helps.’

  ‘I just wish I could come up with a job for Simon.’ Jane walked her patient to the door.

  Leanne sent her a crooked grin. ‘Maybe there’s still a miracle or two out there. We can only keeping looking.’

  Jane was thoughtful as she went back to her desk. Swivelling to her computer, she quickly tapped in the information that would bring Leanne’s file up to date. There had to be a job somewhere for Simon Cawley, she reasoned. But where? Sighing, she closed down the computer and glanced at her watch. Lunchtime.

  ‘Just off to make a couple of hospital visits.’ She opened the door of the staffroom and scattered the words to the assembled male company at the table.

  ‘Ah, Jane.’ Ralph peered over the top of his spectacles. ‘Got time for a quick cup of tea?’

  ‘Not just now, thanks, Ralph.’

  Her voice was more curt than she’d intended and the senior doctor sent her a curious glance. ‘Everything OK?’

  Jane felt a pang. It wasn’t Ralph’s fault she was off male company at the moment. But today there was no way she could have sat there with the three of them and tried to make informed conversation. In the words of Garbo, she wanted to be alone.

  Her eyes flicked past Ralph to Riley. He looked presentable again—clean-shaven, his hair squeaky clean and neatly combed and he’d changed into a cool, white, short-sleeved shirt and light-coloured chinos.

  Her heart started skipping beats. How odd. She’d fancied him much more this morning dishevelled, with his dissolute air. So sexy.

  His dark gaze met hers challengingly. ‘I’ve rung the hospital. Our patient has stabilised. He’s scheduled for surgery this afternoon.’

  ‘Good.’ Jane gave an overbright smile, fluttered a wave and left.

  By Saturday, it was obvious to Riley that Jane was avoiding him. And had been for the whole week.

  He paced to the window of his lounge room and looked out. It was a perfect day and the weekend stretched ahead, long and lonely and unproductive. That’s if he didn’t do something about it.

  But what?

  He sat at his laptop and worked for an hour on his assignment for the university but his concentration kept lapsing. To hell with it. With a frustrated sigh, he logged off. In the mood he was in, he was probably writing garbage anyway.

  Jane woke to the sound of birdsong. Pulling herself upright against the pillows, she listened, identifying the different calls. She felt better today, more at peace for some reason. The thought gave lightness to her spirit, and she sprang out of bed.

  Under the warm jet from the shower, she began to plan her day. Greg Logan was coming to mow her grass and help out with any other outside jobs. She knew she could have asked Riley but right now she felt she couldn’t ask anything of her husband.

  Thinking how their relationship had disintegrated since last weekend, it sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

  When Greg arrived, she set him to work. An hour later, they stopped for a cool drink and a snack. ‘I’ll clip that hedge along the side fence for you if you like, Jane,’ the fifteen-year-old offered cheerfully.

  Jane looked doubtful. ‘Well, all right, but be careful of those thorns.’

  ‘No worries.’ He gave her a wide grin. ‘Piece of cake.’

  She smiled back, thinking what a nice man he’d make one day. And it wouldn’t be too long either. His voice had already broken and settled into a deep timbre.

  Greg’s mother worked on Saturdays so Jane always invited him to stay to lunch. She threw together a chicken casserole and placed it in the oven. Perhaps later she’d cook some rice to go with it.

  Outside once more, she pulled on her gardening gloves and tackled the weeds in her vegetable patch. She had early tomatoes, heaps of them. Reaching into the suede-like leaves, she began picking the ripest specimens.

  As she worked, the thought of the situation between her and Riley hung over her like a worrisome cloud. Severing one last tomato from the vine, she dropped it on top of the others. Straightening too quickly, she felt a muscle give in her back. ‘Ouch!’ She clenched her teeth against the sudden pain.

  ‘Do you have to work like a navvy?’

  She spun round. Riley was coming towards her, his footfalls muffled on the newly mown grass. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’ She turned away, releasing the weight of the tom
atoes into his outstretched hand. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

  ‘Surely I don’t need an appointment to see my wife?’ His gaze hardened. ‘Where do you want these?’

  ‘Oh, just in the laundry.’ Jane stripped off her gloves. Her heart was tripping as she followed him inside. ‘You’re supposed to be on call, aren’t you?’

  ‘I have my mobile,’ he said dismissively. ‘Ralph seemed to think that, apart from emergencies, there’d be nothing much happening.’

  ‘So, have you come here for a specific reason, Riley?’ Somehow Jane found she’d backed herself against the wall.

  ‘You bet I have.’ His mouth twisted sardonically. ‘I’m sick and tired of this game we’re playing. I want to know whether we have a marriage or not.’

  ‘Just like that! Typical of you, Riley.’

  ‘Settle down.’ His voice softened. ‘I didn’t come here to fight with you.’ He lifted a hand to knuckle her cheek gently. ‘You’ve looked like hell all week. Are you feeling better?’

  ‘I…’ She licked her lips. ‘Yes.’ She tried to duck under his arm but he stopped her with the gentlest pressure. ‘Riley?’ she faltered huskily, and swallowed.

  ‘It’s still fathoms deep for me, Janey. Why isn’t it the same for you?’

  She took a deep breath that hollowed her insides, catching the familiar scent of his aftershave. ‘Riley,’ she began again, ‘we’re not—’

  ‘Just kiss me,’ he murmured deeply, and gathered her in.

  Under the soft, seductive pressure of his kiss, Jane gave up her tenuous hold on sanity, her hands creeping upwards, tracking a familiar pattern along the tautness of his shoulders, the back of his neck, finally losing themselves in the darkness of his hair.

  Dazed, she felt his mouth leave hers and begin to trace the line of her jaw and throat, move back to bite gently just below her ear. Her body’s automatic response was electric.

  ‘Oh, yes…’ he murmured thickly, and their mouths sought contact even more desperately.

  ‘No, Riley!’ Jane pulled back, looking wildly around.

  ‘What…?’ He seemed momentarily in a world of his own, his dark eyes intent on her face, his hand twisting experimentally through her hair. ‘What is it?’