Wedding at Sunday Creek

by Leah Martyn

  Jack half rose, leaning back on his elbows and surveying her. He didn’t like what he saw. Her shoulders looked tightly held, almost shutting him out. ‘Talk to me, Darcie.’

  For answer, she plucked off a blade of grass and began shredding it. ‘I don’t know what to say...’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘This—us.’

  Jack wrenched himself forward and sat next to her. He held up his hand as if to study it. ‘Well, I’m real and as far as I know you’re real. We’re without ties and single. So where’s the problem?’ His dark brows hitched briefly. ‘You are single, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes!’ There was a weight of feeling in her voice.

  ‘So I’ll ask again. What’s the problem?’

  She shook her head.

  In the silence that followed, Jack reached across and took her hands, brought them to his mouth and kissed each palm. Then, while his eyes said, Trust me, he flattened them on his chest. The action brought Darcie very near the edge. Suddenly, without warning, she felt surrounded by him, his masculine strength and the wild pull he exerted on every one of her senses.

  ‘Darcie...?’

  ‘I was engaged, Jack.’ Her voice was fainter than air.

  ‘And?’

  She swallowed dryly. ‘I ran away and came to Australia.’

  ‘So you broke it off. There’s no shame in that. I’m sure you had your reasons.’

  She pulled in a slow, painful breath. ‘Oh, I did.’

  Looping out an arm, he gathered her in. ‘Going to tell me?’ he pressed gently.

  Darcie felt the weight of indecision weigh heavily. But if ever there was a time for honesty between them, then it was now. ‘His name was Aaron,’ she began slowly. ‘He was a doctor where I worked at St Faith’s in London. A bit older than I. We seemed well suited. We got along. He looked out for me. When he asked me to marry him, I didn’t hesitate.’

  ‘But later you began to second-guess your engagement,’ Jack suggested quietly.

  ‘Once he’d put the ring on my finger, he changed. Small ways at first so that I thought I’d been mistaken. But then...his caring turned into...control. Control in all kinds of bizarre ways...like how I wore my hair and make-up. He began choosing my clothes, insisting I wear what he’d bought...and that was just the beginning.’

  Jack felt the tiny shudder go through her and swore under his breath. ‘He wasn’t physically abusive, was he?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head decisively. ‘I’d have been gone in two minutes. But, no...his behaviour was the problem. So...manipulative.’

  ‘You did the right thing to get out.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘And fast.’ Jack frowned a bit. ‘What about your parents? Couldn’t you have gone to them?’

  She shook her head. ‘My relationship with them is a bit complex. Sometimes I feel as though I don’t know them at all. And they don’t know me,’ she added in a kind of quiet resignation.

  Jack thought long and hard. Something was eating away at her. Whatever else, they couldn’t leave things like this. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he offered. ‘It goes without saying anything you tell me will be confidential.’

  Darcie felt her mouth dry, her breathing become tight. ‘Are you being my doctor here, Jack?’

  ‘No, Darcie.’ His voice was soft, intense. ‘I’m trying to be your friend.’ When she didn’t respond, he took the initiative. Carefully. ‘At what part of your growing up did you begin to feel alienated from your parents?’

  ‘From when I was about twelve,’ she faltered, after the longest pause.

  ‘You mentioned a housekeeper so I’m guessing you weren’t sent away to school?’

  ‘No, but perhaps it would have been better. At least I’d have had company of my own age. I was lonely a lot of the time.’

  Jack heard the pain in her voice and a silent oath lodged in his throat. ‘Go on,’ he encouraged gently, touching her lightly on the shoulder.

  Darcie turned to look at him. It had been a feather touch of reassurance, and why it had the capacity to make her reassured she had no idea. But, unaccountably, it did. Words began to tumble out.

  ‘My parents had reached the peak in their careers. They had invitations to speak all over the UK. In between speaking engagements they’d swoop home and gather me up like I was the most important thing in their lives. But in a few days they’d be gone again.’

  ‘Pretty erratic parenting, then,’ he said.

  She tried a half-laugh. ‘I guess you’d say so. And maybe...’ she added, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to her, ‘that’s why I took Aaron at face value. He was always there for me. Something my parents hadn’t been.’

  ‘So, gravitating towards Aaron was a fairly natural reaction on your part,’ Jack said. Cautious.

  Darcie released her breath on a shuddering sigh. ‘I think I was extremely gullible. So easily duped...’

  ‘Hey, don’t beat up on yourself. Foresight is a bit scarce on the ground when you really need it.’ Concern showed in his gaze as it locked with hers. ‘Did your parents ever get to meet Aaron?’

  ‘Of course. We were engaged, planning a wedding. They liked him. If I’d tried telling them what I suspected about him, they’d have thought I was overreacting.’

  ‘But they know where you are now? And reasons why you left England?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It seemed a long time until she continued. ‘When I began to realise what my life would be like if I married Aaron, I knew I had to get away. I didn’t trust myself to confront him because I knew how persuasive he could be. He’d have tried to talk me round.’

  Jack rubbed a hand across his cheekbones. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being the brunt of such subtle, despicable behaviour. ‘Survival is an instinct,’ he said quietly. ‘So what did you do to survive?’

  ‘I’d become friends with a doctor who’d come over to St Faith’s on an exchange, an Aussie girl. When she left to continue her travels she told me if ever I found myself in Australia to let her know, and if I wanted a job she’d see if there was anything going in her old hospital in Brisbane. I called her and explained my difficulty. Within twenty-four hours I was on a flight. I left a note for Aaron, making sure he wouldn’t get it until I was airborne.’ She paused and then continued, ‘I worked in Brisbane for a couple of months but it wasn’t the right fit for me.’

  ‘You were still looking over your shoulder.’

  She hesitated. ‘Perhaps.’

  Jack held her more closely. He could imagine her desperation. Her fear...

  She turned up her face to his. ‘I decided to do a bit of a job search on line. I saw the Sunday Creek vacancy...’

  ‘And one year later, here you are.’

  ‘Yes.’ She took one slow breath and then a deeper one, feeling her lungs fill and stretch. It had been such a relief to tell Jack and have him believe in her.

  He searched her face for an endless moment. ‘Sometimes you look a bit...haunted for want of a better word. Do you worry that cretin will find you?’

  ‘Not so much now. It’s been ages and he’d never think I’d do something as bold as this.’

  Jack snorted. ‘He didn’t know you very well, then, did he? You are one gutsy lady.’

  ‘Me?’

  His eyes caressed her tenderly. ‘Yes, you, Darcie Drummond. Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with your confidence.’

  * * *

  Was what they’d done going to change things between them? Darcie wondered as they rode leisurely back to the homestead. It didn’t have to, the sensible part of her reasoned. They could still be professional colleagues. But out of hours—what? Best friends? Friends with chemistry? Lovers? At the thought, butterflies rose and somersaulted in her
stomach. Now, that was a bridge too far. Should she talk to Jack about how they’d handle things? Or not...?

  Not, she decided, but her thoughts kept spinning this way and that.

  Back at the stables, they unsaddled the horses and gave them a quick rub-down. ‘Thank you for a lovely ride, sweetheart.’ Darcie looped her arms around Jewel’s neck and held her cheek to the mare’s smooth coat.

  ‘Are you talking to me?’ Jack’s mouth quirked into a crooked grin.

  ‘Perhaps I was,’ she said, and saw his eyes darken. ‘Indirectly,’ she added, and laughingly dodged the handful of chaff he threw at her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT WAS A week later when Darcie made her way along the corridor to Jack’s office. They hadn’t seen much of one another recently.

  Jack had been away setting up what he called an outreach clinic. But at least he was at the hospital today and Darcie meant to make the most of it.

  She knocked and popped her head in. ‘Got a minute?’

  ‘Good morning.’ Jack heaved his chair away from the desk and beckoned her in. ‘Haven’t seen you much this week,’ he said, as she took the chair opposite.

  ‘No.’ Her smile was quick and gone in a flash. She looked across at him. He looked serious and she wondered for the umpteenth time whether he was regretting their kisses and the shift even for a few hours from professional to personal. Maybe he hadn’t thought about it at all.

  The possibility left her feeling hollow inside.

  ‘How are preparations for the clinic going?’ she asked.

  ‘So far, so good. The board members are enthusiastic and the owners of Warrawee station have offered space we can utilise. And it will be a central point and closer for some of the patients than having to travel in here to the hospital. Would you and Maggie have time to put your heads together and work out the basics of what we’ll need for the start-up?’

  ‘Of course.’ Darcie looked enthusiastic. ‘So—starting from scratch, we should think about furnishings for a treatment room and some kind of reception area? Bed, chairs, desk and so on. We can take patient files and laptop on the day. Maybe the whole area will need a lick of paint. And what about a water cooler, tea-making facilities...?’

  ‘Hang on, Darcie.’ Jack injected a note of caution. ‘Let’s just do the basics until we see whether patient numbers indicate it’s viable. And it goes without saying all emergencies will still have to come here to the hospital.’

  ‘I realise that. But I think a less clinical environment should work well for our indigenous folk, at least. Some of the elders in particular still have a fear of actual hospitals.’

  ‘You’ve really got a handle on Sunday Creek and its people, haven’t you?’

  Darcie’s gaze tangled with his as his gentle words soothed all the lonely places in her heart. Breaking eye contact, she said quietly, ‘Everyone here has shown me the kind of respect a doctor can only dream about. And I’ve felt incredibly welcome.’

  Jack rubbed absently at his jaw. ‘You’ve obviously earned every bit of trust people have placed in you.’

  Darcie coloured faintly, shrugging away his compliment. ‘How often would you visualise running the clinic?’

  ‘Perhaps every couple of weeks.’ Jack’s mouth turned down. ‘Depends if folk warm to the idea.’

  Darcie sent him an old-fashioned look. ‘Establish it and they will come.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  ‘Am I going to get a turn or are you intending to keep it to yourself?’

  His mouth puckered briefly. ‘You may have a turn, Dr Drummond. Now...’ Jack placed his hands palms down on the desk ‘...what did you want to see me about?’

  ‘I’d like a second opinion about a patient, David Campion, age twenty-seven. He’s an artist, lives fairly basically in a shack in the bush, according to Maggie. Rather eccentric, I suppose. He wanders in when life gets a bit beyond him.’

  The leather creaked, as Jack leaned back in his chair. ‘He’s not using us as a hostel, is he?’

  ‘No, I’d say not. He seems genuinely under the weather but I can’t get a handle on whatever it is.’

  ‘Drug use?’

  ‘I’ve never detected any sign.’

  Jack steepled his fingers under his chin. ‘So, what does he live on—the sale of his paintings?’

  ‘They’re exceptional.’ Darcie warmed to her subject. ‘Wonderful outback images. He had a showing at the library not so long ago. I bought two of his smaller prints. They’re on my bedroom wall.’

  ‘Is that so...?’ Jack’s blue gaze ran across her face and down to where the open neck of her shirt ended in creamy shadow. ‘I must look in some time.’

  Darcie’s heart revved at his cheeky remark. She moistened lips that had suddenly gone dry. Did he mean that? More to the point, did she want him to mean it? She swallowed. Was she brave enough to force the issue now, this minute? Go after what her heart was telling her she wanted, needed?

  Jack hadn’t missed her startled look, or the way her gaze fluttered down. Then back. He gave himself a mental kick. He shouldn’t go around making facetious remarks like the one he’d just made. Look into her bedroom? What the hell had he been thinking of? But the remarks had just...slipped out. Darcie. Every time he looked at her, he came alive inside.

  Wanting her.

  But she was vulnerable.

  So he shouldn’t rush things.

  It took him barely seconds to come to that conclusion.

  ‘We’ll talk soon, Darcie...’

  Darcie caught her breath. The promise in his words was like a husky whisper over her skin, warming her.

  For a second she looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. She waited until her body regained its centre. Then she nodded. She knew what he meant. No explanations were needed.

  Abruptly, Jack pulled his feet back and stood. ‘Let’s have a look at your patient, then, shall we?’

  Jack’s examination of David Campion was thorough. He ran his stethoscope over the man’s chest and back, his mouth tightening. ‘Cough for me now, please, David. And again. You’ve a few rattles in there. When did you last eat?’ Folding his stethoscope, he parked himself on the end of the treatment couch.

  ‘Dunno.’ David shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘Haven’t felt hungry.’

  ‘I’m going to keep you in.’ Decisively, Jack began scribbling on the chart. ‘You’ve a chest infection. We’ll try to zap it before it turns nasty. I’d like to run a few tests as well, see if we can turn anything else up. Is that OK with you?’

  The man blinked owlishly. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘We’ll get you settled in the ward shortly, David.’ Darcie sent her patient an encouraging smile. ‘It was good you came in today.’

  ‘A word, please, Darcie.’ Jack clicked his pen shut and slid it into his shirt pocket. He stepped outside the cubicle and pulled the screens closed. ‘Ask Maggie to get things rolling for David’s admission, would you, please?’

  ‘As soon as he’s settled, I’ll take the bloods,’ Darcie said. ‘What are we testing for?’

  Jack reeled off what he wanted. ‘Oh, add hypothroidism as well.’

  Darcie frowned. Under-activity of the thyroid gland. ‘That’s more common in women, isn’t it?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Jack lifted a shoulder. ‘But we can’t take a gender-based view and not test for it. As a case in point, a couple of years ago at Mercy in Melbourne, they had a young man of twenty with breast cancer.’

  ‘I guess it would explain David’s continued lethargy to some extent,’ she conceded.

  ‘There were other pointers,’ Jack expanded as they began to walk along the corridor. ‘His heart rate was quite slow, plus his skin was as dry as old bones.’

  ‘That could be because of a less
than adequate diet and his iffy living conditions.’

  Jack’s mouth pleated at the corners. ‘Well, we’ll see when the bloods come back. Ask the lab to email the results, will you? We’ll do a CT scan as well. We’re equipped to do that here, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but the technician is also the chemist, so I’ll have to give her a call to come in.’

  ‘Do that, then, please. Interesting case,’ he said, as he handed her the chart and continued on his way.

  * * *

  It was a week before David’s test results were back. Jack went to find Darcie and together they went along into his office.

  When they were seated, she looked at him expectantly. ‘So, was it the thyroid, as you suspected?’

  ‘Mmm. Plus his iron stores are abysmally low. But we can treat him.’

  ‘If we can find him,’ Darcie warned. ‘As you know, he discharged himself after only a day and went bush again.’

  ‘You don’t think he’ll be at his shack?’

  ‘Unlikely. He told me he has to get several paintings ready for a gallery in Melbourne a.s.a.p. He’s possibly taken his swag and easel and gone somewhere to paint.’

  Jack tugged thoughtfully at his bottom lip. ‘Then we’d better find him and get him started on some medication. See if Maggie can draw us some kind of mud map for the general location where he might be. Fancy a ramble?’

  Darcie looked torn. ‘Should we both be away from the hospital?’

  ‘It’s quiet and it’s not as though we’re disappearing for the rest of the day.’ He curved her a brief smile. ‘I’m the boss and I’ll take the flak if there’s any. Look on it as doing a house call. If we can find David promptly, I’m hoping we may be able to persuade him to come back to the hospital with us.’

  ‘That would be so helpful,’ Darcie agreed. ‘The sooner his condition is treated, the better.’

  Jack got to his feet. ‘That’s why we need him here where we can monitor him and get his dose of thyroxine right.’

  * * *

  ‘That could be David’s place through there.’ Darcie pointed ahead to where a timber shack was just visible through the belt of spindly she-oaks. They’d been driving for about thirty minutes and Maggie’s map had been spot on.