The Doctor Calling

by Meredith Appleyard

  With an angry curse, she made her way out her front gate, along the footpath, through Neill’s gate and up his driveway. As she’d hoped, there was light coming from the side window under the carport. The spare room. Jake’s room. Her pulse thudded as she tip-toed through the carport to the window.

  ‘Jake,’ she hissed, leaning forward, her face close to the flyscreen. The window was open about six inches and the gauzy curtain billowed inwards on a puff of breeze. No response. She spoke louder and rapped on the window frame, jumping back when the curtain was wrenched aside and she found herself at eye-level with a bare navel.

  ‘Laura?’

  ‘I’ve locked myself out.’

  He pushed the window up as far as it would go. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve locked myself out,’ she said, the words coming out louder than expected, bouncing around the empty carport.

  He grinned and she could have smacked him.

  ‘Wait right there,’ he said and the curtain dropped.

  She folded her arms and waited, looked for the hulking shape of his bike in the carport. It wasn’t there.

  ‘Where’s your motorbike?’ she said when he appeared out of the darkness, pulling on a t-shirt. ‘I thought you’d gone.’

  ‘In the morning,’ he said, and took a torch out of the back pocket of his jeans. ‘And it’s in the shed.’

  ‘Right,’ she muttered and followed him down the driveway, leaping the gate behind him, almost running to keep up.

  ‘What took you so long to come over?’ he said, the torchlight bouncing along in front of them on the walk.

  ‘I tried getting the screen off myself but it wouldn’t budge. All the tools are locked in the back shed and the key’s inside.’

  ‘You haven’t got a house key hidden anywhere outside.’

  ‘Well, duh,’ she snapped. ‘Do you think I’d be here now if I had a key hidden outside?’

  ‘It was more of an observation than a question.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’

  He stopped abruptly, and she put out a hand to prevent herself from slamming into his back. He turned around, pointed the torch at their feet.

  ‘Don’t be sorry, Laura,’ he said, his voice a low rumble. ‘I’m not. I’m more than happy to rescue a damsel in distress.’

  She followed him through the front gate and up the path. Going to the bedroom window, he shone the torch around the edges of the screen. He passed the torch to her, gripped both sides of the screen and with one powerful jerk it was out in his hands.

  ‘Brute force,’ he said smiling. ‘Works every time.’

  He leaned the screen on the verandah. With a screech the window flew up on its sash, the Holland blind followed and he was folding himself through into her bedroom. Seconds later, the front door opened.

  ‘Voila,’ he said and with a flourish stood back to let her pass. He stepped out onto the verandah and retrieved her bag, pulling the door closed as he came in.

  Laura went into her bedroom and shut the window, pulled down the blind.

  ‘The screen and the window frame might need a bit of main­tenance in the morning,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  He leaned in the doorway and she felt him watching her. Unconsciously her hand went to her hair, which she’d pulled into a hasty knot on the top of her head. Heat blossomed on her cheeks as she realised how shabby her trackpants and sweatshirt were. Her face burned when she remembered her underwear was hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

  He shifted his survey from her to the bed, the doona tossed back, her robe in a tangle at the foot. She shivered although she wasn’t cold. When his eyes lifted to her face again she bit her bottom lip and he sucked in a quick breath, pushed himself upright.

  ‘A coffee wouldn’t go astray,’ he said, and rubbed an unsteady hand across his whiskery jaw.

  ‘At this hour? You have to be joking.’

  ‘Sleep’s out of the question now,’ he said.

  ‘You could still get a couple of hours.’

  ‘No point. I’ve got a long trip ahead of me.’ He stood back, barely giving her enough room to pass, and followed her down the passage. Laura flicked on the light as she went into the kitchen.

  ‘How was Neill?’ she said as she turned on the coffee machine and took two mugs from the draining rack on the sink.

  ‘All right. He had a cup of tea and went back to bed. The dressing looked okay. I’d just checked on him when you came creeping up to my bedroom window.’

  ‘I wasn’t creeping,’ she retaliated.

  ‘Whatever,’ he said and sat down at the kitchen table.

  ‘Do you want anything to eat?’ She put his coffee and the sugar bowl down on the table in front of him.

  ‘No, thanks,’ he said and spooned sugar into the coffee.

  She sat down beside him with her decaf.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were a doctor? What’s with keeping it a secret?’

  ‘It wasn’t a secret. Like I said to Neill, I just needed to be anonymous for a while. I haven’t told anyone – your dad worked it out for himself, with what Great-aunt Dorothy had shared before she died. They were neighbours for years. And the house was never sold, and then I show up out of the blue.’

  ‘When are you going back to your medical practice? I suppose it’s in Adelaide.’

  ‘Yes, it is, and I’m on leave for the time being.’ Laura pressed her lips together, her grip tightening on the mug handle. It seemed as if everyone was taking a sudden interest in her career.

  Jake finished stirring his coffee. He scanned the kitchen. ‘You look like you’re settling in here. You should hang up your shingle in Potters Junction, give the good Doctor Burns a run for his money.’

  ‘I get the impression you don’t like Milton Burns.’

  ‘You catch on quickly,’ he said with a sardonic curl of his lips. ‘You could say there’s no love lost between me and the man.’

  ‘I’m yet to meet him.’

  Jake leaned back in his chair, drummed his fingers on the pine tabletop. ‘So, Doctor Laura, tell me about Neill. How long has he got left?’ He deflated, the hubris of seconds before disappearing. ‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t realise just how bad he was. Jess said he’d had cancer, but I thought the surgery and the chem—’

  ‘You need to talk to his GP, Jake.’

  He snorted. ‘Don’t bullshit me, Laura. You might be pretending you’re not a doctor for whatever reason, but I watched you earlier and I’m sure you know full well what’s going on with him. And you went through it with your mother. You must have some idea.’

  ‘I’m not his doctor, Jake. I don’t know the intricacies of his condition or of his treatment, and I wouldn’t even hazard a guess at how much longer he has. What I can tell you is he refused more chemotherapy because it wasn’t slowing the spread of the metastases, and I believe that was several months ago.’

  ‘So how do you know that, then?’

  ‘He relayed the conversation that he’d had with his oncologist, Jake. Nothing underhand is going on here. One morning he wanted to talk and he shared it with me as a friend,’ she said. ‘I’m not his GP. I’m his friend so I’m not breaching any patient confidentiality telling you that.’

  ‘I suppose Jess knows everything.’

  ‘I’m sure she does. She’s been here throughout Neill’s illness. They seem very close.’

  Jake’s frown deepened. The silence stretched. Jake stared into his drink; Laura took another sip of hers and shuddered. Camomile tea would have been far more appropriate.

  ‘Look,’ Laura said gently. ‘Many people find death and dying difficult to talk about and by your own admission you haven’t been around much.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose I have. But I’ve always kept in touch with Jess. We see each other every couple of years. I haven’t completely neglected her, or my nephews.’

  ‘Jake, I don’t think anyone’s been keeping secrets from you. I don’t know anything a
bout your relationship with your father or why you stay away, but you’re his son and I’m sure he loves you.’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ he said bitterly. ‘I’m not his son.’

  ‘What?’ Laura’s mug hit the tabletop with a crack. ‘What do you mean you’re not his son? But Jess is your sister, you have the same colouring, your eyes —’

  ‘Yes,’ he interjected. ‘She’s my sister. My half-sister. We have the same mother. Neill’s her father. I have no idea who my father is.’

  Laura regarded him for a moment. ‘Don’t you mean you don’t know who your biological father is? Didn’t Neill bring you up, provide for you, love you? The same as he did for Jess?’

  Jake sat there scowling.

  Laura stood up, reached for his empty cup. ‘Another one?’ He nodded. She went to the coffee machine on the bench and dropped in another coffee pod. ‘Does Jess know?’

  ‘I don’t think so. She’s never said anything. I wouldn’t know either if I hadn’t overheard a conversation between the old man and the good Doctor Burns.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’d just had my nineteenth birthday. Jess was sick with tonsillitis or something. We were shearing, flat out. Milt Burns made a house call for Jess and he was talking to Dad in the kitchen afterwards, having a proper catch-up. They were good mates, used to play golf together. They had no idea I was there, I was meant to be cleaning up in the shearing shed. I overheard the conversation, I don’t even know how it came up. I was so angry that I’d never been told, never given a choice about knowing who my real father was. I saw red. As soon as the shearers had finished I packed my bags and left. Twenty years ago, almost to the day.’

  ‘That must have been a shock for him and Jess. Did you say why you were going?’

  ‘Nope. I was a bit of a hothead back then. I thought I knew everything. And I’d been eavesdropping. You’re the first person I’ve ever told.’ He gave her a bemused look. ‘I’m not sure why I’m telling you now.’

  ‘Why haven’t you ever talked to him about it?’

  The wooden chair creaked as Jake moved. ‘I dunno. The longer it went the harder it was to bring it up. I don’t come back here very often.’

  ‘Did you ever ask your mother who your biological father was?’

  He lurched to his feet and began pacing around the kitchen. ‘When I finally tracked her down in Perth years ago she wouldn’t talk about it. All she said was that Neill married her because she was pregnant, and for all intents and purposes he was my father.’

  Laura’s impression of Jake’s mother went up a notch. It sounded like she’d recognised the role Neill had played in Jake’s life, his generosity in taking on another man’s child. ‘How long ago did your parents split?’

  ‘I was fifteen. Jess was eleven. I don’t think Mum was ever happy. She hated being a farmer’s wife. She never would have married him if she hadn’t been pregnant, if her bible-bashing parents hadn’t pushed her into it.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Milt Burns talked about that as well, that day in the kitchen. I guess he knew all the gory details. After all, he’d delivered me at the local hospital. He kept saying to Neill he was glad he’d told him about Mum, that he was better off without her. That she even­tually would have left, no matter what, and if it hadn’t been the stock and station agent it would have been some other bloke. And Neill should be grateful he’d ended up with two bright kids.’

  ‘You must have been eavesdropping for a while.’

  ‘Yep. I remember I got pins and needles in my feet.’

  Laura put the coffee on the table, placing the biscuit tin beside it. ‘I can make some toast if you like,’ she said.

  ‘No, thanks,’ he said and sat down again, dropped his head into his hands. She leaned against the sink and folded her arms.

  ‘There are always secrets. There always have been,’ he said in a low voice.

  Laura’s shoulders lifted in a slight, tight shrug. ‘It’s what parents do, Jake, they can’t help themselves. They keep secrets. They want to protect their children. And it doesn’t matter how old we are, what we do, we’re still their children and they always want to protect us. Sometimes it all backfires.’

  Laura couldn’t control the edge of pain in her voice.

  ‘Laura?’ he said, his eyes widening with concern.

  ‘Jake, I have a bit of an idea what you might be going through. Not all the paternity stuff, of course, but Mum died of cancer. She – they – whoever – didn’t tell me until it was too late to do anything. And I had a good relationship with her.’ She uncrossed her arms, shoved her hands into the pockets of her trackpants. ‘I’d noticed she was losing weight and was always tired. Her GP put the symptoms down to menopause. At the time it all seemed reasonable, quite plausible, in fact. If she’d been my patient I might have come to the same conclusion.’ She paused and he waited intently.

  ‘But she was my mother, for god’s sake. I’m a doctor. I should have taken more notice, made her go and get a second opinion. If only I hadn’t been so busy with my own life.’ Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. ‘Ah, the if onlys. If only Mum had done something earlier and got a second opinion, if only I’d been looking out for her, if only Brett had been more careful, if only I’d taken better care of myself, if only . . .’

  ‘Laura,’ Jake said gently and came to her. ‘You have had a bugger of a time, haven’t you.’

  She gave him a shaky smile. ‘Yeah, but this isn’t about me. We were talking about you and your dad.’

  ‘Enough’s been said about that.’

  Her answering expression was sceptical but the warmth and strength of the hands cupping her shoulders sent a shudder of yearning right through her. It had been so long. She could feel the heat from his body. So close. When the pressure on her shoulders intensified she didn’t draw back. She heard the sigh of her own breath as she pressed her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder, let her hands slide around his waist. So good.

  ‘You have to go,’ she murmured. Laura lifted her head from his shoulder, could still feel the imprint of his lips on her temple. She imagined tipping her head back so he could kiss her lips. A fierce longing coursed through her. Sunrise was a heartbeat away.

  ‘I do.’

  Jake stepped away from their embrace. Laura shivered.

  ‘Thanks for breaking into the house for me. I’d still be out there trying to get in.’

  Jake’s smile had Laura melting all over again. ‘I wish,’ she started. ‘No . . .’ The word whispered out on a sigh. ‘Forget that. I’m too old to wish. I know it’s nothing to do with me, but what are you going to do about the father business?’

  ‘You’re right, it’s nothing to do with you.’ There was no edge to his words.

  ‘He’s dying, Jake. You might not get another chance to sort things out.’

  He scraped his hand across his jaw, the sound loud in the silent kitchen. ‘I have to go. I need to be back in Melbourne tomorrow.’

  She didn’t want to feel disappointed, but she did.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you around then?’

  Jake didn’t attempt to answer the question she knew was written all over her face. ‘Will you look in on the old man later?’ was all he said.

  ‘Of course I will.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll talk to Jess before I leave, tell her about the fall.’

  ‘Travel safely.’

  He nodded, a brusque incline of his head, and Laura was left standing in an empty kitchen.

  An hour later she was lying in bed trying to sleep when she heard the angry roar of his motorcycle. She rolled over, put her hands over her ears. She wouldn’t think about Jake anymore. She couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been there. Couldn’t pretend she hadn’t thought What if? for a moment when his arms had folded around her and her body had clenched with anticipation. But he was gone. And he’d made no promises, false or otherwise, about coming back.

  She’d been numb since Brett’s accident
, dead from the neck down. The ache filling her pelvis told her that her body had woken up, with a vengeance. But although her body was ready Laura wasn’t sure she was. She rolled onto her side, drew her knees up towards her stomach and thought about sleep. It would be silly to fill her head with foolish what ifs.

  When she woke again it was almost midday. Her phone had started ringing from somewhere else in the house. She threw back the doona, dashed down the passage to the kitchen, scooped it up off the dresser.

  ‘Laura. You are there. I hope you don’t mind me ringing, and I hope I didn’t disturb you.’

  ‘Neill, hello. No, I don’t mind you calling at all. You didn’t disturb me. How’s your head?’

  ‘It’s all right. I just wanted to say thank you for last night, well, early this morning really. It was a relief not to have to go up to the hospital.’

  ‘No nausea or vomiting? Headache?’

  ‘Nausea, ha. These days I feel sick all the time. I’ve had a bit of a headache, but that’s par for the course as well. So, really, nothing out of the ordinary except a lump on my head and your stitches.’

  ‘I’ll come and check the dressing later.’

  ‘Yes . . .’ he said, his voice trailing off.

  ‘Neill, are you there?’

  ‘My son’s gone,’ Neill said at length. ‘I don’t know when Jess will visit next. Jake said he’d stay for a few days, and I suppose he did. The time went so fast.’

  Laura closed her eyes. ‘Is he coming back?’ she asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘He didn’t say he was. He will have convinced himself he’s done his duty. Jess will be disappointed.’ Laura heard the painful resig­nation in his voice.

  Jess wasn’t the only one who was disappointed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Laura said. How inadequate those two words were.

  ‘Yes, so am I. I hardly know or understand him anymore. He’s like a stranger. I was hoping —’ He drew in an uneven breath. ‘I thought —’ he started again.

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘I thought we seemed to be getting on better this time. He seemed different, somehow. I saw glimpses of the sensitive, thoughtful boy he was until —’ He broke off.