by Fiona Lowe
He knew that wouldn’t grant him any favours with the staff but he didn’t care. In six hundred and ninety-six hours he’d be back in Melbourne. Pulling out his smartphone, he set up a countdown and called it T-zero. Now, whenever the town got to him, he didn’t have to do the mental arithmetic, he could just open the app and easily see how many hours until he could walk away from Turraburra without a backward glance.
The fresh, salty air and the long, deep breaths had done the trick and, feeling back in control, he jogged up the beach steps. Sitting on the sea wall, he took off his shoes to empty them of sand.
‘Yoo-hoo, Dr Jackson.’
He glanced up to see a line of cycling, fluoro-clad women—all who looked to be in their sixties—bearing down on him fast. The woman in front was waving enthusiastically but with a bicycle helmet on her head and sunglasses on her face he didn’t recognise her.
He gave a quick nod of acknowledgment.
She must have realised he had no clue who she was because when she stopped the bike in front of him, she said, ‘Linda Sampson, Doctor. We met yesterday morning at the corner store. I gave you directions to the clinic and sold you a coffee.’
Weak as water and undrinkable coffee. ‘Right, yes.’
‘It’s good to see you’re settling in. Turraburra has the prettiest beach this side of Wilson’s Promontory, don’t you think?’
He opened his mouth to say he didn’t really have a lot of experience with beaches but she kept right on talking. ‘The town’s got a lot to offer, especially to families. Are you married, Dr Jackson?’
‘No.’ He banged his sandy shoe against the sea wall harder than necessary, pining for the anonymity of a big city where no one would think to stop and talk to him if he was sitting on the sea wall at the Middle Park beach.
His life had been put on hold once already and he had no intention of tying himself down to another human being, animal or fish. ‘I’m happily single.’ If he’d hoped that by telling her that it would get the woman to back off, he was mistaken.
‘There’s a fine line between happily single and happily coupled up,’ Linda said with the enthusiastic smile of a matchmaker. ‘And you’re in luck. There are some lovely young women in town. The radiographer, Heather Barton, is single.’
One of the other women called out, ‘Actually, she’s dating Emma Trewella now.’
‘Is she? Well, that explains a lot,’ Linda said with a laugh. ‘Still, that leaves the physiotherapist. She’s a gorgeous girl and very into her triathlons. Do you like sports, Doctor?’
He stared at her slack-jawed. Had he been catapulted backwards in time to 1950? He couldn’t believe this woman was trying to set him up with someone.
‘Or perhaps you’d have more in common with the nurses?’ Linda continued. ‘I’m sure three of them aren’t dating anyone at the moment …’
The memory of ringless white hands gripping pink folders and sky-blue eyes sparking silver arcs shot unbidden into his mind.
‘Lucy, Penny and.’ Linda paused, turning towards her group. ‘What’s the name of the pretty nurse with the blonde hair?’
Lilia. He tied his shoe laces with a jerk and reminded himself that he wasn’t looking to date anyone and even if he had been, he most certainly wasn’t going to date her. Despite her angelic good looks, her personality was at the opposite end of the spectrum. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had horns and carried a pitchfork.
‘Grace,’ someone said. ‘Although is she truly blonde?’
Noah stood up quickly, dusting his black pants free of sand. ‘That’s quite an extensive list, Linda, but I think you’ve forgotten someone.’
She shook her head, the magpie deterrent cable ties on her helmet swinging wildly. ‘I don’t think I have.’
‘What about the midwife?’
He thought he heard a collective intake of breath from the other women and Linda’s smile faltered. ‘Lily’s married to her job, Doctor. You’re much better off dating one of the others.’
The words came with an undercurrent of a warning not to go there. Before he could ask her why, there was a flurry of ringing bike bells, called farewells and the group took off along the path—a bright slash of iridescent yellow wobbling and weaving towards the noon sun.
Lily stared at the appointment sheet and groaned. How could she have forgotten the date? It was the midwifery centre’s bi-monthly doctor clinic. Why had the planets aligned to make it this month? Why not next month when Noah Jackson would be long gone and far, far away? The luck of the Irish or any other nationality was clearly not running her way today. She was going to have to work in close proximity with him all afternoon. Just fantastic … not!
As the town’s midwife, Lily operated independently under the auspices of the Melbourne Midwifery Unit. When a newly pregnant woman made contact with her, she conducted a preliminary interview and examination. Some women, due to pre-existing medical conditions such as diabetes or a multiple pregnancy, she immediately referred to the obstetricians at the Victoria or to the Dandenong District Hospital but most women fitted the criteria to be under her care.
However, it wasn’t her decision alone. Like the other independent midwife-run birth units it was modelled on, all pregnant Turraburra clients had to be examined by a doctor once in early pregnancy. Lily scheduled these appointments to take place with the GP on one afternoon every two months. Today was the day.
Her computer beeped with an instant message from Karen.
Grumpy guts is on his way. Good luck! I’ve put Tim Tams in the kitchen. You’ll need three after working with him all afternoon.
Karen had been having a whinge in the tearoom earlier in the day about Dr Jackson. She’d called him cold, curt and a control freak. Lily was used to Karen getting defensive with new staff members who questioned her but she couldn’t believe Noah Jackson could be quite as bad as Karen made out. She’d offered Karen chocolate and wisely kept her own counsel.
‘You ready?’
The gruff tone had her swinging around on her office chair. Noah stood in the doorway with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and one hand pressed up against the doorjamb—muscles bunched and veins bulging. A flicker of something momentarily stirred low in her belly—something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Fear immediately clenched her muscles against it, trying to force it away. For her own safety she’d locked down her sexual response three years ago and it had to stay that way.
Unlike yesterday, when Noah had looked like the quintessential urban professional, today he was rumpled. His thick hair was wildly wind-ruffled, his tie was stuffed in between the third and fourth buttons of his business shirt and his black trousers bore traces of sand. Had he spent his lunch break at the beach? She loved the calming effects of the ocean and often took ten minutes to regroup between clinic sessions. Perhaps he wasn’t as stuck up as she’d first thought. ‘Been enjoying the beach?’
Shadows crossed his rich chocolate eyes. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.’
She tried hard not to roll her eyes. Perish the thought he might actually find something positive about Turraburra. Stick to talking about work. ‘Today’s clinic is all about—’
‘Pregnant women. Yeah, I get it. You do the obs, test their urine and weigh them and leave the rest to me.’
I don’t think so. She stood up because sitting with him staring down at her from those arcane eyes she felt way too vulnerable. Three years ago she’d made a commitment to herself that she was never again going to leave herself open to be placed in a powerless position with another human being. Even in low heels she was closer to his height.
‘These women are my patients and this is a rubberstamping exercise so they can be part of the midwifery programme.’
His nostrils flared. ‘As the doctor, isn’t it my decision?’
Spare me from non-team-players. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you were a surgical registrar but suddenly you’re moonlighting as an obstetrician?’
His cheekbo
nes sharpened as he sucked in a breath through his teeth and she reeled in her fraying temper. What was it about this man that made her break her own rules of never reacting? Of never provoking a man to anger? Of never putting herself at risk? She also didn’t want to give Noah Jackson any excuse to dismiss her as that crazy midwife and interfere with her programme.
‘I take that back. As Turraburra’s midwife, with five years’ experience, anyone I feel doesn’t qualify for the programme has already been referred on.’
His gaze hooked hers, brimming with discontent. ‘So, in essence, this clinic is a waste of my time?’
‘It’s protocol.’
‘Fine.’ He spun on his heel, crossed the hall and disappeared into the examination room.
She sighed and hurried in after him.
‘Bec,’ she said to the pregnant woman who was sitting, waiting, ‘this is Dr Jackson, our current locum GP. As I explained, he’ll be examining you today.’
Bec Sinclair, a happy-go-lucky woman, gave an expansive smile. ‘No worries. Good to meet you, Doc.’
Noah sat down behind the desk and gave her a brisk nod before turning his attention to the computer screen and reading her medical history. He frowned. ‘You had a baby eight months ago and you’re pregnant again?’
Bec laughed at his blatant disapproval. ‘It was a bit of a surprise, that’s for sure.’
‘I gather you weren’t organised enough to use contraception.’
Lily’s jaw dropped open. She couldn’t believe he’d just said that.
Bec, to her credit, didn’t seem at all fazed by his rudeness. ‘It was a dodgy condom but no harm done. We wanted another baby so the fact it’s coming a year earlier than planned is no biggie.’ She leaned towards the desk, showing Noah a photo of her little boy on her phone. ‘Lily delivered Harley, and Jase and I really want her to deliver this next one too.’
‘It will be my pleasure. Harley’s really cute, isn’t he, Noah?’ Lily said, giving him an opening for some chitchat and hoping he’d respond.
Noah ignored her and the proffered photo. Instead, he pushed back from the desk, stood and pulled the curtain around the examination table. Patting it with his hand, he said, ‘Up you get.’
Bec exchanged a look with Lily that said Is this guy for real? before rising and climbing up the three small steps.
Lily made her comfortable and positioned the modesty sheet before returning to stand by Bec’s head. Noah silently listened to her heart, examined her breasts and then her abdomen. Lily kept up a patter, explaining to Bec everything that Noah was doing because, apparently, he’d turned mute.
When the examination was over and Bec was back in the chair, Noah said, ‘Everything seems fine, except that you’re fat.’
Bec paled.
‘What Dr Jackson means,’ Lily said hurriedly, as she threw at him what she hoped was a venomous look, ‘is that you’re still carrying some weight from your last pregnancy.’
‘That’s not what I meant at all.’ Noah pulled up a BMI chart, spun the computer screen towards Bec and pointed to the yellow overweight zone where it met the red obese one. ‘Right now, you’re just below the border of obese. If you’re not careful during this pregnancy, you’ll tip into the red zone. That will put you at risk of complications such as gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia and thrombosis. There’s also an increased risk that the baby may end up being in a difficult position such as breech. All of those things would make you ineligible to be delivered by Lilia at the birth centre.’
‘I want to have my baby here,’ Bec said, her voice suddenly wobbly.
‘Then make sure you exercise and eat healthy foods. It’s that simple.’ Noah turned to Lily. ‘I assume you have information for your patients about that sort of thing.’
‘I do,’ she managed to grind out between clenched teeth. ‘If you come with me, Bec, I’ll give the pamphlets to you now as well as the water aerobics timetable. It’s a fun way to exercise and there’s a crèche at the pool.’
She escorted Bec from the room and gave her all the information, along with small packet of tissues. ‘Come and see me tomorrow and we’ll talk about it all then in greater detail. Okay?’
Bec nodded and sniffed. ‘I kinda knew I’d got big but it was hard hearing it.’
Lily could have killed Noah. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault.’ Bec gave a long sigh. ‘I guess I needed to hear it.’
She gave Bec’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘Only in a kinder way.’
‘Yeah.’ Bec took in a deep breath. ‘I didn’t know being heavy could make things dangerous for me and the baby, and I guess it’s good that he told me because I don’t want to have to go to Melbourne. I know Mandy Carmichael’s preggers again and she’s pretty big. Maybe we can help each other, you know?’
Lily smiled encouragingly. ‘That sounds like a great plan.’
As Bec left, Karen buzzed her. ‘Kat Nguyen’s rescheduled for later today so you’ve got a gap.’
As Lily hung up the phone she knew exactly what she was going to do with her free half-hour, whether she wanted to take that risk or not.
Noah glanced up as Lily walked back into the office alone. Her face was tight with tension and disapproving lines bracketed her mouth, pulling it down at the edges. An irrational desire to see her smile tugged at him and that on its own annoyed him. So what if a smile made her eyes crinkle at the edges with laughter lines and caused dimples to score her cheeks? So what if a smile made her light up, look happy and full of life and chased away her usual closed-off sangfroid? Made her look pretty?
He tried to shake off the feeling. It was nothing to him whether she was happy or not. Whether she was a workaholic or not, like the ladies at the beach had told him. Whether she was anything other than the pain in the rear that she’d already proved to be. He didn’t have time in his life for a woman who was fun, let alone one with dragon tendencies. ‘Where’s the next patient?’
She crossed her arms. ‘She’s running late.’
He’d already pegged her as a person who liked things to go her own way and a late patient would throw out her schedule. ‘So that’s why you’re looking like you’ve just sucked on a lemon. Surely you know nothing in the medical profession ever runs on time.’
Her eyes rounded and widened so far he could have tumbled into their pale, azure depths. ‘Are you stressed or ill?’
‘No,’ he said, seriously puzzled. ‘Why would you say that?’
She walked closer to the desk. ‘So you’re just naturally rude.’
Baffled by her accusations, he held onto his temper by the barest of margins. That surprised him. Usually he’d have roared like a lion if a nurse or anyone more junior to him had dared to speak to him like this. ‘Where’s all this antagonism coming from? Did something happen to upset you while you were out of the room?’
‘Where’s all this coming from?’ Incredulity pushed her voice up from its usual throaty depths. ‘You just told Bec Sinclair she’s fat.’
He didn’t get why she was all het up. ‘So? I said that because she is.’
She pressed her palms down on the desk and as she leaned in he caught the light scent of spring flowers and something else he couldn’t name. ‘Yes, but you didn’t have to tell her quite so baldly. Do you ever think before you speak?’
Her accusation had him shooting to his feet to rectify the power balance. ‘Of course I do. She needed to know the risks that her weight adds to her pregnancy. I told her the truth.’
Her light brown brows hit her hairline. ‘You’re brutally blunt.’
‘No. I’m honest with them.’
She shook her head back and forth so fast he thought she’d give herself whiplash. ‘Oh, no, you’re not getting away with that. There are ways of telling someone the truth and you’re using it as an excuse to be thoughtless and rude.’
She’d just crossed the line in the sand he’d already moved for her. ‘Look, Miss Manners,’ he said tersely. ‘
You don’t have the right to storm in here and accuse me of being rude.’
Her shoulders rolled back like an Amazon woman preparing for battle. ‘I do when it affects my patients. You just reduced the most laid-back, easygoing woman I know to tears.’
A pang of conscience jabbed him. Had he really done that? ‘She was upset?’
She threw her hands up. ‘You think? Yes, of course she was upset.’
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as he absorbed that bit of information. ‘I didn’t realise I’d upset her.’
Lily dropped into the chair, her expression stunned. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’
No. Man, he hated general practice with its touchy-feely stuff and rules that he hadn’t known existed. He was a surgeon and a damn good one. He diagnosed problems and then he cut them out. As a result, he gave people a better quality of life. It was a far easier way of dealing with problems than the muddy waters of internal medicine where nothing was cut and dried and everything was hazy with irrational hope.
He and his mother had learned that the hard way and after that life-changing experience he’d vowed he would always give his patients the truth. Black was black and white was white. People needed information so they could make a choice.
The prof’s voice came out of nowhere, echoing loudly in his head. We’ve had complaints from your dealings with patients when they’re awake.
His legs trembled and he sat down hard, nausea churning his gut. Was this the sort of thing the prof had been referring to? Propping his elbows on the desk, he ran his hands through his hair and tried to marshal his thoughts. Did Lilia actually have a point? Was his interpretation of the facts blunt and thoughtless?
He instantly railed against the idea, refusing to believe it for a moment. We’ve had complaints. The prof’s words were irrefutable. As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, this was the reason he’d been sent down here to Turraburra. It seemed he really did have a problem communicating with patients. A problem he hadn’t been fully aware of until this moment. A problem that was going to stop him from qualifying as a surgeon if he didn’t do something about it.