by Fiona Lowe
‘I live in a community that cares, Noah. People will help.’
‘Good luck with that,’ he muttered almost bitterly, his cheekbones suddenly stark and bladed.
His chocolate-brown eyes, which for the last few minutes had swirled with unreadable emotions, suddenly cleared like a whiteboard wiped clean. His face quickly returned to its set professional mask—unemotional. With his trademark abruptness, he pushed back his chair and stood.
‘I have to get back to work. I’ll call Monash and try and get your grandfather transported down there this afternoon for the procedure tomorrow morning. Hopefully, he’ll be home by five tomorrow night.’
‘Thanks, Noah.’
‘Yeah.’
The terse and brooding doctor was back, front and centre, and she had the distinct feeling he’d just returned from a very dark place. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Everything’s just peachy,’ he said sarcastically as he tossed a two-dollar coin in her direction. ‘Choose a charity for the S jar.’
One side of his wide mouth pulled up wryly and she found herself wishing he’d smile again, like he had when he’d teased her about being difficult. Those rare moments of lightness were like treasured shafts of sunshine breaking through cloud on a dark and stormy day. They lit him up—a dark and damaged angel—promising the hope of redemption. His smiles made her smile. Made her feel flushed and giddy and alive. They reminded her that, despite everything, she was still a woman.
No man is who he seems. Remember Trent? He hid something so dark and dangerous from you that it exploded without warning …
And she knew that as intimately as the scars on her back and shoulder. She’d been sensible and celibate for three years without a single moment of temptation. Now wasn’t the time to start craving normality—craving the touch of a man, especially not a cantankerous and melancholy guy who did little to hide his dark side.
She reminded herself very firmly that Noah would be gone in three weeks and all she had to do to stay safe and sane was to keep out of his way. He was general practice, she was midwifery. As unusual as this week had been for them to be intersecting so often at work, it was thankfully unlikely to continue.
He spun around to leave and then turned back, slapping his palm to the architrave as he often did when a thought struck him. Again, the muscles of his upper arms bulged. ‘Lilia.’
A rush of tingling warmth thrummed through her. Somehow, despite his usual taciturn tone, he managed to make her full name sound soft, sweet and, oh, so feminine. ‘Ye—’ Her voice caught on the word, deeply husky. She cleared her throat, trying to sound in complete control instead of battling delicious but dangerous waves of arousal. ‘Yes?’
‘You got the agenda for the quarterly meeting at the Victoria?’
It had pinged into her inbox earlier in the day and she’d done what she always did when it arrived. Ignored it until she couldn’t ignore it any longer. ‘I did.’
‘So you’re going?’
She sighed. ‘Yes. It ticks me off, though. The secretary who sets the agenda is utterly Melbourne-centric and has no clue of what’s involved for people who have to travel. She always sets the meetings to start at nine in the morning, making me battle peak-hour traffic on top of a pre-dawn start.’
‘So go up to Melbourne the night before,’ he said reasonably.
‘No.’ She heard the horror in her voice and saw a flash of recognition on his face that he’d heard it too. She backpedalled fast. ‘I’ve got a prenatal class the night before.’
‘Fair enough. I’ll pick you up at five, then.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
He sighed. ‘I can’t get away early either so there’s no point in both of us driving up independently. Carbon footprint, parking issues and all that.’
Panic simmered in her veins. ‘I might not be able to go after all. Gramps might need me.’
He folded his arms. ‘You just finished telling me there were plenty of people you can call on to keep an eye on him and this is one of those times. You know you can’t miss the meeting and that it makes perfect sense for us to drive up together.’
No, no, no, no, no. She wanted to refuse his offer but she would look deranged if she insisted on driving up herself. The urge to go and rock in a corner almost overwhelmed her. She didn’t know which was worse—spending two four-hour stretches in Noah’s luxury but small European sports car—where there’d be no escape from his woodsy scent, his penetrating gaze and all that toned and fit masculinity—or the fact the first leg of the journey was taking her back to Melbourne, the place of her worst folly. A place full of shadows and fears where her past could appear at any moment and suck her back down into the black morass she’d fought so hard to leave.
Either way, no matter how she came at it, all of it totally sucked.
Noah opened the car door and slid back inside the warmth, surprised to find Lilia still asleep. They’d left Turraburra two hours ago in the dark, the cold and the spring fog, when the only other people likely to be awake had been insomniacs and dairy farmers.
She’d greeted him with a tight and tired smile and had immediately closed her eyes and slept. At first he’d spent far too much time glancing at her in the predawn light. Asleep, she’d lost the wary look she often wore and instead she’d looked soft and serene. And kissable. Far too kissable.
To distract himself, he’d connected his MP3 player and listened to a surgical podcast. The pressure of the looming exams was a permanent part of him and the time in the car was welcome revision time. Turraburra had kept him so busy that he hadn’t found much time for study since he’d arrived, adding to his dislike of the place.
Lilia stirred, her eyes fluttering open and a sleep crease from the seat belt marking her cheek. ‘What time is it?’
‘Seven. I’ve got coffee, fruit and something the bakery calls a bear claw.’
‘Yum. Thanks, that was thoughtful.’
‘It’s who I am,’ he said, teasing her and wanting to see her smile.
‘And there’s another two dollars for the children’s leukaemia fund,’ she said with a laugh. Her usually neat braided hair was out today, flowing wildly over her shoulders. She tucked it behind her ears before accepting the coffee. ‘Where are we?’
‘Cranbourne.’ He clicked his seat belt into place, feeling the buzz of excitement flicker into life as he pulled onto the highway and saw the sign that read ‘Melbourne 60km’.
‘We’ll be in East Melbourne by eight-thirty with time to park and make it to the meeting by nine.’
‘Great.’
The tone of her voice made him look at her. ‘You just matched my donation to the sarcasm jar.’
‘Who knew we were both so philanthropic,’ she said caustically, before biting into her bear claw.
‘Do you always wake up grumpy?’
She wiped icing sugar from her lips. ‘Only when the smell of Melbourne’s smog hits my nostrils.’
‘Well, your bad mood isn’t going to dent my enthusiasm,’ he said as he changed lanes. ‘I can’t wait to step inside the Victoria.’
‘What about sitting in snarled traffic just to get there?’
‘You really are Ms Snark, aren’t you?’ He grinned at her, perversely enjoying the fact that their individual happiness was proportional to the proximity of their respective homes. Using it as much-needed protection and reminding himself that no matter how much his body craved her, they were a total mismatch.
‘We won’t be sitting in a traffic jam. I know every side street within a five-kilometre radius of the hospital. My favourite way is through Richmond.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said, her fingers suddenly shredding the white paper bag that had contained the pastry. ‘That way you’ve got traffic lights and trams.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘You’ve just described most of the inner city.’
‘Exactly. Just stay on the toll road and use the tunnel,’ she said tightly, her words lashing him. ‘It will get
us there just as fast.’
A bristle of indignation ran up his spine. ‘And suddenly the country girl’s an expert on Melbourne?’
Her eyes flashed silver blue. ‘On your first day I told you I did my Master’s in midwifery here but you were too busy being cross to listen.’
He ignored her jibe. ‘So how long did you live here?’
‘Two years.’ Her bitter tone clashed with the love he knew she had for midwifery and this time he did more than just glance at her. Her face had paled to the colour of the alabaster statue of mother and child that graced the foyer of MMU and her usually lush mouth had thinned to a rigid and critical line. The paper bag in her lap was now a series of narrow strips. What the hell was going on?
Don’t ask. Don’t get involved, remember? No emotions means no pain. Whatever’s upsetting her is her thing. Let it be. It’s nothing to do with you.
Her hand shot from her lap and she turned on the radio as if she too wanted to change the subject. The raucous laughter of the breakfast show announcers filled the silence between them and both of them allowed it.
Noah couldn’t stop smiling as the reassuring familiarity of the Melbourne Victoria hospital wrapped around him like a child’s blankie. He loved it all, from the mediocre coffee in the staff lounge to the buzz of the floor polisher being wielded by a cleaner.
The moment he’d pulled into his car space he’d been suffused with such a feeling of freedom he’d wanted to sing. Lilia, on the other hand, had looked as if she’d seen a ghost but once inside the hospital she’d perked up. They had different schedules across the day and had agreed to meet at six o’clock in the foyer. He’d gone direct to the doctors’ lounge in the theatre suite like a puppy panting for a treat.
Unluckily for him, the first person he saw was Oliver Evans.
‘Noah.’ The surgeon greeted him coolly. ‘How’s Turraburra?’
It’s purgatory. Certain that Oliver had been a big part of the reason he’d been sent to the small country town, he kept his temper leashed, drawing on willpower born from his sheer determination to succeed. He was half ticked off and half grateful to the guy but, even so, he still thought that with his exams so close he could have worked on his communication skills here at the Victoria, instead of being shunted so far south.
‘It’s coastal. The beach is okay.’
‘And the people? Emily introduced me to the midwife down there once. She seemed great.’
‘She’s certainly good at her job but she’s seriously opinionated.’
‘Not something you’re known for,’ Oliver said, with an accompanying eye-roll. ‘She sounds like the perfect match for you.’
It was a typical comment from a happily married family man and it irked him. ‘I’ve got exams looming, a private surgical practice to start and no interest in being matched up with anyone.’
‘Shame. I remember her as intelligent, entertaining and with a good sense of humour, but then again I don’t have to work with her.’ He picked up a file. ‘Talking about work, I imagine you’re missing operating. I’ve got a fascinating case today if you want to scrub in and observe.’
Interest sparked. ‘What is it?’
‘Jeremy Watson, the paediatric cardiologist from The Deakin is inserting a stent into the heart of Flick Lawrence and Tristan Hamilton’s baby. Are you in?’
Eagerness and exhilaration tumbled through him at the chance to be part of such intricate and delicate in utero surgery. He almost said, ‘Hell, yeah,’ but memories stopped him. Oliver standing in front of an open lift. Oliver yelling at him about a little girl with Down’s syndrome. Oliver telling him to get some people skills.
This surgery wasn’t taking place on just any baby—it was the unborn child of Melbourne Victoria’s paediatric cardiologist. If Noah failed to acknowledge that, he knew he’d be kicked to the kerb, and fast. ‘This is a pretty personal case, Oliver. Tristan and Flick are staff. How will they feel about me scrubbing in?’
Oliver gave him a long, assessing look before his stern mouth softened. ‘They’ll be happy to know they’re in the hands of talented doctors.’ He shoved papers at Noah’s chest. ‘Read up on the procedure so you know exactly what’s required of you. We don’t want Jeremy taking any stories back to The Deakin about our team not being up to scratch. I’ll see you in Theatre Five at one.’
Lily’s head spun after a morning of meetings. She craved to feel fresh air and sunshine on her skin instead of artificial lighting and to feel earth underneath her feet instead of being six floors up in the air. A sandwich in the park across the road from the hospital was the perfect solution.
Are you sure? What if Trent walks past?
Stop it! You’re being irrational. A. Melbourne is a city of four million people. B. Trent doesn’t work at the Melbourne Victoria. C. Richmond is far enough away for this not to be his local park. D. He doesn’t even know you’re in Melbourne and, for all you know, he might have left for Queensland, like he always said he would.
She hauled in deep breaths, trying desperately to hold onto all the logic and reason that half her brain quietly told her, while ignoring the crazy la-la her paranoia had going on. She hated that she had the same conversation with herself every time she came to Melbourne. It was one of the reasons why she limited her visits to the city to the bare minimum.
It’s been three years and this has to stop. Lunch in the park will be good for you. It’s the same as when you have lunch at the beach in Turraburra. You need the natural light—it will boost your serotonin and it’s good for your mental health.
Still feeling jittery, she decided to take the service elevator. It gave her the best chance of making it down to the ground floor without running into anyone she knew. People who would implore her to join them for lunch in the cafeteria. She pressed the ‘down’ button and waited, watching the light linger on level one, the operating theatre suite.
‘Lily?’ Isla Delamere, looking about seven months pregnant, walked easily towards her sans waddle and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. ‘I thought it was you.’
Lily hugged her friend. ‘Look at you. You look fantastic.’
‘Thanks.’ Isla rubbed her belly with a slightly distracted air. ‘I’m just starting to feel a bit tired by the end of the day and Alessi has gone from dropping occasional hints that I should be giving up work to getting all macho and protective.’ She laughed. ‘But in a good way, you know, not a creepy way.’
Sadly, Lily understood the difference only too well. ‘When do you start mat leave?’
‘Next month.’ A smile wreathed her face. ‘I can’t wait to set up the nursery and get organised.’
‘That sounds like fun,’ Lily said sincerely. She was shocked then to feel a flutter of something she didn’t want to acknowledge as a tinge of jealousy.
The sound of voices floated out from the office—the crisp and precise tones of a female British accent contrasting sharply with a deeply male and laconic Aussie drawl. Neither voice sounded happy.
Emergencies excepted, Lily was used to the MMU being a relatively tranquil place. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Darcie and Lucas. Again.’ Isla’s brows shot skyward. ‘They spit and hiss like territorial cats when they get within five metres of each other. All of us are over it.’ She laughed. ‘We think they should just get on with it and have sex. You know, combust some of that tension so the MMU can go back to the calm place it’s known for.’
Lily thought about the tension that shimmered between her and Noah and immediately felt the hot, addictive heaviness between her legs. ‘You really think having sex would work?’
‘I have no clue but if it means Darcie and Lucas could work together in harmony, I’d say do it. They’d make an amazing obstetric team.’
Working in harmony …
Stop it! Now you’re totally losing your mind. Don’t even go there.
‘You okay, Lily?’ Isla asked, clicking her fingers. ‘You’ve vagued out on me.’
She forced a la
ugh. ‘Sorry, I was thinking about sex and the occupational health and safety implications.’
‘As long as no ladders are involved, it’s probably fine,’ Isla quipped, then her face sobered. ‘Lily, if you’re not busy, can you do me a favour?’
You really need ten minutes in the park out of this artificial light so you can get through the rest of the day. The thought of being in the park and Trent finding her there sent her heart into panicky overdrive. ‘I’m not busy, Isla. How can I help?’
‘I hate this so much, Lily.’ Tristan Hamilton leaned his head against the glass that separated them from Theatre Five, gazing down at his wife’s draped and prostrate form on the operating table. The only thing not covered in green was Flick’s pregnant belly.
‘It must be so hard.’ Lily put her hand on the Melbourne Victoria’s neonatal cardiothoracic surgeon’s shoulder, struck by the sobering thought that today he wasn’t a doctor, just a scared and anxious father-to-be. ‘It’s especially difficult when you’re the one used to being in charge and in control so let’s look at the positives. Oliver’s an expert in utero surgeon and you and Jeremy Watson share that award for the ground-breaking surgery the two of you did on the conjoined twins. Just like you, he’s one of the best. Flick and the baby are in great hands.’
Isla had explained to Lily how she’d desperately wanted to support both Tristan and Flick by being here and how she and Alessi had discussed it. They’d both felt strongly that it would be difficult enough to cope with the fact their baby was undergoing life-threatening surgery without their support person being heavily pregnant with a healthy baby. Isla had asked Lily to stay with Tristan throughout the operation, saying, ‘He says he doesn’t need anyone with him but he does, and you’re perfect because you’re always so calm.’
Lily had immediately thought about her chaotic reactions to Noah, which were the antithesis of calm, but she hadn’t voiced them because it hadn’t been the time or place. People needed her. They needed her to be the person they thought she was—serene and unflappable. No one knew how hard she’d worked to cultivate that aura of tranquillity for her own protection.