by Annie Seaton
Lucky he’d come down to get the charger for his iPad from the rental car when he did, because the situation could have turned nasty. Jeremy had treated more than enough patients in emergency to recognise a drug-fuelled rage. That guy—policeman or not—had more than alcohol in him. He’d put money on it.
He’d seen the look on Emma’s face when she’d turned away and he wanted to check she was okay. The guy was obviously a dropkick, but to speak to Emma—or to any woman—like that was disgusting. Jeremy ran across the road and turned the corner. There was no sign of her but a security light flicked on at the side of a small building with a sign at the front entrance saying ALAL. The front was lit up but he didn’t stop long enough to read the rest of the sign. As he opened the gate, another security light came on at the back of the building. Emma was almost at the end of the side path that ran along the high fence line.
‘Emma. Wait up.’
She stopped and turned slowly as he called. Her eyes were wide with fear.
He felt the urge to comfort her, but then he remembered this was not the Emma of his past, the woman he’d once thought he would spend the rest of his life with. This woman who was now living an alternative lifestyle, dabbling in alternative healing and—if that guy was anything to judge by—making very poor relationship choices, was not the same woman he’d been in love with. The Emma who had fled from him without an explanation.
God forbid, he hoped she wasn’t into the drug scene too. Surely not.
‘What?’ Twin spots of colour sat high on her cheekbones but she didn’t look away.
‘I just wanted to check you were okay.’
‘I’m fine, thank you. Totally embarrassed . . . but fine.’
‘He didn’t hurt you?’ Jeremy took her arm gently as he caught up to her. She began to walk towards the back of the building.
‘No. He didn’t. I’ll be fine now. I’m sorry you had to see that. Thanks for checking on me.’ As she spoke, she tripped on her long skirt and Jeremy caught her arm before she fell onto the gravel path. ‘Damn. This fucking skirt. Can this day get any worse?’
Jeremy stepped back as she looked up at him. Her hazel eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.
‘I presume meeting up with me again contributed to this bad day?’
‘Oh, you were just the icing on the cake.’ Emma sighed, and she was the first to drop her gaze. ‘Look. I’m fine. Craig wouldn’t have hurt me. He’s the local policeman, for goodness sake. And just for the record, I am not his lady. Or anything else.’
The red flush on her cheeks darkened as she obviously realised that he might interpret that as a declaration of her availability. ‘And I don’t want to be.’ She closed her eyes, embarrassed. ‘Anybody’s.’
He kept his voice gentle. ‘Calm down, Emma. It was quite obvious that he was out of control. I’ve seen enough of that in emergency to know he was irrational. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘Thank you.’ She let out a big sigh. ‘Look, really I’m okay . . . but thanks for stepping in.’
‘I’ll walk you to your car and see you on your way. Where are you parked?’
‘Down the back.’ She gestured to the dark yard ahead of them. The security light further on had clicked off again. ‘But I’m sleeping at the clinic tonight. I have an early start tomorrow.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you inside and when you’ve locked the door, I’ll go and check that everything’s okay back at the pub. Doesn’t hurt to take a bit of care, even if he is a cop. I’m staying upstairs so I was going back there anyway.’
‘Thank you.’ She dropped her head and took off ahead of him. Jeremy followed slowly, sensing that she didn’t want to talk. Her cheeks were still flushed. But he wasn’t going to leave until she was safe inside.
As he rounded the corner of the building, the security light came back on and Emma yelled out.
‘Oh my god. Jeremy, quick.’
Chapter 6
Sunday evening
Alternative Alchemy, Dalrymple
Emma dropped to her knees. George was lying on the path, the gravel around his head splashed liberally with dark red blood. He was cradling his right arm protectively with his left arm across his chest. She put her fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse, and was relieved to feel a strong and steady beat. His shirt was wet with blood. Now that she could see his chest rising and falling, Emma expelled the breath that she’d been holding. Focusing on sounding calm, she leaned down close to his head. ‘George? George, can you hear me?’
She almost missed the muttered affirmative as Jeremy crouched beside her.
‘What happened, mate?’ Jeremy’s voice was firm.
‘I fell out of a tree.’ His voice was faint. ‘Who’s he?’ George tried to lift his head but Emma held him down gently.
‘It’s okay. Doctor Langford is the new doctor at the hospital.’ Emma looked up at Jeremy and saw that he’d removed his shirt and was folding it into a wedge. Now he crouched back down and slid it beneath George’s head.
Her mouth dried as she looked down at his bare chest. Not the time to stare at bare skin.
‘Where’s the blood coming from, George?’ Jeremy’s voice was calm as he felt around the back of George’s head. ‘Ah. There it is. You’ve got a decent gash at the bottom of your scalp.’
‘I have dressing packs inside.’ She focused on George as Jeremy ran his hands over him.
George tried to sit up again and this time Jeremy’s hands brushed against hers as she gently pushed George back.
‘Lie still till we see how badly hurt you are. Where was this tree? How did you get here?’
‘Drove here. But I got a bit dizzy when I got out of the car.’ He turned to Emma. ‘I don’t want him touching me. I want you, Doctor Em.’
Even though the light was dim, Emma saw the sceptical look Jeremy threw her way. She pushed herself to her feet but before she could speak, Jeremy’s clipped voice stopped her in her tracks.
‘Perhaps you’d like to slip inside and get us a dressing, Emma.’ His blue eyes held hers in the dim light and she took a deep breath.
‘Yeah, do something, Doc. My arm’s hurting.’ George’s querulous voice got her moving. She fumbled for her keys and pushed open the door, flicking the second outside light on as she ran down the back hall. Quickly, she washed her hands and grabbed a dressing pack from the examination room, pulling on gloves as she hurried back outside.
George was arguing with Jeremy when she crouched down beside him. ‘I ain’t going to no hospital. Doctor Em can stitch me up. Here.’ He shot a glance at Emma. ‘You’ve done it plenty of times before, haven’t you love?’
The waves of disapproval coming from Jeremy were palpable. Emma ripped open the gauze dressing, pushed aside the sacrificed shirt, and applied pressure to the back of George’s head until the bleeding slowed.
She turned to Jeremy. ‘You go and wash your hands and get some gloves on.’ Pressing with gentle firmness against the old fellow’s scalp, she inclined her head towards the hallway behind them. ‘Grab a sling from the exam room while you’re in there.’
Jeremy moved swiftly through the door and down the hall.
Emma looked down at George and bit back a gasp. In addition to the wound on his scalp, the now-bright light showed he had two black eyes and lacerations across each of his cheeks. She narrowed her eyes.
‘Sorry, George. You are going to have to go across to the hospital. We’ll take my car. As well as that head of yours needing stitches, you need an X-ray. I don’t like the way your arm is sitting. Once we get you to the hospital, you’ll need a jab of local anaesthetic and they’ll clean that wound up properly.’
‘Haven’t you got something here to fix me up?’ George shot Emma a hopeful look as she supported his head. ‘And I didn’t get that cocky apple bark you asked me for.’
‘That doesn’t matter. Let’s worry about getting you sorted.’
Jeremy’s shadow fell across them. ‘Cocky apple bark?’ He looked at her w
ith eyebrows raised. Of course he came back in time to hear that. Emma ignored him; she didn’t care what he thought. ‘You keep the pressure up and I’ll bandage his head.’
Jeremy refused to be dropped off at the pub on the short trip to the hospital. He sat in the back of Emma’s car supporting George.
‘There’s no need for you to come in. There’ll be a doctor on duty.’
‘We’ll see George in safely and then I’ll make sure you get home okay again.’
George must have picked up something in his voice. ‘Again? What’s happened?’
‘It’s all right. Don’t get yourself all bothered.’ Emma glanced in the rear vision mirror and caught Jeremy’s eye. ‘Doctor Langford is from the city. He just doesn’t know how safe it is up here in a small country town like Dalrymple.’
George turned his attention to Jeremy. ‘So why’s a city doctor bloke need to come up here? We’re quite happy with Doctor Emma.’
Emma smothered a smile. ‘You know we’re short staffed at the hospital, George.’
A muttered humph carried across to the front of the car as she turned into Emergency.
Jeremy paused when they reached the door. Emma looked up at him and frowned. His mouth was tight and a tic pulsed in his cheek. He hesitated for a moment before he pushed open the door.
As she watched, he took a deep breath and opened the door with his free hand. Jenny Lennox had started her shift as the doctor on duty and she smiled at George as they walked him in, each supporting him on one side.
‘Haven’t seen you in here for a while, George.’ Her eyes widened as she turned to Jeremy and copped an eyeful of a bare, tanned chest.
Jeremy nodded at her and looked down ruefully at his bare chest. Then he held up his gloved hand. ‘Hi, I’m Jeremy Langford. This wasn’t quite how I was expecting to be introduced to the staff but my shirt was needed elsewhere. I used it for a pillow for George’s head outside Emma’s . . . Emma’s place.’
Jenny smiled when she saw that Emma was still in costume. ‘How did the rest of the night go after I left?’ she asked as she helped them lift George onto the bed in a cubicle at the far end of the emergency room.
‘Fine. Good,’ Emma said briskly.
‘Not that I mind the sight of a male chest, but come on over and I’ll give you some scrubs.’ Jenny laughed as she led Jeremy across the room, leaving Emma with George. ‘We don’t want to give the other patients the wrong idea.’ Already a mother nursing a small child was throwing an interested glance their way.
‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ Emma leaned close to George and lowered her voice. ‘And then you can tell me what really happened.’
‘What?’ George’s mouth pursed into a straight line. ‘You callin’ me a liar?’
‘Yep. If you fell out of a tree, I’ll—’
‘You’ll what?’ The obstinate tone was back.
‘I’ll think of something.’
Emma pulled the gloves off and dropped them in the yellow clinical waste bin. This skirt was going in the bin too when she got home. She’d only paid five dollars for it.
‘I wanna go home.’
‘Well you can’t. I’ll come and see you in the morning.’ Emma bit her lip as she straightened.
‘We’ll get you sorted soon and in a comfy bed for the night.’ Jenny walked across to George who wore a face like thunder. ‘See you in the morning, Emma.’
Jenny bestowed a high wattage smile on Jeremy. Even though he was now clad in navy blue scrubs, Emma knew his bare chest would be the talk of the hospital for the next week. It didn’t take much to get the gossip machine going in a small town like Dalrymple. Once Jenny told the story, the staff would be lining up to check him out. Emma let out her breath in a small huff. Typical, he hadn’t even started work and he was already the hospital’s pin-up boy.
‘You want to walk back to the pub or would you like a lift?’ She kept her eyes fixed on his face, avoiding the tanned chest that peeked out through the opening in the front of the gown. It looked like he’d been on holiday for a while if the depth of his tan was any indication. Probably on a tropical island somewhere.
‘I’ll come back with you and grab my shirt. When you’re in safely, I’ll walk back across. It’s not far.’ He looked down at the pale blue gown. ‘Even in scrubs.’
‘Right.’ Emma had to hurry to keep up with him, holding the skirt up from her ankles. He took off out the door almost at a run.
They made the short drive back to her clinic in silence. Emma was worried about George. He’d obviously got himself involved in something shady, which wasn’t unusual, but it was the first time he’d been hurt. She could tell by looking at George that he’d copped a hiding from someone. She’d get to the bottom of the tree story tomorrow and if she had to involve the police, so be it.
Jeremy must have read her mind because he turned to face her as she turned the car off. ‘Is George . . . shall we say . . . accident prone?’
Emma shrugged and pulled the keys from the ignition.
‘Strange to have injuries on the back of his head and his face from falling out of a tree.’ Jeremy’s face was in shadow and she couldn’t see his expression.
‘Maybe he rolled over when he fell.’ She opened the door and climbed out of the car.
‘So how did he get the gash on the back of his head and two black eyes? And the lacerations on his cheeks?’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there.’ Emma was tired and cranky and couldn’t be bothered being polite. ‘Thanks for looking out for me. As you can see, everything’s okay. I’ll see you round.’
Jeremy waited beside her as Emma put the key in the lock and stepped inside. ‘Well . . . good night. I’m pleased we’ve caught up with each other again.’
Emma ignored the shiver that ran down her spine, telling herself that it was nothing to do with the familiar cadence of his deep voice.
‘I look forward to catching up on that long story of yours.’
‘Good night,’ she said without looking at him. She closed the door softly and leaned back against it. Jeremy’s footsteps faded as the loose stones on the path crunched beneath his shoes.
Oh, lord. The next few days were going to be very interesting.
Chapter 7
Monday, sunrise
Dalrymple
Jeremy woke just after sunrise to the sound of a beeping truck backing through the driveway of the pub. Then a loud bang sounded at the back of the building as the skip bin was emptied and he gave up the idea of going back to sleep. Rolling over onto his back, he put his arms behind his head, looking around the room. It was old but the timber above the picture rail was polished and held a rich gleam. The old chandelier that hung above the bed was a myriad of tiny crystals, and the floral curtains and plain green bedcovers were dated but homey. This room had life, and it had a history, and he was sure it would hold some stories.
His surroundings and the events since he’d arrived less than twenty-four hours ago had somehow made him feel alive. The heat was enervating and his blood thrummed through his veins and the vague, cloudy feeling that often dogged him when he first woke up was gone. Tropical North Queensland was bright and colourful, tropical flowers everywhere and pungent aromas filled the air. For a small country town, he’d sure seen some action in such a short time. And met some characters like the old guy he’d helped Emma with last night. Everyone from the barman to the housemaid in the hotel had made him feel welcome.
Except for Emma.
What letter was she talking about? He’d never got a letter from her after she’d left. And what the hell had she done with her life? From top of the fourth year in med school at Sydney uni, she’d gone and become a bloody hippie running some alternative therapy centre. What a waste it was. She would have made a wonderful doctor with her warmth and empathy, not to mention her intelligence. Jeremy had always wondered whether the pressure of university had been too much for Emma in the end and she’d burned out. He reached over to the bedside
table and grabbed his phone. It was only quarter to six—way too early to go down and expect to find breakfast. His appetite was back full force and he grinned as he rolled out of bed. He doubted if there was twenty-four-hour room service at the Federal Hotel.
And he liked that. The slower pace of life was sitting comfortably with him already.
Five minutes later, Jeremy pulled on his running shoes and let himself out the back door of the old building. Even though there was no one around, it wasn’t locked. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the warm, tropical air. The smell of damp grass was fresh and overlaid by the ever-present sweet smell from the sugar mill that was already puffing white plumes of smoke onto the still morning air. When he’d run in Sydney, the traffic had been heavy in the early morning, and even on the harbour, a pall of smog was often visible. Here, the air was pure, and mist hovered over the high mountains to the west of town. He set off at a slow pace, deciding to run through the main street and check out the rest of the small town, past Emma’s clinic. Small timber shops with large glass windows lined the side footpath and most of them had a tub of brightly coloured flowers against the front posts. A street sweeper cruised past and Jeremy waved back to the guy driving the large vehicle when he called out a greeting. The town was old but it was well looked after. The grass growing on the median strip was freshly mown and edged with more flowers. At the northern end of the street he could see a large park surrounded by trees and, further in the distance, a bridge crossed the river.
Even though it was a small place, the main highway ran through the centre of town and the traffic was building even at this early hour. He waited for it to pass and glanced to the other corner to ALAL. For a moment he thought of going across and reading the sign on the window but decided against it. Emma could fill him in when they caught up.