by Amy Andrews
It was honourable but obviously not easy. This was the man from the train. The one who had been great with Jock and Thelma and the other group of oldies. The one who had laughed and flirted with her. The one who had looked into her eyes in her compartment and connected with her.
She gazed at him, trying to convey her understanding. ‘I’m sorry. That must have been very hard for you.’
And she was sorry. He may have annoyed her today but at least now she understood him a little better. Would maybe even cut him a little slack. He’d given up a lot. Having your hopes and dreams quashed wasn’t easy. She knew that better than anyone.
He shook his head dismissively. ‘It is what it is.’
She took a step towards him, put her hand on top of his. ‘Yeah. Doesn’t make it suck any less, does it?’
His gaze flicked to their hands before returning to her face and she caught a glimpse of a guy who was adrift before he shut it down and slid his hand away, tucking it in his pocket as he moved back a few paces.
‘Anyway,’ he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers, ‘maybe take home some liquid tears to settle any residual irritation.’
Felicity didn’t need him to tell her that but the way he was judging the distance to the door she figured it was just a segue to him leaving. The thought needled but she had no idea why.
‘Yep, great, thanks for your help.’ She turned and headed for the sink, flipping on the water and washing her hands because the other ninety-nine times today hadn’t been enough.
But it gave her something to do and the opportunity for him to slip away, which he took with both hands.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALLUM WAS LOOKING forward to the home visits even if Felicity had seemed less than impressed by his request to accompany her. She hadn’t said no but she had queried the necessity of it. He felt it was essential to know about this important service, especially if he was ever going to be called out to one of the patients during his one weekend in three on-call days.
She hadn’t had a comeback for that but her stony profile as she drove them to their first appointment spoke volumes.
He wasn’t sure what was going on with her. Despite her protestations on Monday that they didn’t have a problem and the obvious empathy in her eyes when he’d told her about the accident, the last couple of days had still been awkward.
Sure, she was polite and efficient. But he wouldn’t exactly say she was knocking herself out to be friendly. Not like she was with her patients.
Not like she’d been that day on the train.
Was that where Felicity’s awkwardness was springing from? The train? Did she regret what had happened? Did she resent that seeing him every day she couldn’t put it away in some neat little box somewhere? Or was she worried that he’d kiss and tell and spoil her St Felicity reputation?
Because there was one thing he’d learned in his few short days at the practice—Felicity could do no wrong.
Everyone loved Felicity.
Their version of her anyway because she was a very different Felicity from the one he’d met on the train. Sure, she was as friendly and easygoing with the patients as she had been with their travelling companions, but here, in Vickers Hill, she was very definitely Flick. The small-town girl, the friendly nurse, everyone’s mate.
She knew who everyone was and who they were related to. She knew where everything was found, everything anyone had been treated for in the last four years and, it seemed, everyone’s birthdays. As well as having practically every phone number in the town memorised.
She was a freaking saint.
And he’d gone and thoroughly debauched her.
He didn’t think the town—aside from one or two busybodies—cared what their saint did in her private time but what if she thought they did? They hadn’t talked about what had happened between them, not since discovering they would be working together, so maybe it was time they did.
He glanced at her profile. Her forehead was crinkled into a frown, her lips pursed. Maybe not. Safer to stick to work-related topics and hope she eventually relaxed when she realised he wasn’t here to make her life difficult.
‘So,’ he said, his sunglasses in place as the harsh October sun cut through the glass of the windscreen, ‘the purpose of the home visits is?’
‘A federally funded initiative to keep older and less able patients in their homes and in the community and out of care.’
She parroted the facts as if he’d pushed a button on her somewhere that read Press here for information. She didn’t shift her gaze off the road. Didn’t glance at him for a second.
Callum ploughed on, bloody-minded now. ‘What kind of things do you do when you’re with a patient? Are there specific things or is it just a general social call?’
Her fingers wrapped, unwrapped and wrapped around the steering wheel again. ‘A lot of different things. I deal with any specific medical issues of the day but mostly patients go into the practice if they have anything acute. I do blood-pressure and blood-sugar checks as well as full yearly health checks when they come due. I make sure their prescriptions and referrals are up to date. I do a lot of ordering.’
‘Ordering?’
She at least nodded this time. ‘Products. Medical supplies. Incontinence products, stoma bags, peritoneal dialysis supplies, test strips as well as equipment like feeding pumps, shower chairs or Zimmer frames.’
‘Sounds busy.’
‘It’s not all tea and scones,’ she said.
He could have cut the derision with a knife. He was about to call her on it when Felicity engaged her blinker and said, ‘First cab off the rank is Mr Morley.’
Callum looked out the window to see an old-fashioned, low-set cottage that could do with some TLC. She undid her seat belt then looked at him for the first time since he’d sat in the car.
‘These people know me. They trust me. They’re often wary of strangers and prefer talking to a nurse about their issues over a doctor. They might be suspicious of you. Just try to...’
Callum thought she was going to say ‘not screw it up’ but she continued, ‘Stay in the background, okay?’
She didn’t give him time to reply, reaching for the handle and stepping out of the vehicle.
Her faith in him was heartening.
* * *
What followed was an intense five hours. Callum saw the gamut of small-town life all in one afternoon as St Felicity ministered to her flock. It wasn’t the most efficient system he’d ever seen. Too much chatter and drinking of tea and eating of cake or whatever piece of home-made cooking was presented to them for his liking, but it appeared to be the ritual and with Felicity’s advice ringing in his ears there was no way he was declining. He’d never eaten so well in his life.
He was going to have to do some serious working out when he got back to Sydney.
He followed Felicity’s lead after earning her glare when he’d declined something at their second stop. It just wasn’t done, apparently. And she was right, the patients were leery of him to start with so if eating food that was offered at all their dozen stops helped with the warming-up process then when in Rome...
That all changed when they got to their last call—Meryl’s house. She didn’t appear to have a last name or require any kind of formal address as Felicity’s other patients had.
Just Meryl, apparently.
Her house was a small cottage with a deep bull-nosed veranda. Dreamcatchers and wind chimes of all types and sizes hung from the guttering. The pungent spice of incense prickled Callum’s nose and a small shrine with a Buddha and a variety of candles and flowers was set up in one corner of the living room.
Meryl took to him right away. She was sitting in a big stuffed recliner and was possibly the most wrinkled person Callum had ever met. But there was a strength and agi
lity to her movements that made him think she was probably younger than she appeared.
He stuck out his hand when Felicity introduced them. Her hand was soft but her grip was firm as she pulled him nearer, forcing him to lean in closer.
‘Cal,’ she murmured, immediately shortening his name in a husky voice that sounded like the product of a pack-a-day habit. She looked straight into his eyes, taking her time to study him. ‘You have an unhappy aura,’ she finally declared, releasing his hand.
Callum glanced at Felicity for an interpretation in case there was one other than the obvious—Meryl was a little nutty. She shot him the most faux innocent eyebrow-lift he’d ever seen in his life. He should have known that someone who lived in a house guarded by dream catchers was going to be a little...alternative.
‘Meryl reads auras,’ she said, a small smile playing on her lips.
That little knowing smile drew attention to her mouth and it was just about the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen. All week he’d been trying not to think about that mouth and where she’d put it on his body. Her attitude towards him had helped. But now she was finally pulling the stick out of her butt it was impossible not to go there again.
Impossible not to want to familiarise himself with it again and kiss the smile right off that sexy mouth.
‘Hmm, it’s looking a little happier now,’ Meryl mused.
Callum blinked at the running commentary on the state of his aura, pulling his gaze from Felicity’s. He gave himself a mental shake. The last thing he wanted Meryl proclaiming was his aura’s massive erection.
‘Sit down here, Cal,’ Meryl said, patting an old vinyl chair beside her.
Callum would rather sit outside in the car but there was no way he could get out of this without looking rude. The normal rules of doctoring just didn’t apply in the community, certainly not in a house that could have belonged in Oz.
He glanced at Felicity, who was obviously finding the situation highly amusing.
‘What colour’s Felicity’s aura?’ he asked, turning to give all his attention to Meryl. Thankfully, Felicity was on his right so he could see her smile slowly deflating.
Although he was sure she had no cause to worry. The saintly Felicity’s aura was no doubt rainbowesque and probably smelled like strawberries and candy canes.
‘It’ll be the same as usual,’ Meryl said, flicking her gaze to Felicity. Callum was inordinately pleased when the older woman raised an eyebrow. ‘Or maybe not... It’s usually so balanced but it does look a little...ruffled today.’
Callum smiled as the tables were turned and Felicity frowned and put a hand to her belly. Meryl’s gaze cut back to him and he pressed his lips together so she couldn’t see him gloating, although there was something all-seeing about Meryl that couldn’t be easily dismissed.
Her eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘You’re staying at Luci’s place, right?’
Callum nodded, feeling on solid ground with standard questioning. ‘Yes. And she’s staying at my place in Sydney.’
‘And how long are you staying in Vickers Hill?’
‘I’m here for eight weeks.’
‘No.’ Meryl shook her head slowly as her gaze darted all around his head before she peered into his eyes. It was more thorough than any of the dozens of specialists with their fancy high-powered microscopes had ever managed.
Frankly, it put an itch up his spine.
‘You’ll be here for much longer than that.’
Callum broke the eye contact with difficulty. No. He was going back to Sydney. To his harbourside apartment and his job that started in the New year. Vickers Hill was just a pit stop. A place for some clear air.
He glanced at Felicity, who wasn’t looking so sure of herself now either. She appeared ready to deny it if he didn’t.
‘I can assure you,’ Callum said, dredging up his most positive smile for Meryl. It wasn’t one he’d used a lot these last two years and it didn’t feel right on his face. ‘I’m only here short term.’
Meryl just smiled and patted his hand. ‘You’ll see. It’s okay,’ she assured him. ‘It’ll work out. You were meant to come here. It’s your destiny. It’s in your aura.’
Callum didn’t know what to say to that. Clearly Meryl wasn’t about to change her mind and what did it matter what some crazy old lady on an incense high who read auras said?
He was in charge of his destiny.
‘Right, well.’ Felicity clapped her hands together. ‘Let’s get your blood pressure checked, Meryl.’
Callum vacated the seat, grateful to her for rescuing him from any more talk of auras and destinies and staying in Vickers Hill.
He could have kissed her.
He really could have kissed her.
* * *
Callum was looking out the passenger window of Felicity’s car when she rolled to a stop in front of Luci’s house. He still wasn’t used to living in a place that was so country kitsch. It was a turn-of-the-century stone cottage with a chimney and a wraparound porch along which grew a thick bushy passionfruit vine laden with fruit. The entire garden was beautifully manicured and a riot of colour that reflected the froufrou decor of the interior.
Lots of lace at the dinky little windows and white shabby chic furniture complemented the exposed oak ceiling beams and the oak kitchen tops. It was a far cry from his sleek, minimalist apartment dominated by huge unadorned windows from which to admire the stunning water view.
Callum glanced at Felicity, who was staring straight ahead at some point on the road. They hadn’t talked at all from Meryl’s to here. He figured they were both lost for words. ‘So... Meryl...she’s a little...colourful?’
Her head snapped around to glare at him. ‘And what’s wrong with that?’ she demanded. ‘We can’t all be hip, cool Sydneysiders.’
Callum blinked at her unexpected vehemence, holding up his hands to indicate his surrender. Her chest rose and fell markedly. ‘Hey,’ he murmured. ‘It wasn’t a criticism.’
She glared at him for a beat or two before returning her attention to the road and huffing out, ‘Sorry.’
Callum sighed. Okay. Enough. Enough of this. Something was obviously bothering her and he couldn’t ignore it any longer, hoping she’d snap out of it. He was going to have to mention the elephant in the room.
Or the car, as it turned out.
‘You don’t have to worry about me saying anything to anyone about what happened between us.’
That earned him another short, sharp, slightly askance glance. ‘I didn’t for a minute think I had to.’
Callum raised both his eyebrows. Okay...so what was this all about? It couldn’t be his work. He’d been his usual competent, efficient self. He may not be fully resigned to his new career but he knew he did good work. The same way he always knew he did good surgery.
He was a Hollingsworth—they always excelled at what they did.
‘Okay. Well...sorry. It’s just...you’ve been angry at me all week and I thought...I just needed to reassure you, that’s all. If that’s what you’re worried about.’ He thought maybe, deep down, she was, she just didn’t want to acknowledge it so it was worth saying again. ‘I don’t kiss and tell and what happened that night is between us only.’
‘Good.’ She glanced away, fixing her gaze on the steering wheel. ‘Thank you.’
It wasn’t exactly the immediate easing of tensions that he’d hoped it would be. Hell, if she was strung any tighter she’d explode. ‘Only we haven’t really talked about how we’re going to handle it. You know, now that we’re working so closely together, and maybe we should because I feel like we’ve got off on the wrong foot.’
Considering they hadn’t put a foot wrong when they’d just been two strangers on a train, their missteps since had been ridiculous.
‘I was planning o
n ignoring it.’
Callum surprised himself with a laugh at her candour. He didn’t think she’d meant it to be funny—more like a morose statement of fact—but it was. ‘Yeah. So was I.’ But neither of them were doing a very good job. ‘And then...’
He stopped himself before the words he’d been about to say slipped out of his mouth. They clearly hadn’t been through his rigorous filter. It must be the after-effects of the incense. Or maybe the very present effects of her perfume. It was the one she’d been wearing that night. He hadn’t really noticed it at the time but right now it was achingly familiar, taking him right back.
She turned her head and their eyes met. ‘And then, what?’
His gaze dropped to her mouth. He should leave it alone. Tell her it didn’t matter. Walk it back. But the air in the car grew heavier as the space between them seemed to shrink and the urge to pull her ponytail loose slithered thick and dangerous through a head teeming with very bad ideas.
‘And then you said Meryl reads auras and had this little half-smile on your mouth like you just knew it was going to throw me, and it was so damn sexy all I could think about was kissing you.’
‘Oh. Right,’ she muttered, her gaze falling to his mouth now. ‘That doesn’t really help.’
Callum shook his head and somehow, when he stopped, it had inched closer to hers. ‘Not even a bit?’ Her perfume filled his head and he could see the movement of her throat as she swallowed.
‘I think what happened on the train should stay on the train,’ she said, her voice husky.
‘I agree.’ And he did. Or he had, anyway.
‘I mean it was...lovely but—’
‘Lovely?’ His gaze locked with hers as he quirked an eyebrow at the insipid description. ‘Why don’t you go all the way and tell me it was nice?’
She shrugged. ‘It was that too.’
But that smile was there on her mouth again and heat flared in his belly. He gave a playful groan. ‘You make it sound like we held hands and sang “Kumbayah” all night.’