by Fiona Lowe
But how it happened wasn’t really important. The fact was it had happened and this was her new reality.
Nick moved in his sleep, his legs entwining with hers so his body wrapped around her, cocooning her completely. What would it be like to lie like this every night?
It wouldn’t work.
The memory of the night on the pier flitted across her mind, complete with audio. We’re both here for the summer so let’s use this time we have together, use it for fun. Nick had his plans. I don’t want to be a father. She wanted somehow to create a family so this summer together was all they could have, and then it was over.
Stop it now before you get in too deep. But she knew that depth was just semantics and she was already in way over her head. So she would do the only thing she could do and that was take and enjoy every last minute of the time they had left together, banking every experience to last her a lifetime.
The clock showed five p.m. and Nick switched off his computer ready to head home. It was the first afternoon he’d ever worked at the clinic but Kirby had looked so exhausted at lunchtime he’d sent her home to the quiet of his place for a restorative afternoon nap. Initially objecting to the idea, she’d finally compromised by insisting on cooking them dinner in his kitchen. It had turned out that, given the time, the recipe and the ingredients, Kirby could actually cook. He smiled in anticipation of the meal and the evening ahead—lazing on the couch with a full-bodied red wine and a full-bodied woman.
‘Just before you leave, Nick, your mother is on line two.’ Meryl’s voice crackled down the clinic’s intercom.
Son guilt immediately snagged him. Over the last few days his mother had left three messages on his mobile and two on his home answering-machine and he hadn’t rung her back. He wasn’t deliberately avoiding her, it was just he’d been really busy.
Busy having fun. Between the farm, the clinic, KC and Kirby his days raced past with lightning speed, as was his summer.
He pressed the button under the red flashing light. ‘Hi, Mum, how’s it going?’
‘It’s going very well, darling. You sound bright and happy.’
An image of Kirby, her golden hair spread all over his pillow and her face flushed with the joy of sex, thundered through him. ‘You sound surprised.’
‘Well, your father and I were a bit worried when we hadn’t heard from you so that’s why I’m calling you at work.’
‘Sorry, Mum, I have no real excuse except things have been busy, but I should have called.’
‘As long as you’re well, Nick.’
He heard the strain in her voice and swallowed a sigh. He hadn’t been fair to her, not returning the calls. She’d lost one child and had faced down the possibility of losing another. ‘I’m great, Mum. Really, you don’t have to worry about a thing.’ He heard a sniff and a rustling of paper and something that sounded like the laugh of a kookaburra. That had to be wrong—kookaburras didn’t hang out in inner Melbourne. ‘What’s up?’
‘A couple of things. Melbourne City telephoned. They’ve sent you a letter and are waiting to hear as they’re expecting you back on the first.’ She hesitated for a moment and the silence strained down the line. ‘Are you going back, Nick, or do you love the work in the country?’
He leaned back and gazed out the window, glimpsing the sweet curve of a wave before it broke over the reef. He leaned forward, tugging at his hair. ‘I wrote them a letter last week confirming I’d be going back.’ He just hadn’t quite got around to posting it.
‘As long as you’re sure it’s what you want, darling. You do seem to have embraced country life.’
You’ve embraced Kirby. He stood up abruptly, completely forgetting he wasn’t on his mobile. The phone slid sideways, teetering on the edge of the desk, and he grabbed it just before it fell. ‘Of course I’m sure it’s what I want, Mum. It’s my career, everything I’ve worked for.’ The words sounded overly firm as they ricocheted back to him off the bookcase-lined walls.
‘That’s great then. So, seeing as you don’t have too much time left down there, your father and I thought we’d come down to the farm for a couple of days and visit, if that fits in with you. Dad wants to fish and I’ll take you up on the offer of berry picking.’ Her smile radiated down the line. ‘I quite like the idea of making my own raspberry jam.’
He ignored the selfish part of him that railed at the thought that a visit from his parents meant less time with Kirby. They’d enjoy spending time with Kirby.
He immediately pushed the thought aside as being completely untenable. He’d never actively sought to introduce the women he dated to his parents as he’d always moved on to dating someone else by the time he caught up with them again.
His gaze caught the date on the calendar—he only had a couple of weeks before he returned to Melbourne and Kirby had to stay in Port so there was no point introducing Kirby to his folks. Nothing about his time with Kirby was any different from his time with other women. It’s been all summer.
He shrugged the voice away. Summer had a finite endpoint so despite this fling being longer than the norm, just like every other relationship, it would end. They wanted different things out of life so it had to end. He turned the desk calendar face down. ‘It would be great if you and Dad came to visit. When are you coming so I can make sure you can actually get into the spare room?’
‘Actually, darling, we’re already here.’
A ripple of unease tightened every muscle in his body. ‘In Port?’
The taunting laugh of a kookaburra vibrated down the phone line, followed by a familiar bark.
Turbo. All his blood drained to his feet. ‘You’re at Riversleigh?’ His usually deep voice had developed a squeak.
‘That’s right. Your father has cleared out the spare room and Kirby and I have dinner cooking so we’ll see you soon.’ The click on the line sounded with precise finality as the line went dead, but not before he’d heard the delight in his mother’s voice.
He groaned and sank his head into his hands. Since Sarah’s death his mother had turned her full parenting attention on him and despite his dodging and weaving, and straight-up statements of ‘It’s not going to happen’, she never wearied of her own position on the subject of him settling down. Meeting Kirby in his house would only have fuelled that desire and ramped up her expectations.
His plans for a long lazy evening vaporised. His carefree and easy summer had just got complicated.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KIRBY sat outside on Riversleigh’s veranda in the large and comfy rattan chair with her feet up on the wood box, watching Turbo round up the last of the chooks for the night and deny the foxes their dinner. Exhaustion clung to every muscle, making her body feel like it was made of metal and pinning her to the chair. She should be inside washing the dinner dishes, but Nancy and Michael, Nick’s parents, had shooed her out of the kitchen and the thought of having to move from the chair was just too much.
Besides, Nick needed some time alone with his parents. His mother had been nothing but polite and friendly but Kirby could tell she had a thousand questions to ask Nick, starting with, Who is this woman I found in your house? Poor Nick—when he’d come home he’d looked more like he thought he was facing a firing squad than his loving mother.
If she’d felt less tired she would have stayed in the kitchen as a protective device, but the aroma of cooling lamb had made her feel queasy and she’d taken up the offer to watch the sun set.
Nancy and Michael were completely different from what she’d expected. Nick had painted her a picture of a couple worn down by trauma, a shell of their former selves. Instead, she’d met a vibrant and positive couple in their early sixties with a very close and loving relationship. When she’d taken the clean bed linen into the spare room, she’d found them with their arms around each other, and she’d noticed how Michael always seemed to touch Nancy with a caress or a pat when she passed him.
The squeak and bang of the wire door made her look up.
<
br /> Nick strode down the veranda, waves of energy rolling off him, pervading the surrounding air. She swallowed—half moan, half groan. How could he be so gorgeously sexy and full of get-up-and-go when she just wanted to sleep for ever?
He walked straight over to her and bobbed down beside her, his hands resting on the arm of the chair. ‘You OK?’
She gave a wan smile. ‘I’ve been better. For some reason I’m really, really tired. I think the frantic pace of summer medicine has finally caught up with me.’
He plunged his fingers through his hair, leaving behind a trail of spikes. ‘But you’ve just had two nights when you haven’t been out on call so you should be jumping out of your skin.’
She stifled a yawn. ‘I know, and up until yesterday I’ve been feeling really great, better than I have for a long time.’
No hot flushes. The thought popped unexpectedly into her head and she realised with a shock that it had been a while since she’d had one. Perhaps her body had finally adapted to menopause.
‘You didn’t eat much.’ Faint disapproval hovered in his eyes before he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. ‘You probably just need a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast of free-range eggs.’
Her stomach heaved and acid burned the back of her throat. She swallowed against the bitter taste and thought of how much she wanted to be tucked up in her bed. She moved forward, preparing to stand. ‘I’d better go home.’
Nick instantly shook his head. ‘No way are you driving down that winding road when you can hardly keep your eyes open.’
The clink of crockery and the murmur of voices drifted out through the open front door. ‘What about your parents?’
‘We’re adults, Kirby, and so are they.’ A determined expression matched the set of his shoulders. ‘How I live my life is up to me and I’ve told my mother she’s not to read more into this than there is.’
Kirby chewed her lip. ‘You told her we were a summer fling?’
His eyes crinkled up as a wolfish smile loaded with pure, unadulterated lust crossed his face. ‘Something like that.’
A sharp jagged pain exploded out of the centre of her heart and she caught her breath, hating it that she’d let herself be this vulnerable. What had she expected him to tell his mother? That they were a couple who belonged together for ever? She blew out a long breath, blaming fatigue. No one was rational when they were exhausted and tomorrow after a long sleep she would be back to normal and able to enjoy their last couple of weeks.
‘Come on, Sherlock, bedtime.’
She let him haul her to her feet and take her to his bed, savouring the warmth of his arms, as she gave in to much-needed sleep.
Nick had slipped out of bed an hour earlier, leaving a sleeping Kirby, and had gone for a run with his father up the fern-lined gully and along the creek. Swirls of morning mist lingered, trapped between granite rock faces, keeping the temperature lower than on other parts of the farm. Nick loved this time of day, when the air was slightly damp and cool before the sun blasted its summer heat into every nook and cranny. Turbo had joined them, beside himself with delight at having Michael running with them, and he’d bounded between them, not knowing who to run alongside.
Now showered, shaved and ready for breakfast, Nick had been surprised to find Kirby still in bed, the sheet pulled up over her head.
‘Hey, Sherlock.’ He gently shook the outline of her shoulder, the sheet warm to his touch. ‘Time to get up.’
A muffled groan and a barely audible ‘OK’ came from under the covers.
He kissed the top of her head and breathed in deeply, never tiring of her familiar scent and savouring it while he could. ‘I’ll have hot tea waiting.’ He left the room whistling and headed to the kitchen.
‘Good morning, Nick.’ His mother stood at the stove, poaching eggs. ‘I’ve made a bowl of fruit salad and the bread is just out of the oven so help yourself.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ He plugged the kettle in and took the tea-caddy out of the cupboard. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘With all this country air I slept like a log until Turbo padded in, gave us his hangdog look and your father got up.’ She removed the eggs from the stove. ‘Seems like Kirby slept well, too.’
‘Mum.’ The word came out as a warning.
‘I know, it’s none of my business.’ She scooped the eggs from their hot cocoons and transferred them onto a warmed plate but her shoulders had squared as if she wanted to say a lot more.
He let the silence sit, thankful that the kettle boiled quickly. Pouring the bubbling water into a fine china mug, he watched the way the fragrant tea leaves floated in the captivity of an infuser, every leaf a different shape. No wonder people thought they had a message. He glanced at the hall doorway. Still no Kirby.
He picked up the mug and walked into his bedroom. Kirby lay with her golden hair spread lankly all over his pillow, her face the same alabaster white as the pillowslip. A trickle of concern ran through him.
Putting her tea down on the bedside table, he instinctively placed his hand on her forehead, expecting to feel the burning heat of a fever. ‘You look like you’ve come down with the summer virus that has laid low a fair percentage of Port. Is your throat dry and scratchy?’
Her voice, usually so lyrical, came out soft and flat. ‘No, I just feel listless and blah.’
‘Gotta love that technical medical jargon.’ He smiled as he sat down beside her. ‘Yesterday’s tiredness was obviously your body fighting something. Do you have any neck stiffness?’ Meningitis was always a possibility that needed to be considered and hopefully ruled out.
She moved her head from side to side against the pillow. ‘No, but I’ve got a dragging pain down here that woke me up and bites me when I move.’ She pointed to her right iliac fossa.
He blew on his hands to warm them up. ‘I’m guessing you still have your appendix?’ His fingertips pressed down gently.
‘I do but—Ouch!’ She bit her lip and stiffened in pain as he pressed a bit more firmly.
‘Sorry.’ He stroked her hair as a potential diagnosis came together. ‘Dr Atherton, I don’t think you have a virus.’ He grabbed her shorts and T-shirt and handed them to her. ‘Time to get dressed.’
‘I just want to sleep.’ The words came out on a wail.
Any other time he would have kissed away her pout but right now he needed to be the doctor. ‘Kirby, I’m driving you to hospital for a full blood examination and an ultrasound. I think you might be taking a trip to Barago Hospital later in the morning to part company with your appendix.’
Kirby’s foot hit the bottom step of the footstool as she struggled to wrap the hospital gown around herself, regretting that she hadn’t grabbed a second one to wear as a coat. Not that Nick hadn’t seen every part of her body naked, but that didn’t mean she wanted to expose her behind as she hopped up onto the examination couch.
‘Are you feeling dizzy?’
Nick’s palm cupped her elbow, steadying her as she positioned herself on the narrow couch.
‘Not really.’
He fixed her with a disbelieving stare.
‘OK, sometimes, but that road into town from your place would make anyone motion sick. Mostly I feel tired with occasional jabbing pain when I move too quickly.’ She pulled the modesty sheet over her legs and up under the gown.
When they’d arrived at the hospital, the staff had clucked around her while Nick had taken the blood sample, but now it was thankfully just the two of them in the treatment room.
‘I’ve warmed up the transducer gel.’ Nick grinned at her as he squirted the clear gel onto her abdomen.
‘Thanks, but at 33 degrees in the shade it would probably have been OK cold.’ She tried to joke but she just wanted to lie back and close her eyes.
He switched off the light so the images on the ultrasound screen could be seen more clearly. He tilted it so Kirby could see part of it. ‘Let’s see if this appendix has a reason to grumble.’ His large hand
s flexed over the transducer and zeroed in on the appendix. The image slowly came into blurry focus.
‘Hmm.’
‘Hmm, what?’ She couldn’t really make anything out.
‘Well, your appendix looks fine and healthy.’
Kirby shifted slightly, trying for a better look at the screen, and a sharp, hot pain caught her as she moved. She immediately stiffened against it. ‘Oh, but something really hurts.’
Nick’s forehead furrowed and he gave her a wry smile. ‘I guess I need to be Sherlock this time. You lie back and relax while I go hunting for the culprit.’ He moved the transducer across her lower abdomen.
She tangled her fingers, turning them over themselves. ‘You can rule out an ovarian cyst because that is never going to happen.’ She lay back on the pillow, feeling sad and sorry for herself and hating it that she did.
Closing her eyes, she let Nick take over and be the doctor, and instead of second-guessing what was wrong she concentrated on feeling the smoothness of the transducer move across her skin, listening to the click and burr of the machine and trying to relax. Hah!
The transducer suddenly pressed down hard. She opened her eyes with a start. ‘That hurt!’
Nick didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned forward, staring intently at the screen, his knuckles gleaming white against the transducer. He moved it a fraction and pressed again.
A shaft of alarm sliced through her. ‘What is it?’ She struggled to see the screen.
Nick’s face was in profile, his strong nose silhouetted by the light of the screen, his cheeks hollow. He didn’t answer her, he just kept staring.
Real fear tore through her. ‘Nick, what is it? What can you see?’
He captured the image. ‘Two heartbeats.’
‘What?’ She struggled to her elbow, bewilderment compounding dread and confusing her even more. ‘You’re nowhere near my heart.’