Outback Doctors/Outback Engagement/Outback Marriage/Outback Encounter

by Meredith Webber

  There wasn’t any answer, so she stayed silent, just holding him and hoping that would help.

  ‘God, I feel so useless when that happens, Caitlin. I wonder how far medicine has come when we still lose strong young men.’

  He brushed his lips against her forehead, a kiss that wasn’t really a kiss.

  ‘It isn’t medicine that fails them,’ she murmured. ‘Young men have always sought thrills to test themselves and the ultimate thrill is pitting yourself against your fear. Why else did they go so willingly to war—right down through the ages? OK, some were conscripted—forced to go—but most went willingly, seeing only the adventure and the challenge, not the grisly, ugly reality of death. And no matter how far medical skills improve, you can’t fix bodies broken or torn beyond repair.’

  She could feel the tension easing in his body but it wasn’t his body she should be concerned about now. It was her own, responding to his in a most unprofessional—most uncomforting—way. Her heart was skidding about beneath her ribs and her lips pricking with a memory of that light and casual kiss he’d dropped on them last night.

  ‘Tea and toast?’ she offered again, using the offer as an excuse to step away from him.

  He shook his head.

  ‘I couldn’t eat. And shouldn’t it be tea and sympathy?’ This smile was slightly better—rueful, but with a hint of humour that was echoed in his eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have come and dumped on you like this. I’m—’

  Caitlin closed in on him again, reaching up to put her fingers on his lips.

  ‘If you say you’re sorry I’m likely to do you an injury. Can’t you see I’m glad you came to me? It means, for all your scoffing at my life, you must see glimpses of a person beneath the computerised scientist.’

  ‘Tantalising glimpses,’ he agreed, taking her hand in his and gently kissing the palm. ‘Thank you for listening. And thanks for coming to the rescue earlier. Kirstie’s a good nurse and would have coped, but when I saw it was Warwick, I knew I couldn’t ask it of her.’

  He sighed, and slumped down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

  ‘It’s one of the curses of small-town life,’ he said. ‘The patient is nearly always someone you know, and when there’s a death, it affects everyone.’

  ‘But one of the plusses,’ Caitlin reminded him, ‘is that support systems swing automatically into place. There’ll be friends and family waiting for the parents of the young man who died when they get home. There’ll be people to lean on, and listen, and help in whatever way that family needs.’

  Connor managed a tired smile.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, then shrugged again. ‘Makes it hard to be an outsider.’

  It was a strange comment, but Caitlin knew what he meant. The family would have someone to lean on, but when he went home he’d be alone.

  But even as this thought surfaced she realised he’d shaken off the melancholy and was strongly in control again.

  ‘I’d better be off. I need to check on Warwick and have a talk to Anne before I head for home.’

  Connor was out the door, and the security lights had come on again, before he turned and faced her with a now-familiar frown drawing his dark brows together.

  ‘That door wasn’t locked!’ he muttered accusingly at her. ‘I knocked and then you opened it. I didn’t hear a key turn in the lock.’

  She wanted to smile, to laugh at his protectiveness, but his scowl suggested he was really angry and, considering he didn’t know about the illustration, laughter might be inappropriate.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll lock it now and try to remember in future.’

  The scowl faded and was replaced by a smile. Not quite the full thousand-watt effort, but devastating enough to send her heartbeat into overdrive.

  ‘You see you do,’ he ordered.

  Caitlin said goodnight and shut the door but she couldn’t shut out the memory of that smile, or the thoughts it prompted. Why was such an attractive man still single? And, given that he was, why wasn’t someone up here pursuing him?

  Perhaps someone was. Would that explain the watcher on the veranda?

  Word had got around that she’d had dinner at Connor’s on Tuesday night. Anne Jackson had mentioned it. She was also single and possibly in the market for a husband.

  And she worked nights.

  Caitlin locked the door.

  Friday’s first appointment was with Robyn Wilson, and as Caitlin scribbled down the information on her husband’s family, which Robyn gave willingly, she could feel her excitement stirring. Even without her diagrams, she now knew that three of the children had great-grandparents who were siblings. The relationships between the families, removed to distant cousins over four generations, were not obvious, the most common comment being, ‘Oh, we’re related to so-and-so a long way back.’

  ‘Have you seen Anthea Cummings?’ Robyn asked, when they’d gone back as far as her memory would allow. ‘At one time she was interested in doing their family tree. Her husband’s family has farmed here since for ever, but I think her folks were from out of town.’

  ‘I spoke to her when she was down for Lucy’s treatment but haven’t gone into the relationship business with her. I’m driving out to Malawa this afternoon.’

  ‘Great!’ Robyn responded, and Caitlin must have looked surprised by her enthusiasm for she added, ‘It would be good to have some answers. And even if you don’t come up with answers, to have something else crossed off the list. I know about the statistical stuff and realise Aaron could have been one of the unlucky ones who got it anyway, but the fact that so many did, in such a small town, makes it…eerie, somehow.’

  ‘I can understand that and I’m grateful to you all for your help and co-operation. You must be sick of answering questions when no one can give you answers to yours. I thought you might have been more wary about my work, more concerned about the effect it might have on the town.’

  ‘Because of what happened before?’ Robyn asked. ‘No way! We all welcomed the last lot of experts—that’s ‘‘we’’, the parents of the children—and most of the townsfolk did as well. It was only a few old die-hards who caused trouble, seeing it as an opportunity to settle old scores. Have you talked to the Neils?’

  The question, riding on the heels of the other matter, made Caitlin pause.

  ‘I’ve been leaving them to last,’ she said. ‘The death of a child leaves such a gaping hole in people’s lives, I know I’ll have to tread carefully.’

  Robyn chuckled. ‘In more ways than one,’ she offered. ‘They’re a strange couple, keep to themselves. In fact, I used to wonder if Mrs Neil had taken some kind of vow of silence, it was so hard to prise a word out of her. After Lucy, who was the last, was diagnosed, the parent group became almost official, if you know what I mean. The rest of us had been meeting together for support, but with Lucy, Judy Laurence decided something must be done to find out why this was happening. She and I went out to see Mrs Neil, but she refused to speak to us at all. I suppose the fact that we all still call her Mrs Neil tells the story.’

  ‘And Mr Neil?’

  ‘The prophet Ezra?’ Robyn smiled. ‘He’s a strange man. I sometimes wondered if he might be abusive, and that’s why Mrs Neil refused to talk to us. Because he’d forbidden it.’

  ‘Are there any signs of abuse that you know of—apart from Mrs Neil’s silence?’

  Robyn shook her head.

  ‘None at all, and as she works at the hospital, if there were, someone would have noticed for sure. But abuse can be emotional as well as physical, can’t it?’

  Caitlin agreed. ‘But surely, if he’s a religious man, abuse would be against his beliefs.’

  ‘Unfortunately I’ve never listened to him for long enough to know much of his beliefs, although he seems to favour sermons of doom and disaster. I know when the kids got sick we joked about whether he’d foretold the scourge, but when Jonah died the joking stopped. He’s been preaching since he dropped out of universi
ty and came back to town, years ago.’

  ‘I hadn’t realise he actually preached,’ Caitlin said. ‘From the way Connor—or was it Melissa?—spoke, I thought he was a hermit, completely withdrawn from the life of the town.’

  ‘Every day but Sunday,’ Robyn pointed out. ‘On Sundays he spreads the word—in the park if there’s a market on, on the street corner outside the hotel, even at the hospital if the pub’s having a bad day. He likes to know there are a few people around.’

  ‘So even if most of his words fall on deaf ears, there’s a chance one sinner might be saved.’

  ‘I guess that’s it,’ Robyn agreed dubiously. ‘I must say I’ve always just assumed he likes the sound of his own voice. He’s the town eccentric, if you like. Small towns always tolerate their own.’

  ‘Their own? Is he a local? For some reason I’d thought of the Neils as newcomers.’

  Robyn frowned.

  ‘I’ve no idea where Mrs Neil came from, but Ezra grew up here—he and Jerry were twins. Jerry had been named Jeremiah, but he was the family rebel and he wouldn’t answer to anything but Jerry. He left town a long time ago and the rumour was he got into a lot of trouble. The two of them were quite a few years ahead of me at school. The family may have come from somewhere else originally—beyond planet earth, perhaps—but I’ve always considered Ezra a local. I’ll ask my mother, or Granny Russell would know. Ask her.’

  Caitlin considered this. ‘Well, I’d prefer to ask Ezra himself, but I guess I’d better tread warily. I’ll tackle Granny first.’

  She chatted to Robyn for a while longer then left, trying to damp down the flicker of hope that maybe this time she’d come across a clue that might kickstart her new research.

  If Ezra Neil was a local, there was a chance all the children could be linked together. It would be a beginning, the first step on a long path that might or might not prove useful in the long run.

  Leaving Robyn’s place, Caitlin considered her next move. She had a few hours to fill in before driving out to Malawa. Mrs Neil worked at the hospital. Should she try to talk to her there? Or ask Granny Russell what she wanted to know?

  No, she’d keep that line of action in reserve. Up to now, she’d only questioned parents about their own families—Mrs Neil deserved that much consideration. Caitlin hurried towards the hospital, her mind sorting through all she’d heard and seen and experienced. Was there any significance in three of the families living within walking distance of the hospital, when the new estate where Mike and Sue lived would surely be a more pleasant environment for children? Probably coincidence—a phenomenon all scientists knew had to be taken into consideration.

  She sighed, knowing the relationships could prove just as coincidental.

  ‘But I’ve got to find out,’ she told herself firmly, marching with renewed determination towards the hospital steps.

  A deep chuckle made her glance up and she saw, not Mike this time but Connor standing there.

  ‘And to think I thought you only talked to your computer,’ he teased, smiling down at her in a manner that made her head whirl and her body remember how his had felt when she’d held him in her arms.

  Caitlin tried to say hello, or something equally inane, but words refused to come. Tongue-tied by the realisation that what she felt was attraction—but it had never worked this way for her before. And definitely not this suddenly…

  Neither would her feet move, she discovered as she tried to act normal—well, not until she gave a very firm order and commanded them to rise and fall.

  Up the steps, closer to the man who was causing her so much internal trouble, battling to think of something sensible to say—something work-orientated if possible, so she at least sounded normal.

  ‘Does Mrs Neil work today? Do you think Mike would mind if I spoke to her for a few minutes?’

  The smile disappeared as his face clouded over—smile to scowl in a split second.

  ‘Can’t you get enough information without bothering the Neils?’ he demanded.

  ‘You know I can’t,’ she snapped, more annoyed with her body which seemed to find even a scowling Connor attractive. ‘What kind of scientific hypothesis could I present with incomplete information? I’d be laughed out of my job.’

  She glared at him, her anger rising. ‘Or is that what you want? Are you so concerned about this town you’d rather see me fail? Well, I’ll tell you something, Connor Clarke, so far you’re the only one who’s shown the slightest hesitation about me being here. Everywhere but here I’ve been welcomed, so don’t go spouting your opinions about what the town wants or doesn’t want. By your own admission, you’re an outsider looking in.’

  Connor wondered how being angry could make Caitlin even more attractive. He found it hard to concentrate on her words when his mind was occupied by the way the colour fluctuated in her cheeks, heat glowing beneath her skin like the red bulb of a torch shone through fine creamcoloured silk.

  Should he forget the irrational doubts he’d had, and help her with her quest? Wouldn’t it be worth it, if only to see her smile as she’d smiled at him earlier? They could work together, getting to know each other, and he’d find opportunities to touch her, to hold her hand and maybe take her in his arms again.

  He remembered the feel of her body pressed against his when she’d offered him comfort the previous evening, and felt his body tighten in response.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded, and he tried to remember what they’d been talking about before he’d been distracted by the colour in her cheeks.

  Couldn’t recall a single word.

  ‘Well, what?’ he tried, then knew immediately he’d made the wrong move.

  ‘Well, nothing,’ she stormed, and pushed past him, giving a perfunctory knock on Mike’s door then going in. And closing it behind her!

  Lot of good that would do, he thought, grinning to himself. The window was open and he was two feet from it. But when he heard her greeting Mike he knew he couldn’t eavesdrop. He walked away, wondering how to make up the ground he’d lost.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Neil.’

  The greeting was automatic, and it triggered his errant memory. That’s where the conversation had begun—with Mrs Neil. He spun around, wondering where she’d gone, then walked back to the front door and checked the veranda. He’d opted not to eavesdrop on Mike’s and Caitlin’s conversation, but would Mrs Neil make the same choice if she heard her name mentioned?

  The veranda was deserted. Wherever Mrs Neil had gone, it wasn’t to listen outside Mike’s window.

  He should have been relieved, but remembering why they’d argued brought back his misgivings about the research—and in particular about probing into this one family’s background.

  As he headed towards his own office, he tried to analyse his reservations. He’d never had a conversation with Ezra Neil, but had met him briefly one Sunday when Ezra had been visiting a patient. Since that occasion, he’d caught glimpses of him quite often, in his old beat-up truck when he collected his wife from her work at the hospital, or speaking on a street corner or the front veranda of the hospital on the Sabbath.

  So the man had a big black bushy beard! Was that reason enough to treat him with suspicion?

  No, but he’d been the one who’d found Angie’s car…

  So what? Surely if he’d been in any way involved in Angie’s disappearance, he wouldn’t have found the car…

  Connor shook his head, knowing he was in danger of tripping over his own thoughts. Knowing also that it was Mrs Neil’s cowed silence that made him suspicious of Ezra. Mrs Neil struck him as a woman very much in awe of her husband. Was the awe fear-related?

  ‘That’s where I stick,’ he muttered to himself, then he smiled, realising he was guilty of the charge he’d levelled at Caitlin earlier—talking to himself.

  ‘But I speak to most of the inanimate objects in my house,’ he added under his breath in case anyone was close enough to hear the conversation. ‘Not just a computer.’


  Caitlin thanked Mike for his help and headed off in search of Mrs Neil. She ran her to earth in the kitchen, silently swabbing the floor around the stoves with a mop while Nellie sat on a stool, her feet propped on a chair, and carried on a one-sided conversation.

  One glance at Mrs Neil’s pursed lips told Caitlin this was not the moment to suggest a chat. She greeted Nellie, said no to lunch—‘I’ve still got your scones to eat’—then nodded towards the other woman who had progressed to a far corner.

  Nellie got the message.

  ‘Have you met Mrs Neil, Doctor?’ she asked. ‘You’ve been in and out so much, I don’t know who you know or don’t know.’

  She smiled at Caitlin, as if to apologise for the fact that Mrs Neil hadn’t turned to face them and obviously had no intention of acknowledging any introduction.

  Nellie introduced them anyway, but Caitlin could hardly walk across the wet floor to offer her hand so had to make do with a polite remark—delivered to the woman’s back.

  ‘She’s not one for a chat,’ Nellie explained in a whisper that could have been heard uptown, ‘but the best worker this hospital has ever had, bar none. And I should know, I’ve been here going on forty years.’

  Caitlin knew she was supposed to show amazement, but if she couldn’t talk to Mrs Neil, she’d like to get the new lines drawn into her web of relationships.

  ‘I’ve got an appointment shortly,’ she said to Nellie. ‘I’ll call in this evening, or see you tomorrow. Or do you not work weekends?’

  To Caitlin’s surprise it was Mrs Neil who replied.

  ‘Course she works weekends—what else is there for her to do with no man in her life?’

  The words were spiteful in content but delivered so flatly Caitlin wondered if she’d meant them to hurt Nellie or had simply been stating a fact.

  Whatever the intention, Nellie looked chastened, and Caitlin hurried to her defence.

  ‘Plenty of women don’t need a man to make their lives complete,’ she argued. ‘Including me!’