by Leah Martyn
‘Here’s the ambulance,’ someone said.
After the handover, they walked back across the road to the surgery. ‘So, when can we expect the third?’ Declan asked.
‘Sorry?’
‘Accidents usually happen in threes, don’t they?’
‘Who said that?’ Emma looked at him with scepticism.
‘No one of note, but haven’t you noticed when, for instance, your car packs up, then something else breaks down and then you wait with trepidation for the third thing to go wrong?’
‘That’s rubbish!’
‘That’s what the guy said when he accidentally threw out an antique vase worth thousands.’
‘You’re making it up.’
‘We’ll see,’ he grinned, standing aside for her to precede him through the front door of the surgery. ‘Morning all.’
Jodi avidly sought details of what had occurred. And then shrieked, ‘Yeuch! Declan—look at your shirt! It’s all bloody.’
‘That’s the third one,’ Declan deadpanned, holding the offending garment away from his chest. He turned to Emma. ‘My shirt’s ruined. See, told you so.’
‘You fool.’ Emma’s chuckle was rich and warm. ‘Come through and I’ll find you a spare one.’
Later that afternoon, Declan made his way to the address Carolyn had given him—reluctantly. ‘Tracey won’t come back,’ the grandmother had said as they’d sat over a cup of coffee in the annexe off the children’s ward.
‘Have you told her about Adam’s accident?’ Declan had asked gently.
‘She wouldn’t be interested. Nev and I will have to rear these children as best we can.’ Her shoulders lifted in a weary sigh and the corners of her mouth wilted unhappily. ‘Ryan wouldn’t have wanted this for us.’
‘I don’t imagine he’d have wanted this for Tracey either,’ Declan pointed out with quiet diplomacy. ‘Was he your only son?’
‘Our only child. We couldn’t have any more.’ She paused. ‘And I suppose I could have tried harder with Tracey…’ Carolyn’s mouth trembled. ‘She’s only a little thing. The babies took it out of her…her own mother was useless, no help there.’
Now, Declan hesitated before gingerly ascending the shallow steps. What a falling-down dump. The verandah was crumbling and sagging on rotten footings and saplings and long-stemmed weeds were shoving up through the cracks in the floorboards. He stood on the edge of the verandah and looked out, feeling a surge of anger swell in his chest. This just wasn’t on…
‘Whaddya want?’
Declan turned, his jaw tightening.
A young man was standing at the front door. He looked malnourished and unkempt, his hair dreadlocked and grubby, his skin pasty. ‘You a cop?’
‘No,’ Declan said clearly. ‘I’m a doctor.’
‘We didn’t send for no doctor. You’re narc squad, ain’t yer? Leave us alone…’
‘Sorry, can’t manage that.’ Declan took a step forward. ‘I need to see Tracey.’
‘You can’t—just—just leave us alone…’ the young man whined, trying to block Declan’s entry, but his slight build was no match for Declan’s powerful bulk. ‘Hey—you hurt me!’ he yelped accusingly, trying to regain his balance. ‘I’ll get ya for this—’
‘Whatever works,’ Declan said through clenched teeth. A few strides took him to the end of the short hallway leading to an enclosed back verandah-cum-kitchen. There was a sight that had his worst fears realized. Tracey Jones looked a washed-out, defeated figure.
She was standing against a set of louvred windows, the light from the solitary naked bulb elongating her shadow. She was barefoot and wearing a threadbare dressing gown. Her stance spoke of defiance mixed with a fear so tangible Declan felt he could almost reach out and touch it. ‘Hello, Tracey,’ he said gently. ‘I’m Declan O’Malley, your children’s doctor from the Kingsholme practice. I’ve come to tell you Adam’s had an accident. He’s in hospital.’
Tracey gave an audible gasp and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘It’s not my fault—’ She shrank back as if she’d been threatened with violence.
‘No one is saying it is, Tracey. But you’re Adam’s mother and we need to talk about that.’
There was a long silence. Then Tracey slowly moved forward as if sleep-walking and sank down on one of the old wooden chairs set against the rickety kitchen table. She bowed her head and clasped her hands between her knees. ‘My kids must hate me…’
Declan let the statement go unanswered. Instead, he cast a quick all-encompassing look around him. It was a scene of abject poverty. He’d expected no less but he’d also expected chaos and there he’d been wrong. Every surface was scrubbed clean; even the mismatched crockery was washed and stacked neatly on the shabby dresser. Declan’s jaw worked for a second. It was a pathetic sight, yet he sensed hope that something could be salvaged here.
He pulled out a chair and sat down with Tracey at the table, his hands placed squarely in front of him. ‘Would you like to see your children again, Tracey?’
‘They wouldn’t want to see me,’ the young woman whispered brokenly. ‘I—left them.’
‘Mind telling me why you did that?’ Declan’s voice carried a gentle reassurance.
There was a long silence while Tracey rubbed at a spot on the edge of the table.
‘I guess you were gutted when Ryan was killed,’ Declan surmised. ‘Maybe you flipped out, lost the plot for a while. Am I right?’
Tracey’s gaze sprang to his. ‘Yes…’ she said on a ragged breath. ‘H-how did you know?’
‘I’ve been there.’ Declan’s voice flattened. ‘Life gets complicated. Sometimes it’s hard to ask for help, even when we know we should. I can give you that help now, Tracey, if you want it badly enough.’
Tracey made a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan. She looked at Declan, the pain of loss and uncertainty in her eyes.
‘Your kids miss you…’ Declan’s smile warmed the bleak little kitchen. ‘They need you. And I think you need them. If I didn’t think that, I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Where are they now?’ Tracey’s gaze widened in query, her question a whispered plea. ‘And what happened to my baby?’
Quietly and non-judgementally, Declan filled her in.
‘I don’t suppose Carolyn will ever forgive me,’ Tracey said bitterly. ‘She never wanted Ryan to marry me but I was pregnant with Lauren and we loved each other, despite what she said. But I had the kids so quickly and Ryan was away a lot. It was hard…’
‘I know. Carolyn knows that too now. I think she and Nev would be over the moon if you came back.’
Tracey pressed a lock of hair to her cheek, her eyes wide with fear and doubt. ‘I couldn’t just rock back as if—as if nothing has happened. I’d need someone to help me.’ She sent Declan a beseeching look. ‘Could you…Dr O’Malley?’
Declan nodded, as if her response was what he’d hoped for. ‘I can do that, Tracey.’ He paused and then, ‘When was your last fix?’
Tracey drew back sharply, her expression shocked. ‘I never injected! I only took a few pills and that—not enough to get hooked on anything. It was just something to…make the pain go away. And Robbie kept getting them for me.’ Her teeth came down on her bottom lip. ‘He’s garbage. I never want to see him again.’
‘I don’t think you need worry about him. I’d say he’s done a runner. Now—’ Declan pushed his chair back and stood to his feet ‘—let’s get you sorted, Tracey Jones. What do you say?’
Tracey scrambled awkwardly to her feet. ‘I’d like a shower but there’s no hot water.’
‘Do you have clothes?’
‘Some—the ones I brought with me. And they’re clean,’ she added with an edge of defiance.
‘Go and get dressed, then,’ Declan said kindly. ‘And pack up what you want to take with you.’
‘Everything?’ It was a frightened whisper.
Declan’s look was implacable. ‘You won’t be coming back, Tracey.’
Her throat jerked as she swallowed. ‘Then what?’
‘You’ll come with me to the women’s shelter. You can have a shower and a hot meal and they’ll give you a bed. I’ll leave you a mild sleeper so you’ll get some decent rest.’
‘How…long can I stay there?’
‘As long as you need. No one is about to judge you, Tracey, please believe that. The people at the shelter will arrange a medical check-up for you and, later on, some counselling, if that’s what you’d like.’
‘OK…’ Tracey nodded. ‘I s’pose I could talk to someone.’
‘Good.’ Declan smiled again. ‘I’ll check in with the shelter each day and, as soon as you’re feeling up to it, I’ll take you to see Adam.’
About a kilometre out of Bendemere, Declan pressed Emma’s logged-in number on his hands-free phone. She answered on the third ring. ‘Where are you?’
‘Nearly home.’
‘How did it go with Tracey?’
‘OK, I think. Long story. Could I swing by?’
‘Of course. Have you eaten?’
‘No. Have you?’
‘Not yet.’
‘I’ll pick up some takeaway, then.’
‘No need.’ There was a hint of laughter in her voice as she added, ‘I’ve made a curry.’
‘It must be your destiny to feed me,’ he responded, matching her jokey tone.
‘Mmm. Must be.’
‘Are the kids OK?’
‘They’re fine. I’ve just tucked them in. Lauren’s reading The Wind in the Willows.’
‘Ah—I loved those guys—especially old Badger. Who’s Lauren’s favourite?’
‘Moley, I think. She says he’s cuddly.’
‘Nice.’ Declan laughed lightly. Oh, boy. He began to feel almost punch-drunk. The tone of the conversation was doing strange things to his insides. It could have been their kids they were talking about. An unfulfilled yearning as sudden as a lightning strike filled his veins.
Emma.
Who else in the whole of his adult life had ever made him feel this way? As though his feet were hardly touching the ground, his head in the stars.
But at the same time scared him to blazes…
What was happening here? Emma began to set the table, a mixture of a kind of thrilling uncertainty and just plain happiness flooding her. Declan. Her practice partner. Her friend. Yes, he was both of those. But he had become more than that. Unless she was reading it all wrong.
But she didn’t think so. Lately, he’d been watching her in that way he had. Kind of thoughtful and expectant all mixed up together. And a little bemused, as though he didn’t quite know what universe he’d stumbled into. Let alone why he had.
And there was more. Emma pressed her fingers to her mouth, reliving his kisses all over again. Parting her lips, she imagined tasting him again, just the action flooding her body with sensation and desire…
‘Emma?’
‘Ooh!’ she squealed and spun round from her X-rated reverie to see him hovering at the kitchen door. Her hand flew to her throat. ‘I didn’t hear you arrive,’ she said, all flustered.
‘I was quiet,’ he said, moving inside. ‘Didn’t want to wake the kids.’
‘I’ve just checked on them. They’re well away.’ She went towards him and they met in the middle of the kitchen. ‘What do you have there?’ Emma indicated the carrier bag he was toting.
‘Some wine and a chocolate dessert.’
‘Lovely. But you didn’t need to—’ Emma felt she could hardly breathe.
‘I can’t keep letting you feed me.’
Oh, you can, you can.
Emma savoured the last of her dessert as it rolled off her tongue. ‘Oh, that was gorgeous,’ she said with a sigh.
‘Not bad,’ Declan said. ‘I think the packaging might have been a bit deceptive all the same.’ In fact the dessert had turned out to be nothing more exotic than a rich vanilla ice cream with a swirl of chocolate and a sprinkling of hazelnuts. ‘No doubt the kids will finish it off.’
‘Mmm, they’ll love it. Coffee?’
‘No, thanks.’ Declan rolled his shoulders and stretched. ‘Do you have a green tea, by any chance?’
‘I have a whole selection of organic teas,’ Emma said grandly, getting lightly to her feet. ‘I’ll have a peppermint, I think.’ She made the tea quickly, passed a mug to Declan and then resumed her chair. ‘Are you going to fill me in about your visit to Tracey now?’
Declan did, quickly and concisely.
Emma looked thoughtful. ‘You don’t think she’ll do a runner from the shelter, do you?’
Declan took a mouthful of his tea. ‘No…’ he said eventually. ‘Her self-esteem has taken a battering. But, unless I’m a very poor judge of character, I think she’ll be back with her kids quite soon. She’s had a huge wake-up call. And Carolyn’s anxious to mend fences as well. I’m tipping they’ll forge a workable relationship when things settle down.’
‘Should we say anything to Lauren and Joel yet?’
‘Not yet. I have faith in Tracey but I’d hate to raise the kids’ hopes and see them dashed. Let’s tread carefully for the next little while.’
‘You’re right.’ She gave a short nod. And then the emotions from a very crowded couple of days kicked in and she said without thinking, ‘You’ve no idea how wonderful it is to have someone to talk to about this stuff. And not even on a professional level—just to talk to.’
‘Oh, but I do, Emma,’ he said softly. ‘I couldn’t wait to get back and talk to you.’
She blinked. He was watching her in that way again. ‘I guess it’s good, then—that we can communicate so well. For the success of the practice,’ she concluded, the words so far from where her thoughts had travelled, they made no sense at all.
‘Why are you spinning this, Emma?’ Declan kept his voice low. ‘What’s happening here is about us—you and me. We could have met anywhere in the world but we just happened to meet here. The practice has nothing to do with it.’
‘I’m afraid…’ she heard herself say.
‘Of me?’ His voice rose. ‘Or of what we could mean to each other?’
‘You were all for cooling things between us very recently,’ she accused bluntly.
‘Yeah—well, I was nuts to think emotions could be put in little boxes and only opened when it seemed the right time. There’s no right time. Is there?’
Emma’s green eyes flew wide with indecision.
‘Don’t you trust me?’ His tone was still patient.
She licked her lips. ‘I once trusted a man with my whole life…’
‘I know about that.’ Declan’s gaze didn’t waver.
‘Dad told you?’ Emma fisted a hand against her breast. ‘He told you?’
‘Normally, he wouldn’t have broken your confidence. You must know that. But he was worn down, worried about the future—your future. And, whoever he was, the man who let you go was an idiot.’
‘So you’re implying I fell in love with an idiot?’
‘He might have been a charming idiot,’ Declan compromised. ‘They exist.’
‘He was sleeping with my best friend.’ With the benefit of time blurring the pain, Emma found she could talk about it objectively. ‘It was going on right under my nose and I didn’t twig. And when Marcus finally had the decency to tell me he wanted to break our engagement, she had the gall to suggest there was no reason why we couldn’t still be friends!’
‘I hope you got mad.’
‘Mad enough.’ Emma smiled unwillingly. ‘When I finally steeled myself to go round to our apartment to collect the rest of my things, Marcus was there.’
‘And?’ Declan’s mouth twitched.
‘He was embarrassed as hell. Said he was just nipping out to the shops. In other words, he hoped I’d be gone by the time he got back.’
‘Bad move.’ Declan’s eyes glinted wickedly. ‘And you were gone, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Emma sliced him a grin. ‘But not before I
’d interrupted the wash cycle he’d left going and chucked in a pair of my red knickers with all his obscenely expensive white business shirts.’
‘Wow!’ Declan looked impressed. ‘I see I’ll have to watch my back around you, Dr Armitage.’
She made a face at him and then, ‘I was in a well of self-pity for a long time. That’s probably why I didn’t notice Dad’s deteriorating health.’
‘But you’re over this guy, Marcus, now?’
‘The man was indeed an idiot,’ she said with asperity.
‘So, we agree on something at last. Come on.’ Declan reached for her hand across the table. ‘Walk me out. It’s time I went home.’ There was regret in his voice and his eyes had gone dark.
‘You could stay here tonight.’
There was a beat of silence.
A thousand questions wanted to leap off Declan’s tongue. But he held back. Obviously, she hadn’t meant stay as in stay. And, even if she had, it was too soon.
For both of them.
‘There are a zillion bedrooms in this place,’ Emma explained jerkily—just in case he’d imagined…
‘There would be. It’s a big house.’
‘Um—thank you for today and everything. I have a feeling it will all turn out—’
‘Stop.’ He pressed his finger against her lips. ‘This is about us, Emma.’
‘Is it?’ Her hands went to his waist. ‘Shame we don’t seem to have come up with any solutions about us.’
‘On the contrary.’ His voice dropped to a husky undertone. ‘I think we’ve lit a bit of a lamp tonight, don’t you?’
A lamp to find their way? Could it be as simple as that? Emma closed her eyes, giving herself up to the pure sensation of his hands running over her back, whispering against the soft cotton of her shirt.
‘Come on the journey with me…’ Declan bent to kiss her, tenderly at first, as if to soothe away her doubts and fears, then with an eagerness and urgency, as if to imprint his faith on what they had together.