She bit her lip, anxious about what to do next. Get help. A man dressed in overalls and heavy work boots walked by. His footsteps slowed as he stared at the tableau on the footpath.
Brooke pressed him to assist. ‘Please, can you help? I work at the medical surgery down there,’ she pointed to the two semis. ‘Could you get one of the doctors?’
The man hurried off to help.
Jason arrived in double-quick time, his stethoscope in hand. ‘What have we here?’
‘Possible coronary occlusion,’ Brooke put forward as a preliminary diagnosis.
‘Really?’ he queried as he undid more buttons on the man’s shirt to sound the man’s chest. ‘Hmm, heartbeat’s ragged. And he’s going blue around the lips. Better call an ambulance.’
‘Will do.’ She got up, ran into the surgery and placed a call to triple 0. Then she gathered several pieces of medical equipment and returned to the street.
Seeing the sphygmomanometer and an oxygen cylinder in Brooke’s arms, Jason’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had anticipated the equipment he would have requested. He looked at Brooke. ‘Could you take his blood pressure for me? I’ve a hunch it isn’t going to be good.’ He went back to studying the unconscious man, wincing at the patient’s laboured breathing. ‘He’s shutting down. Could be a blood clot, can’t be sure.’
‘I know.’ She placed a blanket around the man, tucking it in as best she could on the footpath.
‘We should try and insert a cannula for a drip,’ Jason said, ‘but it’d be a tricky manoeuvre in this light, and I don’t want to risk moving him.’
‘Better to just make him comfortable and try to make sure his condition doesn’t worsen, don’t you think?’ Brooke suggested. By the time she’d taken the man’s blood pressure she could hear the distant wail of the ambulance. ‘The pulse is too thready to be sure, but the systolic is less than seventy,’ she told him.
And, as if it were some kind of free sideshow, a small crowd gathered in the twilight to watch the spectacle. Ignoring them, Brooke deftly slipped the oxygen mask over the man’s head and turned the cylinder on.
Suddenly the man’s body jerked. Jason scrambled for the stethoscope. ‘He’s arresting.’ In seconds Jason was applying CPR and mouth-to-mouth. He handed Brooke the stethoscope. ‘Listen for a beat.’
She put the stethoscope to her ears and moved it around the man’s chest while she watched Jason’s capable hands work, kneading rhythmically. ‘Got one. He’s on the way back, but the beat’s weak.’ She thought she heard a collective sigh of relief from the assembly of people around them.
The wail of a siren pierced the air about them, and as Brooke looked up she saw the white vehicle stop with a jerk at the kerb. Two uniformed men climbed out. The paramedics didn’t waste time. As soon as the man was stabilised they bundled him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.
Paul Groller joined them on the footpath as the ambulance sped off to Prince Alfred’s Hospital. ‘I missed all the excitement,’ he complained. ‘What happened?’
‘Looks like a heart attack. They’ll know soon enough once they get him to casualty,’ Brooke told him. Seeing the patent disappointment on Paul’s face, she winked at Jason while adding to Paul, ‘We’ll keep the next one for you, if you like.’
Paul nodded, his expression still serious. ‘Okay.’ He didn’t object when Brooke loaded him up with the blanket, the oxygen cylinder and other paraphernalia.
‘Certainly got my adrenaline going for a couple of minutes,’ Jason remarked. An analytical expression spread across his face as he studied Brooke. ‘You were good, Brooke. Cool as…’
‘Ice.’ She supplied the word he was most likely looking for, but then a reluctant sigh escaped her lips. ‘I had a reputation, back in the hospital in Hobart, for being cool under pressure. I believe they said, behind my back of course, that I also had the emotions of an iceberg.’ Her smile came and went quickly. ‘I’m pretty sure those comments weren’t meant to be complimentary.’
‘Medically speaking, it’s a worthy attribute to be able to work calmly under pressure. It’s a real test of a person’s nerves.’ Jason’s gaze was probing, his tone curious. ‘What a shame you left nursing. You’d have made a damn fine sister if you’d kept at it.’
She smiled, briefly. ‘I believe I was good at my job, but…’ she paused, thought for a moment before adding, ‘sometimes career changes are necessary, and at the time it was necessary for me.’
‘No regrets?’ Jason queried.
Brooke shrugged her shoulders and fought back the memories. ‘Some. None I can’t live with, though. I feel that I’m still making a contribution medically.’ And she had plans. One day she intended to study naturopathy and eventually follow the lines of natural medicine which had always interested her. However, aware of what many traditional doctors thought about such professions, she kept that information to herself.
‘Well,’ said Paul, who’d been on the fringe of Brooke and Jason’s conversation, ‘you’re the most capable receptionist our centre has ever had, none of us dispute that.’ He smothered a yawn. ‘It’s been a long day. Let’s close up shop and go home.’
Brooke was tidying up when Jason came and stood by the reception desk.
‘I think our last endeavour of the day deserves a reward. If you haven’t anything planned, how about dinner? There’s a great new Thai restaurant on King Street, down towards St Peters.’ He watched her features close up, sensed her embarrassment, and thought she didn’t know how to refuse without offending him. He made it easier for her: ‘I’m starving and I don’t feel like cooking for one. But if you’d rather not, I understand.’
‘No.’ She took a deep breath, made a decision. ‘I’d like to. I’ve never had Thai food.’
Somehow, without them being especially aware of how it came about, every Thursday night after surgery finished—at 8 p.m. if they were lucky—it became a regular practice for Brooke and Jason to eat at one of the restaurants along King Street. The main street of Newtown was as renowned for its multitude of restaurants as Lygon Street in Melbourne. Jason, who had an amazing appetite, introduced Brooke to African food, Sri Lankan food, to German sauerkraut and sausages, and several other cuisines she hadn’t tried before.
One chilly evening over dinner he talked her into trying out for his indoor cricket team, a sport he played during winter in an evening competition. The two most important things, he’d told her when she had tried out, were to be able to catch the ball and to run. Brooke, who didn’t consider herself the sporty type, found neither beyond her ability or skills level, and as an extra bonus she got to meet new people and socialise more.
Then he introduced her to bushwalking…
‘Don’t you…ever…relax?’ Brooke complained between gulps of air as she caught her breath at the summit of the hill—which to her was a small mountain. They had just climbed the hill to see the view from the Barrenjoey Point lighthouse, and it had been a steady climb for half an hour or so. Her left knee was aching; as a teenager she’d dislocated it and sometimes, on long walks, it gave her trouble. She flexed and straightened it several times to loosen the taut muscles. Jason, meanwhile, was prancing about as if it had been a five-minute flat walk.
‘Course I do,’ he grinned. ‘When I’m asleep I’m perfectly relaxed.’
Pulling a face at him she turned away to study the scenery. The winter’s day was clear and she could see across Pittwater to the mass of greenery which was Kuringai Chase, and then in the opposite direction to the southern curve of Palm Beach and the Pacific Ocean. It was, all of it, breathtakingly beautiful.
‘So, what do you think?’
‘About what?’
He growled at her obtuseness. ‘The view. Spectacular, hey?’
‘Umm, yes.’
‘Oh, I suppose there’s better in Tassie?’ His tone was mock defensive, and while she was absorbed by the view he took the opportunity to study her covertly. Dressed in jeans and joggers, a blue woollen
jumper, with a windcheater knotted around her waist, and with the breeze fanning her light brown hair about her face, she looked fantastic. Something knotted low in his gut, feelings he’d been suppressing for months.
‘Well…there might be,’ she said. ‘I didn’t do much touring around back home. I’m a bit of a homebody, I suppose.’
‘Shame on you,’ he joked. She cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled a coltish smile. He groaned inwardly. If only she knew what that did to him. Her smile, the way it lit up her eyes, transforming her gamine features and pointed, oh-so-stubborn chin…
‘I guess.’
He saw that she wouldn’t be baited, for by now she was used to his offbeat sense of humour. She simply shrugged her shoulders at him.
‘Travis was the adventurer in the family,’ she admitted. ‘He’d trekked over most of Tasmania’s national parks by the time he was seventeen.’ The mention of her brother’s name brought several moment’s silence from her.
‘You miss him a lot, don’t you?’ Jason’s comment was as gentle as it was intuitive.
‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘Even the rows. Travis had quite a temper; he was like Dad in that respect.’
Jason had already heard about her father. Alan Hastings had been in the Royal Australian Navy and had died in an accident on board HMAS Melbourne when Brooke was twelve years old, and her brother only two. He also knew that her mother, Pam, had scrimped and saved and studied at night to become an accountant to make a better life for her two children.
‘You don’t like talking about him either, do you?’
‘No.’ She shook her head to doubly emphasise the fact.
Jason respected that. He had previously tried to draw her out about herself and her family and had met with limited success. Even so, he had come to know a good deal about the kind of person Brooke Hastings was, character-wise, even if she was tight-lipped about her background. He knew she was honest and loyal, and the way she stuck to the idea of doing that naturopathy course, despite his friendly jibes, showed that she was quietly determined. He knew about Hamish too, by judiciously prodding Meg for information. It seemed the creep had taken advantage of her. That’s why he was taking it slow and steady, rather than trying to bundle her into a full-on relationship by their third or fourth date.
Not that he didn’t want to—he did, desperately. While he wouldn’t call himself experienced when it came to women—two affairs while at uni and another three later on—in his mind that didn’t make him a man of the world, and he understood that Brooke was off men, romantically speaking. He had to gain her trust before they could move beyond friendship. But the waiting was hard. He’d seen her blossom from being self-contained and inward-looking when she’d first come to the centre, to the more confident, happy person she was now.
‘I’m ready for lunch,’ he stated, rubbing his stomach contemplatively.
‘You’re always ready for lunch…and dinner and supper,’ she teased, laughing at his mock-offended expression. ‘If you ever stop playing sport you’ll balloon out like an elephant.’
‘Then I’ll never stop playing sport,’ he threw back at her.
He took his backpack off, removed a foil-sided groundsheet and spread it out on the grass. Then followed plastic containers with all manner of goodies, wine glasses, a half bottle of chardonnay and a thermos of coffee.
CHAPTER THREE
Brooke lounged on the double beanbag, toasting her toes by the fire. In Jason’s kitchen, down the hall, she could hear him making coffee. Her lips curved in a smile as she listened to him hum a song he liked. He was tone deaf but the failing didn’t dampen his enthusiasm for the melody.
In a contemplative mood, she sighed and wondered, as she had many times over the last several weeks, where their relationship was going. They were comfortable with each other. Like a worn-in pair of cricket shoes, Jason had once joked. Not a very romantic description, she thought, but…did she want romance, and was she falling in love with him?
A warm, tingling sensation started in her chest and rapidly worked its way through her body. She pressed her lips together. She knew the symptoms: thinking about him all the time, missing him when he wasn’t around, longing for his company, his touch. Yes, that. Very much!
She sighed as the questions continued. They had, over several months, become good friends, but did she want to be in love with him? Would it be a complication in the new life she planned for herself? And was she prepared to risk being hurt again, as Hamish had hurt her? But even as she stewed over these questions she knew the pull on her emotions had gone too far, become too deep. Another sigh escaped. If she’d been sensible she would have backed off many weeks ago. But she hadn’t. So…
‘You look deep in thought. Solving the problems of the world, hey?’ Jason commented as he brought coffees and cake in on a wooden tray, which he put on the floor next to her.
‘Not quite that deep.’
He took the poker, prodded the fire and added more wood. ‘Nothing like a log fire to warm you up on a winter’s night. I used to love them when I was growing up. Mum would make hot chocolate and we’d have toast and homemade jam. Ahh, the simple pleasures,’ he reminisced as he sipped his coffee and took large bites out of a slice of carrot cake.
A rogue thought raced through Brooke’s mind: there were other ways to get warm…In response to this thought her body heated up, all over. Perhaps now was the time…? She waited until they’d finished their supper, then, half turning to him, which was awkward to do on the beanbag without losing balance, she said, ‘We should talk, you know.’
‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘What about?’
‘Us.’
‘Oh.’ He frowned.
Silence fell between them.
‘Jason?’
‘Mmm…’
His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. A spark of annoyance fired up inside her, not necessarily at him but at herself. Had she misjudged her emotions, and his feelings too? The veiled glances, the occasional affectionate touch, the warmth in his voice, and so many other nuances which to her had implied that he might care for her. In the face of his present preoccupation she wondered if she was about to make an almighty fool of herself. Had she misinterpreted those ‘clues’, and was all he was really looking for friendship?
Suddenly he grasped her hand between his. ‘Thank God. I’ve waited months to see that look in your eyes, to hear a particular softness in your voice.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been in love with you for…forever,’ he gave her a lopsided grin, ‘or so it seems.’
Her eyes opened wide. ‘What?’ She stared at him without comprehension.
‘I thought for sure you knew, that Meg had blabbed to all and sundry in the centre. You see,’ he confided, ‘I didn’t want to rush things ’cause you were getting over that Hamish creep. I started to fall for you the night we helped that man in the street. No, to be honest, I think it began the first time I saw you.’ As he spoke his voice became huskier. ‘Something about you pricked my curiosity. When you started at the centre you had a mysterious air about you, you know.’
She smiled, amused. ‘Me? Mysterious?’ Her laugh was tinged with embarrassment. ‘There’s nothing,’ she paused, ‘nothing even vaguely mysterious about me. My life’s an open book. A rather bland book, if all of it were known.’
‘But you don’t like talking about yourself, do you? About the past.’
‘There hasn’t been much of consequence in my life to talk about.’ She smiled, letting her happiness show, as she added, ‘until now.’ Her hand crept out of his to stroke the side of his jaw. ‘Jason d’Winters, I think I love you too.’ Her tone was bemused, as if the truth was as much of a surprise to her as to him.
She watched his face inch closer until their lips met in a kiss that sealed their avowal. It was their first real kiss, apart from the friendly goodnight peck on the cheek they were used to. Brooke experienced myriad sensations as they snuggled together, eager to get as close as they could. Soon a warmth
spread through her body until it became a searing, unstoppable heat increasing the breathy feeling within her. She marvelled that her fingers trembled as they stroked the side of his cheek then ran through his thick black hair. The depth of what she had come to feel for Jason in so short a time amazed her. It was…so strong and primeval and unexpected. It made what she had experienced with Hamish seem shallow and insignificant.
Their lips broke apart for a couple of seconds. The leather beanbag crinkled as their bodies moved ever closer. His hand slipped under her sweater to find her breasts and he stroked them unerringly to crested peaks of awareness. As his lips ran from the side of her mouth, caressing a path down her jawline to her throat, to the pulsing beat in its hollow, she arched against him, inviting more. The beads in the beanbag moved with their weight, throwing Jason off balance.
He made a growling sound. ‘This is no good.’ He stood up and dragged her with him. ‘There is a more comfortable place.’ His blue eyes stared deeply into hers. ‘But only if you’re…’
‘Ready? Willing?’ Her eyebrows quirked upwards. Her hands linked around his neck to pull his face down to hers. ‘Oh, yes, darling, I’m willing.’ Couldn’t he tell that she was? Every inch of her, every tissue, bone and muscle was aching with needs that only he could satisfy, and she wanted that sublime satisfaction, very much.
Morning light sneaked through the timber venetians to cast horizontal stripes across the doona. Jason was first to stir and as his eyes opened he saw Brooke lying on her side facing him. He moved a few centimetres away to study her better. Who would have thought such a passionate woman lay hidden beneath the cool, efficient exterior of Brooke Hastings? She had surprised, delighted and, yes, exhausted him. He grinned. In the nicest possible way. Now that he thought about last night and what they had shared, there had been almost a touch of desperation in her needs. Was he just imagining it? It was as if she had this great need to be touched, held and cherished. If so, it was a challenge he thought he could satisfactorily deal with.
Turn Left at Bindi Creek Page 3