The Doctor’s Rescue Mission

by Marion Lennox

  The Doctor’s Rescue Mission

  Marion Lennox

  A tidal wave has swept across Petrel Island. When Dr. Grady Reece leads an Air-Sea Rescue team to help the isolated community, he finds dedicated doctor Morag Lacy in charge. Morag and Grady once had a blazing affair, and Grady has never stopped loving her…

  Marion Lennox

  The Doctor’s Rescue Mission

  A book in the Air Rescue series, 2005

  Dear Reader,

  In 1998 a tsunami hit the coastline of Papua, New Guinea, causing massive destruction and loss of life. My awe at the job done by the medical teams in the wake of such chaos led me to write The Doctor’s Rescue Mission. Now, as my book goes to print, another tsunami catastrophe has occurred, this time causing so much destruction to the world that I can scarcely take it in.

  Those who provide medical relief and rescue services move into nightmare situations with courage, compassion, skill and endurance. This book is dedicated to the men and women of organizations such as Merlin (www.Merlin.org.uk) or Médecins Sans Frontières (www.doctorswithoutborders.org).

  I write of human drama. These men and women face it in reality, and I hold them in the very deepest respect.

  To my readers all over the world, stay safe in these troubled times. Please.

  Marion Lennox

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE call came as Morag prepared for dinner with the man she intended to share her life with. By the time he arrived, Dr Grady Reece was thrust right out of the picture.

  The moment she opened the door, Grady guessed something was wrong. This man’s career involved responding to disaster, and disaster was etched unmistakably on her face.

  ‘What is it, Morag?’

  That was almost her undoing. The way he said her name. She’d always disliked her name. It seemed harsh-a name suggestive of rough country, high crags and bleak weather-but the lilt in Grady’s voice the first time he’d uttered it had made her think it was fine after all.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she managed. ‘But…your family is expecting us.’ Grady’s brother was a prominent politician and they’d been invited to a family barbecue at his huge mansion on North Shore.

  ‘Rod won’t miss us,’ Grady told her. ‘You know I’m never tied down. My family expect me when they see me.’

  That was the way he wanted it. She’d learned that about him early, and she not only expected it but she liked it. Loose ties, no clinging-it was the way to build a lasting relationship.

  No ties? What was she about to do?

  Dear heaven.

  ‘You want to tell me now?’ he asked, and she shook her head. She needed more time. A little more time. Just a few short minutes of the life she’d so carefully built.

  ‘Hey.’ He touched her face and smiled down into her eyes. ‘I’ll take you somewhere I know,’ he told her. ‘And don’t look like that. Nothing’s so bad that we can’t face it together.’

  Together…

  There was to be no more together. She fought for control as she grabbed her coat. Together.

  Not any more.

  He didn’t press her. He led her to the car and helped her in, knowing instinctively that she was fighting to maintain control.

  He was so good in a crisis.

  Grady was three years older than Morag, and he’d qualified young from medical school. He had years more experience than she did in dealing with crises.

  His reaction to disaster was one of the things that had drawn her to him, she thought as she stared despairingly across the car at the man she loved-and wondered how she could bear to tell him what she must.

  Patients talked to him when they were in trouble, she thought. So must she.

  Grady was a trauma specialist with Air-Sea Rescue, a team that evacuated disaster victims from all over Australia. Wherever there was disaster, there was Grady, and he was one of the best.

  He’d arrive in the emergency room with yet another appallingly injured patient, and the place would be calmer for his presence. Tall and muscular, with a shock of curly black hair and deep, brown, weather-crinkled eyes, Grady’s presence seemed to radiate a reassurance that was as inexplicable as it was real. Trust me, those crinkling eyes said. You’ll be OK with me.

  And why wouldn’t you trust him? The man was heartwarmingly gorgeous. Morag hadn’t been able to believe her luck when he’d asked her out.

  As a surgical registrar, Morag’s job at Sydney Central included assessing patients pre-surgery. She’d first met Grady as he’d handed over a burns victim-an aging hippie who’d gone to sleep still smoking his joint. The man’s burns had been appalling.

  Morag had been impressed with Grady’s concern then, and she’d been even more impressed when he’d appeared in the ward two weeks later-to drop in and say hello to someone no one in the world seemed to care about.

  That had been the beginning. So far they’d only had four weeks of interrupted courtship, but she’d known from the start that this could work. They had so much in common.

  They were both ambitious. They both loved working in critical care, and they intended to work in the fast lane for their entire medical careers. They laughed at the same things. They loved the same food, the same lifestyle, the same…everything.

  And Grady had the ability to curl her toes. Just as he was doing now. She looked across at her with that quizzical half-smile she was beginning to love, and her heart did a crazy back somersault with pike. He looked gorgeous in his soft, lambs-wool sweater-a sweater that on anyone else but Grady might look effeminate, but on Grady it just looked fabulous-and it was all she could do not to burst into tears.

  She didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Tears would achieve nothing. She turned away and stared straight ahead, into the darkness.

  The restaurant he drove her to was a secluded little bistro where the food was great and the service better. Grady ordered, still sensing that Morag couldn’t do anything other than focus on the catastrophe surrounding her. With wine poured and orders taken, the waiters let them be.

  They must look a really romantic couple, Morag thought dully. She’d taken such care with her appearance tonight. Although dressed for a barbecue, there was little casual about her appearance. Her jeans were figure-hugging and brand-new. She wore great little designer shoes, high as high, stretching her legs to sexy-long. Her crop top was tiny, crimson, leaving little to the imagination, and she’d swept up her chestnut curls into a knot of wispy curls on top of her head. She’d applied make-up to her pale skin with care. She knew she looked sexy and seductive and expensive-and she knew that there was good reason why every man present had turned his head as Grady had ushered her into the restaurant.

  This was how she loved to look. But after tonight there’d never be any call for her to look like this again.

  ‘Hey, it can’t be that bad.’ Grady reached out and took her hand. He stroked the back of it with care. It was something she’d seen him do with patients.

  Two weeks ago a small boy had come into Sydney Central after a tractor accident and Grady had sat with the parents and explained there was no way the little boy’s arm could be saved. She’d seen him lift the burly farmer’s hand and touch it just like this-an almost unheard-of gesture man to man, but so necessary when the father would be facing self-blame all his life.

  She’d loved that gesture when she’d seen it then. And now, here he was, using the same gesture on her.

  ‘What is it, Morag?’

  ‘My sister.’ She could hardly say it.

  Don’t say it at all! a little voice inside her head was screaming at her. If you don’t say it out loud, then it won’t be real.

  But it was real. Horribly real.

  �
�I didn’t know you had a sister.’ Grady was frowning, and Morag knew he was thinking of her mother, the brisk businesswoman to whom he’d been introduced.

  ‘Beth’s my half-sister,’ Morag whispered. ‘She’s ten years older than I am. She lives on Petrel Island.’

  ‘Petrel Island?’

  ‘Off the coast of-’

  ‘I know Petrel Island.’ He was focused on her face, and his fingers were still doing the smoothing thing to the back of her hand. It was making her cringe inside. This man-he was who she wanted for ever. She knew that. But he-

  ‘We evacuated a kid from Petrel Island twelve months back,’ Grady said. ‘It’s a weird little community-Kooris and fishermen and a crazy doctor-cum-lighthouse-keeper keeping the whole community together.’

  ‘That’s Beth.’

  ‘That’s your sister?’ His tone was incredulous and she knew why. There seemed no possible connection between the placid islander Beth and the sophisticated career doctor he was looking at.

  But there was. Of course there was. You couldn’t remove sisterhood by distance or by lifestyle.

  Beth was her sister for ever.

  ‘Beth’s the island doctor,’ she told him, finding the courage to meet his eyes. ‘She’s also the lighthouse caretaker. It’s what our father did so she’s taken right over.’

  ‘Beth’s the lighthouse-keeper? And the doctor as well?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But…why?’

  ‘It’s a family thing,’ she told him. Seeing his confusion deepen, she tried to explain. ‘Dad was born on the island, and inherited the lighthouse-keeping from my grandad. He married an island girl and they had Beth. Then the lighthouse was upgraded to automatic-just as Dad’s first wife died. She was seven months pregnant with their second baby, but she collapsed and died of eclampsia before Dad could get her to the mainland.’

  Grady was frowning, taking it on board with deep concern. ‘She had no warning?’

  ‘There was no doctor on the island,’ Morag said bleakly. ‘And, no, he had no warning. Everything seemed normal. She was planning on leaving for the mainland at thirty-four weeks but she didn’t make it. Anyway, her death meant that within a few weeks Dad lost his wife, his baby son and his job. All he had left was two-year-old Beth. But the waste of the deaths made him decide what to do. He brought Beth to the mainland, and managed to get a grant to go to medical school. That’s where he met my mother. They married and had me, but the marriage was a disaster. Everyone was miserable. By the time Dad finished med school, the government decided that leaving the lighthouse to look after itself-even if it was automatic-was also a disaster. The island was still desperate for a doctor, and the caretaker’s cottage was still empty. So Dad and Beth went home.’

  Grady’s face was thoughtful. ‘Leaving you behind with your mother?’

  ‘Of course.’ She shrugged. ‘Can you see my mother living on Petrel Island? But I did spend lots of time there. Every holiday. Whenever I could. Mum didn’t mind. As long as she wasn’t seen as a deserting mother, anything I did was OK by her. She’s not exactly a warm and fuzzy parent, my mother.’

  ‘I have met her.’

  He had. They’d moved fast in four weeks. Morag’s eyes flickered again to his face. Maybe this could work. Maybe he…

  But the eyes he was looking at her with were wrong, she thought, confused by the messages she was receiving. He was concerned as he’d be concerned for a patient. He was using a ‘Let’s get to the bottom of this’ kind of voice. He was gentleness personified, but his gentleness was abstract. For Morag, who’d had a childhood of abstract affection, the concept was frightening.

  ‘So you spent holidays with your father and Beth,’ Grady was saying, and she forced herself to focus on the past rather than the terrifying future.

  ‘Yes. They were… They loved me. Beth was everything to me.’

  ‘Where’s your father now?’

  ‘He died three years ago. He’s buried on the island. That’s OK. He had a subarachnoid haemorrhage and died in his sleep, and it wasn’t a bad way to go for a man in his seventies.’

  ‘But Beth?’

  ‘As I said, she’s a doctor, like me.’ Still she couldn’t say what was wrong. How could she? How could she voice the unimaginable? ‘My dad, and then Beth after him, provided the island’s medical care. Because there’s only about five hundred people living on the island, and the medical work is hardly arduous, they’ve kept on the lighthouse. too. Lighthouse-keeping’s not the time consuming job it was.’

  ‘I guess it’s not.’ Grady was watching her face. Waiting. Knowing that she was taking her time to say what had to be said, and knowing she needed that time. He lifted her hand again and gripped her fingers, looking down at them as if he was examining them for damage. It was a technical manoeuvre, she thought dully. Something he’d learned to do. ‘So Beth’s the island doctor…’

  ‘She’s great.’ She was talking too fast, she thought, but she couldn’t slow down. Her voice didn’t seem to belong to her. ‘She’s ten years older than me, and she was almost a mother to me. She’d turn up unexpectedly whenever I most needed her. If I was in a school play and my mother couldn’t make it-which she nearly always couldn’t-I’d suddenly, miraculously, find Beth in the audience, cheering me on with an enthusiasm that was almost embarrassing. And when she decided to be a doctor, I thought I could be, too.’

  ‘But not like Beth?’

  ‘Beth wanted to go back to the island. It tore her apart to leave to do her medical training, and the moment she was qualified she returned. She fell in love with a local fisherman and the island’s her home. She loves it.’

  ‘And you?’ he probed.

  ‘The island’s never been my home. I love it but I never thought of living anywhere but here.’ She attempted a smile but it was a pretty shaky one. ‘I guess I have more than a bit of my mother in me somewhere. I like excitement, cities, shopping…life.’

  ‘Like me.’

  ‘My excitement levels don’t match your excitement levels,’ she told him ruefully. ‘I like being a surgeon in a bustling city hospital. I don’t dangle out of helicopters in raging seas, plucking-’

  But Grady wasn’t to be distracted. The background had been covered. Now it was time to move on. ‘Morag, what’s wrong?’ His deep voice cut through her misery, compelling. Doctor asking for facts, so he could treat what needed to be treated.

  Her voice faltered. She looked up at him and then away. His hand tightened on hers-just as she’d seen him do with distressed patients. For some reason the action had her tugging away from him. She didn’t want this man treating her as he’d treat a patient. This was supposed to be special.

  This was supposed to be for ever.

  For ever?

  The prospect of for ever rose up, overwhelming her with dread. Somehow she had to explain and she had to do it before she broke down.

  ‘Beth has renal cancer,’ she whispered.

  She’d shifted her hand back to her side of the table. Grady made a move to regain it, but she tucked it carefully under the table. It seemed stupidly important that she knew where her hand was.

  He didn’t say anything. She swallowed while he waited for her to go on. He was good, this man. His bedside manner was impeccable.

  And suddenly, inexplicably, his bedside manner made her want to hit him.

  Crazy. Anger-anger at Grady-was crazy. She had to force herself to be logical here. To make sense.

  ‘I haven’t been back to the island for over a year,’ she managed. ‘But last time I went Beth seemed terrific. She had a bad time for a while. She married a local fisherman, and he was drowned just after Dad died. But she was recovering. She’s thirty-nine years old and she has a little boy, Robbie, who’s five. She seemed settled and happy. Life was looking good.’

  ‘But now she’s been diagnosed with renal cancer?’ His tone was carefully neutral, still extracting facts.

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘What stage?’


  ‘Advanced. Apparently she flew down to Melbourne last month and had scans without telling anyone. There’s a massive tumour in the left kidney, with spread that’s clear from the scans. It’s totally inoperable.’

  And totally anything else, she thought bleakly as she waited for Grady to absorb what she’d told him. He’d know the inevitable outcome just as clearly as she did. If renal cancer was caught while the tumour was still contained, then it could be surgically removed-removing the entire kidney-but once it had spread outside the kidney wall, chemotherapy or radio-therapy would make little difference.

  ‘She’s dying,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Her eyes flew up to his. He was watching her, his eyes gentle, but she wasn’t imagining it. There was that tiny trace of removal. Distancing.

  ‘I need to go to the island,’ she told him. ‘Now.’

  ‘Of course you do.’ He hesitated, and she could see him juggling appointments in his head. Thinking ahead to his frantic week. It was what she always did when something unexpected came up.

  Until now.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ he asked.

  Did she? Of course she did. More than anything else in the world. But…

  ‘I can call on Steve to cover for me for the next week,’ he told her. ‘If we could be back by next Sunday-’

  ‘No.’

  His face stilled. ‘Sorry?’

  And now it was time to say it. It couldn’t be put off one moment longer.

  ‘Grady, this isn’t going to happen,’ she said gently, as if this would hurt him as much as it hurt her. And maybe it would.

  ‘My sister’s dying. She has a little boy and she’s a single mother. She has a community who depend on her.’

  His face was almost expressionless. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘That it’ll be a lot…a lot longer than a week.’

  ‘Can you take more than a week off?’ His face changed back to the concerned, involved expression that was somehow turning her away from him. It was making her cringe inside. It was his doctor’s face.