by Leah Martyn
'No, of course not. Stuart has always been well and strong. It comes as a great shock to any of us when illness suddenly makes us vulnerable. But come on, now,' she said bracingly. 'Let's cheer up. I have a feeling Nick will want to speak to you and Stuart together after he's done Stu's medical.'
'I should fix myself up a bit, then.' Andrea gave a shaky smile. 'I don't remember whether I even washed my face this morning. And my hair must look like it's been shoved in the microwave.'
'Well, Doc, what do you reckon?' Stuart began zipping up his trousers.
'First things first, Stuart.' Nick stripped off his gloves and went to wash his hands. 'As a matter of urgency, we need to get your urine moving again.'
'Tell me about it.' Stuart sank wearily into his chair. 'What do I have to do?'
Nick's mouth clamped as he took his place back at the desk. 'It's more what I have to do, mate. But I think you'd be more comfortable over at the hospital for the procedure.'
'You mean you have to cut me?' Stuart looked alarmed.
'No surgery.' Nick shook his head. 'Not at the moment anyway. But for starters I'll have to do some fancy stuff with a flexible tube to drain your bladder.' His dark head bent, Nick scribbled something on Stuart's card. 'How would you be placed to make an immediate trip to Sydney?'
Stuart's eyes clouded. 'How immediate?'
'Tomorrow?'
'I'd have to think about it, Doc.'
'Stuart, we can't wait on this.' Nick was frank. 'You need to be under the care of a urologist. I'd willingly stay as your doctor but it's not my field.'
Stuart chewed on his bottom lip. 'Could I maybe see someone in Hopeton?'
Nick lifted a shoulder. 'You could, but the regular guy isn't due to take a clinic until next month.'
'And that's not soon enough?'
'Not from my information, no.' There was moment of intense silence and a creak of leather as Nick leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. 'To begin with, the specialist will want to do an ultrasound of your prostate or a biopsy or both. He'll follow this up with a PSA—a diagnostic prostate-specific antigen blood test.'
''Struth!' Stuart's large hand clenched on the desktop. 'Now you're sounding like the vet around one of my cows.' He gave Nick a very straight look. 'Does all this stuff have to be done because of my dad's history?'
'It would be remiss of me not to refer you.' Nick was guarded. 'Do you have brothers?'
'One. He lives in Hopeton.'
'Then he should get himself along to his doctor and have this test done as well.'
Stuart looked shell-shocked, as if the seriousness of his situation had just begun to sink in. 'I've a wife and two young kids, Nick.' His throat jerked as he swallowed. 'If I've got it—the big C, I mean—what are my chances?'
Nick's mouth pursed thoughtfully. 'No one's going to rush you into anything, Stuart. And if you're comparing your situation with your father's, don't. You told me he was in his late sixties when he was diagnosed and the cancer spread swiftly. You're a much younger man and you'll have options your dad didn't have. But look...' Nick spread his hands across the desktop '...don't let's jump the gun. Let's just get you over to the hospital and made more comfortable for a start.' He glanced at his watch. 'But first we'd better get Andi in here and tell her briefly what's going on. Then I suggest we schedule a proper talk for a bit later on today. Suit you?'
'Guess so.' Stuart rubbed a knuckled hand along his jaw, sending Nick a beseeching blue look. 'Does she have to know everything?'
Nick swung out of his chair and crossed to his patient's side, propping himself on the edge of the desk. 'I understand you want to protect your wife, Stu, but for both your sakes, Andrea needs to know what's going on. Besides...' Nick's mouth crimped at the corners in a dry grin '...Abbey would skin me alive if I let you off.'
Later that afternoon arrangements for the Frasers were discussed and clarified. And then things began moving swiftly.
As it was the larger of the two, they'd all gathered in Abbey's consulting room.
'OK.' Nick opened Stuart's file and began to refer to it. 'I've got you in to see James Ferguson on Friday morning, nine o'clock, Stuart. Is that going to give you enough time to get to Sydney and settle in?'
Stuart looked at his wife. 'Should do, shouldn't it?'
'We fly out on the noon plane from Hopeton tomorrow and it's only an hour's flight so, yes, that sounds good, Nick.'
'What about the children?' Abbey asked.
'Oh, we'll take them with us.' Andrea was unequivocal. 'We need to stay together as a family through this.' She sent a brave little smile around the assembled company. 'Don't we, Stu?'
For answer, Stuart reached across and took his wife's hand, bringing it across to rest on his thigh. 'This Ferguson chap, Nick...' Stuart looked uncertain. 'He won't be all stiff and starchy, will he?'
'Not at all.' Nick's pose was relaxed as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. 'I play squash with him. He's about your age, wife and kids. Laid- back kind of guy. You'll find him easy to talk to.'
'How did you get us in so quickly?' Andrea still looked a little bemused at the speed with which everything had been arranged. 'I mean, sometimes it takes months to see a specialist.'
Nick's hand moved dismissively. 'We exchange favours from time to time. It's no big deal.'
Andrea dropped her gaze. 'I thought perhaps Stu's case was desperately urgent or something...'
'It is in a way,' Abbey came in guardedly. 'For your peace of mind, you both need to know what's going on, rather than waiting in limbo until Stuart can be seen some time in the future. Wouldn't you agree?'
The Frasers' nods of agreement synchronised and they clasped their hands more tightly. 'Thanks, both of you.' Andrea's voice came out huskily and she bit her lips. 'And thank God you were here for my man, Nick—that's all I can say.'
'Fair go, love,' Stuart protested mildly. 'I would've got my act together eventually and consulted Abbey. I was just...'
'Chicken?' supplied his wife with a grin.
Everyone laughed, breaking the tense nature of the consultation.
'Well, if that's all you need us for, I think we'll get home.' Andrea looked expectantly at her husband who nodded and looked relieved that the taxing day was almost over.
'Right. Here's your letter of referral.' Nick handed the long white envelope over to his patient. 'I'll email Jim anyway so he'll have your history in advance. And we'll be in touch, Stu, when you get back.'
'You betcha.' Stuart held out his hand. 'Thanks, Nick. I don't know what else to say. And, Abbey...' His face worked for a minute. 'Thanks for the support. You don't know how much it means to us...'
When they'd seen the Frasers out, Nick closed the door and stood against it. He lifted his gaze and looked straight at Abbey.
Her mouth opened on a little breath of sound, glimpsing something in the sea-green depths of his eyes that alarmed her. 'You're worried, aren't you?'
Nick's mouth tightened. 'It shows, huh?' He shovelled both hands through his hair, moving across to stand with his back against the window-ledge.
'What did you find?' Abbey felt a curl of unease.
'Enough to wish Stuart had got himself checked out long before this.'
'Oh, no...' She sank down on the edge of the desk. Everything Nick was saying indicated that Stuart and Andrea could be facing some agonising decisions. 'Traditionally, we were taught that prostate cancer was a tortoise,' she said bleakly. 'So slow-growing that something else was likely to kill a man off first. Now...' She stopped and shook her head.
'Now we find it's a whole new ball game,' Nick picked up flatly. 'Traditional thinking is out the window. Heart attacks and strokes have lost some of their first-strike capacity and prostate cancer is right up there as a possible killer.'
Abbey's throat lumped. 'If it's bad news, how are the Frasers going to cope?'
Nick returned her stricken look without flinching. 'They'll cope, Abbey. They'll have to. And we'll do ev
erything we can to support them.'
'We shouldn't pre-empt the outcome of the tests, though,' she pointed out logically, clinging to the thread of hope.
Nick's mouth compressed into a straight line. 'We could be more optimistic if the father's medical history wasn't staring us in the face.'
Sweet heaven. Abbey tamped down the sudden dread in her heart. 'Poor Andi and Stu,' she said faintly. 'It makes you realise just how tenuous life is. How precious.'
'Hell, yes.' Nick sent her a searching look and felt a fullness in his heart he couldn't deny. Almost defensively, as if he needed to hide his emotions, he turned away and looked out of the window. A beat of silence. 'Did you have anything planned for the rest of the day?' he threw back over his shoulder.
Abbey looked blank for a moment and then rallied. 'I have a meeting over at the school. It seems we have a batch of "new poor" in Wingara—families who through no fault of their own are finding life very difficult.'
'Surely that's a matter for the social security people?'
'More often than not, it's the long way round a problem,' she pointed out with a sigh. 'Where possible, we prefer to handle things like this on a community level. And with that in mind, the deputy principal is liaising with several relevant organisations and yours truly to try to see if we can get a breakfast group going at the school, feed any child who's hungry for one reason or another.' Abbey stopped, her teeth biting into the softness of her lower lip reflectively. 'Although getting someone to run it might be a problem. Everyone's so busy with their own lives these days.'
'Mmm...'
Abbey looked at him sharply. Had he heard anything she'd said? His attention seemed to have dissipated like leaves in the wind. She straightened off the edge of the desk and stood upright. 'What about you?' she asked, taking the few paces to join him at the window.
He drew in a deep breath that came out as a ragged sigh. 'If you don't need me for anything, I think I'll go for a long run, slough off some of this gloom. After sending Stuart off to face who knows what, I feel carved up inside.'
'Oh, Nick...' She shook her head in slight disbelief. Nicholas Tonnelli feeling vulnerable? How wrong could you be about people? She'd had no idea the Frasers' situation would have got to him like this. With his kind of professional experience, she would have thought he'd have had objectivity down to a fine art—be, at the very least, case-hardened.
He gave a huff of raw laughter. 'Pathetic, isn't it?'
'No, it's not,' she came back softly. 'It's just being human.' She took a tentative step towards him. 'How can I help?'
'Just let me hold you.'
Her heart gave an extra thud. 'A medicinal hug?'
'Yes, please, Doctor.' Wearing a faintly twisted smile, Nick drew her unresisting body against his.
Pressed against the hardness of him, Abbey made a little sound in her throat, the clean familiarity of his scent surrounding her. After a long time, she pulled back and said shakily, 'I...should get to my meeting.'
'Should you?' His dark head swooped towards her, his mouth teasingly urgent against her lips, the corner of her mouth. 'Off you go, then,' he said, regret in his gruffness. 'I'll come out and see you off.'
They walked out to Reception together. 'Mind how you go.' Opening the outer door, he ushered her through.
Abbey sent him an old-fashioned look. 'I'll be sure to watch out for the teeming masses at the intersection. Enjoy your run.'
Nick's eyes glinted with dry humour. Propping himself against the doorframe, he watched her drive off with a fluttered wave in his direction. He huffed a frustrated sigh as he turned back inside. Hell, he was missing her already.
Wandering through to his room, he collected his bag and set the alarm. Was it possible to fast-track love? It must be. He certainly had a king-sized dose of it!
'Abbey...' He said her name softly. Already she'd stirred such powerful feelings in him, imbued him with a zest for the ordinary things of life, the precious, simple things that he'd all but forgotten.
CHAPTER TEN
At the meeting, Abbey tried to pay attention. But every now and again she was conscious of her thoughts wandering, becoming way too fanciful for comfort.
Was she in love with Nicholas Tonnelli? Colour whipped along her cheekbones at the mere thought. Was this how it felt—wild for the sight of him, the touch of him? Merely thinking about the possibility made her remember the night he'd massaged her feet. The night he'd carried her to bed...
Dreamily, she propped her chin on her hand. Just recalling the way they'd batted the loaded suggestions back and forth was doing crazy things to her insides, fuelling the slow crawl of nerves in her stomach—
'What do you think, Abbey? Feasible?'
'Uh...' Abbey snapped back to reality, surveying the expectant faces of the newly formed committee around her. She'd heard Rachel Petersen's voice but her question had become lost in the fog of Abbey's introspection. Hastily, she picked up her pen and twirled it, gaining time. 'Just run that past me again.'
Rachel raised a finely etched eyebrow. 'Are you OK, Abbey? You look a bit hot.' She gave a 'tsk' of irritation. 'It's probably this blessed air-conditioning again. It's never been adjusted properly.'
'I'm fine.' Abbey took a mouthful from the glass of water in front of her. 'Just a bit of a headache starting.' She drummed up a quick smile. 'You were saying?'
'I suggested we use the facilities at the school tuck shop for this breakfast club. It's just had a major revamp and, as it's on school property, we could keep an eye on things.'
'It sounds ideal.' Abbey linked the assembled group with a questioning look. 'If everyone is happy about that?'
Sounds of agreement echoed around the table. 'What kind of tucker would you suggest we serve the kiddies?' Geoff Rogers asked practically. 'It's winter now. Poor little blighters need something to warm their insides.'
'Porridge?' Fran, Geoff s wife, suggested.
'Not all kids like porridge,' Abbey said thoughtfully. 'But, of course, we could still offer it. Perhaps cereal and warm milk? Toast with a nourishing spread?'
'I'm sure we could manage fruit when so much is grown locally.' Rachel's voice bubbled with enthusiasm. 'We could even run to grilled tomatoes or scrambled eggs.'
'And what about a nice thick vegetable soup at lunchtime?' Fran suggested. 'Then, if the parents can't provide much for supper, at least the little ones will have something in their tummies.'
'It's not just the poorer families of the town who need the facility,' Rachel said earnestly. 'Some of the children who come on buses from the outlying districts have to leave home very early. I'm sure half of them aren't up to eating much breakfast, even if it's put in front of them. But by the time they get here to school, they're ravenous.'
'How are we going to judge numbers, then?' One of the members of the P and C committee came in for the first time.
'I do have some knowledge of this kind of venture from an inner-city practice where I worked once,' Abbey said, and realised everyone was looking speculatively at her. 'We may err on the side of ordering too much at first but things usually even out after a while. And basically...' she rocked a hand expressively '...if the leftovers are stored properly, there won't be much loss.'
'There's just one tiny thing.' Rachel sent a hopeful look around the table. 'Who's going to run it? We need someone who's used to catering for numbers but who can order economically at the same time. Funding is available but we certainly can't waste it.'
There was a beat of silence while everyone thought, and then the obvious solution hit Abbey like a bolt of lightning. Looking pleased, she snapped her diary shut. 'What about Ed Carmichael?'
There was a momentary hush. And then a babble of excited voices. 'I must say, I'd always thought in terms of a woman running the scheme.' Geoff stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'But crikey! Ed's a natural when you think about it. He's been a camp cook for the shearers. And there's no doubt we could rely on him to do the right thing by the kids.'
&
nbsp; 'I often see him around the town.' Someone else sought to have their say. 'He always looks very neat and clean.'
'And I know Ed would do a wonderful job.'
Abbey's eyes were lit with warmth. 'Plus I'm almost sure he'd want to give this service to the children on a voluntary basis.'
There were smiles of satisfaction and little nods of approval. 'I'll approach Mr Carmichael officially, then.' Rachel positively beamed. 'We could have our children eating properly within a matter of hours. Thank you, everyone, for coming. A most gratifying result.'
Abbey drove home slowly. It was almost dusk and she wondered whether Nick was back from his run. Her stomach tightened. She needed him to be back, she realised with a little jolt. Switching off the engine, she climbed out of her vehicle and went into the house by the back door.
A wonderful aroma drifted out from the kitchen. 'Nick?' She walked quickly through the laundry, not believing the joy she felt. He was planted firmly at the stove, cooking.
'Hi.' He turned his head as she came through and they shared a tentative smile. 'Good meeting?'
Abbey nodded. 'Very productive. Looks like you've been productive as well. What are you making?'
'Vegetable curry.' He went back to his stirring. 'I'll do the rice now you're home.'
Home. Abbey's heart slammed against her ribs. If only she and Nick were sharing a real home together. As a couple. In love...
'Oh—OK. I'll just, um, get a shower, then.' Heart pounding, she slipped past him, her thoughts whirling. So what am I going to do about you, Nick? she fretted, stripping off her work clothes and stepping under the jets of warm water.
'Oh, lord,' she whispered, feelings of apprehension rushing at her. How could this have happened? In so short a time and with her hardly realising it, she'd come to depend on him so much. In all the ways that counted. But he had a life in Sydney. A life in the fast lane.
A life she could never be a part of.
The week dragged to a close.
On Friday at four o'clock, Nick poked his head into Abbey's consulting room. 'I'm off to do a ward round.'