Outback Surgeon

by Leah Martyn

  'Fine,' she responded dispiritedly. She'd been hoping against hope there would have been some word from Andrea by now. But apart from James Ferguson's brief advice to Nick that Stuart had been seen and that the specialist had put a rush on the test results, there'd been nothing.

  'It's too soon to have heard anything definite, Abbey.' Nick homed in on her worries accurately. He came in and closed the door.

  'I know.' She lifted a shoulder. 'Are you releasing Grant today?'

  'I thought so, yes. He's made a very quick recovery.' Nick parked himself on the corner of her desk. 'I've begun liaising with Fran Rogers about some physio for him. I gather she's already been in for a chat and told Grant what he can expect by way of rehab.' He arched an eyebrow. 'What's the status of the flu jabs for Wingara's senior population?'

  'Down on last year.' Abbey looked taken aback at his abrupt change of conversation. 'Why do you ask?'

  'There's been a procession of elderly folk going down with flu right throughout the district, according to Rhys and Diane. Some are being cared for at home by their relatives, but the hospital's receiving its fair share of patients as well.'

  Abbey dropped her gaze. Nick had placed himself on ward rounds for the entire week so she hadn't been near the hospital.

  'Ideally, they should all have had their flu vaccinations way back.' Nick spun off the desk and paced to the window. Turning, he folded his arms and frowned. 'What kind of preventative campaign did you run?'

  Abbey's chin came up. What did he think she was running here, the World Health Organisation? And surely he wasn't blaming her for people's failure to take responsibility for their own health? 'We had the usual reminders around the surgery and I put a piece in the local paper advising folk that the vaccine was here and it was time to get their shots,' she snapped defensively. 'It's up to individuals, Nick. It's not as though they can be corralled like cows and given a jab.'

  His dark brows drew together. 'I'm not so far removed from grassroots medicine that I'm unaware of that, Abbey. But perhaps it's time to think ahead and see what we could do for next year.'

  Next year? Abbey felt as if all her muscle supports had suddenly let go. Where was Nick Tonnelli coming from? He wouldn't be here next month—let alone next year!

  'What did you have in mind?' she asked in a tone of controlled patience.

  He took a few steps to spin out a chair and drop into it, leaning forward earnestly. 'I thought I'd have a word with Rob Stanton, get a couple of his documentary team out here.'

  'In what capacity?'

  'We could film a segment for the Countrywide programme.' Nick's gaze lit up with the enthusiasm of his plan. 'Feature several of the locals who have come down with flu, speak to them now, when they're recovering, and have them recount how debilitated they've felt and how they'll be sure to have their flu shots in future. We could get Rob to put it to air— say, March, April next year. What do you think?'

  Abbey had to admit the idea had merit but nevertheless voiced her reservations. 'People may not want cameras and microphones in their faces, though.'

  'Naturally, we'd need their permission.' Nick remained undaunted. 'But I'm sure Rob would do a sensitive, folksy piece that would have the right amount of impact. And he certainly owes you big time for that business over the debate,' he ended darkly.

  Abbey avoided his eyes, her mouth trembling infinitesimally at the mention of that particular day. The day her life had been altered for ever. 'All right.' She picked up the phone as it rang beside her. 'But I want to see the film clip before it goes to air. I don't want any of my patients being made to look like yokels. If Rob can work with that...'

  Nick shrugged. 'I'll run the idea past him and get back to you.'

  * * *

  They did the grocery shopping on Saturday afternoon, bickering lightly over the menu for the coming week. 'We could have a cooking session tomorrow,' Abbey suggested, stopping by the meat cabinet. 'Cook enough food for the week and store it in the freezer.'

  'Not on your life!' Nick's mouth turned down. 'I've got more to do with my Sunday that spend it in the kitchen, thank you.' Gently, he prised her fingers off the large tray of beef cuts.

  'Nick!' She grabbed his hand to stop him and was startled by the wild shiver of electricity that ran between them. Flustered, she met his eyes and saw an answering flare before he doused it.

  'Let's have a picnic tomorrow instead,' he suggested, his voice slightly uneven. 'I'll grab a couple of these T-bone steaks. We could find a spot by the river and barbecue them. How does that sound?'

  Abbey's heart wrenched. It sounded wonderful.

  By mid-week, Abbey was beginning to feel that as far as the Frasers were concerned, no news was definitely not good news. And when Nick took a phone call during their lunch-break and didn't return, her nerves began gathering and clenching like fine wires.

  She glanced at her watch. Heavens, he'd been gone for ages. Hastily, she rinsed the crockery they'd used for their simple snack and then, as if compelled by forces outside herself, went along to his consulting room and knocked.

  'Come in and close the door, Abbey.' Nick looked back from his stance at the window and beckoned her inside. He pulled a couple of chairs together and they sat facing one another. Silently, he reached out and took her hands, rubbing his thumbs almost absently over her knuckles. 'I'm afraid it's not good news about Stuart.'

  Her mouth dried. 'Was that Dr Ferguson on the phone?'

  'Yes. Stuart's been advised to undergo a radical prostatectomy.'

  Abbey paled and whispered. 'Oh, no...'

  'Jim called in a second opinion, Magnus Nahrung from the Prince Alfred. He agreed with Jim's findings.'

  'When will they do the surgery?'

  'He's down for tomorrow morning.' At Abbey's little gasp, Nick continued flatly, 'Apparently, Stu didn't want to hang about.'

  Abbey was aghast. 'He could be left impotent, Nick!'

  'Or dead within ten years if the cancer gets into his bones and he doesn't have the surgery.' Nick's response was brutally frank. 'Optimistic inaction certainly isn't an option. And whatever it takes, Stuart wants to stay with his family, Abbey. He told me that much.'

  Abbey took a shaken breath. 'Have they had counselling? Of course they have...' She grimaced, answering her own question. She swallowed the tears clogging her throat. 'Did Dr Ferguson say how Stuart and Andi are handling things?'

  Nick allowed himself a lopsided smile. 'With amazing calm and stoicism, he said. Whatever their own misgivings, they're putting a positive spin on things for the kids' sakes.'

  Abbey bit her lip. 'That sounds like them, doesn't it?' She spun up off the chair, wrapping her arms around her midriff. 'I wonder why Andi hasn't called?'

  'She'll have all her thoughts focused on her husband at the moment, Abbey. Frankly, outside the hospital staff, I doubt she'd have the energy to talk to anyone right now. But she'll know our thoughts are with her and Stuart.'

  'Yes.' Abbey swallowed hard and nodded. 'Yes, she will...'

  That night, Abbey woke from a dream with her heart pounding and a scream in her throat.

  In seconds Nick was in the doorway. 'Abbey— what's up? Are you ill?'

  She sat upright and snapped the bedside lamp on. 'I must've had a bad dream.'

  'More like a nightmare.' Nick's voice was gruff and he came further into the room.

  Abbey pushed a strand of hair away from her face. 'It was about Andi and Stuart...'

  'You're trembling.' The mattress gave under his weight, and then his arms were around her, cradling her against his chest. 'You can't let it get to you like this,' he murmured throatily. 'What happened to objectivity?'

  'Pie in the sky.' Abbey gave a shuddery little breath, snuggling into the hollow of his shoulder. 'You haven't been to bed,' she said, feeling the soft stuff of the track top he'd put on earlier, after his shower.

  He gave a hard laugh. 'I'm too wired to sleep. Stuart's been on my mind, too.'

  'What happened t
o objectivity?' She brought a hand up and stroked his face, loving the smooth sweep of his skin against her palm.

  'Out with the bath water.'

  'We're a fine pair, aren't we?' She smoothed back his eyebrow with the side of her thumb. 'What've you been doing?'

  'I tried to read. Ended up watching a late movie on TV.' His arms tightened. 'Try to get back to sleep now, OK?'

  'I don't think I can,' she sighed. Beside which, his scent was too disturbing. So was the warmth of his body against hers.

  'What should we do, then?' His voice was low, deeper than deep. It sought out hidden nerve ends, whispered along blood vessels and right into her heart.

  'We could make some cocoa,' she said throatily.

  'I hate cocoa.'

  Abbey could hardly breathe, arching against him as strong fingers touched where she so longed to be touched. 'Bedtime story?'

  'Mmm. About a man and a woman...' he said huskily, drawing her to her feet.

  Safe in his arms, Abbey closed her eyes, feeling every sense spring alive, the drugging drift of the sandalwood soap on his skin swirling around her like so many strands of silk.

  Her hands, with a mind of their own, smoothed over him, from the hardness of his shoulder muscles to curve lower, then round by the hollow of his hip, then on, dragging a primitive groan from his throat.

  'Abbey—enough!'

  'I'm sorry...' Stung by the reprimand, she pulled back, inflamed by the response of her own body.

  'God, no! That's not what I meant.' Nick spoke as if the air was being pushed out of his body. Tipping her face up, he stared down into her eyes. 'I want you,' he said deeply. 'I think you're wonderful. And beautiful. And perfect...'

  'I'm not perfect,' she countered softly, her hair glinting silver in the lamplight as she shook her head.

  'Perfect for me...' With a long shudder, he dragged air into his lungs. 'Do you want me as much as I want you?'

  Drawn by something in his voice, her gaze came up slowly, meeting such a naked look of longing it took her breath away. Desire, fierce and unrelenting, tore through her, annihilating at a stroke any doubts she might have had.

  'Don't you have too many clothes on?' Her huff of laughter was fractured, nerves gripping her insides like tentacles.

  With fingers that were not quite steady, he slid the lacy strap of her nightie off her shoulder. 'I wondered when you'd notice.'

  Abbey took a shaken breath, held captive by the look in his eyes. The first touch of his mouth on hers shattered the last slender threads of her control as he gathered her in.

  Their clothes seemed to fall away.

  He's beautiful. Abbey's breath lodged in her throat.

  Strong, lean, powerful, the sprinkle of dark hair tangling across the centre of his chest, arrowing down...

  In the warm glow of the lamplight, she touched him, her fingertips sensitised as they travelled over his body, his gasp of pleasure fuelling her own desire.

  And then it was Nick's turn. Using his hands like a maestro, he raised her awareness to fever pitch, his lips following with a devastating intimacy that left her reeling, a jangle of senses, of touch and taste and feeling.

  When they arrived at the moment when all was trust, she looked right into his eyes, the moment so tender, so precious. 'Sweet Abbey,' she heard him whisper, before they closed their eyes and the pleasure of giving and receiving claimed them, the intensity whirling them under and then as they reached flashpoint, rolling in long, flowing waves to envelop them.

  Afterwards, they lay for a long time just holding each other. Abbey could hardly believe it. She'd become Nick Tonnelli's lover. Oh, lord, she thought.

  She must have spoken the exclamation aloud for Nick frowned suddenly. 'Not regretting anything, are you, Abbey?' Lifting his head slightly, he smudged a kiss over her temple. 'It was beautiful—wasn't it?'

  'Beautiful,' she echoed. There was no point in saying otherwise. It would have been a lie. But what in real terms did being lovers mean? And where did they go from here? Abbey closed her eyes, her face warm against his naked chest. 'Nick...' Her voice was hesitant. 'We, um, didn't use anything.'

  He went still. 'I assumed—expected you to say something if it wasn't all right.'

  She placed a finger across his lips. It probably was all right. She was as regular as clockwork. 'It should be OK. I'm in a safe time.'

  Not two minutes later the phone rang. Nick swore. 'Stay there—I'll get it.' He reached for his track pants and dragged them on. He wasn't away long.

  'Well?' Struggling upright, Abbey pulled the sheet up to her chin.

  'MVA, sole occupant. ETA ten minutes. Doesn't sound too serious. I'll handle it. Curl up now and try to get some sleep, OK?'

  She took an uncertain breath. 'Yes...all right. Mind how you go.'

  He leaned over and knuckled her cheek. 'Always do.'

  Not always, Nick. The sobering little thought stayed with Abbey until she finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

  . Next morning she was up and dressed and in the surgery before Nick had even surfaced. Her excuse was that she had paperwork to get up to date, scripts to write...

  She worked for nearly an hour and then put her pen down. She'd have to see Nick the moment he got in. At the thought of what she had to ask him, her stomach somersaulted. And when, shortly after, she heard his steady footfall outside in the corridor, the soft closing of his surgery door, her heartbeat quickened alarmingly, almost choking her.

  The walk to his consulting room seemed endless.

  She paused for a moment outside his door then, taking a deep breath, she knocked and went in.

  'Abbey...' Nick wanted to spring from his chair and gather her in but something in her expression held him back. 'Meri said you'd left a note not to be disturbed.'

  'Reams of paperwork to catch up on.' She gave the semblance of a smile. 'How was your MVA?'

  Nick made a dismissive movement with his hand. 'Suspected drunk driver. Silly young kid still on his provisional licence. Geoff Rogers wanted a blood alcohol reading.'

  'Much damage?' Immediately Abbey's caring instincts were aroused.

  'Whiplash, gash to his head. I've just been over to check on him. He's a bit sick and sorry for himself. It's to be hoped he's learned his lesson about drinking and driving.' Abruptly, Nick stood to his feet, his eyes raking her face. 'Are you OK?'

  'Fine,' she lied. 'I just need you to—that is, I wondered if you'd mind signing this.' She slid her hand into the side pocket of her skirt and withdrew a slip of paper. 'It's a script,' she elaborated, handing it across to him.

  'Yes, I can see that.' He frowned down at the computer printout. 'It's made out to you.'

  She gave a strangled laugh. 'It's not ethical to sign one's own prescription, Nick. You must know that.'

  'It's for the morning-after pill.' His voice had risen and tightened. He looked up, his eyes unguarded. 'Why, Abbey?'

  Thoughts, all of them confused, clawed at her. 'Be- cause I don't want to take any chances,-' she said wretchedly.

  'You said you were safe.' He dropped back into his chair, as if his strings had been cut.

  'I'm as sure as I can be that I'm safe, but who can ever be that sure? I mean, we're both fit and healthy. There's every reason to think we could...' She stopped and faced him with uncertainty and wariness clouding her eyes.

  Nick felt something cold run down his backbone. He flicked at the piece of paper in his hand. 'Are you sure you want to go this road, Abbey? I mean, if we've made a baby together—'

  She interrupted him with a humourless little laugh. 'Nick, you're a free spirit. You don't want a baby. You like the unencumbered lifestyle you've chosen, otherwise you'd have changed it long ago.'

  His dark brows shot together. 'Don't presume to know how I want to live my life, Abbey,' he countered with dangerous calm. 'Are you sure this isn't about you and your own misgivings about parenthood?'

  Abbey was appalled. 'I love children,' she defended herself hotly. 'But I'd
prefer to have them when the time is right and with a man I love and who 1-loves me. A man I can rely on!'

  Nick recoiled as if she'd slapped him. For several moments he just sat there. Then with a savage yank he hauled his pen from his top pocket and added a bold signature to the prescription. 'There you are, Dr Jones.' He stood abruptly, as if to physically distance himself from what she'd asked him to do. Moving to the window, he reached out like a blind man towards the sill, gripping it with both hands, staring out.

  Shakily, Abbey picked up the slip of paper. Her composure was shattering. 'I'm just trying to be responsible, Nick.' She fluttered the words accusingly at his back and left quietly.

  Oh, God, why was his throat tightening like this? 'How could she think I wouldn't want a child?' he rasped under his breath. 'Our child.' He pressed his fingers across his eyes, as if staving off pain. What the hell was last night about then? His gut wrenched. How dumb can you be, Tonnelli? Obviously their love-making hadn't stopped her world the way it had stopped his!

  Abbey sat frozenly at her desk, her head buried in her hands. She felt sick to her stomach. Nothing she'd said to Nick had come out right. Remembering, she felt her heart lurch painfully. It had taken her under five minutes to completely destroy everything precious between them. Everything.

  When her phone rang, she reached out groggily and picked it up. 'Yes, Meri.' Her voice came out cracked and she swallowed thickly.

  'The Wilsons are here.' Meri kept her tone pitched confidentially low.

  'Who?' Abbey tried to concentrate.

  'Ryan and Natalie. They want their baby immunised.'

  'Oh, I remember now.' Abbey massaged a hand across her forehead, as if to clear her thinking process. 'We could probably fit them some time today, couldn't we?'

  'Actually, they wondered if you'd see them now. They're a bit edgy. I gather it's been quite a big decision for them.'

  'Oh, OK...' Abbey's brow furrowed. 'Give me two minutes and then show them in.' She replaced the receiver slowly.

  She'd have to pull herself together somehow. She had a full list of patients and the world could not be shut out indefinitely. As Meri knocked and showed the Wilson family in, she whipped her prescription off the desk and into her top drawer. Before the day got much older, she'd have to find a minute to nip out to the chemist.