by Lucy Clark
Iris shifted in her chair again, putting her hand onto her wineglass as though getting ready to make her escape. Dex didn’t want her to leave, not yet. He tried to think of the last thing she’d said. That’s right, she’d made some comment about women standing in line for him.
‘You do know that the women in that line weren’t serious.’
‘Pardon?’ Iris raised an eyebrow at him. He’d sat there for a good minute or two not saying a thing and then just when she was about to leave, he threw out a comment like that!
‘The women. The kissing. It didn’t mean anything. It was just for a good cause.’
‘To raise funds for an ambulance, and it was good that we succeeded in that cause. Joss has said the ambulance should be here in two months’ time. However, I also remember a lot of those women getting quite impatient whilst waiting for you to kiss them, as well as a lot of them leaving the line when Bluey took his turn. Admit it, Dex. You’re more than happy to have the women of this community salivating for you.’
He chuckled at her words. ‘Charming image,’ he murmured, which only seemed to make her angry.
Iris stood, wineglass forgotten in her haste to leave, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Dex stood too. She felt he was crowding her when in reality there was actually quite a bit of physical distance between them. ‘You take nothing seriously,’ she huffed. ‘It’s pointless trying to have a proper conversation with you.’
Dex stared at her, his words soft and clear. ‘It’s difficult trying to have any conversation with you.’
Iris glared at him. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It just means that during this past week, any time I walk into a room, you walk out of it. You’re elusive, you’re closed off and that’s fine—to a point—but we’re colleagues, Iris. This is a very small community. We’re going to need to have some conversation at some point.’
‘We’re talking now.’
‘And that’s good, but during the week would be helpful, too.’
‘I didn’t walk out of the room when we had our business meeting.’ Iris wasn’t at all sure what to say, mainly because Dex was right. What she hadn’t realised was that he’d not only noticed her keeping her distance from him but that he cared enough to comment on it. It appeared out here in the outback, there was no beating about the bush. Honesty reigned.
‘That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You’re here for six months and that’s great. Sure, we’d all love it if you stayed longer, mainly because the children of this community will benefit from having a specialist here, but that’s beside the point.’
‘Which is?’
‘I don’t go around proposing to women at the drop of a hat.’ Dex looked down at the ground for a moment and Iris was surprised at the sincerity of his words. ‘I wanted to apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable. It was a joke and now I realise a rather bad one.’ He met her eyes, even though it was now rather dark and difficult to read her expression. ‘At that time, I had no idea you were a widow.’
Iris stared at him, uncertain what to say, but he continued.
‘I’ve been trying to apologise all week. I’m glad I finally got the opportunity.’
‘How did you find out? Did you ask Melissa? Joss? Did you discuss me with them?’
She was still mad. Dex wasn’t quite sure why. He’d made a mistake. He’d apologised. Those tactics had helped him through countless situations in the past and he wondered if he’d used up his ‘charisma’ quota for the day.
‘No. Neither of them said a word.’ He glanced away for a moment before meeting her gaze. ‘I read your résumé. Your marital status was on there.’
‘You did what? You don’t think that’s Joss’s business? He does own the clinic after all. Isn’t it his business who he hires and why?’
Dex frowned for a moment. Perhaps Iris didn’t realise he was as much a financial partner in the clinic as Joss was. It was true that Joss had more of a flair for the day-to-day running and management side of things but where staffing was concerned, he had just as much right to read a résumé as Joss. Right now, as he watched Iris he realised there was more going on than he’d initially realised.
‘What your résumé didn’t say was how your husband died or how much pain you might have felt during the past four years or how deeply the whole situation had affected you.’
‘No, it doesn’t, so stop digging around, Dex. Stop trying to get to know me. I know your type. You’re a love ’em and leave ’em type of guy. You hold yourself aloof, not only from relationships with women but from relationships with everyone. You forget that I know Melissa. I was the friend she leaned on when her parents died. I was the friend who supported her when she went looking for her birth mother. I was the friend she confided in when she discovered she had a brother, and I was the friend who passed her the tissues when you initially refused to see her.
‘Now, I know you’re trying to make good by getting to know her and I hope you do because she is one amazing woman who was there for me when I needed her most.’ Iris’s voice cracked on the last words. She hated Dex for making her feel so vulnerable.
Dex instinctively put out a hand to offer comfort but she shrugged it away.
‘Don’t touch me. I don’t like being touched.’
‘Why? People should be touched. It’s part of the healing process…and it’s something I’m learning myself.’
‘You? You who are surrounded by women all the time?’
Dex made a point of looking around him. ‘I only see one woman.’ For some reason he had a burning need to get through to her, to let her see he wasn’t the Casanova she thought he was. ‘Look, I know I’m not perfect and I don’t profess to be, but I have issues, too. Melissa’s probably told you I haven’t spoken to my parents in over two years. I had no idea I was adopted until I received Melissa’s first letter. My parents never told me, so for thirty-one years I firmly believed I was their son. I believed my younger brother and sister were my siblings. I was lied to and I know all about cutting yourself off and not wanting anyone to touch you—whether it be physical or emotional. You can be surrounded by people and still be quite alone simply because you don’t let any of them touch you. Not the real you. Not the person you’ve hidden away inside.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
Dex took a step away from her and raked a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because I don’t like it that you don’t like me.’ He shrugged and smiled. ‘I guess I’m used to being liked but I also know I’m not perfect. I’ve been hurt in love before. I’ve been betrayed by the ones I love. I also had an accident a few weeks ago—almost a month ago now. I lost a lot of blood but thankfully Melissa was there to help me out. Still, at times like that, at those really dark, dark times, it makes a person think. It made me realise that I couldn’t keep running from my problems.’
‘You think I’m running?’
Dex spread his arms wide, indicating the surroundings. ‘You’re in Didja. Nine times out of ten, people come here to escape from something.’
‘And tell me, Dr Freud. What am I escaping from?’
Dex shrugged, not caring that she was still mad at him. If being mad helped him to get to know her better, then for the moment, so be it. ‘My first guess would be whatever happened to your husband. It must have been a traumatic death to leave you with such deep scars.’
Iris’s mouth went dry and she started to tremble at his words. Her vision had blurred a little due to the tears she was trying to control. She felt her knees begin to buckle and she clutched wildly for the support of one of the chairs but couldn’t find one. Dex immediately put out his hand to support her and she grabbed it. ‘How?’ Her words were barely above a whisper, her body trembling with disbelief. ‘How did you know about my scars?’
CHAPTER FOUR
DEX was astounded, not only at the complete emotional switch around but at the anguish and pain in her words.
He’d only
been employing a bit of basic psychology but it appeared he’d literally hit the nail on the head. Iris was breathing rather fast, her eyes wide with confusion as she looked up at him. The trembling was getting worse and Dex tried to ease her back into the chair but it appeared she couldn’t move.
Dex wasn’t sure exactly what was happening or what he’d actually said to bring on this reaction from her, but what he knew right then was that she needed him—and it felt so good to be needed. His birth mother hadn’t wanted him, Catherine hadn’t needed him and his parents had lied to him. Yes. It felt good that he could do something to help someone else. Dex gathered Iris into his arms, showing her that he did indeed care about her.
‘I’ve got you. Shh. It’s OK. Lean on me.’
Iris closed her eyes, her mind whirring out of control with so many different emotions. How on earth had Dex figured out about her scars? One minute she was cross with him because he was so good-looking, so dynamic and was affecting her way too much and the next she was in his arms, trembling and unable to control the feelings coursing through her.
He’d said he hadn’t talked to Melissa or Joss about her past. He’d read her résumé and discovered she was a widow. How had he put two and two together and come up with four? Were her scars obvious? Could he feel them beneath her clothes?
‘I’m always so careful. I always make sure I’m covered. People stare and then they…they…’ She hiccuped as though trying to control tears that were threatening to escape.
‘They what?’ he encouraged softly. So that was it. Iris had scars—physical scars on her body. It was why she dressed the way she did, to cover the scars. When he’d mentioned scars before, he’d been speaking metaphorically, not literally. His heart swelled with compassion for this woman who had obviously been through something extremely traumatic if she actually had physical scars.
He only hoped she’d let him help her. He knew she wouldn’t think he was the first choice when it came to finding a reliable friend to confide in but he wanted to help because this woman, this unique and remarkable woman, was affecting him in a way no other woman had. Not even Catherine.
‘People become sympathetic. Poor Iris. Look at her scars.’ Bitterness tinged her words and Dex wanted to wipe it all away, to let her know that it didn’t matter, but he really had no idea what to say. He didn’t want to sound patronising, he didn’t want to preach about something he knew nothing about, so he simply stood there, holding her, letting her lean on him.
‘Or they want to know how it happened. They want to talk about it, to help me, when all I want to do is forget about it and I can’t. I can’t.’ She broke on the last two words and the tears started to flow. Deep tears filled with complete anguish. She buried her face into Dex’s chest and sobbed. He held her tight, rubbing his hands lightly up and down her back in a soothing manner.
He could feel the slight roughness of her skin through the shirt. She had scars on her back. She said she had them on her arms and he wondered just how much of her body had been injured. His medical mind worked quickly to come up with possible scenarios for such extensive scarring and he finally settled on burns. Scars like this could only have been caused by fire. He’d been an A and E specialist for so long, he’d seen and treated everything.
He would patch people up, get them breathing again, get them sorted out. He would resuscitate and intubate, he would debride and bandage. He would do his job and then send them on their way to the ward or to a specialist or to Theatre. It was the type of medicine he’d always liked—fix ’em up and move ’em out. It had suited his personality of being in the thick of things but still holding himself apart. It was another after-effect of the lessons he’d learned with Catherine. Don’t give too much of yourself, keep your heart well and truly locked away and you won’t get hurt.
So that was what he’d done at the hospital. He’d been nice and polite to everyone. He’d joined in with jokes, he’d gone on dates but at no time had he ever made a serious commitment to anyone. He’d been like a leaf on the wind.
That had been until he’d come to Didja. The people of this community didn’t allow doctors to treat them as numbers, or as just another patient. They were people in their own right and they demanded their doctors acknowledge that and get involved not only in the community but in other people’s lives. Some of his closest friends were also his patients, which made the level of treatment at the Didja Clinic that of first-class quality.
Dex had changed a lot in the past two years. Even he could see it. Didja had been good for him and he’d come to realise that offering compassion, offering a listening ear, showing people he really cared could also go a long way in restoring them to full health.
It made him wonder what type of care Iris had received. Had her treating doctors viewed her as a person or just a number? Emotional wounds took far longer to heal than physical wounds, something he was well aware of himself. Had Iris been nurtured through her healing process? With the way she was sobbing now, he had his doubts.
Dex stopped rubbing her back, not wanting her to think he was being insensitive. He still held her close, though the tears were now starting to subside. He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and pulled one out, getting it ready to offer.
‘I want to forget about what happened,’ she said softly, her words a little more controlled then before. ‘I don’t want to forget Tim but I want to forget what happened. I want the memory—the vivid, Technicolor memory—of that awful day to be wiped away.’ Iris eased back, sniffing as she raised red-rimmed eyes to look at Dex.
‘Tim was your husband?’
‘Yes.’
‘How long were you married?’ His questions were soft and caring.
‘Two years.’ Iris swallowed and accepted the handkerchief he offered. She gave him an embarrassed smile. ‘I must look a sight.’
Dex shrugged. ‘Even if you do—and I’m not saying I agree with that statement—who’s going to know?’
‘You.’ Iris eased from his arms and sat in the closest chair. ‘I can’t believe I had such an outburst.’
‘I wouldn’t call it an outburst as such.’ Dex sat next to her, bringing his chair a little nearer.
‘I would.’
Dex shook his head. ‘Well, it was a fairly tame one.’ He leaned back in the chair and looked up at the starry sky. ‘When I found out I was adopted, after my parents confirmed the contents of Melissa’s letter to be the truth, I had an outburst and it was nowhere near as sedate as yours.’
Iris was intrigued. ‘What did you do?’
‘I decided to wrap my very expensive Ferrari around a tree.’
‘On purpose?’
Dex exhaled slowly. ‘At the time, I wasn’t sure. I was just so angry, so out of control that I wanted to get away from everyone and everything and so I drove. I just drove and drove, going faster around the corners, heading away from civilisation and everything it stood for. The power of the machine, the noise from the engine. I wanted it all to wipe out my thoughts, my feelings—and then I woke up in hospital.’
‘You don’t remember the accident?’
‘No, but from the pictures Joss showed me of my car, which was literally wrapped around a tree, it’s a complete miracle I survived.’
‘You’re lucky.’
‘Lucky I survived or lucky I don’t remember what happened?’
‘Both.’ Iris couldn’t believe how nice, how understanding, how human Dex was being. Melissa had told her that there were more layers to him than just the surface ones and she couldn’t believe he was letting her see them. Perhaps he felt compelled to share given that she’d all but soaked his T-shirt with her tears. ‘But more that you don’t remember.’
‘Do you still have nightmares about the fire?’ Again his tone was soft, caring and she even thought she detected a small hint of worry. Dex? Worried about someone other than himself?
Hang on. He’d said fire. He might have glimpsed her scars but he couldn’t know everything. Iris frowne
d. ‘How did you know—’
‘About the fire?’ He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder and smiled that gorgeous hundred-watt smile of his. ‘I’m a man of hidden talents.’
‘Lis and Jos—’
‘Haven’t said a word,’ he quickly interrupted. ‘They’d never betray a confidence.’
Iris’s mind worked quickly. She remembered the way Dex had held her, the way he’d soothed, the way he’d gently stroked her back. Her eyes widened imperceptibly. Dex must have felt the scars. Through the thin cotton shirt, he would have been able to feel her skin and the angry distortions left there from the burns. He’d touched her scars and then…then after that, she remembered him just holding her.
He’d felt how bad her scars were and been repulsed by them. Right now, he wasn’t making any effort to touch her so that was obviously all there was to it. Whatever attraction she might have felt towards Dexter could now be forgotten because there was no way in the world this handsome, gorgeous man was going to want someone as physically scarred as she was, especially when he had no end of smooth-skinned women throughout the community throwing themselves at him.
‘Of course they wouldn’t,’ she agreed. She’d momentarily forgotten that Dex was an A and E specialist and had no doubt come across his fair share of burns victims in the past.
‘And neither will I. You have my professional word on that.’
‘Thank you, Dex.’ Iris stayed where she was, still unsure whether her legs would support her. ‘So…you, uh, crashed your very expensive car and woke up in hospital. Then what?’
Dex could see she wanted to change the subject, to take the focus away from herself, and he was happy to oblige. He wanted Iris to be able to trust him, to talk to him, to let him help her through the grief she’d been repressing for far too long. She’d no doubt grieved for her husband and the loss of his life, but she hadn’t grieved for herself. Instead, after healing, she’d probably thrown herself back into work and forgotten that she had emotions that needed to be addressed as well.