‘I didn’t think you’d do it,’ Grant protested, remembering the skinny eleven-year-old who’d not only taken the dare but had capered naked about the top of the tower until her father had appeared on the street below and ordered her down.
‘How is your father, by the way? And your mother? Both parents well?’ he asked, as thinking of her parents reminded him of the lack of support for Katie. Illness might have prevented them coming out to be with her at this time.
‘Conversational switch, but I can see why you thought of my father,’ she acknowledged. ‘They’re both well. Though, with my usual lack of judgement, I managed to have a baby right in the middle of my father’s long-service leave. They’d planned a trip around the world—talked about it for years—and finally had it all booked and paid for when I discovered I was pregnant. They wanted to cancel it, but I couldn’t let them do that.’
The words were clipped, and suggested something else was bothering her as far as her parents were concerned.
He raised his eyebrows, and waited.
‘Mum wanted me to have an abortion and couldn’t understand why not, especially as Mark wanted to marry me.’
Mark? She’d been involved with someone called Mark? Terrible name.
Then Grant put aside his strange reaction to hearing Sophie’s father’s name and followed another puzzle.
‘Why did she want you to have an abortion if Mark wanted to marry you?’
Katie’s green eyes met his and a flicker of what must have been remembered temper flared briefly.
‘Mark wanted it, too. He had a list,’ she said flatly, as if she’d ironed all the emotion out of the subject long ago. ‘First abortion, second engagement, third decide what specialty I should pursue, and finally, if I behaved myself and toed the line—or should that be followed the instructions—we’d get married.’
Grant frowned and shook his head.
‘I must have missed something. He wanted you to have an abortion when you were getting married anyway?’
‘So it didn’t look as if we’d had to get married. In fact, on the list, babies came way down—ninth or tenth if I remember rightly.’
Her voice was so husky he suspected not quite all the emotion had been ironed out, particularly where babies were concerned. But another item on the list puzzled him as well.
‘And what about number three? Choose your specialty? Did you want to specialise? And was it any of his business, even if you did get married, what you chose?’
The eyes flashed sparks again.
‘Exactly!’ Katie said, straightening in her chair and looking more like the fighter he’d known in the past. Then she chuckled. ‘Actually, I can see his side of things. I must have driven him nuts, doing dribs of this and drabs of that. When I actually sat down and thought about it, although I’d always said I was doing the short courses—you know, the ones in Obs and Gyn, anaesthesia, surgery—to try them out before specialising, I realised I was preparing myself for something entirely different—for general practice and country general practice at that.’
She looked across at Grant and smiled so warmly he felt a jolt like an electrical current run through his body, causing a muscle spasm in his heart.
‘Remember Dr Darling? When we lived in Testament, even though there was always a hospital doctor, Dr Darling did everything for his patients—delivered the babies, diagnosed problems, whipped out the odd appendix, the lot. I realised that’s what I wanted to be, not just a token doctor but someone people could rely on—an old-fashioned kind of doctor with the welfare of the community and each individual at heart.’
He heard the commitment in her voice, and saw it shining in her eyes, and for a moment envied the passion she had for this dream she was pursuing. And though he had commitment by the bucketload, he hadn’t felt the fire of passion since he’d given up his dream of buying back the farm.
‘So you saw yourself as another Dr Darling?’ he teased, when he realised it was his turn in the conversation. But as he said the words, warning bells clanged furiously in his head.
Watch yourself, linking words like that, his common sense warned.
‘Was that Sophie?’ he asked, because Katie was looking at him as if the words had startled her as well and he wanted to divert her attention. ‘I thought I heard a cry.’
‘Her name’s not Sophie, you know,’ she said—showing the diversion had worked. ‘You can’t just walk in here, pull a name out of a hat and give it to my baby.’
‘I didn’t pull it out of a hat,’ Grant protested. ‘You mentioned it twice yourself. I’m happy for you to choose something else, even on a temporary basis, but we can’t keep calling her “hey, you” or “the baby”.’
A mulish expression, familiar from their shared youth, settled on Katie’s features.
‘I don’t see why not!’ Kate said crisply, determined to put Grant Bell in his place, then a knock on the front door put paid to this plan. She’d have to borrow money to pay for the meal, which was a little awkward if one had just been rude to the only available funding source.
‘I’ll get it. We’ll work out the financial ramifications later,’ Grant said, and walked away before she could object. Then the phone rang.
‘Single vehicle accident out on the highway,’ Narelle Speares, the nurse covering A and E at the hospital, said. ‘One person, the driver, in the vehicle. The ambulance is on the way out, with an ETA back at the hospital of an hour. I’ll give you a call when I get a definite time, but I thought you might like the extra warning to organise the baby.’
‘Thanks, Narelle. I appreciate that. I’ll call Tara now.’
She was still standing by the phone, uncertainty nibbling at her confidence, when Grant returned with a plastic bag trailing the tantalising whiff of delicious food.
‘Called out just as dinner hits the table?’ he asked, and she realised he’d have heard the phone.
‘No, I’ve time for dinner.’ She explained briefly but still hovered by the phone.
‘I’ll take the accident case when it comes in,’ Grant said. ‘After all, it’s right up my alley. Three years in A and E, remember.’
He’d found plates and set them on the table and was now opening the plastic containers, releasing more saliva-producing aromas, but Kate still hesitated.
‘Come and eat,’ Grant urged. ‘I’m starving and I can’t start without you.’
‘I’m coming,’ Kate assured him, then she lifted the receiver and dialled Tara’s number.
‘Hi, Tara, it’s Kate. Dr Fenton. Could you pop over in an hour and watch the baby for me?’
She accepted Tara’s assurances she’d be there, if not with relief then with less concern than usual, and sat down opposite Grant.
‘And Tara is?’ he asked.
‘A year-twelve student who babysits. She’s very obliging, comes in at night or weekends, stays over if she needs to and doesn’t charge the earth.’
‘And why are you so uncertain about this paragon?’
‘I am not!’ Kate retorted, but knew from his snort of disbelief she hadn’t said it firmly enough. ‘She’s easily distracted,’ she admitted. ‘Wants to study medicine, and will start a science degree as a preliminary next year. She loves to read and the problem is, once she’s stuck into a book—even something as boring as Principles of Medicine—she loses track of time and place.’
‘So you sometimes wonder if she loses track of a baby crying as well?’
Kate nodded.
‘Though she’s very good with the baby. She calls her “little scrap”. I really should do something about a name, or the poor thing will get confused.’
Grant saw Katie’s forehead furrow with worry and wanted to reach out to smooth the pale skin, then he remembered why he was here, ate some more food and asked the question he should have asked before getting sidetracked onto Tara.
‘If I’m going over to meet the ambulance, why are you organising a sitter for Sophie?’
He knew by the swift f
rown that Katie was about to argue the ‘Sophie’ thing, but then a more important matter apparently took over and she smiled.
‘I thought we could both go. Or that I’d make arrangements so we’d both be available if needed. It’s such a great opportunity, Grant, to prove that country hospitals can do far more than stabilising patients and sending them on to a regional centre, which is all Paul Newberry ever felt obliged to do. I honestly believe that’s happening too much and it’s detrimental to patient welfare, as well as being inconvenient and often downright disruptive to the family. With you here, if the patient has injuries a simple operation can fix, we can do it, with one of us acting as anaesthetist and the other as surgeon.’
‘We’re not talking major stuff here, are we?’ Grant asked, pleased to see Katie so enthusiastic but dubious about tackling too big a job with the limited facilities of a small country hospital at their disposal.
‘No!’ she snapped, so crossly he guessed she’d argued this before. ‘I’m talking about suturing or setting simple fractures, things a small hospital should be able to manage. I read back through old hospital files when I first came here, and a young man, injured in a fall from a horse on a Picnic Race day, died on the way to hospital, when a burr hole might have saved him.’
‘Burr holes I can do,’ Grant assured her, ‘though let’s hope this patient doesn’t need one. Eat up. I see your point. We’re getting back to Dr Darling, aren’t we? To doctors in those days doing far more varied work within their practice and the hospital.’
Kate forked up some food, savoured the taste for a moment, then leapt back into the conversation.
‘Exactly! Even in Dr Darling’s time, Testament used to have a series of young doctors at the hospital for a year, or in some cases less than that, so people relied on him far more than they would otherwise. Then, when Dr Darling retired, and the practice became vacant, I suppose the hospital doctor became too busy to do much more than stabilise people and send them on. I guess it was inevitable the hospital became a kind of rehab centre for patients after they’d been treated elsewhere.’
‘So how does all this affect your grand plan?’ he asked, amused by the enthusiasm lighting her eyes and deepening her voice.
‘To be the world’s best single mother and country doctor?’ She grinned at him. ‘Disastrously, that’s how. At the moment, the first ambition seems like an impossible dream—even adequate’s a battle—and as for doctoring…Once Paul left, and even before the baby arrived, I was flat out keeping up with the extra responsibilities at the hospital on top of my own work, so I haven’t had a moment to think about, let alone organise, things like well-patient clinics and all the other ancillary things I think a country GP could do.’
Kate paused, savouring the taste of the food, while her mind whirled with the ideas she’d been unable to share.
Until now.
‘If we can get some stability into the hospital position, then I know I can convince the board and nursing staff it’s worthwhile to do more here. Obstetrics would be a start. And most of the nurses would be happy to have more challenging work than they’re currently doing. Several have expressed interest in doing further training, especially in anaesthesia.’
‘Most of the nurses?’ Grant echoed, and watched her wide, full lips twist into a grimace.
‘Remember Sister Clarke who did the sex-education lectures when we were at school? The ones that made me even more confused than your lecture on how cattle did it?’
Grant chuckled, but felt his body respond to the question, remembering more the demonstration than the lecture.
‘Well, she’s still here and more than happy with the status quo. She’s one year off retirement and doesn’t want any hassles. In fact, the fewer really sick people she has in the hospital, the happier she is. A couple of weeks ago she wanted to send old Ma Chisholm to Craigtown because of a simple case of pneumonia, which cleared up in a few days when treated with IV antibiotics. Poor old Ma cried when Sister Clarke suggested it, and I had a no doubt much-talked-about argument with Sister before insisting Ma stay.’
‘Did you yell?’ Grant asked, remembering how Kate’s voice had always got louder and louder as she’d argued.
‘Just a bit!’ she admitted, smiling at him across the table. ‘I was having labour pains at the time, so I wasn’t at my most conciliatory. Though I did try being nice to start off with.’
‘I can imagine,’ Grant said, smiling as he pictured the confrontation between the pregnant woman and the formidable old nursing sister. ‘But I can understand what you’re saying. It’s better, especially for the sake of the patient’s family, for people to be treated close to home, though the clustering of specialist services in larger hospitals has reduced the opportunity for that to happen.’
‘I think we’re getting over-specialised,’ Katie said, her ready enthusiasm firing colour into her cheeks. ‘Look at orthopaedics, where you have knee, hip, hand and probably even finger sub-specialties. And are patients getting better service? I don’t think so.’
Grant, determinedly ignoring the attractiveness of pink cheeks, was about to point out that in some cases they probably were, but the phone rang and someone tapped on the front door, then footsteps in the hall suggested Tara felt enough at home to come straight in.
‘The ambulance should be there in ten minutes.’ Katie put down the receiver and turned to welcome Tara with a smile and a hug.
‘This is Grant Bell—your parents would remember his family. He’s gone from being the town bad boy to a respectable doctor, or so he tells me, and he’ll be taking most of my calls.’
‘So you won’t need me to mind the little scrap as often?’ Tara said, in such tragic tones that Katie laughed.
‘You can come and read my books any time,’ she offered, and Grant saw the affection in her eyes as she looked at the young student. ‘Admit it—they’re the attraction, not a boring baby. Speaking of which, there’s milk for her in the refrigerator, and we’ll just be at the hospital. We mightn’t be long, depending on what we find.’
‘Katie mightn’t be long—I’m supposed to be the one on call,’ Grant added, but Tara was already moving off towards the study.
‘She seems keen,’ he said, as Katie led the way out the back door where a concrete path crossed to the back of the hospital.
‘And starved for reading material,’ Kate told him. ‘As soon as she heard I was pregnant she offered her services, free, as a babysitter, which was comforting as I’d been trying, without much success, to find someone who’d be willing to come in on a daily basis once the baby arrived.’
‘But if she’s at school, she can’t do that,’ Grant said, trying to make sense of the arrangement.
‘I know that!’ Katie told him, coming to a halt at the back of the hospital. ‘I had this weird idea that finding someone to look after a small baby would be easy.’ She grinned at him. ‘Easy-peasy, in fact,’ she said, using the phrase she’d always used in her childhood. ‘But, boy, was I wrong. I’m quite convinced that some people, if they can’t be brain surgeons or super IT company bosses, don’t want to work at all. So, at the moment, the baby comes to the surgery with me during the day. Vi and Sally, the clerk, mind her there while I’m working, then evenings and weekends I’ve got Tara.’
‘Who might or might not hear the baby cry, depending on how engrossed she is in the alimentary system or whatever else she’s reading up on.’
‘Exactly,’ Katie said, then, as the approaching siren grew louder, she walked up the ramp and in through the rear entrance of the hospital.
‘It smells the same as it did when I broke my leg when I was twelve, and was in traction for four weeks of the summer holidays.’
Katie nodded.
‘I thought the same the minute I walked into the place, and at first assumed it was just a hospital smell, but then I realised it’s hospital mixed with oleanders—the line of shrubs on the other boundary. Though why anyone would plant something as potentially deadly a
s oleanders in hospital grounds is a mystery to me.’
Grant sniffed again, not able to distinguish anything except familiarity.
Kate looked at him, standing there in the brightly lit doorway, sniffing the air with the same intensity he’d always done most things.
Familiarity! That’s all that’s unsettling you, she told herself, though other bits of her knew it was more to do with the way his body had matured, and the twinkle in his blue eyes when he smiled at her, as if she was somehow special.
But they’d twinkled the same way at Tara, and without much effort she could recall the name of several high school girls who’d thought that twinkle had been just for them.
‘Come and meet people,’ she said, aware the sirens had stopped and their patient had arrived. Then she remembered it had been Narelle who’d phoned.
Boy, were Grant’s eyes about to twinkle when he saw the tall brunette.
For a moment, Kate regretted bringing him across, though that was stupid. If two doctors could offer better service to the patient, then why not use both of them?
CHAPTER FOUR
KATE watched closely, but though Narelle had the expected effect on Grant, who twinkled away at her, it was Narelle who overdid things, positively gushing with delight to meet the new man in town, though rumour had it she was all but engaged to the recently arrived area agricultural advisor.
And given that Grant was also engaged, shouldn’t he be twinkling less?
‘Actually, I might have got you here under false pretences,’ Narelle said, speaking to Kate but smiling at Grant. ‘The lad’s car was a write-off but he wasn’t badly injured. Concussion and a watching brief, I’d say. Dr Bell could see to him while you go back to the baby.’
It was a blatant dismissal and Kate hesitated, uncertain how to handle it, but when Grant said, ‘Don’t you trust me, Katie?’ she knew she had to go. She could hardly stay and appear to be overseeing his examination of the patient.
Though until a new doctor was appointed, the patients in the hospital were her responsibility, so whether or not Grant—or Narelle—liked it, she would stay.
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