by Lucy Clark
Phemie was a little puzzled and swallowed over the dryness in her throat. ‘What are you saying? That you 1…?’ She broke off, not sure she wanted to know the answer to that question.
‘Like you?’ Gil finished for her, and she opened her eyes to look into his mesmerising brown depths. ‘Yes. I like you a lot.’ The question remained as to what she felt for him. Was it lust? Was it like? Was it more?
‘Everything’s happening so fast,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not the marrying kind, Gil.’
He raised an eyebrow at that. ‘A modern girl? Preferring to live together?’ He was definitely surprised.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not that.’ She dragged strength from somewhere deep down inside and forced herself to push away from him, to put distance between them both emotionally and physically.
‘I’m confused.’
‘I’m not the marrying kind, Gil, because I plan never to marry.’
‘Not ever?’ he asked with incredulity.
‘Not ever,’ she confirmed, and with that she turned on her heel and walked away from him, leaving him stunned.
Ten minutes later Ben, the RFDS administrator, came to look for him.
‘Problem?’ Gil asked as he looked up from the desk in his room where he’d been engrossed in some articles. He’d had a quick wash and changed his clothes yet after Phemie had dropped such a bombshell, especially since he’d confessed his interest in her, he’d retreated back into his work, needing to pull himself together in order to face her again.
‘Callout. You right to go?’ Ben asked, but Gil was already on his feet, reaching for his hat and sunglasses.
‘Lead the way.’ As he followed Ben to the front of the house, he found Phemie on the UHF radio.
‘Is Rajene there, over?’ she asked.
‘Dad’s gone to get her now, over,’ a young man’s voice replied.
‘OK, Peter. We’ll be there as soon as we can, over and out.’ Phemie put the handset down and turned to face Gil, hoping her knees would continue to support her because when he was around, she often had trouble standing.
‘What’s happening?’ Gil asked.
‘Gemma Etherington’s about to have her baby. We need to provide medical support until Sardi can pick up Melissa and Iris from the Didja clinic.’
‘Melissa and Iris are…?’ Gil waited.
‘Melissa’s an OB/GYN and Iris, Dex’s fiancée, is a paediatrician.’
‘Of course. I do recall him mentioning her now.’ Gil nodded and Phemie was pleased to see he was in full professional mode. ‘Where do we begin?’
‘I’m going to quickly make a Thermos of coffee for me, tea for you, change my clothes, pack my medical bag and then we’ll be ready to go.’
‘So there’s no rushing out the door in a wild flurry of excitement?’
Phemie couldn’t help but smile as she headed into the kitchen. She filled the kettle from the water cooler before switching it on, knowing without turning around that Gil had followed her. Her ability to sense his presence was becoming acute. ‘You’ve been watching too many movies, Professor. Whilst Sardi keeps the plane checked and ready to go, there are still a few last-minute flight details she needs to go over so we have about five to ten minutes before we’ll be in the air.’
‘Right. Good.’ He pointed towards the bedrooms. ‘You go change. I can make the drinks.’
‘It’s OK. I can do—’
‘I’m here to help, remember.’ He pinned her with a glare, his words calm. ‘So let me help.’
Phemie shrugged and decided it was easier to retreat than argue.
‘Pheme?’ Ben called out. ‘Will you be needing Madge at all? She’s about twenty minutes away from the Etheringtons’, having been out at the Prices’, doing an immunisation clinic with Dex today.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she called back. ‘With Gil along, plus Rajene and knowing Melissa and Iris will be on their way, I think we’ll have more help then we can poke a stick at.’
‘Righto. Sardi will be ready in five,’ Ben replied.
‘Go.’ Gil pointed in the direction of the bedrooms. Phemie did as she was told and when she returned, it was to find the drinks made and her medical bag packed. Gil and Ben were discussing the case.
‘She already has six children?’ Gil’s eyes almost bugged out of his head at Ben’s words.
‘This is number seven,’ Phemie added as she peered into the bag, quickly checking things through. ‘Right, Gil. Grab the drinks and let’s go.’
They headed out to the airstrip, where Sardi was in the cockpit going through her final checks. ‘Back so soon?’ she joked as they boarded. Phemie went through the routine of pulling up the steps and ensuring everything was locked down and secure.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked Gil.
‘I’ve been better,’ he said truthfully, and she didn’t miss the different meaning of his words.
As she wasn’t yet ready to discuss it any further she said, ‘I mean with the flying.’
‘I knew exactly what you meant, Euphemia. I chose to misinterpret. I’m fine with the flying. Thank you for your concern.’ He was brisk and polite and she knew she really couldn’t expect more. He’d all but laid himself on the line, telling her he was interested in her, and she’d pushed him away. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in him—quite the contrary—and that was the main problem. She wanted to see where this attraction might lead but if it lead anywhere towards marriage, towards children then she would end up hurting them both. No. She’d made her decision years ago and whilst the fleeting thought that she was already in the process of falling in love with Gil had passed through her mind, not acting on those emotions would no doubt save them both in the end. It was better that by the end of his week here that they part as friends, rather than enemies.
Phemie sat down and clipped herself into her seat. Moments later, they were in the air and when she looked across at Gil, it was to find him peering out the window. ‘I’m sorry, Gil.’
‘About?’
‘What I said before. It was bad timing and I didn’t mean any offence.’
‘Is it true?’
‘That I don’t want to marry? Yes.’
‘Then don’t be sorry. At least you’re honest. A man can’t help but admire honesty in a woman even if she’s saying things he doesn’t want to hear.’ He turned and continued to stare out the window.
Phemie tried to take his words at face value but her mind was in a whirl. Was he just saying that to be nice? As he’d been married once and it had ended in pain, she’d been quite surprised when he’d intimated marriage earlier on. Was that what he really wanted? Did he really plan to marry again? If he was willing to take such a risk again, surely that should indicate his feelings for her were indeed growing stronger with each passing day.
But what about the distance factor? They lived on opposite sides of the world. How could they possibly get married, or even begin to think along such lines when there was the huge obstacle of geographical location to consider?
It was probably just as well she’d admitted the truth to him. Telling him she planned never to marry was the right thing to do and now they could go back to their own lives at the end of this week, him in his country, she in hers.
It couldn’t matter that she thought him the best man in the world. It couldn’t matter that she wanted him to hold her hand, to be near her, to kiss her for the rest of her days. It couldn’t matter that she had fallen in love with him because if she did let it matter, she would disappoint him in so many different ways. It simply wouldn’t be fair to commit to a relationship, to marriage with Gil when she knew there was a risk of having a Down’s syndrome child.
Then again, Gil had been wonderful with Anthony. He seemed to accept people for who they were, from whatever walks of life they had come. What would happen if they did get married, if they did have children and if one of those kids had Down’s? She glanced over at Gil who was still peering out the window, exc
itement etched on his features. How would he react? She presumed, from what she knew of him, that he would embrace that child—any children they had—with the utmost love and conviction. When she thought of it like that, it certainly made a very appealing picture.
Gil was definitely challenging her, making her think of how different things could be. She’d always thought it would be safer not to risk having children, not to risk passing on the TT21 gene, but even the fact that she was now thinking about the possibility of an alternative life from the one she’d mapped out for herself illustrated just how much Gil was influencing her life.
For now, though, Phemie decided it was best to leave any other attempts at conversation and instead focused her mind on Gemma Etherington’s possible needs.
When they were close to landing, Phemie ran through what would happen next so Gil wasn’t floundering. ‘As soon as we land, we’ll be driven by ute to the homestead and then the real fun begins.’
‘I completely comprehend the situation as it pertains to the medical emergency but I have to confess it’s quite thrilling to be flying to someone’s house to help them out.’ He shook his head in wonderment. ‘England is so small. Australia is so vast.’ There was excitement in his tone and Phemie couldn’t help but smile, pleased he seemed to have let go of their previous conversation. She knew it was by no means over but for now it was as though a medical truce had been called. They needed to be able to rely upon each other for the sake of their patient.
‘I know how you feel.’
‘You do?’ He seemed surprised.
‘Of course. We’ve all felt exactly the same way when we head off on our first call with the RFDS. Flying to a patient’s home is different from driving there or having them come to you. It does become second nature to you after a while because it’s a part of your everyday life. Although having you here, with your exuberance, helps us all to rekindle the love of what it is we do.’
‘Good.’ Gil nodded. ‘Glad to be of help even before we’ve hit the ground.’
‘Right…well, as Ben mentioned, Gemma’s having her seventh child but back in January when she was about twenty weeks, she had a few problems. There were a few ante-partum bleeds but Melissa managed to sort everything out. Gemma, however, was put on complete bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy. Rajene, who’s a retired midwife from Tarparnii, lives next door and has been performing daily checks on Gemma and the baby, giving the necessary steroid injections and any other treatments Melissa’s prescribed.’
‘A Tarparniian midwife, eh?’ Gil was clearly impressed. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting Rajene.’
‘Of course. I keep forgetting you worked in Tarparnii and with Dex, no less.’
‘You are correct. I went there not long after the death of my family.’
‘Your Phemie was stunned. ‘You didn’t say…’ She stopped and waved away her words. ‘I’m sorry, Gil. It’s none of my—’family?’
‘Business?’ He finished for her, his eyes dark and cloudy as he spoke. ‘When I told you the other night that my wife had died in a plane crash, I left out the other detail, the one which still grips my heart every time I bring it up.’
‘Gil. You don’t have to—’
He held up his hand to stop her. ‘I want you to know, Euphemia. With the way my feelings for you are intensifying, you have a right to know.’
‘Gil—’
‘Shh. You see, June, my wife, was travelling home, having taken our eight-month-old baby girl to see her family in Italy. My Caitie, my beautiful Caitie. June was holding her on her lap…’ The rest of his sentence hung in the air and with both of them being emergency medicine specialists, they knew all too well the circumstances that would have followed.
‘Oh, Gil.’ Immediately, she reached across and took his hand in hers, her eyes filled with love. Her heart churned with the pain he must have felt, how he would have thought his world had been destroyed, how he would have questioned everything over and over again. Why? Why had it happened? Why had his family been taken from him? She’d heard before, from close friends, that it was possible, when you were really close, really connected with someone special, that you could feel their pain as though it were your own. That was how Phemie felt now, as though it was her pain, her family, her utter devastation. So strong was the bond she’d somehow forged with this man that she was deeply affected.
‘How soul-destroying.’
Gil was overwhelmed at her response and put his hand over hers. He’d received sad looks, pitying looks, sympathy from everyone he’d worked with. Phemie’s open and honest emotions were so very genuine, and he couldn’t help but be touched.
‘Almost there,’ Sardi said, and both Phemie and Gil looked out the window as they flew over the Etheringtons’ homestead. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved, their hands staying intertwined until they’d touched down, and even then it felt as though the only reason they were letting go was because they needed to work.
Every time she tried to distance herself from him, something happened to draw her closer again. Not that she hadn’t wanted him to share his most soul-destroying past with her. She was honoured he trusted her and it did help her to understand him better. Why he’d locked himself away, why he’d written so many articles, conducted such a variety of research projects, why he’d accepted the travelling fellowship. Anything and everything to help him come to terms with what had happened to his family.
His family. Gil had been a father and there was no doubt, given the way he’d tenderly spoken his daughter’s name, that he’d loved being a dad. That was another reason why there was absolutely no hope for them as a couple. Even if she entertained the idea that Gil might want her, might want to be with her, even marry her, they could never have children. It was too risky.
Gil’s brightness returned as they climbed into Ron Etherington’s four-door ute. Phemie decided to follow his example and be bright and happy but that didn’t stop his revelation from playing over and over in the back of her mind. She climbed into the back seat, urging him into the front so he could get a close look at the ‘outback’. Soon they were bumping over a dusty track, which Ron obviously thought was a well-defined road. Then again, maybe the man was taking a short cut as his wife was in labour.
‘I dropped Rajene off at the house about ten minutes ago. I’ve gotta tell ya, Pheme, I’m mighty glad she lives close by. Gems was starting to pant and said the pains were getting worse every time she had a contraction.’
‘Sounds as though things are moving along nicely.’
Ron laughed and took his hand off the wheel for a second. ‘Look at me. I’m shaking. It’s been like this every single time one of the kids has been born. I turn into a mess but this time…’ He sobered a little. ‘What with all the problems and everything…’
‘Melissa has kept us apprised of Gemma’s condition and as she’s been taking it easy and resting and generally doing everything she’s told, Gemma’s given this baby the best chance in the world. Plus, she’s carried it almost to term. Thirty-six weeks—that’s excellent, Ron.’
‘Good. Good. Almost there. Hang in there, my beautiful Gem,’ he called with a whoop, even though there was no way his wife could hear him. ‘The cavalry is coming.’
The makeshift road was less bumpy now and as Ron rounded a bend, the homestead came into view. It was just as Gil had pictured, having only seen the roof from up above. It was long, slightly raised off the ground and a wide verandah circled the entire building. The epitome of an outback homestead. He loved it.
‘When we arrive,’ Phemie said, and he angled himself in his seat so he could see her better, ‘I’ll take point. We stabilise, control the labour and do our best to keep everything and everyone calm until the experts get here.’ She patted the medical bags on either side of her. One was the bag Ben had packed and the other was from the plane, containing the heavier equipment such as a portable sphygmomanometer and a portable foetal heart monitor.
‘Right. Sou
nds straightforward.’
‘Except that this is Gemma’s seventh child and as a rule she should deliver quite quickly. We don’t have the usual equipment hospitals have so improvisation is key.’
‘Improvise. Right.’ Gil nodded. He was serious, he was concentrating but the energetic buzz that emanated from him was almost overpowering. He was really enjoying this. She was about to ask how long it had been since he’d delivered a baby but didn’t want to worry Ron in case Gil’s answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She simply hoped that Melissa and Iris would make it in time.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity since they’d received the call back at the base, Gil and Phemie were rushing through the rear door of the homestead after Ron had practically parked on the back steps.
‘They’re in the bedroom,’ Ron called, leading the way to his wife’s side. The scene that met them on entering the room wasn’t what Phemie had wanted to see. Gemma was lying on her back, propped up on her elbows, her feet pressed hard against the foot-board of their bed. The bed had been stripped of its linen and was covered with a plastic protective sheet. Another protective sheet was on the floor and towels were draped over the polished wood at the base of the bed. Rajene was helping Gemma to breathe through a contraction.
Phemie took the equipment bag from Gil, who’d carried it in, and handed the portable sphygmo to him whilst she set up the foetal heart monitor. ‘Gemma and Rajene, this is Gil. He’s helping out for the week.’
Gemma, red faced and cheeks puffed, nodded but didn’t miss a beat. Rajene gave a polite smile, which broadened when Gil greeted her in her native Tarparnese tongue.
‘Report, please?’ Phemie asked the midwife.
‘She is almost to the full stage of dilatation.’
Phemie had a quick feel of the outside of Gemma’s belly whilst Gil checked her blood pressure with the sphygmo. ‘Very tight. Let’s see what the heartbeat is doing.’ The sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the air and brought a tired smile to Gemma’s lips and a whoop of elation from Ron’s. A second later Gemma braced herself against the foot board and moaned as she pushed.