by Amy Andrews
She rolled her eyes at him. ‘How old are you?’
He laughed. ‘It’s fair enough. A man has his pride. You called me inept. Lousy, even. You dented my ego.’
‘Your ego needs a dent or two.’
He laughed again. ‘Come on, Helen. Say it. I promise there’ll be no more repeats for the rest of my stay. Just friends.’
‘Friends? You promise?’
He nodded. ‘Unless you beg me to take you, of course.’
He was grinning at her again and she smiled because his dimple made him look like a cheeky little boy. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘I know.’
She stared at the road, her headlights illuminating the darkness. She took a deep breath. ‘You’re not a lousy kisser. There…I said it.’
‘Can you give me a rating?’
She laughed. Typical male. He’d probably been rating women since he could count to ten. ‘No, I can’t.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I give you an eleven. That’s the best damn kiss I’ve ever had.’
Helen blushed and concentrated really hard on not running the car off the road.
‘I bet you say that to all the small-town girls,’ she quipped.
His chuckle washed over her and she squirmed in her seat to quell the ache deep inside her. Four months stretched ahead as endlessly as the road in front of her.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE farm dogs were barking furiously by the time Helen pulled the keys out of the ignition at Elsie’s. They ran towards the car in a pack, Shep, the blue cattle dog, leading. His threatening bark melted into whines of recognition as Helen called to him quietly.
‘Hey, Shep, you’re a good watchdog, aren’t you, boy? Where’s Elsie, boy? Is Elsie OK?’ She bent down and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears.
Helen didn’t wait for James, although she was aware of his crutches crunching on the loose gravel and his deep voice crooning a welcome to Shep. The sensor lights had come on and it was bright enough for him to see the way.
Now she was here, she was keen to check on Elsie. The door opened and a bleary-eyed Duncan gave her a confused look. ‘Helen?’
‘Evening, Duncan. Sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night. Is Elsie OK?’
Duncan frowned. ‘Yes. She was fine when she went to bed.’
‘I’ve just received a phone call from your number. She’s probably just knocked the phone off the hook but I thought I’d better check it out.’
Duncan’s frown turned to worry and he stood aside to let his visitors in. Helen made a quick introduction and Duncan led the way through the house at a brisk pace. He didn’t even knock on his grandmother’s door but burst straight in.
‘Gran!’
Helen heard his strangled exclamation before she’d even entered the room, and prepared herself for the worst. Elsie was lying on the floor on her back beside her bed, the telephone that usually sat on her bedside table sitting on her chest, one hand clutching the receiver.
‘Gran, Gran.’
Duncan was down on the floor beside Elsie, shaking her shoulders, his distress evident.
Helen knelt beside him, pushing aside her own fear. She felt for and quickly found a weak carotid pulse. Elsie’s eyes were wide open and Helen felt gutted at the frightened look there. You’ll be all right, Elsie, everything will be fine, she wanted to say, but her heart sank at the very obvious droop to the right side of Elsie’s face. She was drooling and her breathing was noisy.
No, no, no. Please, let her be OK.
‘Call Tom,’ she said to Duncan.
Duncan turned and looked at her as if she were an alien life form. She saw fear in his gaze and she could tell the last thing he wanted to do was leave. She understood. She may not share the same blood as Elsie, but she was as dear to Helen as she was to Duncan. Helen looked at the man she regarded as a brother, stricken by the grief she saw there. She wanted to hug him and weep into his shoulder.
‘Duncan,’ James said quietly but firmly, having quickly assessed the situation. ‘Let Helen and I take care of her now. We need Tom here. I need you to ring him. Tell him Elsie’s collapsed. Tell him I think it may be a CVA.’
Helen was grateful James had jumped in. Grateful too that he had chosen the correct medical terminology—cerebral vascular accident—rather than the colloquial term ‘stroke’. She didn’t want to panic Duncan or Elsie. Not yet. Knowing it herself was awful enough.
It was too hard to judge right now how extensive it was. The next few days would see swelling around the site in the brain where the stroke had occurred and it wasn’t until it started to subside that they’d have a clearer picture of Elsie’s recovery.
Duncan looked at Helen for confirmation. She nodded, pleased beyond words that James had insisted on accompanying her. She was too close to Elsie and her family, too worried about the old woman herself to be the person Duncan needed her to be. Strong and positive.
Duncan stirred himself. ‘CVA…right,’ he said.
‘Use the phone outside,’ James said, prising the receiver out of Elsie’s hand and replacing it in its cradle. Elsie’s bedroom wasn’t exactly small but it wasn’t palatial either and with he and Helen in here it was already crowded enough. ‘It’ll give us room to work.’
‘Outside…right. Collapsed. CVA. Right.’ Duncan left, still on autopilot, shock blunting his reactions. Helen hoped he remembered the information.
James lowered himself to the floor, gingerly using one crutch, his powerful arm muscles supporting his weight. He sat, his legs spread and outstretched on either side of Elsie’s head. Helen shuffled over to make room for him.
‘Hi, Elsie,’ he said gently, smiling down at her. ‘I was hoping we’d next meet over a lamb roast.’
Helen felt tears spring to her eyes at James’s tenderness. She needed to pull herself together. She was of no use to Elsie if she was a blubbering mess.
James didn’t like the older woman’s colour. She was very pale and her lips had lost their pinkness. The stroke had obviously compromised her airway and he wanted her in a more manageable position. ‘Elsie we’re just going to roll you onto your side while we wait for Tom.’
He glanced at Helen and noticed the shimmer of tears in her eyes. He squeezed her hand and she seemed to visibly straighten then she nodded her readiness. Elsie was quite skinny and he knew they’d be able to manage her easily.
Elsie opened and shut her mouth a few times but no words came out, just gurgly vocal sounds. Her eyes bulged in fear.
‘It’s OK, Elsie, we’re here now,’ Helen reassured her, her heart breaking, unable to bear the anxiety she saw in Elsie’s gaze. ‘We’ll take good care of you. Tom will be here soon.’
James supported Elsie’s neck, protecting her C-spine in case she’d done any damage when she’d fallen. He counted to three and Helen rolled Elsie onto her left side. James wedged his broken leg against her back and spread his good leg further.
Helen felt more in control now and arranged Elsie’s limbs into the recovery position, pulling the pillows off her bed to make it a little more comfortable.
‘Put one under her head,’ James said. He maintained neck support as he lifted Elsie’s head so Helen could slip a pillow underneath it.
He was happy with the improvement in her lip colour and a reduction in her noisy breathing. He could still hear a faint rasp, however. And he was worried that if she vomited, a common occurrence post-CVA, the stroke might have knocked out her gag reflex, which existed primarily to protect the airway from aspiration. He’d have given anything for some oxygen and suction.
‘Elsie, my love, I’m just going to hold onto your chin so your airway stays clear.’
He placed two fingers under Elsie’s chin and gently lifted her jaw. The rasp disappeared and he was able to simultaneously monitor her carotid pulse with the same hand.
‘Tom’s coming,’ Duncan announced from the doorway. Denise, his wife, was standing beside him.
After Tom’s di
splay in the pub earlier James would have been happy to never see him again, but now he was grateful. Elsie’s pulse was rapid and weak—Tom couldn’t get there fast enough.
‘Is she going to be OK?’ Duncan asked.
Helen looked at him and felt conflicted about what to tell him. She also wanted to be careful when she wasn’t sure what Elsie could hear or understand. She wasn’t sure she could open her mouth without crumpling into a heap.
James could see Helen’s uncertainty. ‘She’s in good hands now,’ James reassured him. ‘We’ll know more when we can do some tests.’
Duncan looked at James as if he was seeing him for the first time. His shoulders sagged. ‘Thanks, Doc. I don’t know what we’d do without her.’
Helen was pleased that James’s quick noncommittal reply had alleviated Duncan’s worry. Pleased that it had let her off the hook. She’d been next to useless and she didn’t know what she would have done without him.
They stayed by Elsie’s side while they waited for Tom. Helen monitored her pulse and talked to her reassuringly. James maintained her airway. Denise packed a bag. Duncan paced outside the room, making frequent trips to the window, searching for the red and blue lights.
Tom arrived ten minutes later with an oxygen kit and a portable monitor. He greeted Helen warmly and gave James a curt nod. He assembled an oxygen mask and handed it to James to apply and passed the ECG electrodes to Helen to place on Elsie’s chest.
They watched the screen as a heart rhythm appeared. She was tachycardic but the rhythm was essentially normal. Tom wrapped a blood-pressure cuff around Elsie’s thin arm and pushed a button. The cuff pumped up automatically and they watched and waited for the number to appear on the screen. Two hundred and ten over one hundred and fifty.
‘Does she have a history of hypertension?’ James asked Helen.
She nodded. ‘She’s on a beta-blocker. It’s always been well controlled.’
‘Let’s get an IV in before we move her,’ James said.
Tom nodded and within a minute or two had efficiently placed one in the back of Elsie’s left hand. Between the three of them they got Elsie onto a stretcher and bundled her into the back of the waiting ambulance.
‘You go in the back with Elsie,’ Helen told James.
‘She’d probably prefer you,’ Tom said stiffly.
Helen looked at Tom. She could tell he wasn’t keen to have James in his vehicle. Great! Just what Elsie needed now was Tom in caveman role.
‘He’s a doctor, Tom,’ she said, not bothering to keep the reproach out of her voice. ‘And he has a broken leg. He can’t drive the car back to Skye.’
Tom stared for a moment then nodded stiffly. ‘Fine.’
James raised an eyebrow at her as Tom stalked back into the house. He grinned. ‘Better not tell him about the kiss.’
‘This is not funny,’ she said sternly. She obviously needed to have another talk to Tom.
‘No, of course not.’ He grinned again.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Get in.’
He chuckled and saluted. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Given the limited space, getting into the back of an ambulance wasn’t easy at the best of times, but trying to do it on one leg was especially challenging.
‘I’ll take your crutches with me and follow you in,’ Helen said once he’d lowered himself into the seat next to Elsie’s stretcher.
James saluted again. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
She shut the back doors on his grinning face and the heat in his turquoise eyes. Damn the man to hell. He said that so sexily. She wanted to climb in with him and pick up where they had left off.
When Tom emerged from the house a few minutes later she was still standing with her fingers on the handle, staring at the ambulance doors. ‘You OK?’ Tom asked, touching her arm lightly.
After tonight she seriously doubted whether she’d ever be right again. Between that kiss and Elsie, things had changed for ever.
She looked down at where Tom’s hand rested. Nothing. She felt nothing. James just had to look at her with heat in his eyes and she could barely think straight. She roused herself. ‘No, Tom. I’m not. I’ll see you there.’
It was around one in the morning before they finally made it back home. They’d stayed until after Elsie’s CT scan and bloodwork had come back. The diagnosis of stroke was confirmed, with a clot evident on the left side of her brain. It wasn’t as extensive as they had feared and she was being administered a special clot-dissolving medication as they left.
The smell of coffee hit her as soon as she opened the door and Helen remembered she hadn’t even turned the percolator off before they’d left. She headed for the kitchen. Their half-full coffee-mugs sat on the bench. She stared into the cold murky depths of her mug and remembered why they’d been discarded. Her cheeks grew hot just thinking about it.
‘Want another coffee?’ James asked from the doorway.
Helen shook her head, collected the mugs and placed them in the sink, emptying their contents and filling them with water. ‘I’m going to hit the sack.’
She didn’t look at him. She’d barely spoken in the car. James could tell she was taking Elsie’s stroke hard. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked softly as he moved closer.
She nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘You don’t seem fine.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m just sad about Elsie. She’s such a proud woman, she’s going to hate being incapacitated in any way.’
James nodded. ‘Will they be able to care for her at home?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Helen’s brow furrowed. ‘They both work long hours on the farm. It will depend on how much care she needs, I guess.’
It was hard to tell from the CT scan and James knew they wouldn’t have a clearer picture for a few more days. ‘Is there a waiting list at the nursing home?’
‘Not usually.’ Helen dried her hands, pushed away from the sink and flipped the switch on the percolator. ‘Do you want one?’ she asked.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said, swinging closer to her.
Helen let go of the percolator. He was very near now and she could feel his heat encompass her. His shoulders were broad in her peripheral vision and she had a sudden desire to lay her head against his chest.
Elsie’s plight was turning over and over in her mind and she wanted to cry for the proud old matriarch who had been part of the land and the town for over eighty years. She’d run the farm single-handedly after her husband had died and her three boys had still been toddlers. Not being able to communicate or feed, wash or go to the toilet herself would be the ultimate indignity for such an independent lady.
Her heart was so heavy Helen didn’t think she could bear it. She desperately wanted to feel James’s arms around her. Seek a little solace. A little comfort. But how would a man who had no roots anywhere understand her despair?
James lifted a hand and gently removed a lock of hair that had fallen across her downcast face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
She looked up into his face and his breath caught. The amber flecks in her eyes were glowing with unshed tears. She was beautiful and so very sad and he wanted to pull her into his arms. But her gaze was also wary and her fingers were gripping the bench so hard her knuckles were white. She’d made herself very clear earlier and she’d been right.
Helen blinked rapidly. She nodded. ‘Thanks.’ And with every ounce of willpower she possessed she unfurled her fingers, skirted around his bulk and left the kitchen.
James poured himself a coffee, leant against the bench and pondered the two faces of Helen Franklin he’d seen tonight. Hot and moaning into his mouth. Heavy-hearted and serious. Curiously, both of them made him want more.
Much to everyone’s delight, Elsie improved dramatically over the next fortnight. She’d been left with slight weakness to her right hand and leg and her speech, which had initially been very difficult to understand, improved every day until there was only a slight slur.
She was having daily sessions wit
h the physio and speech therapist, and the occupational therapist had already made a house call at the farm to see what modifications could be made in preparation for her return home.
Two days after Elsie was admitted to hospital the heavens opened. Torrential rain fell relentlessly on the thirsty landscape, turning browns to greens and dry creek beds to lively waterways. Everyone agreed it was nature’s way of encouraging Elsie back to the farm. As with all farmers, rain, or the lack of it, was a constant concern in their daily battle against the elements. The township of Skye felt sure that the rain would put a real spring in Elsie’s step.
Often when Helen went to visit, she’d find James already there. He always left as soon as she arrived but the stroke hadn’t knocked out Elsie’s matchmaking centre—in fact, it seemed to have intensified it.
Elsie had an even greater sense of urgency, having faced her mortality once, and the hints she dropped were becoming more and more obvious. Not even the continuing rain that drummed loudly on the corrugated-iron roof of the hospital or her impending day release for her eighty-first birthday party could keep Elsie’s mind off getting Helen and James together.
Despite Elsie’s urgings, they hadn’t had another incident like on the night Elsie had had her stroke. Thankfully James had kept his promise to just be friends and Helen was grateful for that. She really was. She’d had enough on her mind, worrying about Elsie, without any strange sexual vibe at home. In fact, it had been great, just kicking back and relaxing with him in the evenings. They took turns at cooking and they honed their trivia skills by watching television game shows.
It was just like the last time she’d had a house guest. Craig had been a learner GP on country rotation and had spent two weeks at the practice and boarding at the residence. The company had been good and it had been nice to have someone to talk to. Of course, he’d been fifty, married, balding and overweight, with a dreadful habit of picking his toenails, but apart from that it was practically the same.
Helen was sure that when James hit the big five zero his thick dark wavy locks would be starting to thin, too. His powerful leg muscles would, no doubt, have started to atrophy. His washboard abs turned a little soft—more jelly than jut. And his turquoise gaze would have lost its smouldering intensity, the chin dimple its boyish charm. No man could look that good for ever.