Flying Doctors

by Fiona Lowe

  But asking her outright would just make her defensive so he approached it gently. ‘I bet this place saw some parties. I almost feel we should be sipping gin and tonics in deference to the house.’

  She raised her brows. ‘This house has a long history of wild parties, right up until a year ago.’

  He put his glass down on the red gum table. ‘Really? What changed?’

  She sighed a long shuddering breath. ‘Shane…my husband died.’

  A dull ache flared then throbbed inside him. He knew the excruciating pain of loss too well. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Stunned disbelief scored her face at his well-meant sentiment.

  Remorse immediately tugged at him. He’d just exacerbated her pain. ‘Words don’t do a damn thing to help, do they?’

  She blinked, her large eyes swirling with undecipherable emotions. ‘Actually, sorry isn’t a word I’ve heard very much, so thank you.’

  Bewilderment lurched through him. ‘Your husband died and people didn’t say sorry?’

  She shifted in her seat, folding and unfolding her arms before standing up. ‘Seeing as you’re insisting we have this conversation, can we do it while we walk in the garden?’

  Conflicting needs clashed. His need to know what was going on collided with Kate’s evident pain at having to tell him, and meanwhile the clock ticked on. He had to collect Sasha from the pool at seven. He sighed. ‘Look, you don’t need to tell me your life story and I don’t want to cause you a lot of grief by asking you to revisit your tragic loss.

  ‘But whatever’s going on between you and the people in this town, it’s now impacting on your job. So that involves me. The only thing I need to know is why the people in the town dislike you so much.’

  She gave a brittle laugh. ‘The only thing? I wish it was that simple.’ She swallowed hard. ‘They blame me for Shane’s death.’

  Thoughts tumbled through his mind. Car accident? Medical emergency? ‘Why?’

  Kate started striding quickly toward the river, shredding a eucalyptus leaf with her fingers as she walked, the strong, fresh aroma of the oil trailing behind her. She caught his gaze, her expression a mixture of culpability and distress. ‘Oh, God, there’s no easy way to tell you this.’

  Her vulnerability rocked him. The desire to pull her into his arms, stroke her hair and ease her pain surged through him, immediate and strong. He clenched his hands to keep his arms by his sides. He didn’t want to cause her any more pain and part of him wanted to say, Don’t tell me, I don’t need to know.

  But he did. As her boss, he had to know.

  Just listen. Support her by listening. ‘Start at the beginning if it helps.’

  She threw him a grateful look. ‘You asked me on my first day back at work if I was Kate Kennedy. Well, I was for five years. I married Shane, the eldest son of the Kennedy family.’

  The image of her flashing eyes the day he’d questioned her surname rushed through his mind. ‘Would I be right if I guessed the construction Kennedys?’ Suddenly where she lived started to make sense.

  She nodded. ‘That’s right. Warragurra establishment. Kennedys have been building Warragurra buildings for a very long time. Shane used to take pleasure in the fact he was often renovating buildings his great-grandfather had built.

  ‘He was a gifted craftsman and his talent was bringing buildings back to life so they shone. At the same time he gave people the opportunity to value the past, while giving them the modern conveniences. He and I renovated Sandon.’

  ‘Did a love of heritage buildings bring you together?’ He asked the question, the drive to know more about her straining at his self-imposed restraint.

  Her lips tugged slightly at the corners. ‘That and his wicked sense of humour. Shane was a funny guy. He was the bloke you’d ask to be MC at a fundraising dinner or a wedding. He was larger than life, he had an air of excitement about him and he didn’t take things too seriously. I was working at the base hospital in those days and I think after a day in ICU where life and death can sit so closely together I found him to be a breath of fresh air.’

  Her breath shuddered out of her lungs. ‘I completely missed the dark side of him, the opposite side of the larger-than-life, fun-loving guy.’

  Baden probed gently. ‘Was he depressed?’

  She hesitated for a few seconds. ‘My husband was a hidden alcoholic.’

  He tried to keep his face neutral as the unanticipated words settled around them.

  Her voice wavered. ‘With the exception of my colleagues, no one in this town accepts that because Shane didn’t fit the stereotype. He held down a great job, he was well respected in the community and he managed a complex business with his father. But every night he would drink.’

  He spoke quietly. ‘That can’t have been easy.’

  A flutter of hurt surfaced briefly in her eyes until she blinked. She stared ahead. ‘At first it was a few beers, and then it was beer and a bottle of wine. Business lunches got added into the mix until he could consume up to four bottles of wine a day plus beer and spirits. His personality at home became dramatically different from his public persona. The man I married had completely disappeared, submerged in a sea of alcohol.’

  Her despair radiated through Baden. ‘That would have been really tough. What did you do?’

  She threw her hands up. ‘What didn’t I do? I’d married for better or worse, in sickness and in health. But addiction isn’t like other illnesses and there’s no quick fix. It slowly pervaded every aspect of our lives and insidiously took us down into bleakness.’

  He concentrated on her words, every part of him shuddering as he felt her pain.

  ‘I asked him to cut back, I refused to have alcohol in the house, I asked him to see a doctor, have hypnotherapy, go to Alcoholics Anonymous—I even suggested couples counselling, but I was a lone voice.’ She tossed her head as if shaking the past away. ‘This is a country town and drinking is embedded in the fabric of the community. His mates all enjoyed a drink at the pub. No one could see anything wrong with how Shane led his life.’

  Baden had worked with alcoholics before and he knew what a tough fight she must have faced. ‘And he didn’t see he had a problem?’

  She nodded slowly. ‘That’s right. He didn’t believe he had a drinking problem. He told me I was a killjoy and the problem was all mine. His parents refused to accept he was an alcoholic and made continual excuses for him, but mostly they just blamed me.’ She puffed out a breath. ‘I was difficult, I didn’t understand him, I was spoilt. He worked hard, giving me a good lifestyle, so surely he deserved to relax a bit after work.’ Her voice caught. ‘His mates thought I was an interfering witch.’

  She hugged her arms close to her and shivered, even though the late-afternoon sun seared everything in its path. ‘The night he got violent and trashed the kitchen was the night I left.’

  Irrational resentment toward a sick man consumed him. A man who obviously hadn’t valued the wonderful woman he’d married. ‘You did the right thing, Kate. No one has the right to abuse.’

  She showed no sign she’d heard him, her eyes glazed with hurtful memories. She continued talking—her need to get the story told so great. ‘Shane couldn’t believe I’d left him. He showered me with presents, including the car; he begged me to come back and he promised me he’d change. I needed to believe he would try and I gave him a second chance.’ Her haunted gaze hooked with his, pleading for him to understand.

  ‘You loved him.’ He spoke the words, trying to support her, but they unexpectedly speared him like a jagged knife.

  Her fingers curled deeply into the muscles of her upper arms and when she spoke the words came out flat. ‘His promise lasted a month.’

  The low-life! Anger spurted through Baden like water from a geyser. Immediately the doctor in him struggled to override the strong reaction. ‘He was sick, Kate.’

  She nodded, swallowing hard. ‘The hardest thing was knowing that until he acknowledged to himself he had a problem,
nothing would change. I officially moved out. His parents harangued me, our friends stopped talking to me and his closest friends hated me.’ She raised her troubled eyes to his. ‘You met them today.’

  The urge to touch her intensified. He wanted to show her he understood. He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himself. ‘That was a very courageous thing to do.’

  ‘Courageous?’ Her eyes widened and bitterness lined her face. ‘I left him and five months later he hanged himself.’

  Suicide.

  Air rushed out of his lungs. He hadn’t expected that at all. He’d imagined Shane had run his car off the road drunk or had experienced cardiac problems or liver complications like his friend this afternoon. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Hell, Kate, I’m sorry. Suicide leaves so many raw emotions. But surely you know Shane’s death is not your fault?’

  She stopped walking and stared out toward the river. ‘On my good days I know that. I stayed in town for four months after Shane died but when his parents started calling me a gold-digger and tried to contest his will, life in Warragurra became almost impossible for me.’

  Understanding flowed through him. ‘So you went to Europe hoping things would settle, and the town thought you’d gone for good.’

  She swung back to face him and gave a wry smile. ‘That’s right. I left needing some time and space. I know in my heart that I didn’t kill Shane, but his family’s hate campaign eroded my confidence, escalated my guilt.’ She nibbled her bottom lip. ‘But this is my town, too, with my friends, and it was time to come home.’

  She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. ‘But today was the first time Shane’s closest friends have seen me, although Hilary would have told them I’d returned.’

  He grappled to comprehend the tangled situation of grief, money and power. The reaction of Shane’s parents seemed to be pathological grief. ‘Surely his parents wouldn’t have any claim to Shane’s will?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Legally they don’t but that didn’t stop them from seeking advice from numerous solicitors across the country and starting a campaign against me in letters to the editor in the Warragurra Times. They’d lost their son, they needed to blame someone. I was the obvious person. His mother had never been thrilled about our relationship and now I was alive and her son was dead.’

  ‘Grief drives people to do irrational things.’ The words sounded bald and useless as resentment bubbled through him at the grief-driven spite of Kate’s in-laws. Part of him wished he’d known her then and had been able to do something. Support her in some way.

  Again she tossed her head, her silky hair swinging around her face. ‘But that’s all over now. I refuse to be a scapegoat. I love Warragurra. Since my parents died I’ve called Warragurra home. My job and my friends are here and I refuse to let a minority group drive me out. This is my new start. I will never let anyone take me down to that dark black pit of despair again.’

  Her emotional bravery awed him but at the same time sadness enveloped him on her behalf. A beautiful, generous woman deserved more. A lot more. ‘Not every marriage is black. It can be a wonderful thing.’

  ‘Yes, well, I don’t plan to find out.’ Her eyes flashed with determination. ‘I do my job well, Baden. The service supports me and as I work out of town, what you experienced today has never happened before. I doubt it will ever happen again. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you started but I didn’t think it would impact on you. I’m sorry you had to encounter my sordid past.’

  Her amazing strength radiated through her words. She’d been to hell and back and yet she was apologising to him. ‘I’ve never doubted your professionalism, Kate. As a newcomer I’m not privy to the nuances of the town. I didn’t realise life here was so tough for you. I’m surprised you came back.’

  She laced her fingers in front of her, pressing down so hard against the backs of her hands that her knuckles gleamed white. ‘I have a right to live in this town. I love my job and my friends. I have a right to a happy, single life.’ She swung one arm out wide. ‘Sandon is too big for me but I won’t be moved on by bigotry. When I sell, it will be my decision.’

  She stood before him, firm, willowy and tall like the tree behind her. A beautiful woman facing down demons no one should ever have to deal with.

  The slightest tremble vibrated along her plump bottom lip as her shoulders quivered. ‘But sometimes it’s so damn hard.’

  He knew exactly what she meant. Sometimes it was too damn hard. Instantly, his resolve to keep his distance fell away. She needed his support. He needed to show her he understood. Stepping in close, he reached for her, winding his arms around her waist and drawing her close.

  She stiffened in his arms.

  He rested his chin against her hair. ‘It’s OK. We all have bad days.’

  Slowly, her breath shuddered out of her lungs as she relaxed against him, languid and warm. She nestled her head into his shoulder and strands of her hair caressed his cheek. Her sweet scent encircled him as her breath fanned out against his neck.

  He stroked her hair just like he stroked Sasha’s when she was upset, but unlike with Sasha, an overwhelming sense of tranquillity wove through him as he held her. A sensation he’d forgotten.

  As he moved his head to drop a light ‘it’s all better now’ kiss onto her forehead, she tilted her head back. His lips collided with hers. Warm, soft lips that tasted like nectar.

  Instantly the kiss changed.

  His arm tightened around her waist, closing the infinitesimal space between them. Her body moulded itself to his, pressing hard against his length. All space between them vanished. So did every thought of support.

  He wanted to touch her, taste her, plunder her glorious mouth, needing it as badly as a man in the desert needed water.

  He slanted his mouth firmly against hers as every emotion he’d submerged since meeting her rose to the surface, demanding to be sated.

  A low moan of want sounded in her throat as her lips yielded under his.

  White lights exploded in his head.

  Heat merged with heat.

  Longing collided with need.

  He lost himself in her hot, velvet mouth, which welcomed him, drawing him in, giving yet taking at the same time. His blood pounded through him, his need strong and hard, crashing easily through every barricade he’d erected.

  She reached up, her breasts moving in a caressing motion, her nipples hardening against his chest. She snaked her arms around his neck, pulling his head closer still. Her fingers tangled in his hair as her mouth covered his, her tongue savouring, exploring and branding all at the same time.

  The here and now fell away. Nothing existed except the two of them and their driving need.

  He tore his mouth from hers and trailed kisses along her neck, tasting the salty hollow at the base of her throat and stroking the curve of her jaw.

  She suddenly stepped backwards, pulling him with her as she rested against the tree. Her desire-fuelled gaze zeroed in on his face, all shadows of the past pushed aside.

  Through his fog of need he knew instinctively that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  He lifted her against the tree as her legs entwined with his, her body rising up.

  Her fingers fumbled frantically with the buttons on his shirt, pulling the fabric briskly aside before resting her palms flat on his chest. A sigh of pleasure echoed around him.

  His breath came in ragged jerks as sensations drove through him, exploding in bursts of pure, undiluted lust. He’d taken and conquered her mouth but he wanted more. He wanted to know how her slick and silky skin felt against his, wanted to feel the full and heavy weight of her swelling breast in his hand, he wanted her legs high around his waist and to truly feel her. He wanted to take her right now under the magnificent stately red river gum with its heady scent of eucalyptus.

  This is crazy.

  But he was past listening.

  He pushed her shirt from her shoulders. Smooth, flawless skin gree
ted him, her breasts round and full, her nipples hard with longing. Groaning, he lowered his head, fixing his mouth around the enticing softness, his tongue flicking her nipple.

  Her hands gripped his head hard as she bucked against him. A delicious moan of longing left her lips.

  She wants this as much as you do.

  He lifted her up, supporting them against the tree, cupping her with his hand, burying his face in her neck.

  Nothing mattered except their need. Their need to push the past away and lose themselves in each other.

  The shrill sound of a phone ringing split the air.

  His phone.

  The here and now slammed into him so fast it winded him.

  Kate pulled back, her chest heaving. ‘You’d better take that.’

  He nodded mutely and lowered her to her feet before pressing the answer button on his mobile phone. ‘Hello?’ His husky voice could hardly speak.

  ‘Dad, where are you? It’s way past seven.’ Sasha’s indignant voice sounded down the line.

  Sasha. All his blood drained from his head and he swayed. He’d completely forgotten Sasha.

  Guilt slammed into him with a sickening thud. He ran his hand over the back of his neck. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he have forgotten his daughter?

  Promise me you’ll always make Sasha your top priority. Annie’s words seared him.

  He’d just allowed lust to completely take over. He’d been behaving like a teenager. He was a grown man, a doctor, a father, and yet he’d been seducing his nurse in her garden. Oh, yeah, that’s really classy.

  His guilt solidified. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes, sweetheart.’ He punched the ‘off’ button.

  He turned back to Kate. She stood a short distance from the tree, her blouse rebuttoned and tucked in, her natural elegance and grace giving her a serene calmness. But her swollen lips clearly told the real story, reminding him of their recent folly.

  He forced himself to speak. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yes.’ A muscle twitched in her jaw.

  God, he felt like a louse. He’d taken advantage of a woman in an emotionally vulnerable state, but at the same time every cell in his body screamed for him to leave. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go.’