by Fiona Lowe
He’d loved before and had lost everything. Except Sasha. He still had Sasha and she was where his priorities had to lie.
But Kate…He jabbed the doorbell viciously, driving the voice away.
Phoebe’s mother, Evelyn, opened the door. ‘Hi, Baden. Come in, I’ll just get Sasha.’
‘Thanks.’ Baden stepped into the hall and admired Evelyn’s artwork, which was going to be on display in the foyer of the hospital as part of the fundraising drive.
Two minutes later he heard Sasha politely thanking Phoebe’s mother for having her, but when she appeared in the hall she stomped toward him, her expression grumpy. ‘Dad, you’re early. None of the other parents are here yet.’
He waved goodnight to Evelyn, picked up Sasha’s backpack and slung his arm around her shoulder as they walked toward the car. ‘I’m not that early. Mrs Walton said ten o’clock.’
‘But the second movie hasn’t finished.’ She glanced longingly back at the closed door.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, but you’ve got tennis in the morning.’ He unlocked the car doors and they both got in.
Sasha tugged at her seat belt, jamming the latch into place with a loud click. ‘It’s Friday night, Dad. You should have gone out like other parents. I bet you stayed at home and got bored and that’s why you’re early.’ She fixed him with a glare. ‘You need some friends, Dad. I’ve got friends. You need some, too, so you’re not just worrying about me all the time.’
Her words chafed at him, irritating and grating. He didn’t worry about her—he just wanted what was best for her. ‘As a matter of fact, I did go out.’
‘What, on your own?’ She slumped into the seat, all petulance and peevishness.
‘No.’ He had an idiotic desire to puff out his chest and boast, proving to her he wasn’t the boring old fuddy-duddy she obviously thought him. ‘With Kate.’
Sasha sat up so fast her seat belt locked against her. Incredulity shone in her eyes. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’ He grinned foolishly.
‘Cool! Kate rocks.’ She studied him for a minute. ‘What did you do?’ Active interest radiated from her.
‘We had dinner at the Royal.’ The grin stayed on his face, refusing to slide away.
‘Didn’t you have a nice time?’
‘What sort of question is that? Of course I did. I had a great time.’ Images of the enjoyable evening rolled out in his mind.
‘So why are you here early, then?’
Her penetrating stare sent guilt snaking through him.
Because I was having too much fun.
Because I’m thinking more about Kate than about you and your mother, and that scares me rigid.
The love he’d had for Annie, the girl next door whom he’d married, had never felt like this all-consuming rush he experienced with Kate. His marriage had been comforting, dependable and companionable. He’d grieved for Annie but just lately when he thought of her he didn’t ache with loss. He should still be aching. He should still be missing her as much as Sasha missed her.
But he couldn’t tell his daughter any of this.
He gently prodded Sasha in the ribs. ‘Why was I early? Because, my darling daughter, you know I’m never late.’
Sasha laughed. ‘Dad, your jokes are so lame. You are always late.’
‘OK, I confess. Kate reminded me of the time so it’s her fault. Next time you see her, you tell her how you missed the end of the movie.’
‘As if!’ Sasha rolled her eyes and turned on the CD player, finding her favourite track. ‘Dad.’
‘Hmm.’
‘It was fun the night we made milkshakes with Kate. Do you think now you’ve been to dinner with her she might invite us back to Sandon again?’
He caught her wistful expression. ‘I don’t know, sweetheart. Perhaps.’ But the rush of hope that raced through him at the thought matched Sasha’s.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘KATE, I think the allergies have started early this year. I’ve never had headaches like it. I’ve even been wearing my sunglasses inside.’ Debbie Grayson’s colour matched her surname as she slumped in the chair at her kitchen table.
Kate and Baden had finished their clinic and were waiting for Glen to return to collect them. Baden had wandered off with Cameron, Debbie’s husband, to look at the new quad bikes Cameron had bought as part of his foray into tourism on the Darling.
‘That’s no good. Do you want me to have a look at you?’ Kate put down her cup of tea.
Debbie looked relieved. ‘Would you mind? I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’ve hosted the day and if you’re not well, it’s crazy for me to leave without examining you.’ She opened her bag and pulled out the ear thermometer.
‘They sure beat shaking down the old mercury thermometers.’ Debbie tucked her hair behind her ear in readiness.
A moment later the thermometer beeped. ‘You’ve got a slight fever.’ Kate gently palpated Debbie’s glands. ‘And your glands are up but that just tells us your body is fighting something. You said the headaches were different—how are they different?’
‘I can’t stand bright light and I feel like I’ve got ants crawling on my skin, around my eye and up into my scalp.’ She grimaced. ‘The pain is so intense sometimes I feel like crying.’
‘And that’s not like you at all.’ Kate had known Debbie for almost as long as she’d lived in Warragurra. Debbie had been the medical records clerk in ICU at the base hospital until Cameron Grayson had swept her off her feet and brought her out to Bungarra station. Kate snapped on some gloves. ‘I’m just going to look in your hair.’
‘I said it felt like ants, but I don’t have ants or head lice.’ Debbie sounded indignant.
Kate parted Debbie’s hair and saw a faint rash running along her scalp in a straight line, with occasional blisters. She peered closely at Debbie’s forehead and could see a faint red line, a sign of things to come. ‘Have you had any sick tourists here lately? Kids?’
Debbie frowned in thought. ‘No, I don’t think…Oh, yeah, a few weeks ago one poor family had to leave early because both their children came down with chickenpox. But I had chickenpox as a kid so it can’t be that, thank goodness.’
Kate stripped off her gloves. ‘No, but you can get shingles.’
A horrified look crossed her face. ‘Shingles! But I’m only thirty-one and that’s an old person’s disease.’
Kate shook her head. ‘Sorry. You’ve been flat out getting this new tourist venture up and running, and anyone who’s a bit run down and who comes in contact with the herpes zoster virus can have the virus reactivated. Only this time you don’t get chickenpox, you get shingles, and the virus runs along the nerve it’s been hibernating in for all those years. In your case, it’s running along the fifth cranial nerve.’
‘So what happens now?’ Debbie stared at her anxiously.
‘We get Baden to confirm my diagnosis and then we start you on antiviral medication. I’ll just go and give the boys the hurry-up. They should have talked torque and RPMs and all that engine stuff by now, as well as test driven the bikes.’ She walked outside and saw the men, both deep in conversation and striding back toward the house.
‘Coo-ee.’ She gave the bush call.
Baden immediately looked up, and gave her a wave and a smile.
A smile that sent tendrils of pleasure spiralling through her. A smile she hugged close and revisited too often on long, lonely nights.
The men increased their pace and Baden was the first to reach the bottom of the veranda steps, his long legs taking them two at a time. ‘Are we ready to go?’
‘No, Glen hasn’t called yet. But I think Debbie has shingles.’
‘What’s that?’ Cameron’s concerned voice broke into their conversation.
‘Come inside, mate, and I’ll explain it to both of you at the same time.’ Baden opened the wire door and ushered everyone inside.
Baden examined Debbie. ‘Yo
u’re lucky we’re here today because the earlier you start to treat shingles, the better the prognosis and the shorter the illness. It can be excruciatingly painful, as Deb’s finding out. So bed rest for you, young lady, a dark room, painkillers and sleep.’
Debbie groaned. ‘I can’t just stop. How’s Cam supposed to run the station and look after the tourists?’
Kate reached out and squeezed Debbie’s shoulder, hating that she had to break the bad news to the hard-working couple. ‘Debbie, you’re in quarantine. The tourists can’t be in the house while you’re infectious. Each blister contains the virus and just like chickenpox you have to stay isolated.’
‘But we’re fully booked.’ Debbie dropped her head into her hands.
Cam sat down next to Deb and wrapped her in a hug, his large arms enveloping the petite woman.
Did Debbie know how lucky she was to be loved like that? Kate pushed away the errant and slightly jealous thought.
Cam stroked Deb’s hair. ‘I’ll call in Beth Johnson and she can cook for the guests in the shearing shed—that will keep everyone out of the house.’
Debbie burst into tears.
Cam looked bewildered as his usually in-control wife sobbed on his shoulder. He patted her back. ‘The tourists will be fine, love, honest.’
Debbie sniffed. ‘But I’m going to miss Brenda’s fundraiser on Saturday, and I can’t even visit her. If Brenda got something like this now, with her immune system whacked from chemo, she could die.’
Kate exchanged a worried look with Baden. Debbie was clearly exhausted, sick and overwrought.
‘Well, she’d get pretty sick and you’re right, you wouldn’t want to risk it.’ Baden produced some tablets and poured a glass of water. ‘Take these, Debbie, they’ll ease the pain. We’ll leave you with the famciclovir, some cream for the rash if it gets really itchy, and some strong painkillers. I want you to phone the base tomorrow to report in.’ Baden suddenly became unusually stern, his gaze fixed on Debbie and Cameron. ‘If the rash develops near your eye, you’re to radio the base immediately.’
‘Why?’ Debbie raised her head from Cam’s shoulder.
‘There is a slight chance you might develop shingles running through your eye and if you did it’s serious and we would need to fly you to the Base Hospital to see an ophthalmologist.’
Fright raced across Debbie’s face. ‘How can I stop that from happening?’
Baden sighed. ‘You can’t, but you can take the antiviral medication and get plenty of sleep, which will help your body heal.’
‘I’ll make sure she takes the tablets and rests, Baden.’ Cam pulled his wife to her feet. ‘You go to bed, honey.’
‘I’ll come and get your room set up, close the blinds and make sure you have what you need.’ Kate picked up a jug and a glass and followed Debbie down the hall into a large bedroom. French doors opened out onto the veranda to catch the breeze on hot summer nights.
‘You put your nightie on and I’ll make your bed.’ Kate pulled the bottom sheet taut and executed hospital corners. She always got a great sense of satisfaction from making beds and settling patients so they were comfortable. She pulled the curtains closed, blocking out the light to lessen Debbie’s photophobia.
‘Oh, that bed looks so good.’ Debbie sank into it.
Kate tucked her in. ‘The analgesics will kick in soon and they might make you feel dizzy so don’t go trying to do anything, OK?’
‘Yes, Sister.’ Debbie snuggled into the pillows and then fixed Kate with a piercing look. ‘That Baden’s a bit of a dish, isn’t he?’
Kate groaned inwardly. Ever since Debbie had married Cam she’d been trying to matchmake everyone else. Initially Kate had been safe from Deb’s scheming because she’d been married, but not any more. ‘I suppose he is if you like the rakish dark-haired look.’
Debbie raised her brows. ‘And you don’t?’
I adore it. ‘I think it’s dangerous.’ She set up the jug of water and put it on the bedside table along with a little hand bell she’d found on the bookshelf.
Debbie adjusted her top sheet. ‘Now, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re mistaking danger for adventure. Don’t you think it’s time you tried some adventure, Kate?’
‘Shane gave me enough adventure to last a lifetime, Deb. I don’t want complications, I want a quiet life.’ She tucked the sheet in briskly, hoping to put an end to the conversation.
‘Shane gave you grief, sweetie, not adventure. There’s a big difference.’ Debbie squeezed her hand and yawned. ‘Just think about it.’ Her eyes fluttered closed.
Kate quietly closed the door behind her and rested against it for a moment. Don’t you think it’s time you tried some adventure? For a few moments the idea played across her mind, weaving daydreams and delicious thoughts.
It’s ludicrous. She pushed herself off the door. She didn’t want to get involved again and even if she did, Baden wasn’t offering her anything, let alone adventure. It was just the strong painkillers making Debbie babble on and she shouldn’t be taking anything Deb said seriously.
There was no point thinking about adventure with a raven-haired doctor. The only thing she should be thinking about was getting home tonight and making some final calls for the drive-in fundraising night. Surely Glen must be arriving soon.
Baden passed Kate her satellite phone, which started ringing the moment she walked back into the kitchen. He watched her take the call. He’d observed her so often over the last few weeks he could now recognise many of her expressions. Rapid blinking meant unexpected news.
She snapped down the antenna of the phone. ‘That was Glen. He’s worried about the weather so he wants us to meet him at the old strip out by Dog Tired Hut.’
‘Dog Tired Hut?’ Baden laughed at the name. ‘Why would there even be an airstrip at such a place?’
‘My great-grandfather built that hut after a particularly difficult droving season.’ Cam rinsed out the teacups. ‘He used it for rest and shelter on the big drive south. These days when we’re mustering, we use the hut as a lunch stop and an Av-gas station. The helicopter lands there to refuel so the strip’s in good nick.’ Cameron glanced out to the west. ‘I don’t like the look of those clouds, though. Still, Glen will have seen the radar so he must reckon he can get in before the rain turns the strip to mush.’
Baden followed Cam’s stare. ‘Those clouds have come across the sky every day for a week, just teasing us with the idea of rain.’
‘Yeah, but Dad was complaining of aching knees this morning and as a rain predictor, they rarely fail.’
‘That’s pretty scientific, Cam.’ Baden raised his brows at his host.
Cam looked suitably embarrassed. ‘I know, but despite my postgraduate qualifications in agriculture, including a unit on weather patterns, Dad’s knees are the most constant predictor.’ He fished a set of keys out of his pocket. ‘Take Betsy out to the hut and I’ll get out there later in the week to collect her.’
He tossed the keys to Kate. ‘You’d better drive her but teach the doc the trick with the column shift so he’s set for next time.’
Kate caught the keys and grabbed her gear. ‘I’ll go and sweet-talk her into starting first time. Keep a close eye on Deb, Cam, and ring us any time.’ She peered into the sky. ‘I hope you get some rain but not until I’m home.’
He nodded slowly in agreement. ‘Take care.’
Baden shook Cam’s hand. ‘Thanks, mate. See you next month.’
He followed Kate out to Betsy. Cameron’s door-less ute was legendary but this was the first time he’d had ever had to use it. He put their medical bags in the back tray under an old hessian wheat sack before sliding in next to Kate on the old bench seat.
She grinned and handed him a surgical mask.
He turned it over in his hand. ‘What’s this for?’
‘Dust. Move away from the door to avoid the worst and find somewhere to hang on because there are no seat belts.’
Somewhere to hang on.
His gaze settled on Kate. He quickly took advantage of a legitimate invitation to sit really close to her. His palm itched to settle on her thigh.
Moving toward her, he slung his arm casually along the back of the seat. Faint vestiges of her floral perfume wafted toward him. How did she manage to smell so good after a day spent in heat and dust? The question lay unanswered as he lost himself in her scent.
Her brow creased in concentration as she pushed the key into the ignition. ‘Right, then.’ She patted the dashboard. ‘Sweetie, you’re going to behave for me today, aren’t you?’
He pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes, his mouth twitching. ‘You’re talking to a car.’
‘Shh, she’s really sensitive. She comes through on emergencies, but if she knows it’s just a regular drive she can play up.’
He put on his mock serious expression. ‘Perhaps I should introduce myself to put her at ease?’
She shot him a derisive look, but humour spun through her eyes. ‘That won’t be necessary as you’re not driving, but it’s absolutely essential when you do drive.’ Her fine-boned hands closed around the large steering-wheel. ‘Now, you pump the accelerator twice before you turn her on.’ Kate’s foot pumped then she bit her lip and turned the key.
The engine roared into life and Kate gave him a broad smile of delight. He loved they way she got such a thrill out of the little things in life. ‘Well done. What’s next?’
‘Put your mask on.’ She pulled her own on and then pushed the column shift toward the wheel and down and Betsy moved forward. ‘The problem isn’t getting into first gear but into second. Relax the pressure on the gearstick as you pass neutral.’
He watched the concentration crease her forehead as she changed into second. ‘You seem to know a lot about cars.’
She laughed. ‘I know squat about cars but Emily taught me all about Betsy. She’s the one who will whip up the bonnet and fiddle about. I guess it’s the legacy of five brothers.’ She relaxed as she manoeuvred the shift into third gear, her leg brushing his. ‘No, I’m a real girl. If the battery plays up I can hit the terminals with my shoe and that’s about it.’