Flying Doctors

by Fiona Lowe

  She slowly blew out a breath to steady herself. That had been weird. Perhaps she was hungry? She rummaged through her bag, looking for a lolly or a muesli bar, something that would give her an instant sugar fix. Her fingers grasped a foil packet and she pulled it out, but it was only her contraceptive pill. She almost dropped it back in the bag but her fingers gripped it harder as she noticed she was about to start the hormone tablets again.

  A rogue thought struck her. She should have had her period by now.

  Her heart pounded hard against her ribs. She slowly counted backwards, her mind trying to race against her imposed thoroughness. She always started her period on the second day of the placebo tablets and she’d taken the seventh placebo last night.

  Her roiling stomach plummeted to her feet. No. She couldn’t be pregnant. She couldn’t. She’d never missed a pill—she’d taken it every day at the same time for the three years since she’d gone on it to lessen period pain.

  But you’d never had sex while on this brand of pill.

  Her head fell into her hands as realisation slugged her. The night they’d made love she’d been sick, so even though she’d taken the pill, it hadn’t stayed in her system long enough to do the job it had been designed to do.

  It was a classic mistake. One she’d seen women make over and over.

  Only she was a health professional. She knew better. She straightened up, holding onto that thought like a lifeline. The problem here was that she knew too much and she was jumping to silly conclusions. She wouldn’t be pregnant—there would be some other much more reasonable explanation.

  She threw her backpack over her shoulder and walked to the closest chemist, ignoring the wobbly sensation that had transferred from her stomach to her legs. On auto pilot she purchased a pregnancy test.

  Five minutes later, in the spartan confines of a public toilet, she worried her bottom lip, her eyes glued to the stick in the little plastic cup.

  Nothing was happening. She blew out a long-held breath. She’d just panicked and caused herself a heap of stress for nothing.

  The timer on her watch sounded and she picked up the stick and cup, ready to dispose of them in the bin.

  A faint blue colour slowly emerged, darkening before her eyes.

  Pregnant.

  She slumped against the cubicle wall. Oh, God, how had her life come to this?

  Gulping in air, she tried to think clearly as a thousand thoughts charged around her head. She was going to be a mother. She was going to have a baby.

  Linton’s baby.

  Sheer joy and abject fear collided in her chest.

  It will be great to see you. I owe you dinner. Linton’s deep, sexy voice bounced around her head. On the phone he’d sounded genuinely pleased that she was coming home.

  Had he missed her? She delved in her pack and found her phone. Flicking through her inbox, she counted and averaged that she’d received about two texts a day from him and she could only remember two or three days they hadn’t spoken. And he’d initiated all of it. Surely that meant something.

  It had to mean something.

  Perhaps all his talk about never marrying again, never having children, were now empty words. Perhaps the playboy doctor had decided his playing days were over and he was ready to settle down.

  I don’t do long-term relationships and I won’t ever let another women put me in that position. I will never get married again. His bitter words peppered her brain.

  Darkness closed in on her. She loved this man and carried his child. It should be a wonderful, wonderful thing. But would he see it that way?

  Plans and ideas popped into her head, things she could do, things that would make it easier for him, how she could lessen the impact, how she could…

  Stop it! The tumbling thoughts abruptly stopped.

  That would be a backward step. No, she had to stay true to herself and she knew what she had to do. She would return to Warragurra and tell him that she loved him, and that they were going to be parents.

  Then she would ask him to marry her.

  Linton scanned the wide blue skies, his hand shielding his eyes from the glare of a Warragurra sun, which hinted at the extreme heat that would arrive in a few months. Winter was fast coming to a close and the brilliant red of the flowering gums in the main street declared spring could not be stopped.

  The airport was extremely quiet as the entire town was at the grand final, the Roosters having managed to turn around their form late in the finals. Team flags fluttered in the breeze, the distinctive maroon and yellow decorating everything that stood still at the airport and in the town.

  He leaned against the waist-high cyclone fence, enjoying being on his own. Work had been busy but with Michael and Cathy back it had, as Emily had predicted, been very smooth.

  But he’d missed Emily. Her sharp wit, her friendly smiles, her total absence of obsequiousness…

  You missed her body, too.

  He ran his hand across the back of his neck. He couldn’t deny it. He missed her lingering perfume, the way his hand fitted in the small of her back when she passed through a doorway before him, and he missed the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled.

  It was crazy but he felt cheated by the fact she’d rushed off to Sydney. Their one night had left him feeling shortchanged because it hadn’t been one night. It had been an hour.

  But at the same time part of him had been worried that she would regret having given herself to him, that everything between them would have changed. However, over the phone she seemed to be the same Emily as the one he’d known before they’d made love.

  His good mate.

  He usually only made love with experienced women, never totally trusting a naïve ‘just tonight’ because they usually wanted a hell of a lot more from him.

  Like Tamara had.

  And Emily, despite her previous relationship, wasn’t experienced. Women like Emily wanted home and hearth and a happy ever after.

  He couldn’t promise that to anyone.

  But hearing her voice each day had helped allay his fears and she certainly hadn’t sounded like she had any regrets. She’d obviously meant what she said.

  Just one night, and this was it. The space under his ribs ached and he pressed against it, wondering if he should have a liver-function test as that ache had been bothering him lately.

  He glanced at his watch. Three-thirty. The plane should be here soon and he and Emily could spend the rest of the afternoon and evening together. He’d decided against dinner at the Royal as the grand final crowd would be in full swing.

  Instead, he was really looking forward to taking Emily home to dinner and being able to sit across from her when he talked to her rather than imagining if her cute nose was wrinkling or if her hands were busy gesticulating, talking for her as much as her mouth.

  He had so much to tell her. Jason had finally managed to master suturing and she’d appreciate what a momentous achievement that was, whereas Cathy had just looked bemused at the high-fives.

  The buzz of the Beech Baron’s propellers sounded before he sighted the white, five-seater plane. Five minutes later its wheels touched down and it taxied to a stop. The pilot jumped out of the cockpit, pulled down the steps and opened the plane’s door.

  Two men and a woman appeared and then Emily stood in the doorway, her flyaway curls fire-engine red.

  His gut kicked in alarm. What the hell was wrong? But then she smiled and waved and he realised she’d probably just missed Warragurra. He was learning her hair was like an emotional universal indicator, going as many colours as the paper strips in the chemistry lab. The country girl must have tired of the city.

  He strode out to meet her, his eyes only for her, when he heard a loud, familiar male voice sound from behind her.

  ‘Linton, I thought I’d surprise you. Lucky for me this young lady seems to know you.’ Bushy eyebrows rose in a lecherous look. ‘I can see why you’re enjoying small-town life.’

  His father stood n
ext to Emily, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her in front of him.

  Linton’s stomach fell to his feet. Of all the days his father could have chosen to have one of his frequent but unannounced visits, this wasn’t his best choice. His quiet dinner with Emily evaporated before his eyes. ‘Dad.’ He extended his hand. ‘Good to see you.’

  ‘You’re still welcome for dinner.’ Linton hauled Emily’s bag out of the boot of his car as the farm dogs barked in joyous glee at seeing Emily again.

  Emily smiled a tired smile. ‘We can do it another time. You head back to town and catch up with your dad.’

  Linton slammed the boot closed. ‘He does this. Just turns up unannounced for a few days. It’s usually when he’s between girlfriends.’

  ‘He’s probably lonely.’ Grey shadows hovered under her eyes and exhaustion hung over her in complete contrast to her usual bubbly style. On the journey out to the station she’d been interested in his conversation but he’d sensed an unusual reserve. Something that hadn’t been present in their phone calls.

  ‘Dad’s hardly lonely.’ But he noticed she hadn’t heard his words.

  She stood gazing out across Woollara’s home-paddock garden, out toward the shearing shed, breathing in deeply. ‘It’s great to be home.’

  She took a tentative step forward, stopped and then gave a self-conscious laugh.

  He grinned at the glimpse of a young girl in her face. ‘What?’

  Her eyes sparkled. ‘It will sound silly but when I’ve been away I usually go and visit the river, and say, “Hello, I’m back.”’

  He extended his hand, not wanting to leave her just yet. ‘Let’s go together. I could do with a walk.’

  ‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’ Her face broke into a smile that encompassed her entire body, totally vanquishing the tiredness that clung to her.

  It was like being showered in golden light, and heat spiralled through him, warming him at first before stoking into a fiery blaze.

  Her hand touched his and he pulled her into his arms to placate muscles that had ached to hold her. His lips hungrily sought hers, desperate to taste her, desperate to brand her with his own taste.

  She responded instantly, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck, her body moulding itself to his, her lips kissing him until his need for breath made him draw away regretfully.

  She laughed as he regained his breath, her arm around his waist. ‘I take it that you missed me.’

  He slid his arm around her shoulders and started walking toward the river, dropping a light kiss on the top of her head. ‘I did.’

  The two sheepdogs raced in front of them, before quickly turning and racing away again.

  She glanced up at him, her grey eyes serious. ‘That’s good, because I really missed you.’

  A muscle in his neck tightened and he tried laughter to release it. ‘So that’s why your hair’s scarlet.’

  She stumbled against him before finding her footing again. ‘Partly.’

  The softness of her voice sent a streak of discomfort through him. He’d expected her to deny it; he’d expected her to say it was the agonies of having to study nursing theory, the stress of getting two large assignments completed in a short space of time.

  They walked the last hundred metres to the riverbank in contemplative silence. She broke away from him and caught the swinging rope that hung from the large gumtree by the side of the waterhole. Her eyes took on a far-away stare. ‘I loved swinging off this rope when I was a kid. We’d all come down here and Mum would cook sausages and Dad would be the biggest kid of us all, bombing us as he let go of the rope.’ She turned toward him. ‘Where did you swim?’

  He put his hands gently on her shoulders, the need to touch her, to be connected to her paramount. ‘Dad had a pool.’ He thought of the times he’d swum there alone, in stark contrast to the scene she’d just depicted.

  She stepped in close and unexpectedly dropped her head on his chest as a shudder trembled through her.

  The shudder built on his own unease. He ran his hand down her cheek. ‘Emily, what’s going on?’

  She bit her lip and dragged in a breath, tilting her head to look up at him, joy and hesitancy filling her gaze. ‘Um, there’s no easy way to say this so I just will. We’re pregnant.’

  Blood pounded loud in his ears as his breath stalled in his lungs. Pregnant! A child, their child. For an instant a fuzzy image of a child on his knee and Emily’s arms around his neck played through his brain, bringing warmth and a sense of belonging.

  Never let yourself get trapped, like I did, son. His father’s mantra exploded in his head, driving away the fragile image. Confusion swamped him. He put his hands on her forearms, lifting her slightly away from him. ‘How? How can you be pregnant?’

  She smiled at him like he was a child himself. ‘Three weeks ago we had a pretty intense moment in the loft at the stables.’

  Irritation skated through him at her smile. ‘I know how babies are made, Emily. But you said you were on the Pill. You said you were protected.’

  An anguished look crossed her face. ‘I told you the truth, Linton. But when I got sick it mucked up the hormone levels and I didn’t even think because it had been such a long time since I’d…’

  Made love. He needed to move, he needed to think. He dropped his hands from hers and raked them through his hair. ‘Hell, what a mess. Two health professionals who should have known better, with an unwanted pregnancy.’

  ‘It’s not unwanted.’ Her quiet words sliced deeply through him, like the blade of a surgeon’s scalpel. ‘I want to have our baby very much.’

  His head snapped up to meet her gaze. Love shone from silver eyes, pure and all-encompassing. Like a fist to the gut, white pain winded him. His legs threatened to crumple underneath him.

  She loves me.

  Emily stood before him, loving him and pregnant with his child.

  His worst nightmare encircled him, binding him with its tendrils of responsibility and commitment. He didn’t want to get married again. He didn’t want to be a father. He didn’t want to be loved.

  He started to pace, his brain slowly emerging from the fog of shock. ‘This should never have happened. Getting married for the sake of the child doesn’t work. I’m living proof of that. We’ll share custody and I’ll support you and the child financially.’

  Her shoulders stiffened and suddenly she seemed taller. ‘So just like that you’ll deny your child a loving home.’

  Her accusing words stung. ‘No, I will not deny this child anything. He will have two loving homes. Yours and mine.’ He stared her down. ‘It worked for me.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, right, and you’re such an emotional rock.’ Derision slashed across her face. ‘Children need two parents in the same house.’

  Memories of his early years pounded in his head and he heard himself yelling, ‘Not if the parents are going to tear each other apart.’

  ‘So you’re not even prepared to try?’

  It took every ounce of his willpower to ignore the disgust in her voice. ‘I know it wouldn’t work.’

  She stepped in close, her scent encircling him, her hand resting gently on his arm. ‘I know this is a shock and that you’re scared. I’m scared too but sometimes the best things in life require a huge risk.’

  Her soft voice continued, like balm to the chaos in his head. ‘We’re not your parents. We are not you and Tamara. We have a chance. We laugh together, we work together well, we’re really good friends—we can do this. We can be a happy family.’ Hope shone from her eyes, driven by love.

  For the first time in weeks the space under his ribs stopped throbbing.

  But then, like the roar of a cyclone, voices suddenly detonated in his head, exploding Emily’s words. Don’t make the same mistake twice, son. Tamara’s whining voice chased his father’s. You’ve made my life miserable.

  He lifted Emily’s hand from his arm. ‘But friendship isn’t love and without that we’ll destroy each othe
r. I watched my parents do that. I lived it with Tamara. My father’s right. It’s not a risk I’m prepared to take again.’

  Her shocked gasp sounded as painful as if he’d struck her across the face. He hated it that he’d hurt her but one of them had to be rational. One of them had to see sense, skirt the emotional minefield that would inevitably blow up in their faces.

  She slumped against the tree but then she jutted her chin out, eyes blazing. ‘You told me that Tamara didn’t love you so of course your marriage failed, how could it not? And did it ever occur to you that your father is wrong? That by listening to his jaundiced view you can’t recognise love when it’s staring you in the face.’ She threw her arms up, her face suddenly hard and determined.

  ‘So go live in your safe little controlled world where you don’t have to risk a thing,’ she said. You once told me that I was never true to myself. Well, I’ve grown up. You obviously don’t want this child but I do. He’ll have four uncles and a grandfather that will love him to bits, and that will have to be enough.’

  She stepped away from the tree. ‘Go back to Sydney and take your financial support with you. I don’t want it.’ Spinning on her heel, she ran up the bank, back toward the homestead, back toward her home.

  ‘Emily!’ He called her name but she didn’t stop.

  And what would he say if she did stop? He couldn’t offer her what she wanted. He couldn’t accept what she offered. It was a no-win situation.

  A sigh shuddered out of him, generated from the depths of his soul. As hard as it seemed right now, she’d come to see he was right.

  And he knew he was right.

  He inhaled sharply as the space under his ribs burned hot and raw.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LINTON longed to go home. He’d even settle for a medical emergency to pull him back to the hospital, not that he’d wish ill health on anyone. Since his father’s arrival twenty-four hours ago they’d been to the huge grand final party at the Royal, played golf that morning and now he was saddle sore from playing polo. His father had seen Penelope’s invitation and had insisted they attend.