by Fiona Lowe
She turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine, clawing back some control. It was time get back to work.
She turned her head and met his clear and intense gaze. A shiver shot through her, making her both cold and hot at the same time. A shiver that created shimmers deep inside her. No, no, no. Remember Steven.
Don’t remember Steven. She’d been working really hard on forgetting Steven and she didn’t want to revisit that pain either.
She involuntarily swallowed before clearing her throat. ‘I need to run this immunisation clinic so if you’re ready, we’ll leave now.’
Flynn wordlessly pushed back from the door where his arms had been resting. ‘Let’s head back, Susie.’ He walked slowly around the twin-cab truck, opening the back door for the health worker, and clambered in next to Mia, tilting his hat forward as if he was going to take a nap.
Everything about him, every action and word powerfully stated that this man was in command of his world—completely and utterly. It was in stark contrast to Mia, who had the feeling she was only just hanging on by her fingernails. Coming to Kirra was supposed to give her some control, and at the very least control over her job. She didn’t think that was too much to ask, given what she faced in the future.
Mia thrust the truck into gear, forcing away the thoughts that threatened to undo her. She refused to let ‘Dr Cool and Laid-Back’ make her feel incompetent.
You’re doing a good enough job of that yourself.
With a jerk, she swung the truck into a wide U-turn and pulled onto the main road, a plume of dust rising behind her. One hundred metres later she slowed and peered out the windscreen, checking for incoming planes as the runway crossed the road.
‘You’re right, no planes.’ The words sounded muffled from under the hat.
Exasperation whipped her. ‘Really, and you can see clearly out from under that hat, can you?’
Susie giggled behind her.
He tilted the hat back and his eyes twinkled at her. ‘Well, there are few holes in this old workhorse, but I can also hear. Combination of the senses, Mia.’
Susie’s earlier words, ‘Listen with all of you’ played across her mind. She’d been happy to hear them from Susie. But not from Flynn. Everything about this doctor had her on edge.
Thank goodness she only had to put up with him until tomorrow and then he’d fly out of her life for another week.
As she turned the truck onto the coast road and headed toward the clinic, she had to slow the vehicle to a crawl. There were people in cars, trucks, on bikes and on foot, blocking the road in a mass of colour—their bright clothing vivid against their dark skin. ‘I wonder what’s happening?’
‘Barge is in.’ Susie spoke matter-of-factly as she hopped out of the truck.
‘Friday’s barge day.’ Flynn wound down his window and high-fived some of the kids walking along the road.
Mia could see a big blue ship almost sitting on the shoreline, a large gangplank coming from the centre of its twin hull and resting on the red beach. She stared straight ahead at the party atmosphere in front of her as an ute, loaded with boxes, drove off the barge.
‘And that means…’ Flynn’s mouth twitched at the corners but his eyes expressed commiseration.
Realisation thudded through her. ‘It means no one is going to bring their baby, toddler or pre-schooler to the clinic this afternoon to be immunised.’ She gently banged her forehead against the steering-wheel, defeat tugging at her every pore.
‘See, you’re catching on already.’ His words were gentle with no trace of jubilation at her frustration.
With her head still against the wheel, she turned slightly as he stretched his long arms above his head, his shirt straining against muscular biceps. She bit her lip against the surge of unwanted heat that coiled through her. ‘You didn’t mention barge day when we left the airport.’ Her voice wavered.
He shrugged, his face impassive. ‘You were pretty strung out at that point. I thought it best to go with your flow.’
She breathed in hard, realising she’d made a fool of herself in front of her new colleague. What did they say about first impressions not being able to be undone? She welcomed the uncomfortable edge of the steering-wheel against her forehead, overriding the pain of humiliation. ‘What a waste of a day.’
‘Nothing is ever a waste, Mia.’ His soft words washed over her, not soothing but not gloating either. ‘I tell you what, I’ll fill you in as much as I can during the next week. At least you’ll know that the footy and barge afternoons are times you do paperwork because no one will be at clinic.’
She abruptly sat up and stared at him, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs she was sure he could see it. Surely she’d misunderstood. Surely her humiliation wasn’t going to be extended over one hundred and sixty eight hours. ‘The next week?’ Her voice squeaked out the words. ‘I thought you were only here for tomorrow’s clinic?’
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes crinkling in a smile. ‘That had been the plan but things change. Kirra has the largest population so I’m here more often than not. I’ve been away for five days so now I need to play catch-up and I’m here for seven days straight.’
Somehow she managed to force the muscles of her face into a smile, while her gut seemed to fold inward. ‘I guess it’s my lucky week, then.’ But luck had never played a role in her life and she didn’t believe it was going to start any time soon.
CHAPTER TWO
FLYNN gazed out of his office window, watching the cabbage palms waving in the breeze and desperately trying to ignore the lure of the sunshine and wide-open spaces. Most of him wanted to be outside, swimming in a waterhole or just sitting under the shade of the banyan trees with the local community. He learned a lot by just sitting and listening.
But he had a major health department report due, and a budget review—two huge tasks that should be claiming his complete attention. Hadn’t he told Mia that Friday afternoon was a good time for admin work? But it seemed he couldn’t take his own advice today and his mind kept wandering. For some inexplicable reason he couldn’t stop thinking about Mia.
A dull thud sounded behind him, the third bump in the last twenty minutes. It sounded like Mia was tearing apart the treatment room. He grinned despite himself. She was the type of woman who couldn’t sit still even if she was tied to a chair. There was nothing new in that. Each new nurse needed to put his or her stamp on the place.
He met a new nurse every few months. More male nurses were taking up positions but they were usually younger, came for some adventure, and headed back south for a promotion.
Generally the nurses were older women, jaded with life, anti-men, and they came up here so they could work solo. Teamwork didn’t usually feature on their agenda and they ‘tolerated’ doctors in their domain. He was used to flying in, running his clinics and flying out. In between he consulted over the phone for emergencies and other than those contact times he rarely gave these competent women another thought.
But Mia, with her long blonde hair, her vivid blue eyes and high cheekbones, had caught his attention the moment he’d walked around the plane. She didn’t fit the type at all. She seemed out of place and that had piqued his curiosity.
Yes, curiosity was the only reason he was thinking about her. It had nothing at all to do with honey-brown skin, a hesitant smile and long, long legs.
No, he was immune to women and had been since three thirty p.m., March eighteenth, two years ago.
But despite his immunity, the image of Mia—eyes flashing against fleeting shadows, with her hands fixed firmly on shapely hips—wafted across his mind. She’d been prickly from the moment they’d met.
The least you could have done was send a message to say you were going to be late.
She was bossy with a take-charge attitude. He laughed out loud, the sudden realisation pushing away the disconcerting feeling that had dogged him since he’d first seen her. Mia wasn’t any different from the usual RAN aft
er all.
With a clear mind he returned his attention to the spreadsheet blinking at him from the computer and tackled the budget.
Running feet unexpectedly pounded on the ramp outside his office and the door of the men’s entrance to the clinic was abruptly flung open, its hinges screeching in protest.
‘Doc, Sis, come quick.’ The distressed voice bounced off the walls.
Flynn shot out of his chair, reaching the corridor at the same moment as Mia. He instantly recognised Walter, one of the talented wood carvers on the island. ‘What’s happened?
‘What’s wrong?’
Walter gripped the railing on the wall, panting hard. ‘Jimmy, he’s in the ute. He’s hurt pretty bad.’
‘I’ll get the trolley.’ Mia quickly disappeared into the treatment room.
Flynn picked up the emergency kit. ‘Let’s go.’ He pushed open the door and ran, the heat of the late afternoon hitting him hard after the cool air of the clinic.
A twelve-year-old boy lay very still on his side in the back of a truck, the whites of his eyes wide with fear and a spear protruding from his back.
Flynn flinched at the unusual sight, immediately calculating possible internal damage. ‘Thank goodness you left the spear in place, Walter.’
The man ran his hands through his tight, curly hair. ‘Them boys were practising. I went to burn off, I was gone a few minutes and…’A long breath shuddered out of him as words failed him.
Flynn squeezed the father’s shoulder. The rattle of the trolley wheels against the ramp sounded behind him, along with Mia’s gasp as she stopped next to him.
This emergency would give him a chance to see Mia in action, and firm up what he already knew. Mia was cut from the same cloth as every RAN—a sole practitioner who had trouble working as part of a team. He’d worked with most types and sometimes it was easy and sometimes it was a hard slog. Based on how she’d bumped him from driving the truck, it would probably be a hard slog.
She cleared her throat. ‘Right, we need to cut the spear down closer to the entry point before we move him. We don’t want to cause any more damage than has already been done.’ She spoke firmly, as her sound practice broke through her initial shock. She looked straight at Flynn. ‘We need a saw.’
Flynn swallowed a sigh. She’d immediately taken charge, directing the play despite the fact she was working with a doctor. Situation normal. It looked like the power struggle had started already. ‘Walter, we need to cut the spear. Can you get a saw or some strong secateurs?’
‘I’ll get them from the shed.’ The anxious father ran around the building to the bush medicine garden, which was an important part of tying in indigenous medicine with modern.
‘There’s packing gauze in the kit to steady around the puncture site.’ Flynn handed Mia the large box, expecting her to counter his request with a suggestion of her own.
‘Right, will do.’ She eagerly accepted the box and pulled on a pair of gloves.
Her unexpected compliance startled him but there was no time to second-guess her. He needed to concentrate on Jimmy. He crawled into the back of the ute, the ribbed metal hard against his knees. ‘Hey, mate, you weren’t supposed to be the target in practice. How are you feeling?’ His fingers immediately rested on the young boy’s neck, feeling for his carotid pulse.
Jimmy bit his lip, trying hard to be stoic. ‘It hurts heaps.’
Flynn nodded in understanding as he silently counted Jimmy’s pulse. Rapid but firm. Perhaps the spear had missed vital organs? But most of him knew that was probably wishful thinking.
Metal pinged as Mia scrambled onto the tray, hauling the emergency kit with her. ‘Hi, Jimmy, I’m Mia and I’m going to have to touch the area around the spear but I’ll be as gentle as I can.’
She smiled at their patient and for the first time since Flynn had met her, her face lost its tension and her eyes shed their shadows.
It changed her completely. Unexpected heat charged through him and he had a momentary vision of her standing on a beach with her long hair trailing out behind her and her face lifted up to the breeze—with not a care in the world.
What the—? Where on earth had that thought come from? He shoved the image aside and reminded himself that she was the island nurse, pure and simple.
Mia deftly wrapped the gauze around the puncture site with gentle care. ‘You’re being very brave, Jimmy.’
Jimmy fixed his eyes on her face, hanging onto her murmured words like a lifeline.
Flynn didn’t blame him. There was something about her that could keep a bloke mesmerised, but not him. He reminded himself of his cast-iron immunity, the one that Brooke had activated.
‘Flynn, I got a bush saw.’ Walter ran up holding a bright orange-handled saw.
‘Thanks, Walter, excellent work.’ Flynn took the proffered saw.
Mia immediately opened a sterile pack and covered the gauze she’d placed around the spear entry point with a small theatre towel. ‘We don’t need wood shavings in there as well. I hope you’re as good with a bush saw as you are with a scalpel.’ She gripped the spear firmly at the entry point and glanced up at him, giving a quiet, companionable smile.
A completely unexpected smile.
He found himself smiling back. ‘I’ve improved with practice.’ He tapped the back of his hand where a long, jagged scar ran across three knuckles.
‘Ouch.’
‘My seven stitches were a badge of honour but Dad didn’t let me loose in the carving shed after that. Right, holding tight.’ The large bush saw seemed ludicrous against the narrow width of the spear but it was all they had. And he was used to making do. Medicine in remote rural communities was as much about improvisation as it was about modern medicine. He placed the bush saw a couple of centimetres above her hand.
Her hand tightened on the spear. ‘You need to leave more room.’
He tamped down his frustration at her tone. ‘I know what I’m doing, your knuckles will be safe.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She spoke softly and flicked her gaze to his, sea-blue irises sparkling at him like sunshine on water.
His heart rate unexpectedly kicked up for the first time in a very long time, pushing delicious languid heat through him, warming places that had been cold since Brooke’s betrayal.
His hand instantly gripped the saw harder, willing the sensation away. He refused to accept the feeling, hating that it could even happen after two years of self-imposed celibacy. Forcing his attention to the spear and the saw, he spoke slowly. ‘Jimmy, I’m going to cut the spear. I need you to keep as still as possible.’
He carefully pulled the serrated silver blade through the wood and five quick cuts later, the spear was in two pieces.
Mia checked Jimmy’s pulse and stroked his head. ‘You’re doing really well.’
The boy whimpered.
Flynn touched the boy’s shoulder. ‘Jimmy, we’re going to slide you onto a trolley and take you inside.’
‘I’ll steady his hips, you take his shoulders and, Walter, you can take the feet.’ Mia raised herself from kneeling to a low squat, ready to move, and gave Flynn an expectant look. ‘On your count, Flynn, when you’re ready.’
She’d taken over again. ‘Thanks for that.’ He couldn’t stop the sarcasm leaking into his voice.
Mia blinked against a flash of confusion and a slight frown creased her forehead.
You’re being petty. He shut his ears to the voice and crawled around behind Jimmy’s head, putting his arms under the boy’s left shoulder. ‘One, two, three.’
The young boy bit his lip as he was carefully slid down the tray on his side and then lifted onto the trolley.
‘We need you to lie very still on your front.’ Their voices collided, deep resonance tumbling with gentle softness.
Mia shrugged her shoulders, a wry smile hovering around her mouth. ‘What can I say? I’m a firstborn and we always tend to take charge.’
His mouth twitched despite him wanting to
keep a straight face, the truth of her comment hitting home. ‘You and me both.’
A trickle of laughter sprinkled her words. ‘Oh, dear, we could be in strife, then. All chiefs and no Indians.’ Her smile expanded, dancing down into the deep creases that formed around her plump mouth.
Irrational disappointment streaked through him when she looked away and spoke to Jimmy.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Just OK.’ Jimmy’s scared voice was barely audible.
‘Walter, go and get Ruby.’ Flynn knew the father wouldn’t want to be in the clinic and the boy needed his mother.
‘I’ll bring her.’ The stressed man hopped into the truck and drove off.
‘Let’s go.’ Flynn flicked the brakes on the trolley upward with his foot, releasing the wheels, and together he and Mia quickly pushed the trolley inside.
‘How about I prime the Hartmann’s and insert the IV while you examine him?’ Mia ripped open an IV set and plunged the metal-tipped top into a bag of electrolyte fluid.
He caught the subtle change in her tone. She’d tried to convert her ‘in-charge’ statement into a question. ‘Good idea.’ He had to agree with her—the division of jobs was in Jimmy’s best interests.
He pulled his stethoscope off the hook and pushed it into his ears. He listened intently to the air entry, even though the puncture wound was probably lower than the lungs. Who knew which direction the spear was lying internally?
‘Jimmy, I need to put a needle into your arm so we can give you something to drink through your veins.’ Mia wrapped the tourniquet around Jimmy’s thin, left arm. ‘I promise it will hurt a lot less than the spear.’
The boy squeezed his eyes shut as if he didn’t want to think about it.
‘Air entry good, respirations slightly elevated.’ Flynn wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around the boy’s arm and listened to the sound of the whoosh and thump of the blood pounding in the arteries. He swung the stethoscope around his neck. ‘BP’s dropping slowly. He’s bleeding somewhere.’
‘Or leaking somewhere?’ Her brows drew together in concentration as she examined Jimmy’s arm. ‘He’s not exactly in shutdown but some of his veins have collapsed.’