by Fiona Lowe
‘Right, then, we’ll get started.’
The machine clicked as it changed positions every few minutes. Callum’s voice would tell her when to hold still and when she could move. Her arm throbbed, her head pounded and the examination seemed to go on for ever.
Why is it taking so long?
Surely the atrophy would be evident from the first scan. Was there so much degeneration that they needed to map more than she’d expected? She chewed her lip and tried to still her mind by concentrating on the music, but it didn’t work. Her mouth dried as her heart thumped hard, rushing adrenaline and agitation through her and making her feel all fluttery. Her fingers reached for the buzzer.
‘We’re nearly finished, Mia. Can you hang on just five minutes more?’ Callum’s voice sounded concerned.
Five minutes. She tried to moisten her mouth with her tongue. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Mia, honey, remember when we climbed up that steep sand dune and sat on the top, watching the sun rise?’ Flynn’s voice unexpectedly came through the speaker. ‘Picture that in your mind. We sat huddled together, the chill of the pre-dawn air unexpectedly cold, and then the sky changed from black to pink streaked with blue. As the light started to spread we saw a pod of dolphins diving in and out of the water, teasing us. We were stuck on land, while they had the freedom to explore the ocean far and wide.’
His velvet-smooth voice brought the image back clear and true. It was as if she was back on top of that dune with him. She could feel his arm around her, comforting and warm, as she cuddled into his shoulder. Her breathing slowed, her panic receded and she was able to follow Callum’s final instructions.
Three minutes later it was all over. ‘Well done to you, Mia. I’m sure that was a very long forty minutes. We’re moving you out now and the nurse will take you back to the change room.’ Callum paused for a moment. ‘Mr Sanderson will meet you in the interview room.’
The bed started to move and a moment later Mia was able to sit up. She turned to look into the control room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Flynn, but it was one-way glass and she could only see the reflection of herself. Disappointment pulled at her. She needed as many glimpses of him as she could get because in a few hours she would never see him again.
‘This way, Mia.’ The nurse guided her back to the change room and assisted her in putting on her dress and refitting the sling.
A few minutes later the nurse escorted her to the interview room, walking briskly at a typical nurse pace.
Mia wanted to walk slowly. Why walk quickly to bad news that she already knew and didn’t need to be told? Why walk quickly to Flynn when she would just have to turn around and walk away from him?
Mia stepped inside the small room and started with surprise. It was empty. Where was Flynn? She’d expected him to meet her there.
Doug Sanderson arrived a moment later with a large yellow X-ray envelope tucked under his arm and holding two cups of coffee. He passed one to her. ‘Flynn said you liked it strong.’
‘Thanks.’ She peeled the top back and breathed in the aroma. How much longer did she have before she wouldn’t be able to associate that amazing bouquet with coffee? She pushed the thought away. ‘Where’s Flynn?’
‘He’s outside.’ Doug sat down on the opposite couch, the yellow envelope sliding to the floor.
‘On the phone?’ She couldn’t imagine any other reason that would prevent him from being with her.
Doug shook his head. ‘No, he’s waiting. Technically, he isn’t next of kin and he didn’t presume that you would want him to be in here with you.’
Hurt and bewilderment merged. ‘But that’s crazy.’
‘Is it?’ The doctor raised his craggy brows. ‘You told him that if you had FTD you didn’t want him in your life.’ Doug sipped his coffee as if he was letting his words sink in.
The last unrealistic strand of hope inside her snapped. ‘So it’s true. I do have FTD and he knows it.’ Her voice stumbled as tears pricked the back of her eyes.
‘I haven’t given you a diagnosis yet, Mia, and Flynn hasn’t see the results. We sent Flynn out of the control room and only called him back when you started to get agitated.’ Peter’s expression was that of a stern father. ‘I’m asking you, do you want Flynn here with you now when you’re prepared to cut him out of your life if the news is bad?’
Frustration surged. Why didn’t anyone understand her motives? ‘But that’s for his own good.’
Peter shrugged. ‘So your brand of love only works in the good times?’
Mia blinked. She’d never met a neurologist who doubled as a relationship counsellor. ‘No!’ Her indignation bounced off the walls. ‘But—’
He cut her off. ‘For some couples, love only works in the good times, but Flynn is made of sterner stuff than that. Did it ever occur to you that your action of leaving, which you think is altruistic, is actually selfish? You’re denying a man who loves you the chance to live his life the way he chooses to.’
A woman who loves you won’t walk away.
She’d dished out pat advice to Flynn and she hadn’t been able to take it herself. She didn’t want to leave him but she had to protect him. Protect him from what she’d slowly become. How was that selfish?
She laced her fingers tightly in her lap as her thoughts swirled. Did she have the right to tell Flynn he couldn’t care for her? How would she have felt if her mother had told her the same thing?
She would have hated it. She would have railed against it and refused to accept it. Understanding stormed in. She didn’t have the right to tell Flynn how to handle her illness or put parameters on his love. She loved him and she needed to allow him to love her his way.
She struggled to her feet and pulled open the door.
The moment she stepped into the corridor she saw Flynn push himself off the wall he’d been leaning against. Strain showed clearly on his face, in his hollow cheeks and the deep lines bracketing his mouth.
Her heart expanded in love as she worked to accept that the pain this situation was causing him was less than the pain she would inflict on his heart if she left.
She reached her good arm out toward him. ‘Flynn, before I find out the results I… There’s something I have to say.’
Flynn took three steps and pulled her gently into his arms, being careful not to knock her injured arm. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, knowing that it might be the last time he was able to do it. Waiting had been pure agony. It still was but at least he could hold her.
He may have been able to pull strings to get the MRI but the team had fittingly respected Mia’s right to hear the diagnosis before anyone else.
She gazed up at him, determination clear in her eyes. ‘I love you, Flynn Harrington, and I know you love me.’ She sucked in a quick breath. ‘But are you absolutely certain you really want to care for me if I do have FTD?’
A kernel of optimism tried to shoot but he dared not hope that she’d changed her mind. ‘Will you let me?’
She bit her lip and nodded. ‘I’m so sorry that I’ve put you through this hell.’ A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I thought by leaving I was doing the right thing, but if it was the other way around I would hate it if you insisted I leave you.’
Joy surged through him and he traced his finger down her cheek. ‘I love you, Mia. Whatever we face, we’ll face it together. Are you ready?’
She shuddered against him and then tossed her head up, strands of her hair caressing his face. She caught his hand, gripping it hard. ‘It’s time. Let’s do this.’
Doug sat them down. ‘As a couple there are some things you need to know about this disease. Forty per cent of FTD is believed to have a genetic component, which leaves sixty percent with no apparent hereditary link.’
Mia concentrated hard on Doug’s sonorous voice, trying to listen when most of her was screaming, Just tell me the results.
Flynn’s hand gave her a reassuring squeeze, which told her he felt exactly the same
.
‘Your family history doesn’t give a clear genetic link but it is totally understandable, after the trauma you have been through and the vagaries of your grandfather and older brother’s deaths, for you to believe a link is probable.’ He stood up and turned on the light box, inserting the grey scans under the clip. He then beckoned them both over.
‘As you can see here and here and here…’ he tapped the scans with his pen ‘…there are absolutely no signs of atrophy in your brain. It’s as healthy as you would expect for someone of your age.’
His words broke over her and every part of her went numb. White noise roared in her head. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t feel.
She’d been so certain.
She’d been so wrong.
Flynn’s arm slid around her, his voice soft in her ear. ‘Mia, darling, you’re well.’
She held his arm hard against her waist, needing his touch and support as her final fear erupted. ‘What about my future and children?’
Doug responded instantly, as if he’d anticipated the question. ‘Given the circumstances and the fact that you lack a real history but your mother definitely had FTD, I think that the gene test will give you peace of mind. It will most likely prove to you that your mother was in the sixty per cent basket and had sporadic FTD.’
Her eyes scanned Flynn’s face, knowing how much he wanted children. ‘If I do have the gene, I don’t want to risk passing it on to a child.’
He smiled at her, his face full of love and understanding. ‘Then we’ll adopt. We’ll foster kids; we’ll help out some of the kids on Kirra. Whatever happens, we’ll work it out together. We’re going to have a fabulous life together.’
Her heart almost burst with love for this incredible man who adored and loved her despite the unknown.
Peter scrawled words on a referral pad. ‘Flynn, take this lovely young women on a holiday to Brisbane; take in the sights, some genetic counselling and a gene test. Then come back and start the rest of your lives.’ He shook both their hands and left the room.
Flynn cradled her close. ‘When do you want to leave for Brisbane?’
She snuggled in, feeling his heart beating under her hand, still not quite believing that she had a wonderful future ahead of her with this man. ‘Can you hire a plane and fly us down now?’
He grinned and kissed her hard and fast. ‘Works for me.’
EPILOGUE
THE outback sun shone white against an expansive blue sky. The sea lapped gently on the shore and across the dirt road the cream weatherboard church with its wooden louvres groaned against its stilts as the capacity crowd filled the pews. This was a wedding everyone had waited months for. Now the dry season and the day for a true celebration had arrived.
The sanctuary walls were decorated with the fine lines of Kirri cross-hatching and dots, their distinctive earthy red yellow and white warming the church. Motifs of pelicans, fish, turtles, crocodiles and crabs linked the Kirri with their land and fused two cultures.
The groom stood at ease at the altar, smiling widely at everyone, with no trace of the usual pre-wedding nerves.
‘Flynn, is my tie done right?’ Walter asked anxiously as he plunged his hand down into his suit pocket for the third time in as many minutes.
Flynn laughed at the role reversal—usually the best man was reassuring the groom. ‘Mate, your tie is fine and that ring is still in your pocket just like it was a moment ago.’ He squeezed Walter’s shoulder. ‘Relax and enjoy. After what Mia and I have been through, today is just one big celebration. If there are a few fluffed lines and dropped rings, it doesn’t matter.’
The chants of Kirri men floated through the windows, their clapping sticks beating rhythmically. Inside the church the organ lay silent. Instead, at the sound of the sticks the glorious strains of trumpet and strings soared to a crescendo. The bride had arrived.
Flynn turned, his eyes glued to the door, not wanting to miss a moment of Mia walking toward him as his bride.
She stepped into the doorway and paused. Susie and Jenny fussed behind her, their hands gentle and caring against the long, white silk jacket, delicately hand-painted with silver Kirri designs.
Holding a fragrant bouquet of frangipani, Mia raised her head, hooked her gaze to Flynn’s and smiled. Her gaze never wavered as she glided down the aisle toward him.
Her full-length straight dress was stunning in its simplicity, accentuating every delightful curve, including the hint of tiny bump that only he and Mia knew about—the ultimate wedding gift for them both. It took every ounce of Flynn’s self-control not to stride up the aisle and meet her. But finally her hand touched his arm.
He covered her hand with his. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Thank you.’ Her eyes sparkled with a teasing look. ‘I’m warning you, though, this jacket makes this the respectable church version of the dress.’
He glanced down, catching a hint of golden thigh as the jacket swung sideways. ‘I can’t wait for the reception, then.’
She laughed, her eyes full of joy and free of shadows.
He brushed the side of her cheek with his forefinger, wondering at the gift that had come his way when Mia had sought refuge on the island. ‘In fact, I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives. We have so many wonderful adventures ahead of us.’
Then he broke protocol and in front of the minister, his best man and a full church he swung Mia into his arms and kissed her, making her his wife.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781489214638
TITLE: FLYING DOCTORS: A WEDDING IN WARRAGURRA/THE PLAYBOY DOCTOR’S MARRIAGE PROPOSAL/THE DOCTOR CLAIMS HIS BRIDE
First Australian Publication 2016
Copyright © 2015 Fiona Lowe
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises (Australia) Pty Ltd, Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street, Sydney, N.S.W., Australia 2000.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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