Surely it shouldn’t matter why she’d written it. Not now—not after three years.
So why had he been so persistent?
Or had it been her own shock at seeing it that had made her think he’d been persistent?
Maybe he’d just been mildly interested.
Ha! That was about as likely as the moon being made of cheese.
She might not have known Angus long if you counted the time in hours and days, but she knew enough of him to know that he’d be like a terrier with a rat, refusing to let the matter go until he’d got to the bottom of it, however inconsequential it might be.
And she’d made it worse by not giving him an answer. She could have said something, anything. Said it had just been a spur-of-the-moment thing. She’d forgotten all about it.
But she’d not only been too shocked to think of anything to say, her reaction must have been obvious to him from the glower he’d given her before she’d departed.
She tried to put it out of her mind—wasn’t she already adept at that—but today little things like the almost-not-there touch of his hand on her waist as he’d guided her into the mess, the strength of his fingers as he’d pressed a handkerchief into them had got to her.
Handkerchief!
She fished in her pocket and pulled it out. A perfectly ordinary white square—fine linen, she thought. Or good cotton, soft to touch but firm at the same time.
She shook her head and jammed the offending scrap of material back where it belonged. Was she losing it that she could sit here mooning over a square of white linen?
Or cotton?
Pull yourself together, right now!
It was over, whatever it had been, and she had exams looming so would need all her wits about her when she got back to work.
Work had been her solace once before and it could be again—would be again.
* * *
Kate pulled the note out of her pigeonhole at the hospital a couple of days later. Saw the SDR initials in the corner of the envelope and wondered why the formality. Usually when anything was happening, Mabel phoned.
She opened and read it, realising as she did so that it wasn’t a time and date for a regular SDR meeting but for a debrief for all those who’d been in the mountains.
Counsellors—that’s what they’d be offering, she decided. That’s why it’s not a general meeting. Everyone was edgy about counselling—some certain they would never need it while others hated to admit they might.
Kate wondered if perhaps she might, whether it might help her sleep better, get through the night without dreams of Angus—Angus in danger, Angus touching her, Angus asking about the letter.
But it would be trauma counselling on offer rather than—
Well, love counselling!
She groaned, startling someone else checking for mail or notices. But this ‘love’ idea that kept popping into her head was really getting to her.
And what if it was love she felt for him? It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it. He’d explained all that—explained any form of permanent relationship with him was out of the question.
So?
She checked the note. The meeting was an afternoon one, and as it was in the middle of her days off she’d certainly be able to make it. No doubt Blake, or more probably Mabel, had arranged the time for when most of the team who’d gone south would be available.
Kate knew the mother and baby were doing well, as the newspapers seemed to be carrying regular reports on their health status.
Apart from that...
* * *
Angus returned to Western Australia to finish his business there, and with that sorted, he only needed the debrief with the USAR and SDR teams who’d attended the recent operation before giving the go-ahead for production. He was reasonably sure there’d be some new ideas to improve it.
He’d received a text from Mabel alerting him to the date and time of the meeting, and later a note advising him that three of the USAR team would also be there.
But would Kate?
Or would she find some excuse not to come, not wanting to meet up with him in case he asked more questions?
Perhaps the note she’d sent had meant nothing more than it had said—give me a call some time.
Had the fact that he hadn’t called disappointed her? Hurt her in some way that even now she didn’t want to talk about it?
He didn’t think so—their time together had been short, but he was absolutely certain she wouldn’t hold a grudge, not about something as trivial as a missed phone call anyway.
Which left him ready for this debrief with more than usual excitement. True, he’d be hearing the first reports on his tent from people who had actually used it in an emergency situation but, even better, he’d see Kate again.
See her when she wasn’t exhausted and overwhelmed by all she’d been through in the mountains.
But would she talk to him?
He’d made such a huge production of their relationship not being a relationship in the usual sense because he could be called away any time and be gone for weeks or months—maybe even for ever if it was a war zone.
And the last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt her—to hurt Kate as he’d hurt Michelle—coming and going without a thought for how she must feel about it.
He’d pushed the ‘just for now’ idea hard with Kate, and he was sure she’d been happy to go along with it.
Because it had suited her as well?
He stopped thinking about it all at that point, mainly because he didn’t want to consider she hadn’t cared enough to want more than ‘now’.
Not when, after a few short days, he’d known for certain that he did.
Had known that he loved her—for all the good that would do him.
He groaned, then looked quickly around in case someone might have heard him.
* * *
Kate was shocked that she hadn’t figured out Angus would be at the meeting. She’d been so certain it would be about counselling that she hadn’t considered the obvious.
His tent had been on trial, its first actual deployment on a rescue mission. Of course he had to be there!
She’d just have to avoid him, that was all.
But if he asked again about the note she’d sent...
Perhaps she could lie.
Lie to Angus?
No way!
She couldn’t lie to anyone—was a hopeless liar at the best of times—but with something so personal...
‘You with us, Kate?’
Blake’s voice brought her out of the futile arguments going on inside her head. He was doing a roll call—he always did a roll call so Mabel could make a note of who was present.
She waved her hand to let him know she was present, and proceeded to focus on the meeting.
All thoughts of the note were shoved aside as she concentrated on Blake’s summary of what they’d done.
The main representative of the USAR summarised their work before beginning a long discussion with Angus.
‘It was the inflatability of your tent,’ he said, and Kate smothered a smile. ‘It had me wondering if we aren’t underutilising air power, say, to provide safe tunnels through debris.’
And as Kate listened to the pair of them, others present adding suggestions or asking questions, she realised just how important sessions such as these really were because, with everyone sharing their expertise, new and safer ways of providing services would come into being.
Blake eventually diverted the meeting back to the suitability of the tent as a triage and emergency centre. Sam made a suggestion about the placement of surgical instruments, and it was Blake who answered, looking to Angus as he finished for a confirming nod.
And after thank yous had been said, and the reminder for counselling, the meeting broke up,
Kate saying goodbye to Charlie from the USAR team and nodding to most of the others as she headed for the door.
Where Angus had been caught by the USAR man, wanting more information about the tunnels he was hoping might work.
So it was the USAR man, not Angus, who touched her on the shoulder, asking her to wait a minute.
‘Kate,’ he said, ‘you were down there having to get through to the injured woman, and later to the baby. Do you understand what I mean about some kind of protection around a rescuer in that kind of situation?’
Kate nodded, kind of including Angus in the nod.
‘I don’t understand enough about aerodynamics if that’s what it is that keeps things inflated. And, yes, I think we’d all like more protection in hairy situations, but you have to look at it against cost. I don’t know about USAR but the SDR is always looking for extra funds. And even more important is time. How long would it take to get something like that operational twenty or thirty feet below ground level? We needed to get that woman out fast.’
The USAR man nodded, but she could see he wanted more information from Angus, so she said goodbye to the two men and walked away, every nerve in her body conscious of Angus behind her.
CHAPTER NINE
THE MEETING HAD been held on the ground floor of the sprawling six-storey building, which meant Kate hadn’t realised it was raining until she stepped outside.
And not just raining but pelting down, thunder rolling ominously somewhere to the west, lightning flashing across the grey sky.
She’d be soaked on the way home in this downpour!
Was there an umbrella in her locker? One she’d left there accidentally some time ago?
Her old parka—that would help.
Or maybe she could just get wet.
‘Walk you home?’
She turned to see Angus just outside the foyer of the staff entrance, a huge umbrella held above his head, his face unreadable in its shadow.
Probably unreadable anyway, was her instant thought, knowing exactly why he was here and what he wanted to know. Although that knowledge didn’t stop a huge skip in her heartbeat.
But nearly a week of sleepless nights and long discussions with herself during her runs hadn’t resolved the dilemma in which she found herself.
Although it wasn’t really a dilemma, was it?
He wanted to know and she would have to tell him.
She would tell him as concisely and unemotionally as she could.
The concise bit was okay. It was the next part that might be difficult.
Would be difficult.
Thanks,’ she said, wondering if she’d taken an age to reply or if it had only seemed that way to her.
She stepped under the shelter of his umbrella and the simple act of sharing it with him, pressing close against him to avoid the rain, made her forget all the rational reasoning that had, only seconds earlier, gone on in her head.
Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be close to him.
Like this!
For whatever reason!
And for ever?
Did he feel the same that he didn’t speak, simply putting his hand in the small of her back and guiding her towards the apartment block?
Except he didn’t do for ever—he’d told her that...
But remembering the question he wanted answered banished the little dart of pain that thought brought in its wake.
But Alice would surely be home, so she, Kate, might be saved the question.
For now.
They reached the entrance and it was only polite that she ask him in.
‘That’d be great,’ he said, as if they hadn’t ever been more than casual acquaintances—had never spent hot, steamy, and yet sometimes languorous, hours in bed. Never talked until their throats were dry, on ferries, and out walking, in restaurants, and on the Ferris wheel at Luna Park.
‘Coffee?’ she asked when they were safely inside, his umbrella dripping water on the balcony.
The word came out as a squeak, her nerves so tense it was a wonder she could breathe.
‘Lovely,’ he said, settling himself into an armchair for all the world as if he belonged in the apartment, not her.
But making coffee gave her time to calm down, to settle her unruly nerves, and calm the inner longings being close to him had generated.
It was only as she set some shortbread on a small plate and carried the tray out of the kitchen that she realised finally that Alice wasn’t there. Closed her eyes briefly when she remembered it was Alice’s charity shop day.
She waited until he’d picked up his coffee, surreptitiously studying him when she could.
Got nothing!
Not a hint of what he might be thinking or feeling.
Nothing.
Which meant she’d have to bring it up, because there was no other reason he could be here. Their ‘now’ time was over, she’d understood that was all it could be right from the start.
And the fact that it had been cut so short had reinforced the impermanence of their...
Relationship?
Hardly.
More a fling.
‘I was pregnant!’
Suddenly the words were out there, not that difficult to say after all, but from the disbelieving look on Angus’s face—or maybe it was shock—it wasn’t what he’d expected to hear.
He set his coffee cup unsteadily down on the table and stared at her.
‘When I wrote the note,’ she added, because now she’d started she just wanted to get it over with. ‘It was a shock. I’d been on the Pill, then with the cyclone and all the huts getting flattened, I had missed a few, and then I was back home and that’s when I realised.’
She should stop now, let him speak, but there was more she had to say—to explain—for all she felt like curling into a ball and crying herself to sleep.
She swallowed hard.
‘At first I couldn’t decide what I’d do, but then I knew I wanted to keep it and I thought if I was doing that you had a right to know.’
You can do this, she told herself, just tell it as it was, the practical stuff.
‘Just to know, not to help me or to put pressure on you. I knew I’d be okay financially and I could afford to take some time off, and then there’d be childcare but I could work part time so I could be with him as much as possible.’
Deep breath—nearly there—only now the memory of telling her parents and their immediate reaction—get an abortion—had returned to throw shadows over her words, so her voice, as she continued, wavered just a little.
‘I had it all worked out but thought I should probably tell you, so that’s why I wrote the note.’
Kate sat back, biting her lip, tense—with fear—when she should have been pleased with herself for getting it all out into the open without the hint of a tear or a shading of self-pity.
‘And when I didn’t phone?’
The words sounded as if he’d strangled them on the way out, but he was probably shocked.
It hurt! Kate thought but didn’t say.
She closed her eyes, back in that time, but after a moment found the strength to answer.
‘I felt you’d drawn a line under what had happened, and I honestly believed that was for the best. I didn’t want it mucking up your and Michelle’s marriage, either with guilt if you didn’t tell her, or an extra child somewhere on the outer edges of your lives if you did.’
He sat in silence, staring at her as if he didn’t know her, disbelief written clearly on his face.
Kate sipped her coffee, holding her cup in two hands in the hope he wouldn’t notice she was shaking. She’d done her part and answered his question. Now she hoped like hell he wouldn’t take it further.
She didn’t handle the further very well.
Except
he would—he’d have to really. Even now he was looking around the apartment as if to find a child she’d hidden somewhere. Or even a toy, a hint of a child...
‘You miscarried?’ he asked at last.
Kate shook her head.
‘If only it had been that straightforward,’ she said, standing up and walking to the long glass door that led onto the balcony, looking out over the streets awash with rain.
* * *
Angus tried to figure out that statement. If only it had been that easy? What the hell did she mean!
Damn it all, he’d run the whole gamut of emotions in the last few minutes and his brain wasn’t working all that well, but surely he should be able to figure out...
Something hot was stirring inside him. He’d felt a jolt of it when she’d told him she’d been pregnant—she’d been pregnant with his child and he hadn’t known. Yes, that had started the fire.
But this!
What he was thinking now!
He stared at her—at her straight back turned away from him, no doubt concerned about his reaction.
And so she should be!
‘You had my child adopted?’
The heat propelled the words out far more sharply than he’d intended, and he saw her swing to face him.
‘He was my child, and he was stillborn!’ She flung the words at him, matching his anger with some of her own.
The enormity of what she’d said—the realisation of what she must have gone through—doused his anger faster than a cold shower. He stood up, walked across to where she was once again facing the window.
Put his arm tentatively around her waist, and very slowly drew her to him, turning her so she stood in the shelter of his arms, holding her loosely until she all but fell against him and he could wrap his arms more tightly now and feel the shudder as she let go of the tension she had to have been feeling.
The pain she must have suffered was unimaginable and all he could do was hold her, rocking her slightly, hoping his body might tell her things his mind couldn’t put into words.
She pushed away—not immediately—and returned to where she’d been sitting on the sofa.
Could he sit beside her?
Should he?
Realising there were so many more questions he wanted to ask, he went back to where he’d been sitting and finished his coffee, which wasn’t cold but close.
Healed by Her Army Doc Page 13