Holly's Heart

by Fiona McArthur

  Apparently, that little skill only worked when Holly Peterson was out of his orbit. He had assumed she’d still be catapulting her career to even greater heights in Sydney, while his coming back here would be a sideways step into GP land, once he’d realised he wanted more than promotion.

  Over the last four years, since they’d both finished medicine at two different universities, he admitted he’d asked about her. Had seen she’d topped her graduation, despite the fact he’d been dating a winsome blonde at the time, and shouldn’t have been looking up old flames.

  Then he’d noted her elevation to ED registrar at Sydney Central, this time while he’d been courting his luscious Strawberry. Even his fiery redhead hadn’t kept his attention long after that, and they’d parted almost amicably.

  The damnable thing was that with one look into her baby-blue eyes, one perusal of her luscious lips, one conversation with her husky voice washing over him, and he was just as bowled over by her now as he ever had been.

  No. That was just the shock. He’d already decided he’d find himself a nice country doctor’s wife and settle down, he would just concentrate on work and restoring Brierly Park to the esteem it had been held in during his grandfather’s tenure.

  The presence of Holly would not derail his plans, because she’d never fancied him. Just the opposite, until he’d actually reached the point where he felt invisible to her—except as a nuisance on that day. A terrifying day when he’d decided it was now or never to tell her how he felt.

  Now he could smile even if it was a bitter one. She’d made no bones. ‘I’m not interested. Will never be interested. And please don’t bother me again.’ Then her flaky friend Jasmine had appeared to be stuck to her side like glue for the remainder of their time at Wirralong High and he’d never managed to catch Holly alone again.

  Damn fine memories. Not. But that didn’t alter the facts.

  Holly had a coffee shop in Wirralong? Had a babysitter, so obviously she had a child. Had recently stopped practising medicine for some reason. And lived above the main street, just a few shops down from him.

  How had he missed that she’d left medicine and what the heck had happened to drive her back here and not set up as the doctor she always said she’d be?

  He turned to the doorway and stepped inside. Reached out for his laptop computer and turned it on. Then he did what any self-respecting investigator did. He made a background Internet search on Dr Holly Peterson.

  The first thing he found made his breath whoosh out and the street sounds outside receded as he sat back and stared at the screen. Poor Holly. Her sister, Susan, dead in a car accident on the highway between Melbourne and Wirralong.

  He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He had to physically fight the urge to go back downstairs and up the street to comfort Holly. She’d always said she would look after her sister. It had been one of her driving forces as a teenager determined to stand on her own feet in the world. Something he understood from his own orphaning.

  Her door would be shut. The lights out. And she’d already rushed away from him once. But this was bad. Horrible. He hadn’t known. He would have gone to the funeral. Supported her.

  He knew Holly’s mother had died when she was in med school, so she had no other relatives. Poor Holly. Poor Susan. Hard to imagine happy-go-lucky Susan Peterson dead and buried. Snuffed out by a road traffic accident, with twin boys left as orphans. Pre-deceased by their father it said.

  He read the final line again. The twin boys were being cared for by their aunt.

  Four months ago? Of course he hadn’t seen the funeral notice. Had there been anyone there to comfort Holly when all this had happened? No wonder she looked shattered. He’d find out tomorrow if there was something he could do to help. Anything. If she’d let him.

  Chapter Six

  Holly

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about your sister,’ Ben said the next morning at Wirralong’s Outback Brides Coffee Shop.

  Holly’s hand tightened on the silver jug and she chewed her lower lip. She forced her hands back into motion as she completed the sequence she could do in her sleep. Tap the milk jug, wipe the steamer nozzle with the cloth and tap the milk jug twice again. ‘Thank you.’

  The man took up most of the space on the other side of the counter. ‘So Susan’s twins are living with you here, too?’

  She didn’t look at Ben. Not bad information gathering on his part for only seeing her twelve hours ago. ‘Yes.’ Concentrated on pouring the milk into the waiting crema in the takeaway cup and creating the decorative swirl she’d perfected. Completed the action. Fitted the lid and glanced up to stare over his left shoulder. ‘Double strength, cap on, full. No chocolate.’

  ‘Thank you. Any chance you’d sit down with me?’

  ‘You chose takeaway.’

  They both looked around the almost empty shop. By ten it would be busy again, but the eight-thirty to nine timeslot was usually her settling-in period after the boys went to school and after Mrs F’s regular before-work townspeople who had cottoned on to the whole barista thing. The bridal parties were still at breakfast somewhere.

  Prior to Holly’s sister opening her shop, the only coffee in town had been at the Wirralong Fish and Chip Emporium, which leaned towards the thicker the brew the better.

  Holly had been a barista in her med school days and fitted easily back into the swing when she’d reopened her sister’s café. The decor was similar to Wirra Station’s wedding chapel; rustic, charming and romantic, everything Holly wasn’t. Her friend Jasmine had been adamant she’d draw all the clientele she wanted and even the savvy Maggie, wedding planner extraordinaire, had agreed.

  Holly hadn’t really cared, still in shock from the loss of her sister. She was just happy the boys were more settled now she’d brought them back to their own school.

  But she was used to it now, with its lace and charm, even though Holly had never been a dress-up girl. More a jeans and T-shirt bookworm type with a love of the outdoors. Something she and Ben both shared, she remembered.

  Ben cleared his throat and reluctantly she smiled. Felt it rise up and twitch her lips, like a new moon. Just a sliver. His dark eyes crinkled and she couldn’t help the shrug at her reluctance. Pretty ridiculous to say she was too busy. Al would be in at eight forty-five for his short black. ‘I’ve got ten minutes.’ She owed the guy an apology.

  She poured herself a glass of water and stepped out from behind the counter and deliberately sat on one of the stools along the bar.

  As soon as she sat down he did too, just stretched his long legs out in front of him and she tried not to look at his muscled thighs. Still okay. Still glad she hadn’t chosen a seductive private booth with Ben at eight thirty in the morning. Her head spun enough from lack of sleep.

  ‘You look tired.’ Those warm, deep-blue bedroom eyes watched her with concern. That took the smile away.

  She wasn’t his concern. Couldn’t want it because she had to stay focused on the boys. A tiny voice whispered that also because deep, deep, down inside she did want a shoulder to cry on and his shoulder looked plenty big enough … but it wasn’t hers to use. However, she did not need to go into the fact his arrival had added to her sleeplessness.

  ‘I’m not resting well.’ She needed to apologise. She took a sip from her glass, then miscellaneous words seemed to spray across the table—thankfully without water attached. ‘How are you settling in? I heard it looks pretty flash in your surgery.’ A sudden silence after the spray. Say sorry now, she told herself.

  ‘So, you decided to live above your rooms? Heard they were refurbished too.’ She was gabbling, but couldn’t stop. ‘That will be easier for work than driving in from Brierly Park.’ Why was he making her gabble? Damn it. She glared at him.

  He raised his brows at her fierce look. ‘Problem?’

  She was doing it again. Blaming him for seeing her too clearly. She sighed. ‘No. And before we go any further,’ big gulp of air, ‘I want to apologise f
or how I treated you in the past. So I can stop worrying about it.’

  That made his eyes widen. There was a short, reflective pause. ‘How did you treat me in the past?’ His face settled back into expressionless, but his eyes had darkened. Bad memories from what she’d said and how she’d treated him? Or some other emotion. She was hopeless at guessing what was in his head. He’d always been an open book, but now? Not so. Times had changed.

  She ducked her head and swallowed without touching her glass. Then lifted her chin. ‘I was mean to you at school. I’m sorry.’

  He shrugged those incredible shoulders. And, surprisingly, he grinned. ‘Water under the bridge. Long time ago. At school, you ignored me. Weren’t interested. And I was besotted. Finally, you told me to shove off.’

  She winced and he gave another shrug. ‘But hey. I’m a ripped, eligible bachelor, now, and I can handle it.’ His face morphed into deadpan and she looked up to meet his eyes. Saw the twinkle. He had really just said that!

  The snort escaped before she could stop it. ‘What an ego.’ Then she laughed.

  He shook his head sadly. ‘I suffered from a youthful infatuation. I mean really. You even snort now. Why would I hold a grudge?’

  She snorted again. What had come over her? Held up her hands. ‘Okay. I get it. You’re immune.’ The tiny bell on top of the door jangled and the door opened. Saved by the bell. Al walked in and she thought she heard Ben sigh.

  Holly jumped up, more relief than diligence, and smiled at the man. ‘Morning, Al.’ The older man had sold Jasmine the local garage and workshop, and he loved to gossip. Apparently, he’d decided that Holly’s coffee shop was a good place to glean new fodder. ‘You’re early. Short black coming up.’ But her head was back to spinning. Was Ben putting her down in some weird way or was he actually flirting with her?

  As she slid behind the counter she wondered if Ben would use the opportunity to pick up his takeaway cup and leave. She surreptitiously watched him as she prepared Al’s coffee. He didn’t leave.

  Al stopped at his table. ‘Morning, Ben. Or should we call you Doc Brierly, now?’

  ‘Morning. I don’t start work till next week,’ Ben said easily. ‘So, you can call me either or, Al,’

  Al nodded sagely. Probably still confused. ‘I see you’ve installed a new manager at your gran’s. That other bloke always was a loser.’

  Ben stared thoughtfully at the older man. ‘Would have appreciated a heads-up on that one. Still, I should have checked more thoroughly. I think she’ll be fine now.’

  Al nodded, a little awkwardly, and then brightened. ‘Speaking of fine, that new housekeeper of hers is a looker.’

  Holly’s hand stilled. Interesting. Not that it had anything to do with her.

  The door opened again and Jasmine, probably Ben’s nemesis from school days because Holly had asked her to be a buffer against him, waltzed in, saw Ben sitting at the long bar and her eyes lit up. ‘Ben Brierly.’ Satisfaction and blatant curiosity was evident in her voice and Holly tried not to wince. ‘You look like a million bucks.’

  ‘Good to see you, too, Jasmine.’ He looked from Jasmine to Holly and tilted his head. Said in a stage whisper, ‘I thought it was quiet until ten.’ Then he stared thoughtfully at Jasmine’s tattoo of a Mack truck that adorned her muscled bicep. ‘You haven’t changed.’

  Jasmine grinned. ‘You have. Got stuck into the protein shakes, eh?’

  Ben laughed. ‘No. Thank you. But I think I’ll retreat before I say something the local GP shouldn’t say.’ He rose lithely from his stool with his cup in hand. ‘Good coffee. See you around, ladies. Al.’

  The three watched him go. Jasmine with a suspiciously intense I’ll-find-out-more-later expression and Al with frustration. Holly wasn’t sure what she felt, but her emotions weren’t immune to him leaving.

  With obvious reluctance, Al took his coffee and followed Ben. Holly could imagine how much he would have loved to listen to Jasmine’s gossip about their new doctor. Strangely, Holly didn’t share his sentiment. She didn’t want to hear it.

  She needed to recover from being attracted to Ben, by making the coffee she should be making before she shared her thoughts.

  ‘Latte on skim, large or medium today, Jasmine?’ Holly got in first.

  Jasmine gave her the look, disappointed, but the message had landed. Sighed. ‘Medium. Party pooper. Can’t you just tell me what you talked about? He hasn’t seen you for years!’

  Holly looked at the paper cup she placed carefully on the counter. ‘We talked about coffee, of course.’

  Jasmine pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Fine. Can I have one of those little weed concoctions you make up for hangovers, too, please? You know, green slime, bits of grass and whatever. Afraid I over-celebrated a bit last night.’

  Holly glanced at her friend. Last night at the Smart Ladies’ Supper Club? Or after she’d left? The wine had been flowing more than usual.

  Her marriage to Jason Ridgeway, after a tumultuous courtship, was next week, at the wildly successful Wirra Station wedding venue of course, and towards the end of last night her friend had been looking nervous.

  Maybe it had been the ramped-up decor of Elsa’s salon. Red balloons had hung from the ceiling and proclaimed bride-to-be, and risqué ice cubes, shaped liked male appendages (Jasmine’s idea), had floated in the glasses of multi-coloured cocktails beside each guest. Serenity, the blue-haired beautician, had done both their nails as a trial colour for the wedding and Elsa had talked about how they’d all have their hair arranged and performed the example on Jasmine. A hairdresser from the nearest town had been subbed in for the occasion, as Elsa would be one of the wedding party next week. All the Smart Ladies had looked to be having fun, and Holly had enjoyed it despite leaving early with her sudden need to escape after the talk about Ben.

  Holly was not going back to that negative loop in her brain. ‘Kale, cucumber, coconut and avocado?’ And looked quizzically at her friend.

  Jasmine had not been herself since Jason Ridgeway, the body work consultant next door to her shop, had come to town. Her friend spoke a little louder. Behaved with a little more rambunctiousness. Signs that Holly recognised as lack of confidence in her usually confident friend. Poor Jasmine was besotted and didn’t know how to deal with it.

  Holly asked, ‘Did you go out after the Smart Ladies finished last night?’

  ‘Just to the pub. Ran into my fiancé, but he was in a mood. The place shut half an hour later so we couldn’t get too disorderly. That man is a pain.’ The woebegone look that followed this statement explained it all.

  Now Holly smiled as she added fresh kale to the blender. ‘He loves you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I love Jason Ridgeway.’

  ‘Sure, you do. Bridal nerves. You’re besotted.’

  Jasmine sighed and finally relaxed a little. ‘True. Which just makes me madder.’

  ‘Drag him off to bed. You’ll feel better.’

  Jasmine made a rude noise and Holly looked under her brows at her. ‘Please be sociably acceptable in my coffee shop,’ but she was teasing. ‘Just try not flying off the handle every time he doesn’t do what you expect. He’s a man. Less emotion and you may be able to see how much he loves you.’

  The doorbell jangled and Al poked his head in. ‘A car just parked out the front of your garage, Jasmine.’ Then he disappeared.

  Jasmine sighed. ‘Why do people want their cars tuned so early in the morning? Why couldn’t the job be a nice soothing registration check, where I could close my eyes?’ She downed her green concoction with several big gulps and a grimace then slammed the glass on the counter. ‘Right.’ Shuddered. ‘I’ve got this.’ Then she grabbed her take-away coffee.

  Holly smiled. ‘Just don’t imagine the car belongs to Jason as you take it for a test drive.’

  Jasmine looked struck with that. ‘You’re right. Must try not to,’ she said solemnly and departed.

  Chapter Seven

  Ben

  Be
n strode thoughtfully back up the street to his surgery, coffee cup in hand. Townspeople stopped him or waved and smiled and asked about his opening hours next week. By the time he’d reached his surgery, despite the rather large blip on his horizon made by a certain unattainable woman residing here, he was damn sure Wirralong was the place he wanted to make his world.

  But what to do about Holly Peterson? He couldn’t maintain the aloofness he’d first decided on. Aloofness he’d actually promised himself, along with a wall as high as the one she’d presented him with all those years ago. She’d changed. There was a vulnerability about her that he didn’t remember. None of that had been visible when she’d been a driven teenager.

  Holly had always been sure of the direction she’d been headed. Medicine had been her ‘thing’ like a crusaderand more so after her mum became unwell. Nothing would stop her and, while it shut him out, he admired her determination. How could that have changed?

  Last night, and even this morning, she looked smaller, harried, alone, like a rudderless ship. That’s what it was, she looked … adrift? So many things he wanted to ask and no chance to satisfy his absolutely rampant curiosity about a woman he shouldn’t get re-involved with. Not if he wanted to protect himself.

  But there was so much he didn’t understand. Not the least being what had happened to her stellar medical career. And if something terrible had happened, had she talked to someone about it? Would she talk to him about it?

  Ben couldn’t help but wonder about that, after the recent tragedy with his friend. That was his real concern, he told himself.

  This morning he’d discovered that visiting Holly at the coffee shop might satisfy his nosiness about where she was, and what she was doing here, but actually finishing a decent conversation with her at work would be an exercise in frustration.

  He’d have to get her alone. But when? How? He needed a plan. He climbed the back steps to his flat.