Priority Care

by Mary Hawkins

  Later still, during those nightmarish last twelve months, there had been a succession of men who had stayed overnight. Whether her father had been told what was happening, or whether he had suddenly realised his daughter was no longer a child, and was all of fourteen, had not mattered at the time. Jean had just been overjoyed when he had flown home after being overseas for several months to inform them he was moving them all from Melbourne to England to live.

  Her mother had also been very happy at first. But there had only been a few weeks of being together, before her husband had realised the extent of his wife's drinking problem. The last thing Jean could remember of them both was the furious row in the car that last night when he had realised his wife was drunk yet again—before their dinner date with an important business associate. Even then it had seemed to Jean he was still more worried about what his associate would think than his wife's problem.

  She had never told even George what he had been yelling at his wife as the car went out of control.

  'You're nothing but a drunk! All those stories about you are true. You're nothing but a tramp!'

  Jean was mature enough now to know that many fine men no doubt had learnt how to balance their professional and private lives. Perhaps Chris . . .

  But would she ever be able to overcome her fear of rejection and neglect to take the risk if by any wonderful chance he could . . . could . . . ?

  As she had so many times in the past to drown out the memories and the pain, Jean went into a rush of activity as soon as she reached the house. A quick cup of coffee failed to stem her churning stomach, so she hurried to her workroom.

  As she started measuring and cutting the curtain material, she wondered briefly if she should go and confront Dan, and find out what he had been saying to George. Perhaps it would be better to wait until she found out more from George first? At least, she thought with grim satisfaction, there was no way he would be allowed near his stepfather tonight by the staff—if ever!

  As her hands automatically handled the material, she thought about George's outburst. Did those papers clutched in the stranger's hands have anything to do with the proposed sale of this house?

  But that thought led to Chris. To their time together at the restaurant. She wished she had learnt more about him then, had not rattled on so much herself. Yet it had been such a tremendous relief to talk about George to someone who was so interested in him. And in herself.

  Her hands stilled as she stared blindly at the material. She could see again the keen interest on his attractive face. Hear that deep baritone voice popping in little questions. Usually about herself, she now realised. A wisp of hope sprang up.

  She dismissed it sadly. He had been merely curious. Even curious enough about her to kiss her? That was harder to believe. He was certainly not the type of man who would kiss her the way he had out of curiosity. Nor a man who would lose his self-control . . .

  But that contempt for her in his eyes ... he had said he must be mad . . .

  She shuddered.

  The front doorbell pealed on the extension in the workroom. For a moment she could not move. She had been half expecting it. It would be Dan.

  A shiver went through her. She had glimpsed something in him over the years that had made her just a little scared to get on his wrong side. She stood and reluctantly went to the door, wondering if she should ring Chris. She glanced at her watch. It was nearly nine, perhaps a little late for Dan? she thought hopefully. Nevertheless, she called out, 'Who is it?' as she placed her hand on the handle.

  Sheer relief made her fling open the door without thinking, when she heard the familiar deep tones.

  'Oh, thank goodness it's only you!' she exclaimed as the light shone on Chris's tall figure.

  'Well, now, that's what I call a nice welcome.' He smiled warmly, but then his eyes narrowed. 'Who were you afraid it might be? Dan?'

  She nodded. As she turned away, he followed her inside.

  'Why?'

  'Because he has a vindictive nature,' she blurted out, a little at a loss. 'Er . . . would you like a cup of coffee?'

  It was his turn to hesitate. Then he nodded curtly.

  'Obviously your Bill isn't here yet, and I thought perhaps I should warn you about what I need to talk over with you and your uncle.'

  She glanced at him with surprise at his tone of voice as they entered the kitchen. His expression had changed again. Her heart, which had accelerated when she first recognised his voice, steadied at his austere demeanour.

  That business about Bill again! She tilted her chin defiantly. It was just so ridiculous what he had obviously thought, and he had already stopped her explaining once . . .

  Glad to have something to do with her trembling hands, she filled the electric kettle and reached for the instant coffee.

  She heard him move a chair as he said, 'Oh, and I also wanted to know who that man was with Mr Wallace. Have you ever seen him before?'

  'No, I haven't.'

  'That's strange.'

  She glanced up at him briefly. He had sat at the small kitchen table and was frowning as he caught her glance.

  'Peggy Howard told me that your cousin said he was his stepfather's lawyer.'

  'He most definitely is not!'

  They stared at each other, his face suddenly reflecting her own anxiety.

  'I think perhaps we had better find out if he's up to something else besides the sale of this house,' he said slowly at last. 'Of course, that could have been all it was about, but you didn't seem too worried about that as a possibility.' His expression sharpened. 'Unless he's tricked George into signing some authorisation about that while you were away.'

  Jean automatically made the coffee, found some of the small cakes she had made early that morning, and joined him at the table.

  'What do you think of the state of George's mind? How much do you think he comprehends?' she asked him a little fearfully.

  Chris stared at her consideringly for a few moments. 'Are you asking me if I think he's confused at all? How much do you think he understands?' he shot at her abruptly.

  'After . . . immediately after he regained consciousness he was definitely confused,' she said quickly. 'That's perfectly normal for the first few days, I know, and he improved in that regard remarkably fast. Sometimes . . . sometimes since he's been home, a couple of his old friends have told me they thought he was mixed up, but . . . but I think he might give that impression because he can't find the right words. It's not that he isn't thinking straight, just that he can't . . . can't . . .'

  She looked miserably up at Chris to find him nodding approvingly.

  He smiled gently at her and said, 'Clever girl. You've put it very well. When George was discharged, just how much did you know about aftercare for stroke victims, Jean? I'm sure you've realised only too well by this that learning from textbooks and lecturers is vastly different from . . . from learning from the actual patients.'

  'The longer I spent with George at the hospital, the more I realised the gaps in my university-based training,' Jean said a little grimly. 'Oh, I re-read some lecture notes and looked it up in the textbooks, but my work experience was unfortunately mainly in surgical wards and in paediatrics, not medical.'

  'And no one at the hospital gave you any literature to read about strokes, or gave you the address of any support groups for you both?'

  She shook her head numbly, and he scowled.

  'Typical,' he snorted. He pushed his empty cup away and ran a hand impatiently through his hair. 'I wish a few more doctors and nurses would think more about elderly people and their needs than they do. And their carers,' he added. 'Jean, I've been realising, especially this last week, how wonderfully you've coped with him all this time, and how much I admire you for what you've accomplished here at home since ‑Oh, my dear girl!' he exclaimed, as her head suddenly went down on the table and she burst into sobs.

  She did not know quite how it happened, but next thing she knew he had scooped her up and wa
s tucking her head on to his shoulder as she sobbed out all the pain and fear of the past months. Gradually she became aware of his hand smoothing her hair, and his soft, comforting voice. It seemed so right, so natural, to cling to him and accept that comfort.

  'I've felt so inadequate. Scared stiff of doing the wrong thing. And so many people have told me I was mad trying to look after him at home. They thought he should have gone straight to a nursing home. But there was no way I could let that happen after I saw the dreadful, hopeless look in the poor darling's eyes when the doctor suggested it in front of him one day. And I knew it would be hard here. Although I didn't realise how draining it would be to see him hating to be so dependent on me. And I've been so scared!' she wailed.

  After a few more tears, she suddenly straightened, feeling dreadfully embarrassed. She tried to stand up, but his hands tightened.

  'No, stay there. I rather like it. Just like my old teddy bear I used to cuddle,' he teased.

  She heard the smile in his voice, yielded to temptation, and snuggled thankfully against him. A wonderful feeling of security filled her, and the quivering gradually quietened. She felt his head resting on hers, and one of his hands continued sticking her upper arm.

  'Your hair smells of lemons and sunshine,' she thought she heard him murmur, and then add, 'I agree with George. This colour suits Jeanie much better.'

  Suddenly she was acutely aware of the warmth of his arms in a different way, the masculine firmness of the body she was leaning against. A strange, throbbing ache spread quickly through her.

  Perhaps he felt her sudden shiver, for he stirred.

  She tensed.

  Chris sighed, and for one electrifying moment she thought that he was kissing the top of her head.

  'As pleasant as this is, though, I suppose we should talk.' He took his arms away as he said, 'But I don't think I can think straight with you so close, I'm afraid.'

  She bounced off, and he gave an exclamation.

  'Hey! I didn't mean that fast,' he said ruefully as he caught her arm. She averted her face, but he tugged on her arm so that she had to face him. 'Please don't be embarrassed, Jean. I can assure you, you aren't the first girl I've had cry all over me like that,' he said lightly. He must have seen her stiffen, for he added quickly, 'My sister was a real watering-pot in her teens.'

  She was suddenly ashamed of the violent stab of jealousy that had swept through her, and risked a glance at him as she said in a shaky voice, 'She . . . she was very lucky to have you. It's the very first time I've . . .' She bit her lip and turned her back to him. Picking up their used cups, she carried them over to the sink, glad to be away from his searching gaze for a few moments.

  'Jean, I don't think George is confused. I believe he is very shrewd. Probably has been all his life. But, because I think that's so, today's episode with those two men has me rather worried. Why did he react so violently?'

  Jean swung around, her hands reaching behind her for the edge of the sink as she stared at him.

  'And I think this business with Dan needs to be confronted. What do you think about getting him to come to George's room tomorrow, and having it out once and for all?' Her eyes wide, she made a protesting sound, but he continued hurriedly. 'After you left tonight, George tried to tell us something. I'm pretty certain it was about you and Dan. He became even more agitated and angry when we couldn't understand. You obviously know him so well; he can get through to you. And if this business with Dan isn't sorted out . . .' He paused, looking concerned. 'Look, it's well known that one of the biggest causes for depression in elderly people is the feeling that they no longer control their lives any more. I think George could get so depressed that it would seriously affect his rehabilitation. He needs to be involved in whatever's going on.'

  Jean walked slowly towards him, searching his face. 'You would definitely be there?'

  'Yes.'

  She sat down, and then nodded thoughtfully, 'Yes. I believe you're right. But I think we should ask George first if it's all right with him.'

  Chris nodded approvingly.

  'George and I have faced many problems together. 1. . . I . . . was going to ask you to come with me when I went to see Dan, but I think this is much better. But you won't let George get too upset, will you?' she pleaded.

  Chris's jaw firmed. A glint entered his eyes that suddenly made Jean very glad that he would be on their side. His voice was grim as he said, 'I can assure you, Mr Dan Wallace will get short shrift.' Then his eyes filled with unexpected mischief. 'And Sister Peggy Howard is on duty tomorrow. She's become a real fan of you and George. She's one tough cookie. We'll make sure she's there too. I think she might really enjoy herself!'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The phone rang just after eight the next morning.

  'Dan will be at the hospital by eleven,' Chris said rapidly. His voice was cool, clinical and detached. 'Could you be there earlier so we can talk with George first?'

  After assuring him that would be no problem, Jean hung up after he had said a brief, 'Good,' and was gone. She stared at the phone thoughtfully.

  That voice was so different from the rich, vibrant one that had soothed and comforted last night, that had whispered such a tender goodnight. He had kissed her briefly before he had left. If had been so gentle and sweet, with such a hint of restrained passion, that she had still been glowing shortly afterwards when Bill had arrived.

  'Phew! You look radiant,' he had said. When she had blushed brilliantly and turned away, he had whistled softly. 'Now, I wonder if a big, handsome guy just turning out of your yard as I drove up has anything to do with it?'

  Before she knew it, she had been telling Bill about Chris, about his confrontation with Dan and what was being planned the next day. She had even confessed to slugging him one on first seeing him.

  Bill had roared, 'What a yarn to tell your kids one day!'

  That had brought Jean back to earth with a jolt. Horrified that she had given Bill the wrong impression about their relationship, she had protested vehemently.

  But he had just laughed, and said soothingly, 'Sure, sure!' adding the even worse, 'Julie's going to love this!'

  It had still been some time later before he had left, taking the set of curtains she had finished for another room of the house.

  With a sigh of relief as she had waved him off, she had been thankful there was only one more set to go, and she should finish that the next day, well within her time limit.

  But there she was wrong. After Chris's phone call, she hurried back to her work table, and, as she checked her measurements, realised she had cut out the one she had been working on last night incorrectly. She groaned as she double checked herself, and then flew to the phone.

  'Julie!' she gasped as soon as she heard her voice. 'I'm so sorry, but I've blown some measurements. Do you have any more material?'

  'No worries,' said her easygoing friend. 'I stocked another couple of rolls of that pattern as it's been so popular.'

  'Oh, thank goodness. Can someone bring it over, or would you like me to pick it up?'

  Julie called out to someone in the background, and was soon back on the line. 'You're lucky—Joe was just leaving. He's going over your way now. Should be there in ten minutes.'

  After she had breathed a sigh of relief and hung up, she glanced at the clock again, and decided while she was waiting to get changed out of her jeans into a smart suit as armour for the ordeal with Dan. As she had just taken off her clothes, the phone rang. She grabbed a short towelling robe, and raced to answer it.

  To her delight it was Mrs Bensted asking after George. She filled her in, and then was listening to her description of her new home when the doorbell rang. After she had said ^ quick goodbye, she raced to the door. An impatient Joe was already at the roller door. It didn't take long for her to unlock the garage to let him carry in the material, and then wave him off as he backed the firm's van down the drive.

  She didn't notice the grim-faced, puzzled man next doo
r about to get into his car.

  It was almost eleven o'clock when a frazzled-looking Jean raced down the corridor to George's room, hoping against hope that Dan had not already arrived. She breathed a sigh of relief to see only Chris seated beside George, quietly talking to him. He stood up as she rushed into the room.

  'I'm so sorry, I had ‑'

  'I know what you had, Miss Macallister!'

  Jean gaped at Chris. How on earth did he know the rotten car had decided to have a flat tyre before she had even left the driveway? She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut, her heart sinking to her boots at the anger in his face.

  'You OK, Jean?'

  She forced a smile at George's anxious face, and went over to kiss him. 'Yes, I'm fine. Has Chris—Dr Hansen—told you what's happening?'

  He nodded, as Chris's icy cold voice said, 'I was hoping to talk to you both for a few minutes first.' He paused as he heard Peggy's voice in the corridor. 'Too late,' he snapped rapidly. 'Please try and follow my lead.'

  He straightened as Peggy pushed the door open, and ushered Dan in. He stopped in the doorway, staring suspiciously at them.

  'Ah, Mr Wallace, do come in and take a seat while we have a chat,' said Chris suavely, arranging another couple of chairs near the bed. 'My patient was so upset yesterday—a misunderstanding, I'm sure—but I've arranged this family conference to try and sort things out, as I won't allow any patient of mine to be upset like that.' He paused, and Dan gave way before the steady look and authoritative tone.

  'I'm very glad you did, Doc.' He smiled sadly as he sat down. 'I'm always sorry when my father and I disagree.'

  Jean bit her bottom lip hard to stop herself from calling him the liar and hypocrite he was.

  Chris flashed her a warning glance, and indicated the chair near George he had been sitting on. With relief, she crossed the room, glad to be as far from Dan as possible. After she had sat down, her hand crept out to be grasped by George. He flashed her a grin. To her surprise she saw a gleam of excitement in his eyes, before he turned back to watch Dan.