by Annie O'Neil
“Thank you.” Kali looked straight into his eyes. She needed him to know she meant it. “For everything.”
“Not a problem. Lift on three?”
He counted at her nod and as they walked Mr. Logan down the corridor she heard Brodie softly laugh to himself.
“What’s so funny?”
“I forgot to make your tea.”
* * *
Three o’clock in the afternoon and still not one patient. Plenty for Kali—but not one had come to see him.
Brodie was about as close to tearing his hair out as he’d ever been. He’d finally managed to remember to make cups of tea, only to find Caitlyn had just done a round for everyone. Terrific. He couldn’t even get that right!
Brodie was beginning to get a good understanding of how innocent people on the run must feel.
Criminal.
Here he was, healthy as a professional athlete—he knew that because the doctor monitoring him had expressed envy at his level of fitness—and all for what? To lurk around his own surgery in the desperate hope of picking up a few medical crumbs?
At least Kali was getting a good feel for how the surgery worked. She had a smile on her face every time he saw her. Which would be good if he wasn’t so desperate for something to do! There was only so much surfing the internet a man could do. He hardly thought this was what his father had meant when he’d made his final request: Just one year, son. Just give it one year.
If—and this was a big if—people were just giving him grieving time, didn’t they know he’d be far better off grieving by making good on his promise to his father to run the surgery for a year?
Or maybe... No. Would he? Would his father have told folk to do this? Give him wide berth?
No. He shook his head resolutely. His father had always championed him. There were few things he was certain of, but his father’s undivided loyalty was one of them.
A message pinged through on his office computer. He looked at the screen hopefully, despite his best efforts to remain neutral.
Mr. Donaldson—urgent.
A patient?
It was almost silly how happy he felt. A patient! He was out of his chair and on his way to Reception before Mr. Donaldson—a long-time patient of both himself and his father—had a chance to change his mind.
When he opened the door his heart sank.
“Dad, are you absolutely sure?” Mr. Donaldson’s daughter, Anne, had her back to Brodie and hadn’t seen him come in.
“Of course I’m sure. He’s my doctor,” Mr. Donaldson insisted.
“But...” Anne looked across at Caitlyn—presumably to get some backup—only to find the receptionist was busy on the phone.
Shame, thought Brodie. He would’ve been curious to see how she reacted to this. He checked himself. The fact Caitlyn had taken the job showed her support. Never mind that she was family and could do with the money. She didn’t let fear override her common sense. Or, he conceded, her nan’s say-so.
“Now, Mr. Donaldson. What can I do for you today?”
Anne all but recoiled at the sound of his voice, her arm moving swiftly up to cover her mouth.
“You’re all right, Anne.” Brodie forced himself to stay calm. “I’ve been cleared. I’m not contagious.”
“Oh, I know, Brodie—Dr. McClellan. It’s just—” She stopped speaking, her eyes widening in horror—or embarrassment. She widened the gap between the fingers covering her mouth. “It’s just that poor nurse who went where you did in Africa is back in hospital...”
Ah...he’d seen the headlines on the internet. Must’ve hit the broadsheets as well. That explained the hands and arms covering people’s mouths. Fresh media scares about recurrences and isolation units and that poor, poor woman. Her courage and generosity was going heavily unrewarded.
“I saw that.” Brodie shook his head. “And I was very sorry to hear it. But I can absolutely assure you that is not the case with me.”
“Brodie, I would get up to greet you, but...” the elderly gentlemen interjected, pointing at his foot.
Brodie’s eyes widened at the sight. A blood-soaked rag was wrapped around the middle of his foot.
“Is that just a wool sock you’re wearing there, Mr. Donaldson?”
“Sure is. My foot would’ve had a boot on as well, but my daughter, here, said you were likely to cut it off and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I only just bought them five years ago. Still got miles to go in them yet.”
“Dad!” Anne jumped in, forgetting to shield her mouth. “The boot’s got a gaping great hole in it now your turf spade’s gone through it. It couldn’t have done your foot one bit of good to be yanked out of your boot after you pulled the spade out of it.”
“You put a turf spade through your boot and into your foot?”
Brodie couldn’t help but be impressed. Wielding a spade with that sort of strength would have taken tremendous power. Then again, at eighty-five years of age Mr. Donaldson showed few signs of succumbing to the frailty of the elderly. Vital was just about the best description Brodie could conjure.
“Aye, that I did, son—no need to broadcast it round the village.”
“I’d take it as a compliment, Mr. Donaldson. Let’s get you into my exam room, shall we?” He moved to help him up just as Kali entered the waiting room with a patient’s chart.
“Are you coming, Anne?” Mr. Donaldson turned to see if his daughter was behind them.
Brodie saw Kali catch the look of horror on Anne’s face at the suggestion.
“Can I help?” Kali stepped forward without waiting for an answer, offering another arm for Mr. Donaldson to lean on. Brodie gave her a grateful smile.
This was tough. He’d had a few other doctors warning him something like this might happen, but he’d just blown it off. Dunregan was his home! He hadn’t expected a victory parade—but having people frightened of being treated by him...? It seared deeper than he’d ever have anticipated.
“Thank you, dear.” Mr. Donaldson’s fingers wrapped round Kali’s forearm. “I’m sure you’re busy, but you wouldn’t mind, would you?” He raised his voice as they were leaving the waiting room. “Explaining to my daughter that John McClellan’s son is not going to give me or anyone else who sets foot on Dunregan the plague.”
Brodie’s eyebrows shot up. An unlikely champion! He had known Mr. Donaldson his whole life, but they certainly weren’t close. Then again...he didn’t know how many hours of chess had passed between Mr. Donaldson and his father down at the Eagle and Ram. Thousands. Most likely more.
“I’d be delighted to,” Kali replied. “Public health is one of my areas of interest.”
“As well it should be.” Mr. Donaldson nodded approvingly. “Now, you do know, dear,” Mr. Donaldson continued, putting his paper-skinned hand atop hers as they inched their way along the corridor, “that Brodie, here, is one of the island’s most eligible bachelors?”
“Well, that is news!” Kali’s eyebrows shot up and...was that a fake smile or real one?
“Yes, it’s absolutely true. Isn’t that so, Brodie?
Most of the suitable girls have already been married off, and we know he will need someone who’s a bit of a brainbox to keep him interested. So...”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Brodie was too gobsmacked to intervene. Since when had Mr. Donaldson been made the Matchmaker of Dunregan?
“You cannae go far wrong if you marry a Scot, Dr. O’Shea. They’re loyal, truehearted...and, of course, if you’re into strapping laddies our Brodie here looks very nice when he’s all kitted out in his kilt.”
“I—I will take you at your word on that,” Kali replied, her expression making it very clear she wasn’t interested.
“Mr. Donaldson—” Brodie was goldfishing, trying to search for the best way to cut
this conversation short. His romantic escapades—and that was about as far as he’d ever taken any of his relationships—were things he’d always kept very close to his chest. Talking about it so openly made him feel about twelve!
“Brodie, why don’t you invite Dr. O’Shea, here, along to one of our Polar Bear outings? They’re great fun and a wonderful way to really get to know one another. I’ve seen more than a few Polar Bear weddings!” He hooted at the memory, then chided Brodie, “And it’s been some time since we’ve seen you down at the beach.”
Something in the neighborhood of ten years!
“We should just be taking a left here, Mr. Donaldson.” Brodie tried to steer his patient and the conversation firmly off the topic of marriage. He had more than enough on his plate without worrying about getting a fiancée as well.
Not that Kali would be a bad choice, but—
His eyes caught hers. Her expression gave little away. If not the slightest hint of Uh-uh...you can keep your Scottish yenta.
“So, Dr. O’Shea,” Mr. Donaldson continued, clearly enjoying himself, “you’ll do me the favor, please, of going back out there and informing my daughter and the rest of that mob that I’ve not set to with a fever or anything, won’t you?”
“I’ll do my best, Mr.—”
“Donaldson. And my daughter is Anne. Now, which way am I going, son?”
“To the left, Mr. Donaldson,” Brodie repeated with a shake of his head and a smile. Life on a small island, eh?
Kali looked perfectly bemused, and who could blame her? Not on the island twenty-four hours and already she was being set up by the locals. He sniggered, thinking of how animals always tried to widen the gene pool when their numbers dwindled. Maybe Mr. Donaldson was trying to increase the population of Dunregan. Ha!
Kali shot him a look. Whoops. Had that been an outside laugh?
“Later...” he stage-whispered. “I will explain everything later.”
If she was going to carry the lance for him regarding the Ebola virus he owed her. As for the whole eligible bachelor thing... Well... At least Mr. Donaldson didn’t think he was going to catch the plague.
“Where do you want me?”
“Just over here, Mr. Donaldson. Kali, would you mind helping me get our most loyal and truehearted patient up onto the examination table?”
“Oh, son. Don’t go about trying to set me up with this young lassie because I’ve embarrassed you. That’s what old people do. It’s our specialty. My courting days are over. Mrs. Donaldson was more than enough woman for me,” Mr. Donaldson scolded as he eased himself up onto the table. “Let’s look at this foot, if you don’t mind. What a silly old codger! I was away with the faeries when I was cutting the peat and there was a two-hour wait to see Dr. O’Shea. All this silliness going on over you and the Ebola nonsense...” He shook his head at the madness of it all. “As if someone could contract Ebola on an island this cold!”
He looked at the pair of them for agreement that his hypothesis was a good one.
“Well, it doesn’t really work like that...” Brodie began reluctantly.
“Ach, away! I know perfectly well how it works, Brodie McClellan. I was trying to make a joke. Your face is more somber than most folk look at a funeral! Yours, too, dear.”
He gave a little cackle and patted Kali’s hand as she helped him shift his legs up onto the examination table.
“You go on out there, dear, and please explain—very loudly—to my daughter that no one is catching Ebola on this island if Dr. McClellan says so. John McClellan’s son would do no such thing.”
Brodie looked away, surprised at the hard sting of emotion hitting him.
Even after he’d passed his father was still looking after him.
He cleared his throat and refocused his attention when he felt Kali shift her gaze from Mr. Donaldson’s twinkling eyes up to him. There was something almost anxious in her expression. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. And just as quickly it was gone, replaced by a warm, generous smile.
“It would be my very distinct pleasure to answer any of your daughter’s questions, Mr. Donaldson.”
“Thank you very much. All right, then, dear. Leave us men folk to inspect my idiocy. I’d like to get it bandaged up so I can get the rest of the peat in without the whole of Dunregan knowing I rent my foot in half.”
Kali left the room, throwing a final smile over her shoulder at the pair of them. A smile that awoke an entirely new set of sensations in Brodie. He’d done little to nothing to deserve the understanding she’d shown him today.
“Aye, she’s a right fine lassie. Isn’t she, Dr. McClellan?”
“What?” Brodie turned his attention back to Mr. Donaldson.
“You’re not suggesting I’m losing my eyesight as well, are you, son?”
“Absolutely not, but—”
“But nothing. When someone like that arrives on the island, you take notice.”
They both turned to look at the closed door, as if it would offer some further insight, but no. It was just a door, covered in various and sundry health notices and how-to sheets. No lessons in romance, or changing terrible first impressions.
Brodie closed down that thought process. Kali wasn’t here to be wooed. Or won. And he had a patient!
“Right, Mr. Donaldson...when was the last time you had a tetanus booster?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“IT’S NOTHING FANCY, but the pub does good, honest food.” Brodie loaded Kali’s bike onto the rack atop his four-by-four in a well-practiced move. She put her arms up in a show of helping, but he’d clearly done this before.
“I’d rather that than a bad meal of fripperies!”
Brodie laughed as he tugged the security straps tight. “I’m not entirely sure if fripperies are a food group, but I can assure you, you won’t get any up here.” He opened the car door for her with a slight bow. “Madam?”
Kali felt herself flush, instantly thanking the short days for the absence of light. She climbed in and busied herself with the seat belt buckle to try and shake off an overwhelming urge to flirt. Her gut and her brain were busy doing battle. She never wanted to flirt with people...and now she was getting all coquettish with Mr. Disagreeable. Ridiculous!
Probably just her empathy on overdrive. The man had had a tough day. It was natural to want to comfort someone who was hurting, right?
An image of Brodie laying her across a swathe of sheepskin rugs in front of a roaring fire all but blinded her. She clenched her eyes tight, only to find Brodie hiding behind her eyelids—peeling his woolen jumper off in one fluid move, his lean torso lit only by the golden flicker of flames.
Was this what choice was? The freedom to choose who you loved?
Loved?
Pah! Arranged marriage was how things worked in the world she’d grown up in. Love was...a frippery. Icing on the cake if your father’s choice for your intended turned out to be a good match. Unlike hers. She shuddered at the thought.
Love.
The island air must be giving her brain freeze or something.
She yelped when the driver’s door was yanked open. Brodie jumped in and banged his door shut with a reverberating clang.
“The catch on the door is a bit funny,” Brodie explained with an apologetic grin. “Suffice it to say Ginny’s seen better days.”
“Ginny?”
“This grotty old beast.”
“Ah...” she managed, still trying to scrub the mental image of her dark past and a half-naked Brodie out of her mind’s eye.
Perhaps Mr. Donaldson had put one too many subconscious ideas into motion. This sort of thing had never happened to her in Dublin. Then again...she tipped her head against the cool window as Brodie fired up the engine...in Dublin she’d never felt entirely safe. Up here...
“Now, I should warn you...” Brodie began cautiously.
What? That you’ve got three girlfriends on the go and the idea of another is repellent?
“Yes?” Kali asked in her very best neutral voice.
“I haven’t exactly been to the pub since this whole stramash kicked off.”
“Stramash?”
“Sorry. It’s Scots for a rammie.”
“Still not following you.” Her smile broadened. She could listen to Brodie talk forever. All those rolling r’s and elongated vowels with a pair of the most beautifully shaped lips forming each and every—Oops! Tune in!
“A bit of bother. Or in this case a big bit of bother.”
“We could always go somewhere else.”
Brodie threw back his head and laughed. It was a rich, warm sound. Kali liked the little crinkles that appeared alongside his blue eyes.
Another time, another place...
Another lifetime was more like it. Not with the steamer trunks full of baggage she was hauling around.
“Darlin’, this time of year there really isn’t anywhere else. It’s the Eagle and Ram or a fish and chips takeaway from Old Jock’s. That’s yer choices.” He tacked on a cheesy grin for added salesmanship.
“I’m happy with whatever you choose.”
“Well...” He gave her a duplicitous wink. “Shall we risk the pub and see if the Ebola public-awareness campaign you kicked off with Anne Donaldson has had any effect beyond the reaches of our humble clinic? It’s a bit warmer than a picnic table outside Old Jock’s.”
Kali nodded, grinning at his choice of words.
Our clinic.
It had a nice ring to it. Chances were slim he’d meant anything by it, but the words warmed her. Not just because her hormones had decided to kick into action and turn her tummy into a butterfly hothouse, but because she’d never had a chance to be a part of anything in that way before. Put down roots.
Dunregan was the first place she’d been that had absolutely no connection to her past. It was why she’d applied for the so-called hardship post. Safe place was more like it. There was no way her father could find her here, up in the outer reaches of Scotland’s less populated islands.