Читать онлайн книгу «The Doctor Claims His Bride» автора Fiona Lowe
The Doctor Claims His Bride
Fiona Lowe
A nurse worth waiting for Nurse Mia Latham thinks she's found the perfect solution to get her life in order-a new job on an idyllic tropical island. But, thanks to her arrogant, teasing and devastatingly handsome new boss Dr Flynn Harrington, life isn't quite as simple as she might have hoped!Flynn can see Mia is hiding secrets, but the one thing she can't disguise is her passion for him! Flynn knows a thing or two about running away, but something about this beautiful nurse makes him want to unpack his suitcases and settle down-with Mia!
Unable to wait a moment longer, Mia launched herself to her feet and arrived at the low fence just as the propellers of the plane slowly wound down and stopped.
The door on the opposite side of the plane opened. Mia caught sight of a pair of long, sun-kissed, muscular legs, which jumped down and landed on large feet. Intrigued, she watched as the legs strode around the plane, eating up the distance with commanding ease. Then the owner came into full view, and an uncontrollable shock of electric delight raced through her, completely disarming her.
Mia’s mouth dried. The intensity of his look made her feel stripped bare, and to her horror she dropped her gaze.
‘I wasn’t expecting a welcoming party. I’m Flynn Harrington. Pilot and doctor.’ He grinned with the cheekiness of someone who had inside information. ‘You must be Mia.’
‘You’re the island doctor?’ She couldn’t hide the shock and disbelief from her voice.
He didn’t look like any doctor she’d ever met—and she’d met more than her fair share, personally and professionally.
And no doctor had ever made her tingle like that.
Dear Reader
In June 2007 my family left our home on the south coast of Australia and we set off on a six-hour flight to the far north of the country. It was 6C in Melbourne and 33C in Darwin—hard to believe we were still in the same country, but it wasn’t just the weather that was different. As we toured around the World Heritage Area of Kakadu National Park and swam in the waterholes of Litchfield Park we absorbed the vivid reds, yellows and browns of the outback. We learned all sorts of things about the land, the plants and animals, and what they all mean to the Aboriginal people.
A very special part of our holiday was a two-day trip to an island in the Timor Sea. Here we went hunting for turtle eggs, watched dugong at play and crocodiles surfing in the ocean! As I sat around the campfire I started to get an idea for a story. We had met a lot of people on our holiday and many had come from the south. I found myself asking, “Why would someone from the south be drawn to the isolation of this island?”
And that is how Mia and Flynn’s story evolved. Set against the background of the Aborigines’ love for their land and their own unique health issues, Mia and Flynn are on the island running from their individual demons. Both are determined to live a solo life but they discover that no matter where you are or how far you go, you can’t outrun your past until you face it.
I hope you enjoy their story as much as I enjoyed writing it and that one day you too can take a trip to the far north of central Australia. It’s an amazing place!
Love
Fiona x
The Doctor Claims His Bride
Fiona Lowe
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
Chapter One (#u855b29ac-d69b-532a-a43f-177360dfe405)
Chapter Two (#ud2b74850-3efc-5754-89f4-25833a79ecda)
Chapter Three (#u8fc779b0-767a-59a9-8ff6-a1b0b6db26f2)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Always an avid reader, Fiona Lowe decided to combine her love of romance with her interest in all things medical, so writing Medical™ Romance was an obvious choice! She lives in a seaside town in southern Australia, where she juggles writing, reading, working and raising two gorgeous sons, with the support of her own real-life hero! You can visit Fiona’s website at www.fionalowe.com (http://www.fionalowe.com)
To Gaye, with heartfelt thanks for the friendship, the walks along the river and the conversations that roam from laundry liquid to solving the world’s problems!
Special thanks to Nellie, for generously sharing her experiences as a Remote Area Nurse.
CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU still on city time, Sis.’ Susie, one of the Kirri health workers, grinned widely, her teeth white against her chocolate-brown face.
Mia Latham sighed and twirled her hair up, welcoming the light breeze against her very hot and sweaty neck. Jamming her straw hat down hard, she scanned the outback-blue skies for the elusive light plane.
Nothing.
Not a faint dot in the distance, not even a bird. Just heat haze shimmering upwards against wisps of grey smoke from the dry-season fires. She forced her shoulders to relax while muttering, ‘He said eleven o’clock and now it’s almost one.’
‘He on island time.’ Susie leaned back contentedly against the shady eucalypt.
Mia turned and gazed at the sensible indigenous health worker. ‘But I have an immunisation clinic all organised, and we’re keeping people waiting.’
Susie gave her a bemused look. ‘You got no clinic till plane brings vaccines.’ She shrugged. ‘So sit. You can’t do nothing until the plane comes.’
Every cell in Mia’s body rebelled at the practical words. Her ‘to do’ list magnified in her head, the print bold and black, bearing down on her, urging her to do something, anything, to make a dent in it. She’d wanted to be as up to date as possible for when she met the visiting doctor. But at this rate she’d be way behind and she hated having no control over the situation.
She stifled a huge scream of frustration and plonked down awkwardly in the shade next to Susie, her cargo shorts instantly filling with fine, brown dirt. Just great. She might still be on Australian soil but nothing about life up in the far far north of the country, nothing about life on this tiny island resembled anything she’d ever known.
She’d wanted a change. She’d badly needed change but today, her fifth day on the job as a remote area nurse on Kirra Island, left her wondering if what she’d come to was harder than what she’d left.
Impossible.
She wanted remoteness, wanted to work on her own and be as far away as possible from her old life. She just wanted to forget.
She fanned her face and took a long slug of water from the bottle that was a permanent part of her in this heat. And this was the dry season—winter. She didn’t want to think about the dripping humidity just before the big wet.
‘Hear that?’ Susie inclined her head to the right.
Mia couldn’t hear anything. It was so hot that even nature had gone quiet. ‘No.’
‘Listen with all of you,’ Susie chided gently.
Mia let the heat roll over her, let the dust settle on her and strained to hear past the silence of the soporific midday malady. A faint buzzing vibrated in her ears. ‘The plane?’
Susie nodded. ‘That’s right. Him coming now.’
Mia moved forward, preparing to stand.
Susie’s workworn brown hand rested against her forearm, detaining her. ‘Still five minutes, no hurry.’
She forced herself to sit back but most of her wanted to rush out onto the runway and start unpacking boxes the moment the plane had come to a complete halt. She’d never been very good at sitting back and waiting. Even when she’d known in her heart there was nothing she could do to help her mother, she’d hated the waiting. Waiting and watching her die.
The Cessna lined up with the runway and slowly descended, coming in over the thick mangroves and the eucalypts, its small black wheels bouncing on the asphalt, sticky with heat. The pilot immediately opened the window and gave a wave.
Unable to wait a moment longer, Mia launched herself to her feet, leaving Susie under the tree, and she arrived at the low cyclone fence just as the propellers of the plane slowly wound down and stopped. The door on the opposite side of the plane opened. Mia caught sight of a pair of long, tanned, muscular legs, which jumped down and landed on large feet. Feet clad in sturdy work boots with khaki socks that casually gathered down around solid ankles.
It wasn’t the usual uniform of a pilot—they wore long navy trousers. No, these legs looked like they belonged to a bounty hunter, buffalo or crocodile hunter—a man who spent a lot of time outdoors.
Intrigued, she watched as the legs strode around the plane, eating up the distance with commanding ease. Then the owner came into full view and an uncontrollable shock of electric delight raced through her, completely disarming her.
At well over six feet, her crocodile hunter had the natural grace of a man at one with his surroundings, and it radiated from the top of his jet-black hair to the tips of his olive-skinned fingers, which gripped a large cooler in one hand and held a backpack in the other. Three-day stubble hovered around his smiling mouth, fanning out along a firm jaw. Dark brows framed intelligent hazel eyes, whose mesmerising gaze quickly took in his surroundings, acknowledged Susie with a wave and then centred in on her.
Mia’s mouth dried. The intensity of his look made her feel stripped bare and to her horror she dropped her gaze. She took in his broad shoulders, which were covered by a shirt made from locally designed fabric. The emerald green and sea blue of the design accurately depicted the colours of the island’s land and sea, and together they brought out a hint of green in his hazel eyes.
Desperately wanting to look further to what she suspected would be a washboard-flat stomach, her professionalism hauled her gaze upwards and with a quick, steadying breath she stepped forward, hoping she looked more dignified than she felt.
‘I wasn’t expecting a welcoming party.’
A rich, deep voice with the smoothness of velvet cloaked her, making her heart hiccough. She looked up into teasing eyes, the flecks of green and brown almost moving like crystals in a kaleidoscope.
Confusion overrode her body’s unwanted tingling reaction to him, making her dizzy with bewilderment. ‘Aren’t you the pilot bringing in the vaccines? I got a message…’
‘I’m Flynn Harrington. Pilot, deliverer of vaccines and doctor.’ He grinned with the cheekiness of someone who had inside information. ‘You must be Mia.’
Doctor? She wasn’t expecting to meet the island’s visiting doctor for another three days. Her calendar, left to her by her predecessor, had ‘Doctor clinic’ inked in red for Monday.
‘You’re the island doctor?’ She couldn’t hide the shock and disbelief from her voice. He didn’t look like any doctor she’d ever met and she’d met more than her fair share personally and professionally. And no doctor has ever made you tingle like that.
‘Yep, I’m the doctor for Kirra, Mugur and Barra.’ He extended his long arm out behind him, lazily indicating the approximate direction of the other islands. ‘I divide my time between all three.’
A swoosh of righteous indignation surged through her, quickly dousing the unsettling sensations that had shimmered along her veins. She’d just lost half her morning hanging around for him. ‘But you’re three days early and you’re also two hours late!’ The heat and waiting caught up with her. ‘And what do you mean you don’t usually have a welcoming committee? I was here two hours ago, as your message instructed, to collect the vaccines. The least you could have done was to send a message to say you were going to be late.’
His casual stance stiffened for a moment and then his shoulders relaxed. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot that you’d still be city-wired. Usually the truck comes and picks me up the moment they hear the plane coming over. That way no one’s left waiting around.’ He started walking toward the truck.
The city-wired tag pricked her like barbed-wire and she folded her arms against the sensation in her chest as she jogged to keep up with his long-legged stride. ‘Well, it would have been nice if someone had told me.’ She threw her hands out in front of her. ‘You for instance, or Susie. Why didn’t Susie tell me the routine?’
He tilted his head, his brows slightly raised. ‘Did you ask her?’
His quiet and reasonable tone sent a ripple of contrition through her, dampening her indignation. ‘Ah, no. I think I said something like, “We have to be at the airport at eleven.”’
He pulled a battered bushman’s hat out of his backpack before tossing the pack into the tray of the truck. Then he carefully wedged the cooler under a hessian sack. ‘That’s why she didn’t say anything. Kirri people don’t say no to a request. Susie was happy to help you so she came. If a local doesn’t want to do as you ask, well, they just avoid the issue by failing to turn up.’
He glanced down at her, his expression a mixture of understanding and humour. ‘Beware the “I’ll come back and do it” sentence—that actually means no.’
Mia wiped the back of her hand against her perspiration-soaked forehead and sighed. ‘I’ve got so much to learn.’
Flynn smiled and dimples carved through the black stubble, giving him a renegade look. Perhaps her initial impression of a crocodile hunter hadn’t been far off. Somehow she couldn’t imagine him in a white coat, stuck inside the antiseptic corridors of a hospital down south.
‘If you want to learn then we’re happy to teach you.’ His voice rumbled around her like distant thunder.
A slight tremble of unease rippled through her before her indignation surged back. ‘What do you mean, if I want to learn? Of course I want to learn.’
He shrugged. ‘Not everyone does. We get a lot of people up here. They arrive city-wired, city-savvy, ready to save the world as long as it can be saved their way.’ He grinned at Susie, who’d wandered over from the shade of the tree now that it looked like they were ready to return to the clinic. ‘And then they leave us, don’t they, Susie?’
Susie nodded. ‘Yep. Mia third nurse this year.’
Mia’s chest tightened. ‘I plan to be the one that stays.’
‘Yeah, they all say that.’ Flynn opened the driver’s door of the truck, his expression resigned.
‘No, really, I’m staying.’ I have nothing to go back to. Nothing at all. Her mother’s blank and expressionless face wafted across her mind and a sliver of the terror she usually managed to keep concealed deep inside her coiled upward, threatening to choke her.
She needed to move, she needed to do something to keep the panic at bay. The clinic. Walking briskly, she ducked under Flynn’s outstretched arm and sat down hard in the driver’s seat.
A startled expression momentarily creased his forehead before he gently closed the door.
A dash of guilt bubbled up at her abrupt brush past him but it was quickly doused by fear and anger at his blasé attitude toward her. She gripped the steering-wheel hard and breathed in deeply. How dared this man make assumptions about her when he didn’t even know her? She wasn’t ‘everyone’. She was so far removed from being ‘everyone’, so far removed from being the ‘norm’, that it didn’t bear thinking about.
She turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine, clawing back some control. It was time get back to work.
She turned her head and met his clear and intense gaze. A shiver shot through her, making her both cold and hot at the same time. A shiver that created shimmers deep inside her. No, no, no. Remember Steven.
Don’t remember Steven. She’d been working really hard on forgetting Steven and she didn’t want to revisit that pain either.
She involuntarily swallowed before clearing her throat. ‘I need to run this immunisation clinic so if you’re ready, we’ll leave now.’
Flynn wordlessly pushed back from the door where his arms had been resting. ‘Let’s head back, Susie.’ He walked slowly around the twin-cab truck, opening the back door for the health worker, and clambered in next to Mia, tilting his hat forward as if he was going to take a nap.
Everything about him, every action and word powerfully stated that this man was in command of his world—completely and utterly. It was in stark contrast to Mia, who had the feeling she was only just hanging on by her fingernails. Coming to Kirra was supposed to give her some control, and at the very least control over her job. She didn’t think that was too much to ask, given what she faced in the future.
Mia thrust the truck into gear, forcing away the thoughts that threatened to undo her. She refused to let ‘Dr Cool and Laid-Back’ make her feel incompetent.
You’re doing a good enough job of that yourself.
With a jerk, she swung the truck into a wide U-turn and pulled onto the main road, a plume of dust rising behind her. One hundred metres later she slowed and peered out the windscreen, checking for incoming planes as the runway crossed the road.
‘You’re right, no planes.’ The words sounded muffled from under the hat.
Exasperation whipped her. ‘Really, and you can see clearly out from under that hat, can you?’
Susie giggled behind her.
He tilted the hat back and his eyes twinkled at her. ‘Well, there are few holes in this old workhorse, but I can also hear. Combination of the senses, Mia.’
Susie’s earlier words, ‘Listen with all of you’ played across her mind. She’d been happy to hear them from Susie. But not from Flynn. Everything about this doctor had her on edge.
Thank goodness she only had to put up with him until tomorrow and then he’d fly out of her life for another week.
As she turned the truck onto the coast road and headed toward the clinic, she had to slow the vehicle to a crawl. There were people in cars, trucks, on bikes and on foot, blocking the road in a mass of colour—their bright clothing vivid against their dark skin. ‘I wonder what’s happening?’
‘Barge is in.’ Susie spoke matter-of-factly as she hopped out of the truck.
‘Friday’s barge day.’ Flynn wound down his window and high-fived some of the kids walking along the road.
Mia could see a big blue ship almost sitting on the shoreline, a large gangplank coming from the centre of its twin hull and resting on the red beach. She stared straight ahead at the party atmosphere in front of her as an ute, loaded with boxes, drove off the barge.
‘And that means…’ Flynn’s mouth twitched at the corners but his eyes expressed commiseration.
Realisation thudded through her. ‘It means no one is going to bring their baby, toddler or pre-schooler to the clinic this afternoon to be immunised.’ She gently banged her forehead against the steering-wheel, defeat tugging at her every pore.
‘See, you’re catching on already.’ His words were gentle with no trace of jubilation at her frustration.
With her head still against the wheel, she turned slightly as he stretched his long arms above his head, his shirt straining against muscular biceps. She bit her lip against the surge of unwanted heat that coiled through her. ‘You didn’t mention barge day when we left the airport.’ Her voice wavered.
He shrugged, his face impassive. ‘You were pretty strung out at that point. I thought it best to go with your flow.’
She breathed in hard, realising she’d made a fool of herself in front of her new colleague. What did they say about first impressions not being able to be undone? She welcomed the uncomfortable edge of the steering-wheel against her forehead, overriding the pain of humiliation. ‘What a waste of a day.’
‘Nothing is ever a waste, Mia.’ His soft words washed over her, not soothing but not gloating either. ‘I tell you what, I’ll fill you in as much as I can during the next week. At least you’ll know that the footy and barge afternoons are times you do paperwork because no one will be at clinic.’
She abruptly sat up and stared at him, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs she was sure he could see it. Surely she’d misunderstood. Surely her humiliation wasn’t going to be extended over one hundred and sixty eight hours. ‘The next week?’ Her voice squeaked out the words. ‘I thought you were only here for tomorrow’s clinic?’
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes crinkling in a smile. ‘That had been the plan but things change. Kirra has the largest population so I’m here more often than not. I’ve been away for five days so now I need to play catch-up and I’m here for seven days straight.’
Somehow she managed to force the muscles of her face into a smile, while her gut seemed to fold inward. ‘I guess it’s my lucky week, then.’ But luck had never played a role in her life and she didn’t believe it was going to start any time soon.
CHAPTER TWO
FLYNN gazed out of his office window, watching the cabbage palms waving in the breeze and desperately trying to ignore the lure of the sunshine and wide-open spaces. Most of him wanted to be outside, swimming in a waterhole or just sitting under the shade of the banyan trees with the local community. He learned a lot by just sitting and listening.
But he had a major health department report due, and a budget review—two huge tasks that should be claiming his complete attention. Hadn’t he told Mia that Friday afternoon was a good time for admin work? But it seemed he couldn’t take his own advice today and his mind kept wandering. For some inexplicable reason he couldn’t stop thinking about Mia.
A dull thud sounded behind him, the third bump in the last twenty minutes. It sounded like Mia was tearing apart the treatment room. He grinned despite himself. She was the type of woman who couldn’t sit still even if she was tied to a chair. There was nothing new in that. Each new nurse needed to put his or her stamp on the place.
He met a new nurse every few months. More male nurses were taking up positions but they were usually younger, came for some adventure, and headed back south for a promotion.
Generally the nurses were older women, jaded with life, anti-men, and they came up here so they could work solo. Teamwork didn’t usually feature on their agenda and they ‘tolerated’ doctors in their domain. He was used to flying in, running his clinics and flying out. In between he consulted over the phone for emergencies and other than those contact times he rarely gave these competent women another thought.
But Mia, with her long blonde hair, her vivid blue eyes and high cheekbones, had caught his attention the moment he’d walked around the plane. She didn’t fit the type at all. She seemed out of place and that had piqued his curiosity.
Yes, curiosity was the only reason he was thinking about her. It had nothing at all to do with honey-brown skin, a hesitant smile and long, long legs.
No, he was immune to women and had been since three thirty p.m., March eighteenth, two years ago.
But despite his immunity, the image of Mia—eyes flashing against fleeting shadows, with her hands fixed firmly on shapely hips—wafted across his mind. She’d been prickly from the moment they’d met.
The least you could have done was send a message to say you were going to be late.
She was bossy with a take-charge attitude. He laughed out loud, the sudden realisation pushing away the disconcerting feeling that had dogged him since he’d first seen her. Mia wasn’t any different from the usual RAN after all.
With a clear mind he returned his attention to the spreadsheet blinking at him from the computer and tackled the budget.
Running feet unexpectedly pounded on the ramp outside his office and the door of the men’s entrance to the clinic was abruptly flung open, its hinges screeching in protest.
‘Doc, Sis, come quick.’ The distressed voice bounced off the walls.
Flynn shot out of his chair, reaching the corridor at the same moment as Mia. He instantly recognised Walter, one of the talented wood carvers on the island. ‘What’s happened?
‘What’s wrong?’
Walter gripped the railing on the wall, panting hard. ‘Jimmy, he’s in the ute. He’s hurt pretty bad.’
‘I’ll get the trolley.’ Mia quickly disappeared into the treatment room.
Flynn picked up the emergency kit. ‘Let’s go.’ He pushed open the door and ran, the heat of the late afternoon hitting him hard after the cool air of the clinic.
A twelve-year-old boy lay very still on his side in the back of a truck, the whites of his eyes wide with fear and a spear protruding from his back.
Flynn flinched at the unusual sight, immediately calculating possible internal damage. ‘Thank goodness you left the spear in place, Walter.’
The man ran his hands through his tight, curly hair. ‘Them boys were practising. I went to burn off, I was gone a few minutes and…’A long breath shuddered out of him as words failed him.
Flynn squeezed the father’s shoulder. The rattle of the trolley wheels against the ramp sounded behind him, along with Mia’s gasp as she stopped next to him.
This emergency would give him a chance to see Mia in action, and firm up what he already knew. Mia was cut from the same cloth as every RAN—a sole practitioner who had trouble working as part of a team. He’d worked with most types and sometimes it was easy and sometimes it was a hard slog. Based on how she’d bumped him from driving the truck, it would probably be a hard slog.
She cleared her throat. ‘Right, we need to cut the spear down closer to the entry point before we move him. We don’t want to cause any more damage than has already been done.’ She spoke firmly, as her sound practice broke through her initial shock. She looked straight at Flynn. ‘We need a saw.’
Flynn swallowed a sigh. She’d immediately taken charge, directing the play despite the fact she was working with a doctor. Situation normal. It looked like the power struggle had started already. ‘Walter, we need to cut the spear. Can you get a saw or some strong secateurs?’
‘I’ll get them from the shed.’ The anxious father ran around the building to the bush medicine garden, which was an important part of tying in indigenous medicine with modern.
‘There’s packing gauze in the kit to steady around the puncture site.’ Flynn handed Mia the large box, expecting her to counter his request with a suggestion of her own.
‘Right, will do.’ She eagerly accepted the box and pulled on a pair of gloves.
Her unexpected compliance startled him but there was no time to second-guess her. He needed to concentrate on Jimmy. He crawled into the back of the ute, the ribbed metal hard against his knees. ‘Hey, mate, you weren’t supposed to be the target in practice. How are you feeling?’ His fingers immediately rested on the young boy’s neck, feeling for his carotid pulse.
Jimmy bit his lip, trying hard to be stoic. ‘It hurts heaps.’
Flynn nodded in understanding as he silently counted Jimmy’s pulse. Rapid but firm. Perhaps the spear had missed vital organs? But most of him knew that was probably wishful thinking.
Metal pinged as Mia scrambled onto the tray, hauling the emergency kit with her. ‘Hi, Jimmy, I’m Mia and I’m going to have to touch the area around the spear but I’ll be as gentle as I can.’
She smiled at their patient and for the first time since Flynn had met her, her face lost its tension and her eyes shed their shadows.
It changed her completely. Unexpected heat charged through him and he had a momentary vision of her standing on a beach with her long hair trailing out behind her and her face lifted up to the breeze—with not a care in the world.
What the—? Where on earth had that thought come from? He shoved the image aside and reminded himself that she was the island nurse, pure and simple.
Mia deftly wrapped the gauze around the puncture site with gentle care. ‘You’re being very brave, Jimmy.’
Jimmy fixed his eyes on her face, hanging onto her murmured words like a lifeline.
Flynn didn’t blame him. There was something about her that could keep a bloke mesmerised, but not him. He reminded himself of his cast-iron immunity, the one that Brooke had activated.
‘Flynn, I got a bush saw.’ Walter ran up holding a bright orange-handled saw.
‘Thanks, Walter, excellent work.’ Flynn took the proffered saw.
Mia immediately opened a sterile pack and covered the gauze she’d placed around the spear entry point with a small theatre towel. ‘We don’t need wood shavings in there as well. I hope you’re as good with a bush saw as you are with a scalpel.’ She gripped the spear firmly at the entry point and glanced up at him, giving a quiet, companionable smile.
A completely unexpected smile.
He found himself smiling back. ‘I’ve improved with practice.’ He tapped the back of his hand where a long, jagged scar ran across three knuckles.
‘Ouch.’
‘My seven stitches were a badge of honour but Dad didn’t let me loose in the carving shed after that. Right, holding tight.’ The large bush saw seemed ludicrous against the narrow width of the spear but it was all they had. And he was used to making do. Medicine in remote rural communities was as much about improvisation as it was about modern medicine. He placed the bush saw a couple of centimetres above her hand.
Her hand tightened on the spear. ‘You need to leave more room.’
He tamped down his frustration at her tone. ‘I know what I’m doing, your knuckles will be safe.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She spoke softly and flicked her gaze to his, sea-blue irises sparkling at him like sunshine on water.
His heart rate unexpectedly kicked up for the first time in a very long time, pushing delicious languid heat through him, warming places that had been cold since Brooke’s betrayal.
His hand instantly gripped the saw harder, willing the sensation away. He refused to accept the feeling, hating that it could even happen after two years of self-imposed celibacy. Forcing his attention to the spear and the saw, he spoke slowly. ‘Jimmy, I’m going to cut the spear. I need you to keep as still as possible.’
He carefully pulled the serrated silver blade through the wood and five quick cuts later, the spear was in two pieces.
Mia checked Jimmy’s pulse and stroked his head. ‘You’re doing really well.’
The boy whimpered.
Flynn touched the boy’s shoulder. ‘Jimmy, we’re going to slide you onto a trolley and take you inside.’
‘I’ll steady his hips, you take his shoulders and, Walter, you can take the feet.’ Mia raised herself from kneeling to a low squat, ready to move, and gave Flynn an expectant look. ‘On your count, Flynn, when you’re ready.’
She’d taken over again. ‘Thanks for that.’ He couldn’t stop the sarcasm leaking into his voice.
Mia blinked against a flash of confusion and a slight frown creased her forehead.
You’re being petty. He shut his ears to the voice and crawled around behind Jimmy’s head, putting his arms under the boy’s left shoulder. ‘One, two, three.’
The young boy bit his lip as he was carefully slid down the tray on his side and then lifted onto the trolley.
‘We need you to lie very still on your front.’ Their voices collided, deep resonance tumbling with gentle softness.
Mia shrugged her shoulders, a wry smile hovering around her mouth. ‘What can I say? I’m a firstborn and we always tend to take charge.’
His mouth twitched despite him wanting to keep a straight face, the truth of her comment hitting home. ‘You and me both.’
A trickle of laughter sprinkled her words. ‘Oh, dear, we could be in strife, then. All chiefs and no Indians.’ Her smile expanded, dancing down into the deep creases that formed around her plump mouth.
Irrational disappointment streaked through him when she looked away and spoke to Jimmy.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Just OK.’ Jimmy’s scared voice was barely audible.
‘Walter, go and get Ruby.’ Flynn knew the father wouldn’t want to be in the clinic and the boy needed his mother.
‘I’ll bring her.’ The stressed man hopped into the truck and drove off.
‘Let’s go.’ Flynn flicked the brakes on the trolley upward with his foot, releasing the wheels, and together he and Mia quickly pushed the trolley inside.
‘How about I prime the Hartmann’s and insert the IV while you examine him?’ Mia ripped open an IV set and plunged the metal-tipped top into a bag of electrolyte fluid.
He caught the subtle change in her tone. She’d tried to convert her ‘in-charge’ statement into a question. ‘Good idea.’ He had to agree with her—the division of jobs was in Jimmy’s best interests.
He pulled his stethoscope off the hook and pushed it into his ears. He listened intently to the air entry, even though the puncture wound was probably lower than the lungs. Who knew which direction the spear was lying internally?
‘Jimmy, I need to put a needle into your arm so we can give you something to drink through your veins.’ Mia wrapped the tourniquet around Jimmy’s thin, left arm. ‘I promise it will hurt a lot less than the spear.’
The boy squeezed his eyes shut as if he didn’t want to think about it.
‘Air entry good, respirations slightly elevated.’ Flynn wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around the boy’s arm and listened to the sound of the whoosh and thump of the blood pounding in the arteries. He swung the stethoscope around his neck. ‘BP’s dropping slowly. He’s bleeding somewhere.’
‘Or leaking somewhere?’ Her brows drew together in concentration as she examined Jimmy’s arm. ‘He’s not exactly in shutdown but some of his veins have collapsed.’
‘A slow bleed.’ He mulled over the idea, enjoying having someone to talk to about a diagnosis.
She tapped the sluggish vein on the boy’s arm, her eyes glued to the spot. The tip of her pink tongue ran across her top teeth in an action of pure concentration.
Flynn’s gaze zeroed in on her lush, red lips, the moist tongue holding his gaze like a magnet. An age-old surge of lust—hot, hard and intense—rocked through him so unexpectedly he almost staggered.
Her mouth closed and with practised care she slid the wide-bore cannula into the dark vein just below his elbow. ‘I’m in—line established.’
Her words broke over him and it was like being released from a trance. What was wrong with him today? He didn’t react like this. He knew only too well it led to heartache and loss. He cleared his throat and spoke gruffly. ‘Great. Give him five hundred millilitres stat while we work out what’s going on.’
He bent down so his face was close to his patient’s. ‘Jimmy, I have to roll you onto your side for a moment so we can put some dots on your chest.’
‘Why?’ The young lad gripped the trolley’s mattress.
‘So we can see your heartbeat on the screen.’ Mia pointed to the ECG machine. ‘It’s pretty cool to watch.’
‘Will you help me?’ Jimmy asked Mia.
‘Of course I will.’ Mia smiled down at him.
‘But it hurts to move.’
The plaintive wail tore at Flynn. ‘I know, mate, and as soon as I’ve examined you I can give you something for the pain. You just have to be brave for a bit longer, OK?’
Jimmy’s brown curls bobbed sadly as he nodded his acquiescence.
‘You steady his hips and protect the spear while I fix the dots,’ Flynn instructed.
Mia nodded and quickly placed her hands into position. ‘Ready when you are.’
Flynn tore the backing paper off the dots in preparation. ‘One, two, three.’
Mia eased Jimmy into position with a smooth movement and a worried frown. A frown which carved three horizontal lines across the bridge of her nose, giving her a pixie look that clashed with her competent ‘in-charge’ persona. Nothing about this woman matched up or made sense.
Nothing about your reaction to her makes sense either.
With speed borne of experience, it only took Flynn a minute to have Jimmy connected to the ECG. ‘And roll him back.’ He didn’t look at Mia, he wasn’t risking any more crazy lust-fuelled reactions. Instead, he stared at the ECG and the ever-increasing pulse rate.
‘Well done, Jimmy.’ Mia stroked his head. ‘You’re doing so well.’
‘Where’s my dad?’
‘I’m here.’ Walter rushed through the door, quickly followed by Jimmy’s mother, Ruby.
‘Good timing, Walter.’ Flynn tilted his head toward Jimmy. ‘Ruby, you get up near Jimmy’s head and stay with him. He needs his mum.’
Ruby didn’t speak, she just moved quietly beside her son, her hand gripping his.
Walter immediately backed out of the room to wait outside.
Flynn pulled the stethoscope from his ears, having just taken Jimmy’s blood pressure again. ‘His pressure’s still dropping slowly.’ He turned up the drip rate on the IV.
‘Do you want plasma expander?’ Mia quickly wrote the current IV bolus on the fluid balance chart.
The thought had crossed his mind a moment before she’d spoken. She certainly knew her emergency medicine. ‘I’ll keep it as an option. I’ll do the ultrasound and then reassess.’
‘Pethidine first?’ Mia half turned toward the drug box.
He raised his brows. ‘Mind-reading again?’
She nodded slowly. ‘It’s what I do.’
Her deadpan expression made him want to laugh. He realised she had a knack of being right without being dogmatic. ‘Ruby, any idea how much Jimmy weighs?’
The worried mother silently shook her head.
‘We just done that at school for maths. I was forty-five kilograms.’ Jimmy’s voice sounded muffled against the trolley mattress.
‘Good going, mate. Thanks.’ He gave Jimmy a reassuring pat before turning back to Mia, who was priming the pump. ‘Given we’re not sure what is bleeding or not, it’s best to be cautious. We don’t need him going into respiratory distress as well.’
‘So…zero point two five per kilogram rather than zero point five?’ She flicked back some stray hair from her face and then slowly brought the back of her hand under her chin in a caress of concentration as she worked out the dose.
The action mesmerised him and he was horrified to find he was staring. ‘Yes, I’ll draw it up.’ He seized the proffered needle and syringe and concentrated on opening the ampoule, drawing up the solution, crosschecking the dose with Mia and injecting it into a small bag of saline.
Concentrating on the job rather than speculating on the intriguing nurse working next to him who wasn’t fitting at all into the power-hungry, bossy role he’d assigned her at the start of the emergency. ‘Jimmy, you might start to feel a bit sleepy.’
The pulsometer pinged loudly and Mia rechecked Jimmy’s blood pressure. ‘It’s steadied but still too low.’ She turned on the oxygen and carefully placed the prongs in Jimmy’s nostrils. ‘You just breathe normally, Jimmy, OK?’
The lad silently accepted the elastic being put around his head and gripped his mother’s hand more tightly.
‘How’s that spear hurt him?’ Ruby spoke for the first time.
Flynn pulled the ultrasound machine into place and squirted gel onto Jimmy’s back. ‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’
The black and white swirl of the ultrasound slowly morphed from a snowstorm into clear vision. Flynn’s eyes adjusted to the images on the screen.
‘It always looks like fuzz to me.’ Mia gave a self-deprecating chuckle from the other side of the trolley.
Her candour startled him. He wasn’t used to people publicly admitting what they didn’t know. He tilted the screen so she could see it and pointed to a white shape surrounded by black. ‘Recognise that?’
She peered toward the screen. ‘Is that the spear? I thought it would show up as black.’
‘It’s solid so it reflects a greater amount of sound or echo and it gives out a more intense signal which shows up as white.’ A familiar surge of satisfaction welled inside him—he’d always enjoyed teaching staff when he’d been down south.
‘That makes sense. Thanks for explaining it.’ Smile lines curved around her mouth for a moment before fading.
She’s open to learning.
He ignored the unwanted voice of reason. Holding up his fingers ten centimetres apart, he spoke to Ruby. ‘It’s gone inside Jimmy that much.’
Ruby silently absorbed the information, her eyes glued to the screen.
He slowly explored the peritoneum, heart, diaphragm, the liver, spleen, kidneys and bowel, looking for signs of black and grey, which would indicate fresh bleeding. ‘It’s torn a small hole in the liver.’
‘Would that account for his BP?’
Flynn rubbed his chin, enjoying having such an interested colleague. ‘Perhaps, but it’s not a big hole and a haematoma’s already forming.’
‘I need to pee.’ Jimmy started to wriggle.
Mia quickly grabbed a urinal and a privacy sheet, and helped the boy get into position to void.
‘Test it, Mia.’
‘I thought I might.’ The words hung in the air as she walked out with the filled bottle.
Her soft and reasonable tone at his unnecessary order slugged him. Nurses always tested urine and he had no idea why he’d even said it, especially as they’d seemed to settle into a truce of sorts and were working together quite well.
Because she’s got under your skin.
He turned his attention to the examination of Jimmy’s right kidney. It was the organ closest to the liver and as the liver had been nicked, there might be damage there. The kidney came into focus.
‘Flynn, he’s got gross haematuria, his urine is pink. Can you see signs of bleeding on the ultrasound?’ Mia’s voice carried across the room.
He tilted his head. ‘Come and look at this.’ He pointed to the image of Jimmy’s right kidney, which showed a small tear at the top. ‘It’s sliced through the top of the kidney, torn the liver and come to a halt.’
She leaned in close and he caught the scent of sun and sand, with a hint of the heady perfume of frangipani. He stifled the urge to breathe in more deeply.
‘Will he need surgery to repair the tears?’
He kept his eyes on the screen, checking he hadn’t missed anything. ‘I think that the haematoma will stop the bleeding. To a certain extent it already has because his pressure’s steadied and the kidney and liver should heal just fine on their own.’
‘So we can remove the spear tip safely now without fear of causing a big bleed?’
He turned to face her. ‘We can.’
‘That’s excellent news.’ Happiness for their patient radiated from her and her face glowed. ‘After a few days of close monitoring he’ll be back kicking the footy.’
Flynn deliberately looked away from her smile, trying to stall the rush of blood to his groin. He caught sight of the protocol handbook resting on the desk. Written by bureaucrats in Darwin and issued to every new health-care worker, Mia must have been reading it before Jimmy’s arrival. ‘Technically, the clinic doesn’t allow for overnight stays and any major medical emergency should be evacuated.’
Again Mia frowned, the bridge of her nose wrinkling. ‘Surely he’d be better off here close to his family. I’m happy to nurse him and you’re on the island if his condition unexpectedly deteriorates.’ Her eyes suddenly teased. ‘I’ll toss you for the three a.m. to five shift.’
He smiled broadly. ‘You’re on.’ He couldn’t believe his luck—she knew her medicine and she was prepared to bend the rules. The Kirri people hated leaving the island and Ruby would be out of her depth in Darwin.
‘For two firstborns, we seemed to manage that pretty well, didn’t we?’ She spoke quietly, suddenly serious.
The look in her deep aqua eyes whipped him hard in the gut. A look that was devoid of any grandstanding, the look that was completely inclusive and said loudly, We’re a team.
A team. She was right—they had worked well together. He should be thrilled that after all this time he was finally working with a RAN who wanted to be a team player because that would make his working life so much easier. But a leaden feeling settled in his gut and thrilled didn’t come close to describing it. He ran his hand through his hair, his brain scrambling to make sense of his feelings.
She’s just an average nurse like every other one you’ve met, worked with and forgotten.
But there was nothing average about Mia and that was the problem.
CHAPTER THREE
FLYNN walked over to the clinic from his residence, smelling the salt lingering on the early Saturday morning air, and breathed in deeply, savouring the freshness. Not one breath of wind rippled the trees and he knew the sea would be flat and calm—an ideal morning to go fishing.
He had a patient to see and a patient to hopefully discharge and then the day was his, emergencies notwithstanding. He’d ask around and perhaps drive up to the north of the island and see if anyone was heading out to fish. He could do with a day away from the clinic.
A day away from Mia. He needed to clear his mind.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He should have taken the three to five a.m. shift for all the sleep he’d got. Images of Mia had floated through his mind despite him trying to shut them out, despite practising deep breathing and attempting relaxation. Hell, he’d come to these islands to avoid women and life had been easy. He wasn’t going to let one nurse change that.
As he pushed the clinic door open he heard Jimmy calling out.
‘Mia, is there more toast?’
Relief settled over him. He’d made the right decision in not evacuating Jimmy. A boy with a healthy appetite was a great sign.
Mia appeared from the kitchen holding a tray with cereal, milk and fruit. ‘Good morning.’ A warm smile tinged with familiar tension washed across her face. ‘I hope you ate breakfast at home because the way Jimmy is eating, my supplies are dwindling at a rapid rate.’
Her tinkling laugh spun around him, pulling at him with its intoxicating, sweet sound. For a woman who’d been up half the night she had no right to look so fresh and alluring. Her face, free from make-up, shone with a healthy glow, and her hair framed her cheeks, not yet pulled back into its usual neat ponytail.
He’d called into the clinic at three a.m. but Jimmy had been stable and sleeping and she’d sent him away, promising to catch a few hours’ sleep herself. He took the tray from her. ‘I learned the hard way and now I have a secret stash of food.’
‘Ah, yet another trick of remote medicine I have to learn.’ She pulled a tiny spiral notebook and pencil out of her pocket and wrote ‘Food supplies’ in it, under a list of other short notes, the bridge of her nose creasing in concentration.
The action surprised him. He’d understand if she wrote down a reminder for a drug order or something related to work, but some extra food?
She caught him staring at her and she quickly flicked the notebook closed, jamming it back in her pocket as if caught out doing something wrong. ‘Let’s give the boy round three of his breakfast.’
Jimmy sat crossed-legged on the bed, crumbs scattered all around him.
‘Is that all that’s left of three slices of toast and Vegemite?’ Mia teased as she brushed away the crumbs. ‘I had a brother who had hollow legs like you. He used to eat and eat and eat.’
Flynn slid the tray onto the over-bed table, wondering about the words ‘had a brother’. Wouldn’t people normally say, ‘My brother used to have hollow legs like you’? ‘Tuck into this, mate, and then I’ll come back and have a look at your dressing, OK?’
Jimmy bit into a yellow banana and nodded as Flynn motioned for Mia to leave the room with him.
He strode into the kitchen and plugged in the coffee-machine. ‘I need a cappuccino—what about you?’
‘That sounds great.’ Mia cut two slices of hearty wholemeal bread and dropped them into the toaster. ‘So, will Jimmy be discharged home to rest today or do you want to keep him in a bit longer so that his wound can be kept clean and dry?’
Flynn glanced at her over the top of the opened fridge door, knowing what she was really asking. ‘Have you done many home visits yet?’
She nodded, her teeth snagging her bottom lip. ‘A few. I’ve worked in disadvantaged areas in Tasmania but I was pretty shocked by the state of some of the houses here and the overcrowding.’
He closed the fridge and at the same time tried to close his mind against the vulnerable image of pearly white teeth on pink, moist skin. The milk slopped into the jug rather than being poured. ‘Yeah, the poverty is confronting. Over twenty per cent of the houses need replacing but the good news is that the land council is on target with their three-year plan to replace and build new ones.’
‘That’s great but I guess what I’m really asking is does Jimmy live in a condemned house? We can’t risk him getting a raging infection and damaging his kidney.’
‘True, but Jimmy’s very fortunate. Both his parents have jobs and although there are ten people in the house, Ruby has it well organised.’ He placed the jug under the stainless-steel steam jet and heated the milk. ‘We’ll get Ruby to bring him in each day and you can do the dressing. That way he can be at home but we can keep a close eye on him.’
The toast popped up and Mia put the slices on plates and buttered them. ‘OK, so I’ll remove his IV after breakfast. Do you want one last dose of IV antibiotics first?’
‘Yes, that’s a good way to do it and then he can go home with a seven-day course.’ Flynn poured the foaming milk over the coffee, picked up the mugs and turned to see Mia writing again in her notebook. ‘Discharge planning?’
She gave a curt nod, the shadows in her eyes suddenly looming large. She shoved the pad into her pocket as if the fact it was out of sight meant it no longer existed. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Help yourself to toast.’
Her reaction to the notepad puzzled him but the delicious smell of the toast distracted him and he bit into it, enjoying the combination of seeds and grains. He hadn’t tasted bread like this on any of the islands. ‘This tastes sensational. Where did you order it from?’
She looked coy. ‘I baked it?’
‘You made this? No wonder Jimmy virtually inhaled it. He’s probably never tasted bread like it. We only get the mass-produced loaves sent over from Darwin.’
She gave a wry smile. ‘And that’s why I brought my bread-maker.’
An idea struck him. ‘This would be fabulous bread for the diabetics due to its low-glycaemic index. Is there any way you could work out how to cook it on a campfire?’
Disbelief swept across her face. ‘A campfire? Why a campfire? I’ve seen ovens in houses.’
He shrugged. ‘Many Kirri people prefer to cook on open fires.’
‘I thought they’d only cook on a fire when they’re out bush, hunting or collecting bush tucker.’
‘They do that too but there’s a campfire in every yard. It’s an easier way to cook when you never know how many people are going to be eating with you.’
She sighed. ‘There are so many unexpected things. For instance, I didn’t realise that English would be the second or third language. It’s all so very different, but different in a good way.’
He nodded as an unexpected sensation of shared companionship streaked through him. ‘And that is what most southerners just don’t get.’
She reached for her pocket but caught his gaze, which had followed her movement. She let her hand fall back onto the table and fiddled with the mug handle, anxiety scudding across her eyes. ‘I’ll practise and see how the bread comes out unleavened, kind of like a wholemeal damper.’ He saw the thought travel across her high cheeks as her mouth curved into a smile. ‘If it doesn’t work, the kids could use it as a football.’
He laughed. ‘Either way, they’d be happy. Football is the second religion on the island.’ He knew she wanted to write ‘Damper’ down in that notebook of hers but had deliberately stopped herself. Why, he didn’t know and he really shouldn’t care. He should be thinking about getting out of here and going fishing.
A strained and unexpected silence expanded between them, vanquishing the companionable conversation that had existed when they’d been talking about work.
Mia pushed her chair back, her shoulders suddenly rigid with tension. ‘I’ll get the dressing trolley ready and give those antibiotics. See you when you’ve finished your coffee.’ She walked out of the room, her three-quarter-length pants moving seductively across a pert behind.
A wave of heat hit him hard and hot, and he stood up abruptly, trying to stall it. It didn’t work. All that happened was that he knocked over his chair. What the hell was going on with him?
He’d specifically chosen this remote region to avoid women and the nightmare of relationships. It had been working really well for two years. He’d carved out a life of work and sport and he was content with his lot. He didn’t want or need anything else.
His life was just as he wanted it.
So his reaction to Mia made no sense at all. He’d mark it down as an aberration.
A tall and curvaceous aberration.
He nuked the traitorous thought with an undisputable fact. Conversation between them died once they’d exhausted talking about work. Given the strained silence that had built between them once they’d finished talking shop, they obviously had nothing in common.
At least he’d worked that out quickly. That would kill this insane attraction dead in its tracks. Today he was going fishing and by the time Monday came around he would have got over whatever it was that was making him feel like a randy seventeen-year-old and Mia would be just another RAN.
‘Flynn?’
He turned from the sink. ‘Hi, Walter. Good news. Jimmy can go home today but he has to rest. Is Ruby with you?’
‘Yeah. She’s with Mia.’ Walter continued to stand in the doorway, his head down, avoiding eye contact in the traditional way.
Flynn had learned over time that just standing often meant the person wanted to say more. He turned back to the sink so he wasn’t looking straight at Walter and he waited. The two hardest lessons he’d learned since arriving on Kirra had been waiting and listening.
‘Mia did good with Jimmy.’
Flynn washed the coffee-mugs. ‘She did. She knows her stuff.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Any of your mob going fishing today?’ Flynn flicked the teatowel off the silver rail.
‘No.’ Walter moved his foot in circles against the lino.
The brevity of answers was another thing he’d got used to. ‘I thought I’d go. I fancy some barramundi for dinner.’
Walter shook his head. ‘No fishing today, Flynn. We got a ceremony.’
Surprise rushed through him. Usually he knew about the ceremonies and often he was invited to be part of them. ‘OK, well, I guess I’ll have to chance the fishing on my own, then.’
‘The ceremony is for Mia so you have to come, and bring her with you.’ Walter turned and left, walking outside to wait for Ruby and Jimmy.
Flynn’s chest tightened as the reality of Walter’s request hit him. He had no choice—he had to go to the ceremony. He couldn’t refuse Walter’s request. As an elder on Kirra, Walter had made Flynn a ‘brother’, teaching him many of the Kirri ways. It was a relationship that was very special to him and one that helped with his work on the island.
Images of his quiet day fishing, his day of relaxation and regrouping, burst like a balloon.
Mia.
Instead of fishing, he would have to spend the day with Mia at the ceremony. Mia, who was wound so tight she threatened to implode at any moment. And without work to talk about, there’d be those long, anguished silences.
It was going to be a really long day.
* * *
Mia silently chanted some important details in her head while she walked alongside Flynn, his long strides sending tiny whirls of dust up into the air. The sun was rising high in the sky, promising even more heat later in the day, and already she could feel the familiar trickle of perspiration down her back.
She ached to write up her daily report and a note to herself about the bread, but Flynn had unexpectedly but firmly insisted she lock up the clinic and come with him straight away.
She supposed she could have asked him to wait five minutes but the inquisitive and bemused look he’d given her earlier that morning when she’d pulled out her notebook had made her hesitate. She didn’t want to have to justify why she kept notes on almost everything. Unless someone had lived with a parent who had slowly and insidiously lost their memory, they just didn’t understand.
Lists had become part of her life. Initially they had been there to help her mother. Now they were her lifelines, her attempt to stave off the inevitable.
Working with Flynn had been very different from what she’d expected. They’d managed a co-operative approach, which had been a pleasant surprise. And he’d taken the time to help her decipher the ultrasound. He was a natural teacher and she planned to drain his brain while he was on the island to her advantage. The faster she learned and the more she knew meant her position at Kirra was secure.
And thinking of Flynn in terms of a teacher was a lot less disturbing to her equilibrium than thinking of him as a man. She glanced up at him from under her straw hat. He radiated such boundless energy despite his apparently laid-back approach to life. Bright board shorts had replaced yesterday’s pleated shorts, and today he wore a pink and black shirt with a local design reminiscent of the palm leaf. He looked like he belonged on a beach or riding a wave.
An image of salt water running in rivulets over a broad chest slammed into her, sucking the air from her lungs and causing her to stumble.
A large hand firmly closed around her elbow, sending ribbons of sensation spiralling through her.
His eyes flickered with amber lights as he looked down at her. ‘You have to keep an eye out for rocks and potholes. The roads here aren’t in the best condition.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled, trying to act relaxed and calm despite the fact she’d never felt so unnerved around a man in her life. Her body seemed to go into a ‘hyper-awareness zone’ whenever they were together. It completely drained her of energy.
Yesterday, as they’d dealt with Jimmy’s accident, she’d lurched between clear-cut professional admiration and straight-up, bone-melting desire. The combination made her head spin. ‘So, are we doing a home visit?’
‘No.’ He dropped his hand from her arm and pointed to a gathering of people. ‘We’re going to a ceremony.’
‘Cool.’ She stopped walking as a thought struck her. ‘Is it culturally sensitive for us to go?’
He smiled, dimples carving into his cheeks. ‘It’s very OK for us to go. You’re the guest of honour.’
She stared at him, her mind emptying of everything as his smile shone above her, driving out the darkness that cloaked her soul. Then his words echoed in her head, forcing her to speak. ‘Me?’ She struggled to think past the black hole that was her stalled and uncooperative brain. ‘But why me?’
‘For helping Jimmy.’
Amazement flooded her that the community would do something like this. She’d never had such an acknowledgment in her working life. ‘But I only did my job.’
‘And the locals want to say thank you.’ He stood waiting for her to move, a patient smile on his face as if he dealt with stunned women every day of the week. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to people.’
Men and women were sitting around, some on upturned milk crates, some on chairs, and a few on the ground. At their feet yellow and red ochre and white chalk was being mixed with water on large, flat rocks. A couple of old mirrors were passing around the circle so they could see their faces to paint them.
‘Hey, Mia, we dance for you.’ Walter waved to her, his eyes ringed with red ochre, edged with chalk.
She waved back before turning to Flynn. ‘What can you tell me about the face painting? The designs look pretty intricate.’
He tilted back his hat. ‘It’s really body painting. Today they’ll decorate their faces and arms but in a full ceremony they’d paint all their bodies. It’s been practised for thousands of years and the design is passed down from generation to generation, from father to son.’
She watched fascinated as the dancers prepared themselves. ‘The dots on their faces and the fine crossed lines on their arms—I saw that design on their carving and on your shirt yesterday.’
Flynn nodded. ‘That’s right—it’s called cross-hatching. Their traditional body art and the decoration on their traditional carving form the basis of today’s screen-printing and artwork. It’s all connected with their creation story.’ He spoke warmly, his enthusiasm for the topic obvious. ‘Their dreaming dance is handed down from their fathers too and it can be naturally occurring things like a crocodile, shark or wind, but some have a sailing boat.’
She glanced at him in surprise. ‘A sailing boat?’
He spread his hands out in front of him. ‘Probably from the first time the Europeans sailed past.’
She loved learning about these sorts of things. ‘What about mothers? Is anything passed on from the mothers?’
He grinned. ‘Your feminist side will be thrilled to know that they inherit their skin group and totemic dance from their mothers. This is often an animal like the magpie goose or brolga, but it could be scaly mullet fish.’
‘I’ve been amazed at the number of geese. Their honking keeps me company at night.’ As do thoughts of you.
He chuckled. ‘The locals love that sound as it means there is plenty of good hunting.’
She walked over to the shade and sat down on the ground. She was immediately struck by how quickly she was losing the expectation that to sit required a chair. ‘I’m slowly getting a handle on the skin-group issue. Who can talk to whom and who can’t talk to each other.’ She grimaced, suddenly remembering her forgetfulness.
He tilted his head, taking in her expression. ‘Problem?’
She traced her finger through the fine dirt. ‘Oh, it’s just that I had a lapse the other day when I made the mistake of asking a fourteen-year-old boy to give a message to his mother, forgetting he can’t talk to her. I’ve now put up the skin group compass on my wall so I always remember.’
Understanding wove across his face. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. It seems complicated at first because it’s so foreign to us. But this law has served them well for thousands of years and has avoided inbreeding and the genetic disaster that brings.’
She knew too well the damage a faulty gene could inflict. Picking up a fallen palm leaf, she fanned herself. ‘The separate men and women’s entrances to the clinic are a great idea. It must have been a lot harder to deliver culturally appropriate health care when you only had one waiting room and one examination room.’
His keen gaze suddenly intensified, hooking with hers as if he was seeing her for the very first time. Seeing her as herself rather than a RAN.
A shimmer of wondrous pleasure streaked through her, immediately chased by thundering unease. Remember, no man can be a part of your life
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/fiona-lowe/the-doctor-claims-his-bride/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
Fiona Lowe
A nurse worth waiting for Nurse Mia Latham thinks she's found the perfect solution to get her life in order-a new job on an idyllic tropical island. But, thanks to her arrogant, teasing and devastatingly handsome new boss Dr Flynn Harrington, life isn't quite as simple as she might have hoped!Flynn can see Mia is hiding secrets, but the one thing she can't disguise is her passion for him! Flynn knows a thing or two about running away, but something about this beautiful nurse makes him want to unpack his suitcases and settle down-with Mia!
Unable to wait a moment longer, Mia launched herself to her feet and arrived at the low fence just as the propellers of the plane slowly wound down and stopped.
The door on the opposite side of the plane opened. Mia caught sight of a pair of long, sun-kissed, muscular legs, which jumped down and landed on large feet. Intrigued, she watched as the legs strode around the plane, eating up the distance with commanding ease. Then the owner came into full view, and an uncontrollable shock of electric delight raced through her, completely disarming her.
Mia’s mouth dried. The intensity of his look made her feel stripped bare, and to her horror she dropped her gaze.
‘I wasn’t expecting a welcoming party. I’m Flynn Harrington. Pilot and doctor.’ He grinned with the cheekiness of someone who had inside information. ‘You must be Mia.’
‘You’re the island doctor?’ She couldn’t hide the shock and disbelief from her voice.
He didn’t look like any doctor she’d ever met—and she’d met more than her fair share, personally and professionally.
And no doctor had ever made her tingle like that.
Dear Reader
In June 2007 my family left our home on the south coast of Australia and we set off on a six-hour flight to the far north of the country. It was 6C in Melbourne and 33C in Darwin—hard to believe we were still in the same country, but it wasn’t just the weather that was different. As we toured around the World Heritage Area of Kakadu National Park and swam in the waterholes of Litchfield Park we absorbed the vivid reds, yellows and browns of the outback. We learned all sorts of things about the land, the plants and animals, and what they all mean to the Aboriginal people.
A very special part of our holiday was a two-day trip to an island in the Timor Sea. Here we went hunting for turtle eggs, watched dugong at play and crocodiles surfing in the ocean! As I sat around the campfire I started to get an idea for a story. We had met a lot of people on our holiday and many had come from the south. I found myself asking, “Why would someone from the south be drawn to the isolation of this island?”
And that is how Mia and Flynn’s story evolved. Set against the background of the Aborigines’ love for their land and their own unique health issues, Mia and Flynn are on the island running from their individual demons. Both are determined to live a solo life but they discover that no matter where you are or how far you go, you can’t outrun your past until you face it.
I hope you enjoy their story as much as I enjoyed writing it and that one day you too can take a trip to the far north of central Australia. It’s an amazing place!
Love
Fiona x
The Doctor Claims His Bride
Fiona Lowe
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
Chapter One (#u855b29ac-d69b-532a-a43f-177360dfe405)
Chapter Two (#ud2b74850-3efc-5754-89f4-25833a79ecda)
Chapter Three (#u8fc779b0-767a-59a9-8ff6-a1b0b6db26f2)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Always an avid reader, Fiona Lowe decided to combine her love of romance with her interest in all things medical, so writing Medical™ Romance was an obvious choice! She lives in a seaside town in southern Australia, where she juggles writing, reading, working and raising two gorgeous sons, with the support of her own real-life hero! You can visit Fiona’s website at www.fionalowe.com (http://www.fionalowe.com)
To Gaye, with heartfelt thanks for the friendship, the walks along the river and the conversations that roam from laundry liquid to solving the world’s problems!
Special thanks to Nellie, for generously sharing her experiences as a Remote Area Nurse.
CHAPTER ONE
‘YOU still on city time, Sis.’ Susie, one of the Kirri health workers, grinned widely, her teeth white against her chocolate-brown face.
Mia Latham sighed and twirled her hair up, welcoming the light breeze against her very hot and sweaty neck. Jamming her straw hat down hard, she scanned the outback-blue skies for the elusive light plane.
Nothing.
Not a faint dot in the distance, not even a bird. Just heat haze shimmering upwards against wisps of grey smoke from the dry-season fires. She forced her shoulders to relax while muttering, ‘He said eleven o’clock and now it’s almost one.’
‘He on island time.’ Susie leaned back contentedly against the shady eucalypt.
Mia turned and gazed at the sensible indigenous health worker. ‘But I have an immunisation clinic all organised, and we’re keeping people waiting.’
Susie gave her a bemused look. ‘You got no clinic till plane brings vaccines.’ She shrugged. ‘So sit. You can’t do nothing until the plane comes.’
Every cell in Mia’s body rebelled at the practical words. Her ‘to do’ list magnified in her head, the print bold and black, bearing down on her, urging her to do something, anything, to make a dent in it. She’d wanted to be as up to date as possible for when she met the visiting doctor. But at this rate she’d be way behind and she hated having no control over the situation.
She stifled a huge scream of frustration and plonked down awkwardly in the shade next to Susie, her cargo shorts instantly filling with fine, brown dirt. Just great. She might still be on Australian soil but nothing about life up in the far far north of the country, nothing about life on this tiny island resembled anything she’d ever known.
She’d wanted a change. She’d badly needed change but today, her fifth day on the job as a remote area nurse on Kirra Island, left her wondering if what she’d come to was harder than what she’d left.
Impossible.
She wanted remoteness, wanted to work on her own and be as far away as possible from her old life. She just wanted to forget.
She fanned her face and took a long slug of water from the bottle that was a permanent part of her in this heat. And this was the dry season—winter. She didn’t want to think about the dripping humidity just before the big wet.
‘Hear that?’ Susie inclined her head to the right.
Mia couldn’t hear anything. It was so hot that even nature had gone quiet. ‘No.’
‘Listen with all of you,’ Susie chided gently.
Mia let the heat roll over her, let the dust settle on her and strained to hear past the silence of the soporific midday malady. A faint buzzing vibrated in her ears. ‘The plane?’
Susie nodded. ‘That’s right. Him coming now.’
Mia moved forward, preparing to stand.
Susie’s workworn brown hand rested against her forearm, detaining her. ‘Still five minutes, no hurry.’
She forced herself to sit back but most of her wanted to rush out onto the runway and start unpacking boxes the moment the plane had come to a complete halt. She’d never been very good at sitting back and waiting. Even when she’d known in her heart there was nothing she could do to help her mother, she’d hated the waiting. Waiting and watching her die.
The Cessna lined up with the runway and slowly descended, coming in over the thick mangroves and the eucalypts, its small black wheels bouncing on the asphalt, sticky with heat. The pilot immediately opened the window and gave a wave.
Unable to wait a moment longer, Mia launched herself to her feet, leaving Susie under the tree, and she arrived at the low cyclone fence just as the propellers of the plane slowly wound down and stopped. The door on the opposite side of the plane opened. Mia caught sight of a pair of long, tanned, muscular legs, which jumped down and landed on large feet. Feet clad in sturdy work boots with khaki socks that casually gathered down around solid ankles.
It wasn’t the usual uniform of a pilot—they wore long navy trousers. No, these legs looked like they belonged to a bounty hunter, buffalo or crocodile hunter—a man who spent a lot of time outdoors.
Intrigued, she watched as the legs strode around the plane, eating up the distance with commanding ease. Then the owner came into full view and an uncontrollable shock of electric delight raced through her, completely disarming her.
At well over six feet, her crocodile hunter had the natural grace of a man at one with his surroundings, and it radiated from the top of his jet-black hair to the tips of his olive-skinned fingers, which gripped a large cooler in one hand and held a backpack in the other. Three-day stubble hovered around his smiling mouth, fanning out along a firm jaw. Dark brows framed intelligent hazel eyes, whose mesmerising gaze quickly took in his surroundings, acknowledged Susie with a wave and then centred in on her.
Mia’s mouth dried. The intensity of his look made her feel stripped bare and to her horror she dropped her gaze. She took in his broad shoulders, which were covered by a shirt made from locally designed fabric. The emerald green and sea blue of the design accurately depicted the colours of the island’s land and sea, and together they brought out a hint of green in his hazel eyes.
Desperately wanting to look further to what she suspected would be a washboard-flat stomach, her professionalism hauled her gaze upwards and with a quick, steadying breath she stepped forward, hoping she looked more dignified than she felt.
‘I wasn’t expecting a welcoming party.’
A rich, deep voice with the smoothness of velvet cloaked her, making her heart hiccough. She looked up into teasing eyes, the flecks of green and brown almost moving like crystals in a kaleidoscope.
Confusion overrode her body’s unwanted tingling reaction to him, making her dizzy with bewilderment. ‘Aren’t you the pilot bringing in the vaccines? I got a message…’
‘I’m Flynn Harrington. Pilot, deliverer of vaccines and doctor.’ He grinned with the cheekiness of someone who had inside information. ‘You must be Mia.’
Doctor? She wasn’t expecting to meet the island’s visiting doctor for another three days. Her calendar, left to her by her predecessor, had ‘Doctor clinic’ inked in red for Monday.
‘You’re the island doctor?’ She couldn’t hide the shock and disbelief from her voice. He didn’t look like any doctor she’d ever met and she’d met more than her fair share personally and professionally. And no doctor has ever made you tingle like that.
‘Yep, I’m the doctor for Kirra, Mugur and Barra.’ He extended his long arm out behind him, lazily indicating the approximate direction of the other islands. ‘I divide my time between all three.’
A swoosh of righteous indignation surged through her, quickly dousing the unsettling sensations that had shimmered along her veins. She’d just lost half her morning hanging around for him. ‘But you’re three days early and you’re also two hours late!’ The heat and waiting caught up with her. ‘And what do you mean you don’t usually have a welcoming committee? I was here two hours ago, as your message instructed, to collect the vaccines. The least you could have done was to send a message to say you were going to be late.’
His casual stance stiffened for a moment and then his shoulders relaxed. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot that you’d still be city-wired. Usually the truck comes and picks me up the moment they hear the plane coming over. That way no one’s left waiting around.’ He started walking toward the truck.
The city-wired tag pricked her like barbed-wire and she folded her arms against the sensation in her chest as she jogged to keep up with his long-legged stride. ‘Well, it would have been nice if someone had told me.’ She threw her hands out in front of her. ‘You for instance, or Susie. Why didn’t Susie tell me the routine?’
He tilted his head, his brows slightly raised. ‘Did you ask her?’
His quiet and reasonable tone sent a ripple of contrition through her, dampening her indignation. ‘Ah, no. I think I said something like, “We have to be at the airport at eleven.”’
He pulled a battered bushman’s hat out of his backpack before tossing the pack into the tray of the truck. Then he carefully wedged the cooler under a hessian sack. ‘That’s why she didn’t say anything. Kirri people don’t say no to a request. Susie was happy to help you so she came. If a local doesn’t want to do as you ask, well, they just avoid the issue by failing to turn up.’
He glanced down at her, his expression a mixture of understanding and humour. ‘Beware the “I’ll come back and do it” sentence—that actually means no.’
Mia wiped the back of her hand against her perspiration-soaked forehead and sighed. ‘I’ve got so much to learn.’
Flynn smiled and dimples carved through the black stubble, giving him a renegade look. Perhaps her initial impression of a crocodile hunter hadn’t been far off. Somehow she couldn’t imagine him in a white coat, stuck inside the antiseptic corridors of a hospital down south.
‘If you want to learn then we’re happy to teach you.’ His voice rumbled around her like distant thunder.
A slight tremble of unease rippled through her before her indignation surged back. ‘What do you mean, if I want to learn? Of course I want to learn.’
He shrugged. ‘Not everyone does. We get a lot of people up here. They arrive city-wired, city-savvy, ready to save the world as long as it can be saved their way.’ He grinned at Susie, who’d wandered over from the shade of the tree now that it looked like they were ready to return to the clinic. ‘And then they leave us, don’t they, Susie?’
Susie nodded. ‘Yep. Mia third nurse this year.’
Mia’s chest tightened. ‘I plan to be the one that stays.’
‘Yeah, they all say that.’ Flynn opened the driver’s door of the truck, his expression resigned.
‘No, really, I’m staying.’ I have nothing to go back to. Nothing at all. Her mother’s blank and expressionless face wafted across her mind and a sliver of the terror she usually managed to keep concealed deep inside her coiled upward, threatening to choke her.
She needed to move, she needed to do something to keep the panic at bay. The clinic. Walking briskly, she ducked under Flynn’s outstretched arm and sat down hard in the driver’s seat.
A startled expression momentarily creased his forehead before he gently closed the door.
A dash of guilt bubbled up at her abrupt brush past him but it was quickly doused by fear and anger at his blasé attitude toward her. She gripped the steering-wheel hard and breathed in deeply. How dared this man make assumptions about her when he didn’t even know her? She wasn’t ‘everyone’. She was so far removed from being ‘everyone’, so far removed from being the ‘norm’, that it didn’t bear thinking about.
She turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine, clawing back some control. It was time get back to work.
She turned her head and met his clear and intense gaze. A shiver shot through her, making her both cold and hot at the same time. A shiver that created shimmers deep inside her. No, no, no. Remember Steven.
Don’t remember Steven. She’d been working really hard on forgetting Steven and she didn’t want to revisit that pain either.
She involuntarily swallowed before clearing her throat. ‘I need to run this immunisation clinic so if you’re ready, we’ll leave now.’
Flynn wordlessly pushed back from the door where his arms had been resting. ‘Let’s head back, Susie.’ He walked slowly around the twin-cab truck, opening the back door for the health worker, and clambered in next to Mia, tilting his hat forward as if he was going to take a nap.
Everything about him, every action and word powerfully stated that this man was in command of his world—completely and utterly. It was in stark contrast to Mia, who had the feeling she was only just hanging on by her fingernails. Coming to Kirra was supposed to give her some control, and at the very least control over her job. She didn’t think that was too much to ask, given what she faced in the future.
Mia thrust the truck into gear, forcing away the thoughts that threatened to undo her. She refused to let ‘Dr Cool and Laid-Back’ make her feel incompetent.
You’re doing a good enough job of that yourself.
With a jerk, she swung the truck into a wide U-turn and pulled onto the main road, a plume of dust rising behind her. One hundred metres later she slowed and peered out the windscreen, checking for incoming planes as the runway crossed the road.
‘You’re right, no planes.’ The words sounded muffled from under the hat.
Exasperation whipped her. ‘Really, and you can see clearly out from under that hat, can you?’
Susie giggled behind her.
He tilted the hat back and his eyes twinkled at her. ‘Well, there are few holes in this old workhorse, but I can also hear. Combination of the senses, Mia.’
Susie’s earlier words, ‘Listen with all of you’ played across her mind. She’d been happy to hear them from Susie. But not from Flynn. Everything about this doctor had her on edge.
Thank goodness she only had to put up with him until tomorrow and then he’d fly out of her life for another week.
As she turned the truck onto the coast road and headed toward the clinic, she had to slow the vehicle to a crawl. There were people in cars, trucks, on bikes and on foot, blocking the road in a mass of colour—their bright clothing vivid against their dark skin. ‘I wonder what’s happening?’
‘Barge is in.’ Susie spoke matter-of-factly as she hopped out of the truck.
‘Friday’s barge day.’ Flynn wound down his window and high-fived some of the kids walking along the road.
Mia could see a big blue ship almost sitting on the shoreline, a large gangplank coming from the centre of its twin hull and resting on the red beach. She stared straight ahead at the party atmosphere in front of her as an ute, loaded with boxes, drove off the barge.
‘And that means…’ Flynn’s mouth twitched at the corners but his eyes expressed commiseration.
Realisation thudded through her. ‘It means no one is going to bring their baby, toddler or pre-schooler to the clinic this afternoon to be immunised.’ She gently banged her forehead against the steering-wheel, defeat tugging at her every pore.
‘See, you’re catching on already.’ His words were gentle with no trace of jubilation at her frustration.
With her head still against the wheel, she turned slightly as he stretched his long arms above his head, his shirt straining against muscular biceps. She bit her lip against the surge of unwanted heat that coiled through her. ‘You didn’t mention barge day when we left the airport.’ Her voice wavered.
He shrugged, his face impassive. ‘You were pretty strung out at that point. I thought it best to go with your flow.’
She breathed in hard, realising she’d made a fool of herself in front of her new colleague. What did they say about first impressions not being able to be undone? She welcomed the uncomfortable edge of the steering-wheel against her forehead, overriding the pain of humiliation. ‘What a waste of a day.’
‘Nothing is ever a waste, Mia.’ His soft words washed over her, not soothing but not gloating either. ‘I tell you what, I’ll fill you in as much as I can during the next week. At least you’ll know that the footy and barge afternoons are times you do paperwork because no one will be at clinic.’
She abruptly sat up and stared at him, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs she was sure he could see it. Surely she’d misunderstood. Surely her humiliation wasn’t going to be extended over one hundred and sixty eight hours. ‘The next week?’ Her voice squeaked out the words. ‘I thought you were only here for tomorrow’s clinic?’
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes crinkling in a smile. ‘That had been the plan but things change. Kirra has the largest population so I’m here more often than not. I’ve been away for five days so now I need to play catch-up and I’m here for seven days straight.’
Somehow she managed to force the muscles of her face into a smile, while her gut seemed to fold inward. ‘I guess it’s my lucky week, then.’ But luck had never played a role in her life and she didn’t believe it was going to start any time soon.
CHAPTER TWO
FLYNN gazed out of his office window, watching the cabbage palms waving in the breeze and desperately trying to ignore the lure of the sunshine and wide-open spaces. Most of him wanted to be outside, swimming in a waterhole or just sitting under the shade of the banyan trees with the local community. He learned a lot by just sitting and listening.
But he had a major health department report due, and a budget review—two huge tasks that should be claiming his complete attention. Hadn’t he told Mia that Friday afternoon was a good time for admin work? But it seemed he couldn’t take his own advice today and his mind kept wandering. For some inexplicable reason he couldn’t stop thinking about Mia.
A dull thud sounded behind him, the third bump in the last twenty minutes. It sounded like Mia was tearing apart the treatment room. He grinned despite himself. She was the type of woman who couldn’t sit still even if she was tied to a chair. There was nothing new in that. Each new nurse needed to put his or her stamp on the place.
He met a new nurse every few months. More male nurses were taking up positions but they were usually younger, came for some adventure, and headed back south for a promotion.
Generally the nurses were older women, jaded with life, anti-men, and they came up here so they could work solo. Teamwork didn’t usually feature on their agenda and they ‘tolerated’ doctors in their domain. He was used to flying in, running his clinics and flying out. In between he consulted over the phone for emergencies and other than those contact times he rarely gave these competent women another thought.
But Mia, with her long blonde hair, her vivid blue eyes and high cheekbones, had caught his attention the moment he’d walked around the plane. She didn’t fit the type at all. She seemed out of place and that had piqued his curiosity.
Yes, curiosity was the only reason he was thinking about her. It had nothing at all to do with honey-brown skin, a hesitant smile and long, long legs.
No, he was immune to women and had been since three thirty p.m., March eighteenth, two years ago.
But despite his immunity, the image of Mia—eyes flashing against fleeting shadows, with her hands fixed firmly on shapely hips—wafted across his mind. She’d been prickly from the moment they’d met.
The least you could have done was send a message to say you were going to be late.
She was bossy with a take-charge attitude. He laughed out loud, the sudden realisation pushing away the disconcerting feeling that had dogged him since he’d first seen her. Mia wasn’t any different from the usual RAN after all.
With a clear mind he returned his attention to the spreadsheet blinking at him from the computer and tackled the budget.
Running feet unexpectedly pounded on the ramp outside his office and the door of the men’s entrance to the clinic was abruptly flung open, its hinges screeching in protest.
‘Doc, Sis, come quick.’ The distressed voice bounced off the walls.
Flynn shot out of his chair, reaching the corridor at the same moment as Mia. He instantly recognised Walter, one of the talented wood carvers on the island. ‘What’s happened?
‘What’s wrong?’
Walter gripped the railing on the wall, panting hard. ‘Jimmy, he’s in the ute. He’s hurt pretty bad.’
‘I’ll get the trolley.’ Mia quickly disappeared into the treatment room.
Flynn picked up the emergency kit. ‘Let’s go.’ He pushed open the door and ran, the heat of the late afternoon hitting him hard after the cool air of the clinic.
A twelve-year-old boy lay very still on his side in the back of a truck, the whites of his eyes wide with fear and a spear protruding from his back.
Flynn flinched at the unusual sight, immediately calculating possible internal damage. ‘Thank goodness you left the spear in place, Walter.’
The man ran his hands through his tight, curly hair. ‘Them boys were practising. I went to burn off, I was gone a few minutes and…’A long breath shuddered out of him as words failed him.
Flynn squeezed the father’s shoulder. The rattle of the trolley wheels against the ramp sounded behind him, along with Mia’s gasp as she stopped next to him.
This emergency would give him a chance to see Mia in action, and firm up what he already knew. Mia was cut from the same cloth as every RAN—a sole practitioner who had trouble working as part of a team. He’d worked with most types and sometimes it was easy and sometimes it was a hard slog. Based on how she’d bumped him from driving the truck, it would probably be a hard slog.
She cleared her throat. ‘Right, we need to cut the spear down closer to the entry point before we move him. We don’t want to cause any more damage than has already been done.’ She spoke firmly, as her sound practice broke through her initial shock. She looked straight at Flynn. ‘We need a saw.’
Flynn swallowed a sigh. She’d immediately taken charge, directing the play despite the fact she was working with a doctor. Situation normal. It looked like the power struggle had started already. ‘Walter, we need to cut the spear. Can you get a saw or some strong secateurs?’
‘I’ll get them from the shed.’ The anxious father ran around the building to the bush medicine garden, which was an important part of tying in indigenous medicine with modern.
‘There’s packing gauze in the kit to steady around the puncture site.’ Flynn handed Mia the large box, expecting her to counter his request with a suggestion of her own.
‘Right, will do.’ She eagerly accepted the box and pulled on a pair of gloves.
Her unexpected compliance startled him but there was no time to second-guess her. He needed to concentrate on Jimmy. He crawled into the back of the ute, the ribbed metal hard against his knees. ‘Hey, mate, you weren’t supposed to be the target in practice. How are you feeling?’ His fingers immediately rested on the young boy’s neck, feeling for his carotid pulse.
Jimmy bit his lip, trying hard to be stoic. ‘It hurts heaps.’
Flynn nodded in understanding as he silently counted Jimmy’s pulse. Rapid but firm. Perhaps the spear had missed vital organs? But most of him knew that was probably wishful thinking.
Metal pinged as Mia scrambled onto the tray, hauling the emergency kit with her. ‘Hi, Jimmy, I’m Mia and I’m going to have to touch the area around the spear but I’ll be as gentle as I can.’
She smiled at their patient and for the first time since Flynn had met her, her face lost its tension and her eyes shed their shadows.
It changed her completely. Unexpected heat charged through him and he had a momentary vision of her standing on a beach with her long hair trailing out behind her and her face lifted up to the breeze—with not a care in the world.
What the—? Where on earth had that thought come from? He shoved the image aside and reminded himself that she was the island nurse, pure and simple.
Mia deftly wrapped the gauze around the puncture site with gentle care. ‘You’re being very brave, Jimmy.’
Jimmy fixed his eyes on her face, hanging onto her murmured words like a lifeline.
Flynn didn’t blame him. There was something about her that could keep a bloke mesmerised, but not him. He reminded himself of his cast-iron immunity, the one that Brooke had activated.
‘Flynn, I got a bush saw.’ Walter ran up holding a bright orange-handled saw.
‘Thanks, Walter, excellent work.’ Flynn took the proffered saw.
Mia immediately opened a sterile pack and covered the gauze she’d placed around the spear entry point with a small theatre towel. ‘We don’t need wood shavings in there as well. I hope you’re as good with a bush saw as you are with a scalpel.’ She gripped the spear firmly at the entry point and glanced up at him, giving a quiet, companionable smile.
A completely unexpected smile.
He found himself smiling back. ‘I’ve improved with practice.’ He tapped the back of his hand where a long, jagged scar ran across three knuckles.
‘Ouch.’
‘My seven stitches were a badge of honour but Dad didn’t let me loose in the carving shed after that. Right, holding tight.’ The large bush saw seemed ludicrous against the narrow width of the spear but it was all they had. And he was used to making do. Medicine in remote rural communities was as much about improvisation as it was about modern medicine. He placed the bush saw a couple of centimetres above her hand.
Her hand tightened on the spear. ‘You need to leave more room.’
He tamped down his frustration at her tone. ‘I know what I’m doing, your knuckles will be safe.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ She spoke softly and flicked her gaze to his, sea-blue irises sparkling at him like sunshine on water.
His heart rate unexpectedly kicked up for the first time in a very long time, pushing delicious languid heat through him, warming places that had been cold since Brooke’s betrayal.
His hand instantly gripped the saw harder, willing the sensation away. He refused to accept the feeling, hating that it could even happen after two years of self-imposed celibacy. Forcing his attention to the spear and the saw, he spoke slowly. ‘Jimmy, I’m going to cut the spear. I need you to keep as still as possible.’
He carefully pulled the serrated silver blade through the wood and five quick cuts later, the spear was in two pieces.
Mia checked Jimmy’s pulse and stroked his head. ‘You’re doing really well.’
The boy whimpered.
Flynn touched the boy’s shoulder. ‘Jimmy, we’re going to slide you onto a trolley and take you inside.’
‘I’ll steady his hips, you take his shoulders and, Walter, you can take the feet.’ Mia raised herself from kneeling to a low squat, ready to move, and gave Flynn an expectant look. ‘On your count, Flynn, when you’re ready.’
She’d taken over again. ‘Thanks for that.’ He couldn’t stop the sarcasm leaking into his voice.
Mia blinked against a flash of confusion and a slight frown creased her forehead.
You’re being petty. He shut his ears to the voice and crawled around behind Jimmy’s head, putting his arms under the boy’s left shoulder. ‘One, two, three.’
The young boy bit his lip as he was carefully slid down the tray on his side and then lifted onto the trolley.
‘We need you to lie very still on your front.’ Their voices collided, deep resonance tumbling with gentle softness.
Mia shrugged her shoulders, a wry smile hovering around her mouth. ‘What can I say? I’m a firstborn and we always tend to take charge.’
His mouth twitched despite him wanting to keep a straight face, the truth of her comment hitting home. ‘You and me both.’
A trickle of laughter sprinkled her words. ‘Oh, dear, we could be in strife, then. All chiefs and no Indians.’ Her smile expanded, dancing down into the deep creases that formed around her plump mouth.
Irrational disappointment streaked through him when she looked away and spoke to Jimmy.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Just OK.’ Jimmy’s scared voice was barely audible.
‘Walter, go and get Ruby.’ Flynn knew the father wouldn’t want to be in the clinic and the boy needed his mother.
‘I’ll bring her.’ The stressed man hopped into the truck and drove off.
‘Let’s go.’ Flynn flicked the brakes on the trolley upward with his foot, releasing the wheels, and together he and Mia quickly pushed the trolley inside.
‘How about I prime the Hartmann’s and insert the IV while you examine him?’ Mia ripped open an IV set and plunged the metal-tipped top into a bag of electrolyte fluid.
He caught the subtle change in her tone. She’d tried to convert her ‘in-charge’ statement into a question. ‘Good idea.’ He had to agree with her—the division of jobs was in Jimmy’s best interests.
He pulled his stethoscope off the hook and pushed it into his ears. He listened intently to the air entry, even though the puncture wound was probably lower than the lungs. Who knew which direction the spear was lying internally?
‘Jimmy, I need to put a needle into your arm so we can give you something to drink through your veins.’ Mia wrapped the tourniquet around Jimmy’s thin, left arm. ‘I promise it will hurt a lot less than the spear.’
The boy squeezed his eyes shut as if he didn’t want to think about it.
‘Air entry good, respirations slightly elevated.’ Flynn wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around the boy’s arm and listened to the sound of the whoosh and thump of the blood pounding in the arteries. He swung the stethoscope around his neck. ‘BP’s dropping slowly. He’s bleeding somewhere.’
‘Or leaking somewhere?’ Her brows drew together in concentration as she examined Jimmy’s arm. ‘He’s not exactly in shutdown but some of his veins have collapsed.’
‘A slow bleed.’ He mulled over the idea, enjoying having someone to talk to about a diagnosis.
She tapped the sluggish vein on the boy’s arm, her eyes glued to the spot. The tip of her pink tongue ran across her top teeth in an action of pure concentration.
Flynn’s gaze zeroed in on her lush, red lips, the moist tongue holding his gaze like a magnet. An age-old surge of lust—hot, hard and intense—rocked through him so unexpectedly he almost staggered.
Her mouth closed and with practised care she slid the wide-bore cannula into the dark vein just below his elbow. ‘I’m in—line established.’
Her words broke over him and it was like being released from a trance. What was wrong with him today? He didn’t react like this. He knew only too well it led to heartache and loss. He cleared his throat and spoke gruffly. ‘Great. Give him five hundred millilitres stat while we work out what’s going on.’
He bent down so his face was close to his patient’s. ‘Jimmy, I have to roll you onto your side for a moment so we can put some dots on your chest.’
‘Why?’ The young lad gripped the trolley’s mattress.
‘So we can see your heartbeat on the screen.’ Mia pointed to the ECG machine. ‘It’s pretty cool to watch.’
‘Will you help me?’ Jimmy asked Mia.
‘Of course I will.’ Mia smiled down at him.
‘But it hurts to move.’
The plaintive wail tore at Flynn. ‘I know, mate, and as soon as I’ve examined you I can give you something for the pain. You just have to be brave for a bit longer, OK?’
Jimmy’s brown curls bobbed sadly as he nodded his acquiescence.
‘You steady his hips and protect the spear while I fix the dots,’ Flynn instructed.
Mia nodded and quickly placed her hands into position. ‘Ready when you are.’
Flynn tore the backing paper off the dots in preparation. ‘One, two, three.’
Mia eased Jimmy into position with a smooth movement and a worried frown. A frown which carved three horizontal lines across the bridge of her nose, giving her a pixie look that clashed with her competent ‘in-charge’ persona. Nothing about this woman matched up or made sense.
Nothing about your reaction to her makes sense either.
With speed borne of experience, it only took Flynn a minute to have Jimmy connected to the ECG. ‘And roll him back.’ He didn’t look at Mia, he wasn’t risking any more crazy lust-fuelled reactions. Instead, he stared at the ECG and the ever-increasing pulse rate.
‘Well done, Jimmy.’ Mia stroked his head. ‘You’re doing so well.’
‘Where’s my dad?’
‘I’m here.’ Walter rushed through the door, quickly followed by Jimmy’s mother, Ruby.
‘Good timing, Walter.’ Flynn tilted his head toward Jimmy. ‘Ruby, you get up near Jimmy’s head and stay with him. He needs his mum.’
Ruby didn’t speak, she just moved quietly beside her son, her hand gripping his.
Walter immediately backed out of the room to wait outside.
Flynn pulled the stethoscope from his ears, having just taken Jimmy’s blood pressure again. ‘His pressure’s still dropping slowly.’ He turned up the drip rate on the IV.
‘Do you want plasma expander?’ Mia quickly wrote the current IV bolus on the fluid balance chart.
The thought had crossed his mind a moment before she’d spoken. She certainly knew her emergency medicine. ‘I’ll keep it as an option. I’ll do the ultrasound and then reassess.’
‘Pethidine first?’ Mia half turned toward the drug box.
He raised his brows. ‘Mind-reading again?’
She nodded slowly. ‘It’s what I do.’
Her deadpan expression made him want to laugh. He realised she had a knack of being right without being dogmatic. ‘Ruby, any idea how much Jimmy weighs?’
The worried mother silently shook her head.
‘We just done that at school for maths. I was forty-five kilograms.’ Jimmy’s voice sounded muffled against the trolley mattress.
‘Good going, mate. Thanks.’ He gave Jimmy a reassuring pat before turning back to Mia, who was priming the pump. ‘Given we’re not sure what is bleeding or not, it’s best to be cautious. We don’t need him going into respiratory distress as well.’
‘So…zero point two five per kilogram rather than zero point five?’ She flicked back some stray hair from her face and then slowly brought the back of her hand under her chin in a caress of concentration as she worked out the dose.
The action mesmerised him and he was horrified to find he was staring. ‘Yes, I’ll draw it up.’ He seized the proffered needle and syringe and concentrated on opening the ampoule, drawing up the solution, crosschecking the dose with Mia and injecting it into a small bag of saline.
Concentrating on the job rather than speculating on the intriguing nurse working next to him who wasn’t fitting at all into the power-hungry, bossy role he’d assigned her at the start of the emergency. ‘Jimmy, you might start to feel a bit sleepy.’
The pulsometer pinged loudly and Mia rechecked Jimmy’s blood pressure. ‘It’s steadied but still too low.’ She turned on the oxygen and carefully placed the prongs in Jimmy’s nostrils. ‘You just breathe normally, Jimmy, OK?’
The lad silently accepted the elastic being put around his head and gripped his mother’s hand more tightly.
‘How’s that spear hurt him?’ Ruby spoke for the first time.
Flynn pulled the ultrasound machine into place and squirted gel onto Jimmy’s back. ‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’
The black and white swirl of the ultrasound slowly morphed from a snowstorm into clear vision. Flynn’s eyes adjusted to the images on the screen.
‘It always looks like fuzz to me.’ Mia gave a self-deprecating chuckle from the other side of the trolley.
Her candour startled him. He wasn’t used to people publicly admitting what they didn’t know. He tilted the screen so she could see it and pointed to a white shape surrounded by black. ‘Recognise that?’
She peered toward the screen. ‘Is that the spear? I thought it would show up as black.’
‘It’s solid so it reflects a greater amount of sound or echo and it gives out a more intense signal which shows up as white.’ A familiar surge of satisfaction welled inside him—he’d always enjoyed teaching staff when he’d been down south.
‘That makes sense. Thanks for explaining it.’ Smile lines curved around her mouth for a moment before fading.
She’s open to learning.
He ignored the unwanted voice of reason. Holding up his fingers ten centimetres apart, he spoke to Ruby. ‘It’s gone inside Jimmy that much.’
Ruby silently absorbed the information, her eyes glued to the screen.
He slowly explored the peritoneum, heart, diaphragm, the liver, spleen, kidneys and bowel, looking for signs of black and grey, which would indicate fresh bleeding. ‘It’s torn a small hole in the liver.’
‘Would that account for his BP?’
Flynn rubbed his chin, enjoying having such an interested colleague. ‘Perhaps, but it’s not a big hole and a haematoma’s already forming.’
‘I need to pee.’ Jimmy started to wriggle.
Mia quickly grabbed a urinal and a privacy sheet, and helped the boy get into position to void.
‘Test it, Mia.’
‘I thought I might.’ The words hung in the air as she walked out with the filled bottle.
Her soft and reasonable tone at his unnecessary order slugged him. Nurses always tested urine and he had no idea why he’d even said it, especially as they’d seemed to settle into a truce of sorts and were working together quite well.
Because she’s got under your skin.
He turned his attention to the examination of Jimmy’s right kidney. It was the organ closest to the liver and as the liver had been nicked, there might be damage there. The kidney came into focus.
‘Flynn, he’s got gross haematuria, his urine is pink. Can you see signs of bleeding on the ultrasound?’ Mia’s voice carried across the room.
He tilted his head. ‘Come and look at this.’ He pointed to the image of Jimmy’s right kidney, which showed a small tear at the top. ‘It’s sliced through the top of the kidney, torn the liver and come to a halt.’
She leaned in close and he caught the scent of sun and sand, with a hint of the heady perfume of frangipani. He stifled the urge to breathe in more deeply.
‘Will he need surgery to repair the tears?’
He kept his eyes on the screen, checking he hadn’t missed anything. ‘I think that the haematoma will stop the bleeding. To a certain extent it already has because his pressure’s steadied and the kidney and liver should heal just fine on their own.’
‘So we can remove the spear tip safely now without fear of causing a big bleed?’
He turned to face her. ‘We can.’
‘That’s excellent news.’ Happiness for their patient radiated from her and her face glowed. ‘After a few days of close monitoring he’ll be back kicking the footy.’
Flynn deliberately looked away from her smile, trying to stall the rush of blood to his groin. He caught sight of the protocol handbook resting on the desk. Written by bureaucrats in Darwin and issued to every new health-care worker, Mia must have been reading it before Jimmy’s arrival. ‘Technically, the clinic doesn’t allow for overnight stays and any major medical emergency should be evacuated.’
Again Mia frowned, the bridge of her nose wrinkling. ‘Surely he’d be better off here close to his family. I’m happy to nurse him and you’re on the island if his condition unexpectedly deteriorates.’ Her eyes suddenly teased. ‘I’ll toss you for the three a.m. to five shift.’
He smiled broadly. ‘You’re on.’ He couldn’t believe his luck—she knew her medicine and she was prepared to bend the rules. The Kirri people hated leaving the island and Ruby would be out of her depth in Darwin.
‘For two firstborns, we seemed to manage that pretty well, didn’t we?’ She spoke quietly, suddenly serious.
The look in her deep aqua eyes whipped him hard in the gut. A look that was devoid of any grandstanding, the look that was completely inclusive and said loudly, We’re a team.
A team. She was right—they had worked well together. He should be thrilled that after all this time he was finally working with a RAN who wanted to be a team player because that would make his working life so much easier. But a leaden feeling settled in his gut and thrilled didn’t come close to describing it. He ran his hand through his hair, his brain scrambling to make sense of his feelings.
She’s just an average nurse like every other one you’ve met, worked with and forgotten.
But there was nothing average about Mia and that was the problem.
CHAPTER THREE
FLYNN walked over to the clinic from his residence, smelling the salt lingering on the early Saturday morning air, and breathed in deeply, savouring the freshness. Not one breath of wind rippled the trees and he knew the sea would be flat and calm—an ideal morning to go fishing.
He had a patient to see and a patient to hopefully discharge and then the day was his, emergencies notwithstanding. He’d ask around and perhaps drive up to the north of the island and see if anyone was heading out to fish. He could do with a day away from the clinic.
A day away from Mia. He needed to clear his mind.
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He should have taken the three to five a.m. shift for all the sleep he’d got. Images of Mia had floated through his mind despite him trying to shut them out, despite practising deep breathing and attempting relaxation. Hell, he’d come to these islands to avoid women and life had been easy. He wasn’t going to let one nurse change that.
As he pushed the clinic door open he heard Jimmy calling out.
‘Mia, is there more toast?’
Relief settled over him. He’d made the right decision in not evacuating Jimmy. A boy with a healthy appetite was a great sign.
Mia appeared from the kitchen holding a tray with cereal, milk and fruit. ‘Good morning.’ A warm smile tinged with familiar tension washed across her face. ‘I hope you ate breakfast at home because the way Jimmy is eating, my supplies are dwindling at a rapid rate.’
Her tinkling laugh spun around him, pulling at him with its intoxicating, sweet sound. For a woman who’d been up half the night she had no right to look so fresh and alluring. Her face, free from make-up, shone with a healthy glow, and her hair framed her cheeks, not yet pulled back into its usual neat ponytail.
He’d called into the clinic at three a.m. but Jimmy had been stable and sleeping and she’d sent him away, promising to catch a few hours’ sleep herself. He took the tray from her. ‘I learned the hard way and now I have a secret stash of food.’
‘Ah, yet another trick of remote medicine I have to learn.’ She pulled a tiny spiral notebook and pencil out of her pocket and wrote ‘Food supplies’ in it, under a list of other short notes, the bridge of her nose creasing in concentration.
The action surprised him. He’d understand if she wrote down a reminder for a drug order or something related to work, but some extra food?
She caught him staring at her and she quickly flicked the notebook closed, jamming it back in her pocket as if caught out doing something wrong. ‘Let’s give the boy round three of his breakfast.’
Jimmy sat crossed-legged on the bed, crumbs scattered all around him.
‘Is that all that’s left of three slices of toast and Vegemite?’ Mia teased as she brushed away the crumbs. ‘I had a brother who had hollow legs like you. He used to eat and eat and eat.’
Flynn slid the tray onto the over-bed table, wondering about the words ‘had a brother’. Wouldn’t people normally say, ‘My brother used to have hollow legs like you’? ‘Tuck into this, mate, and then I’ll come back and have a look at your dressing, OK?’
Jimmy bit into a yellow banana and nodded as Flynn motioned for Mia to leave the room with him.
He strode into the kitchen and plugged in the coffee-machine. ‘I need a cappuccino—what about you?’
‘That sounds great.’ Mia cut two slices of hearty wholemeal bread and dropped them into the toaster. ‘So, will Jimmy be discharged home to rest today or do you want to keep him in a bit longer so that his wound can be kept clean and dry?’
Flynn glanced at her over the top of the opened fridge door, knowing what she was really asking. ‘Have you done many home visits yet?’
She nodded, her teeth snagging her bottom lip. ‘A few. I’ve worked in disadvantaged areas in Tasmania but I was pretty shocked by the state of some of the houses here and the overcrowding.’
He closed the fridge and at the same time tried to close his mind against the vulnerable image of pearly white teeth on pink, moist skin. The milk slopped into the jug rather than being poured. ‘Yeah, the poverty is confronting. Over twenty per cent of the houses need replacing but the good news is that the land council is on target with their three-year plan to replace and build new ones.’
‘That’s great but I guess what I’m really asking is does Jimmy live in a condemned house? We can’t risk him getting a raging infection and damaging his kidney.’
‘True, but Jimmy’s very fortunate. Both his parents have jobs and although there are ten people in the house, Ruby has it well organised.’ He placed the jug under the stainless-steel steam jet and heated the milk. ‘We’ll get Ruby to bring him in each day and you can do the dressing. That way he can be at home but we can keep a close eye on him.’
The toast popped up and Mia put the slices on plates and buttered them. ‘OK, so I’ll remove his IV after breakfast. Do you want one last dose of IV antibiotics first?’
‘Yes, that’s a good way to do it and then he can go home with a seven-day course.’ Flynn poured the foaming milk over the coffee, picked up the mugs and turned to see Mia writing again in her notebook. ‘Discharge planning?’
She gave a curt nod, the shadows in her eyes suddenly looming large. She shoved the pad into her pocket as if the fact it was out of sight meant it no longer existed. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Help yourself to toast.’
Her reaction to the notepad puzzled him but the delicious smell of the toast distracted him and he bit into it, enjoying the combination of seeds and grains. He hadn’t tasted bread like this on any of the islands. ‘This tastes sensational. Where did you order it from?’
She looked coy. ‘I baked it?’
‘You made this? No wonder Jimmy virtually inhaled it. He’s probably never tasted bread like it. We only get the mass-produced loaves sent over from Darwin.’
She gave a wry smile. ‘And that’s why I brought my bread-maker.’
An idea struck him. ‘This would be fabulous bread for the diabetics due to its low-glycaemic index. Is there any way you could work out how to cook it on a campfire?’
Disbelief swept across her face. ‘A campfire? Why a campfire? I’ve seen ovens in houses.’
He shrugged. ‘Many Kirri people prefer to cook on open fires.’
‘I thought they’d only cook on a fire when they’re out bush, hunting or collecting bush tucker.’
‘They do that too but there’s a campfire in every yard. It’s an easier way to cook when you never know how many people are going to be eating with you.’
She sighed. ‘There are so many unexpected things. For instance, I didn’t realise that English would be the second or third language. It’s all so very different, but different in a good way.’
He nodded as an unexpected sensation of shared companionship streaked through him. ‘And that is what most southerners just don’t get.’
She reached for her pocket but caught his gaze, which had followed her movement. She let her hand fall back onto the table and fiddled with the mug handle, anxiety scudding across her eyes. ‘I’ll practise and see how the bread comes out unleavened, kind of like a wholemeal damper.’ He saw the thought travel across her high cheeks as her mouth curved into a smile. ‘If it doesn’t work, the kids could use it as a football.’
He laughed. ‘Either way, they’d be happy. Football is the second religion on the island.’ He knew she wanted to write ‘Damper’ down in that notebook of hers but had deliberately stopped herself. Why, he didn’t know and he really shouldn’t care. He should be thinking about getting out of here and going fishing.
A strained and unexpected silence expanded between them, vanquishing the companionable conversation that had existed when they’d been talking about work.
Mia pushed her chair back, her shoulders suddenly rigid with tension. ‘I’ll get the dressing trolley ready and give those antibiotics. See you when you’ve finished your coffee.’ She walked out of the room, her three-quarter-length pants moving seductively across a pert behind.
A wave of heat hit him hard and hot, and he stood up abruptly, trying to stall it. It didn’t work. All that happened was that he knocked over his chair. What the hell was going on with him?
He’d specifically chosen this remote region to avoid women and the nightmare of relationships. It had been working really well for two years. He’d carved out a life of work and sport and he was content with his lot. He didn’t want or need anything else.
His life was just as he wanted it.
So his reaction to Mia made no sense at all. He’d mark it down as an aberration.
A tall and curvaceous aberration.
He nuked the traitorous thought with an undisputable fact. Conversation between them died once they’d exhausted talking about work. Given the strained silence that had built between them once they’d finished talking shop, they obviously had nothing in common.
At least he’d worked that out quickly. That would kill this insane attraction dead in its tracks. Today he was going fishing and by the time Monday came around he would have got over whatever it was that was making him feel like a randy seventeen-year-old and Mia would be just another RAN.
‘Flynn?’
He turned from the sink. ‘Hi, Walter. Good news. Jimmy can go home today but he has to rest. Is Ruby with you?’
‘Yeah. She’s with Mia.’ Walter continued to stand in the doorway, his head down, avoiding eye contact in the traditional way.
Flynn had learned over time that just standing often meant the person wanted to say more. He turned back to the sink so he wasn’t looking straight at Walter and he waited. The two hardest lessons he’d learned since arriving on Kirra had been waiting and listening.
‘Mia did good with Jimmy.’
Flynn washed the coffee-mugs. ‘She did. She knows her stuff.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Any of your mob going fishing today?’ Flynn flicked the teatowel off the silver rail.
‘No.’ Walter moved his foot in circles against the lino.
The brevity of answers was another thing he’d got used to. ‘I thought I’d go. I fancy some barramundi for dinner.’
Walter shook his head. ‘No fishing today, Flynn. We got a ceremony.’
Surprise rushed through him. Usually he knew about the ceremonies and often he was invited to be part of them. ‘OK, well, I guess I’ll have to chance the fishing on my own, then.’
‘The ceremony is for Mia so you have to come, and bring her with you.’ Walter turned and left, walking outside to wait for Ruby and Jimmy.
Flynn’s chest tightened as the reality of Walter’s request hit him. He had no choice—he had to go to the ceremony. He couldn’t refuse Walter’s request. As an elder on Kirra, Walter had made Flynn a ‘brother’, teaching him many of the Kirri ways. It was a relationship that was very special to him and one that helped with his work on the island.
Images of his quiet day fishing, his day of relaxation and regrouping, burst like a balloon.
Mia.
Instead of fishing, he would have to spend the day with Mia at the ceremony. Mia, who was wound so tight she threatened to implode at any moment. And without work to talk about, there’d be those long, anguished silences.
It was going to be a really long day.
* * *
Mia silently chanted some important details in her head while she walked alongside Flynn, his long strides sending tiny whirls of dust up into the air. The sun was rising high in the sky, promising even more heat later in the day, and already she could feel the familiar trickle of perspiration down her back.
She ached to write up her daily report and a note to herself about the bread, but Flynn had unexpectedly but firmly insisted she lock up the clinic and come with him straight away.
She supposed she could have asked him to wait five minutes but the inquisitive and bemused look he’d given her earlier that morning when she’d pulled out her notebook had made her hesitate. She didn’t want to have to justify why she kept notes on almost everything. Unless someone had lived with a parent who had slowly and insidiously lost their memory, they just didn’t understand.
Lists had become part of her life. Initially they had been there to help her mother. Now they were her lifelines, her attempt to stave off the inevitable.
Working with Flynn had been very different from what she’d expected. They’d managed a co-operative approach, which had been a pleasant surprise. And he’d taken the time to help her decipher the ultrasound. He was a natural teacher and she planned to drain his brain while he was on the island to her advantage. The faster she learned and the more she knew meant her position at Kirra was secure.
And thinking of Flynn in terms of a teacher was a lot less disturbing to her equilibrium than thinking of him as a man. She glanced up at him from under her straw hat. He radiated such boundless energy despite his apparently laid-back approach to life. Bright board shorts had replaced yesterday’s pleated shorts, and today he wore a pink and black shirt with a local design reminiscent of the palm leaf. He looked like he belonged on a beach or riding a wave.
An image of salt water running in rivulets over a broad chest slammed into her, sucking the air from her lungs and causing her to stumble.
A large hand firmly closed around her elbow, sending ribbons of sensation spiralling through her.
His eyes flickered with amber lights as he looked down at her. ‘You have to keep an eye out for rocks and potholes. The roads here aren’t in the best condition.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled, trying to act relaxed and calm despite the fact she’d never felt so unnerved around a man in her life. Her body seemed to go into a ‘hyper-awareness zone’ whenever they were together. It completely drained her of energy.
Yesterday, as they’d dealt with Jimmy’s accident, she’d lurched between clear-cut professional admiration and straight-up, bone-melting desire. The combination made her head spin. ‘So, are we doing a home visit?’
‘No.’ He dropped his hand from her arm and pointed to a gathering of people. ‘We’re going to a ceremony.’
‘Cool.’ She stopped walking as a thought struck her. ‘Is it culturally sensitive for us to go?’
He smiled, dimples carving into his cheeks. ‘It’s very OK for us to go. You’re the guest of honour.’
She stared at him, her mind emptying of everything as his smile shone above her, driving out the darkness that cloaked her soul. Then his words echoed in her head, forcing her to speak. ‘Me?’ She struggled to think past the black hole that was her stalled and uncooperative brain. ‘But why me?’
‘For helping Jimmy.’
Amazement flooded her that the community would do something like this. She’d never had such an acknowledgment in her working life. ‘But I only did my job.’
‘And the locals want to say thank you.’ He stood waiting for her to move, a patient smile on his face as if he dealt with stunned women every day of the week. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to people.’
Men and women were sitting around, some on upturned milk crates, some on chairs, and a few on the ground. At their feet yellow and red ochre and white chalk was being mixed with water on large, flat rocks. A couple of old mirrors were passing around the circle so they could see their faces to paint them.
‘Hey, Mia, we dance for you.’ Walter waved to her, his eyes ringed with red ochre, edged with chalk.
She waved back before turning to Flynn. ‘What can you tell me about the face painting? The designs look pretty intricate.’
He tilted back his hat. ‘It’s really body painting. Today they’ll decorate their faces and arms but in a full ceremony they’d paint all their bodies. It’s been practised for thousands of years and the design is passed down from generation to generation, from father to son.’
She watched fascinated as the dancers prepared themselves. ‘The dots on their faces and the fine crossed lines on their arms—I saw that design on their carving and on your shirt yesterday.’
Flynn nodded. ‘That’s right—it’s called cross-hatching. Their traditional body art and the decoration on their traditional carving form the basis of today’s screen-printing and artwork. It’s all connected with their creation story.’ He spoke warmly, his enthusiasm for the topic obvious. ‘Their dreaming dance is handed down from their fathers too and it can be naturally occurring things like a crocodile, shark or wind, but some have a sailing boat.’
She glanced at him in surprise. ‘A sailing boat?’
He spread his hands out in front of him. ‘Probably from the first time the Europeans sailed past.’
She loved learning about these sorts of things. ‘What about mothers? Is anything passed on from the mothers?’
He grinned. ‘Your feminist side will be thrilled to know that they inherit their skin group and totemic dance from their mothers. This is often an animal like the magpie goose or brolga, but it could be scaly mullet fish.’
‘I’ve been amazed at the number of geese. Their honking keeps me company at night.’ As do thoughts of you.
He chuckled. ‘The locals love that sound as it means there is plenty of good hunting.’
She walked over to the shade and sat down on the ground. She was immediately struck by how quickly she was losing the expectation that to sit required a chair. ‘I’m slowly getting a handle on the skin-group issue. Who can talk to whom and who can’t talk to each other.’ She grimaced, suddenly remembering her forgetfulness.
He tilted his head, taking in her expression. ‘Problem?’
She traced her finger through the fine dirt. ‘Oh, it’s just that I had a lapse the other day when I made the mistake of asking a fourteen-year-old boy to give a message to his mother, forgetting he can’t talk to her. I’ve now put up the skin group compass on my wall so I always remember.’
Understanding wove across his face. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. It seems complicated at first because it’s so foreign to us. But this law has served them well for thousands of years and has avoided inbreeding and the genetic disaster that brings.’
She knew too well the damage a faulty gene could inflict. Picking up a fallen palm leaf, she fanned herself. ‘The separate men and women’s entrances to the clinic are a great idea. It must have been a lot harder to deliver culturally appropriate health care when you only had one waiting room and one examination room.’
His keen gaze suddenly intensified, hooking with hers as if he was seeing her for the very first time. Seeing her as herself rather than a RAN.
A shimmer of wondrous pleasure streaked through her, immediately chased by thundering unease. Remember, no man can be a part of your life
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/fiona-lowe/the-doctor-claims-his-bride/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.