‘Thank you,’ he told her. ‘Two p.m. on Saturday.’
‘Tom...’ She was fighting against that smile. Fighting to get herself back in control. Back to medicine, fast. ‘Lois Manning... You know her? Her husband, Bob, was here with a cow kick when I first arrived. I admitted her yesterday with a chest infection. Her blood pressure’s up, but not to worrying levels. X-ray shows a couple of minor suspect areas—still not enough to worry about, but I thought a night on IV antibiotics and a bit of enforced bed rest might clear things faster. But she’s not settling. The next step seems to be an ambulance trip over to Ferndale for a CT scan, but the idea seems to be distressing her even more. Maybe you could pop in and reassure her?’
Which was sensible.
One of the things she’d learned in the last month was the power of Tom Lavery. It wasn’t just the almost irresistible combination of his smile, his gentle bedside manner and his skill, though they carried weight with the locals—and with Rachel. It was the fact that Tom was the grandson of the old doctor. The community gave him a level of trust that she doubted she’d ever achieve. If this was to be her lifetime career maybe she’d try, but she was here as a temporary doctor. If the patients required trust, then she was sensible enough to call on Tom.
‘Let’s see her together,’ Tom told her. ‘You’re her treating doctor. Let’s put me where I belong, simply a second opinion before we go to the expense and trouble of a transfer.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, steadying as she retreated to work mode. Back to practicalities. ‘Now?’
‘Why not?’ he said and glanced at his watch. ‘Clinic for me and vaccinations for you. Both starting at nine, which is in ten minutes. Which means we’re both already running late.’
‘Then there’s no need for me to come with you.’
‘There is a need. We do this together,’ Tom told her. ‘If I’m seen as overriding you, then my workload will increase tenfold. I have to be seen as trusting you. Which I do. Absolutely. After you, Dr Tilding.’
And what was there in that to make her colour rise? She felt her cheeks flush with the compliment—with the warmth in his words—and then with the way he put his palm fleetingly against the small of her back as she entered Lois’s room.
It was just as well he was behind her. There was no reason for her to blush, and no way she wanted him to see he had that power.
But then she was in Lois’s room. Lois was turned away from her in the bed and Rachel’s dumb reactions were put aside. Even from the door she could see Lois was sobbing.
Why was she so frightened? She thought of what she’d said to her. On the basis of pain and trouble with breathing she’d suspected there might be a pneumonia which would need immediate treatment, but she’d suspected nothing worse.
‘Lois, there’s no need to be frightened,’ she told her, speaking quickly. ‘The trip across to Ferndale is merely a precaution. I’m almost certain they’ll send you straight back.’
‘I know that.’ Lois was a tall, gaunt woman in her late sixties, her face weathered from a life spent on the farm. She’d come across as sensible, but as well as an obvious chest infection Rachel had noticed trembling hands and a slight fever. She’d thought maybe fatigue was playing a part, which was the real reason she’d kept her in overnight. She’d been disappointed and mildly surprised when the symptoms had escalated.
‘Lois, would you mind if I listen to your chest before you go?’ Tom perched on the end of the bed and smiled reassuringly at her. ‘Dr Rachel’s already listened and she’s not too worried. Can I listen in as well?’ He hauled his stethoscope out of his pocket and leaned forward. It was an informal way of conducting an examination—doctor sitting on bed. Any old-fashioned head nurse would have a stroke at the sight of all those neat hospital corners messed up, Rachel thought, but Tom was nothing if not informal.
He listened and Rachel found a wad of tissues and Lois mopped her eyes and tried to look more cheerful. And failed.
‘Your chest doesn’t sound too bad,’ Tom said when he’d had a decent listen and made Lois cough. ‘A bit raspy but nothing a simple infection can’t explain. How long have you been crook?’
‘Three days. Maybe less. But yesterday... Bob was worrying. And maybe I got scared.’ It was a tremulous whisper.
‘So what’s scaring you?’ Tom asked bluntly. ‘Are you thinking you have lung cancer?’
That took Rachel aback, but she watched Lois’s face and she knew it had been the elephant in the room, an unspoken fear.
‘Yes,’ Lois whispered.
‘But the cough only started three days ago.’
‘Y-yes.’
‘Lung cancer doesn’t usually move so fast,’ Tom told her. ‘It’s likely that you’ve copped a simple infection which will respond well to what we’re doing. A CT scan will check more thoroughly. Patterns of shadowing can identify areas of infection and suggest which bug’s causing the problem. If it’s anything out of left field a CT will let us nip that in the bud early. And yes, it’ll also show a cancer if there is one, but Lois, I’d eat my fishing hat if we found cancer, and I’m very fond of my fishing hat.’
Lois gave a watery chuckle, sniffed and blew her nose. ‘I...thank you. I know. It’s sensible.’
‘So how’s Bob doing?’ Tom asked, settling back on the bed as if he was here for the long haul. Rachel frowned and glanced at her watch. There was no need to make themselves even later by stopping for a chat.
‘He’s good.’
‘His leg’s cleared up? That was some kick he got.’
‘Jerseys,’ Lois said with disdain. ‘We run organic now. It’s the only way to make money from such a small farm, and Jersey milk is the best seller, but they’re bast—hard cows to manage.’
‘I’ve met one or two Jerseys in my time,’ Tom told her. ‘Grandpa ran them as house cows before Gran got fed up and made him swap to Friesians.’ Then he added, almost casually, ‘And your daughter? Sandra, isn’t it? How’s she doing?’
And Lois’s face crumpled again. She sobbed into her tissues and Tom sat and waited as if he had all the time in the world.
This was nothing to do with her, Rachel thought. It was nothing to do with medicine. She should edge out and head off for her vaccinations. But there was something about this tableau that had captured her. Tom looked totally relaxed. Casual. Somehow, he’d turned this into what seemed almost a fireside chat with a friend, instead of a consultation with a patient.
How did he do that? And what was the point?
He was acting as if he had all the time in the world. All the patience.
She felt as if she was in some sort of masterclass, seeing something she had no hope of replicating.
‘Sandra’s in a refuge,’ Lois said at last, gulping, trying hard not to cry. ‘One of those women’s refuges. With the kids. The police... Stuart broke her arm, trashed the place. Her oldest—Will—he’s got a really deep cut over his eye and bruises where his dad kicked him. The neighbours came. They got her and the kids away. Stuart got arrested but she thinks he’s out on bail. He busted her phone, but she rang from the refuge—they let her use their phone. She says...she says she’s okay, but we know she’s not. Bob’s trying to send her money but she’s not game to even go out of the refuge to buy anything. And we want her to come here but there’s something to do with the kids’ passports and Stuart’s permission, and she doesn’t even know where the passports are because of the mess the house is in. She’d never be game to go back and search. And Bob and I need to go to her but there’s the cows and we need the money to bring her and the kids over. And...’
And she subsided into her tissues again.
Leaving Rachel aghast. Shortness of breath and high blood pressure were symptoms of an infection, but how could they possibly improve with this behind them?
She should have asked. Why hadn’t she asked?
&nbs
p; She hadn’t even known Lois had a daughter.
She did, though, she realised. Tom had told her when Bob was ill. And even if she hadn’t realised, maybe she should have probed before heading straight to expensive scans.
She felt very junior, and very small.
‘Right,’ Tom said, sounding now very much like a consultant who’d figured the diagnosis and was prescribing treatment he was sure of. ‘How long since you’ve talked to Sandra?’
‘Yesterday.’ Lois’s voice quavered. ‘She doesn’t like to use their phone.’
‘Then we can fix that. As a doctor, I can access links that’ll let us contact the refuge. Not directly. There’ll be all sorts of precautions in place to keep Sandra safe, but indirectly... If we go through the proper channels I’m thinking we could get her a computer-type notepad—a tablet—with internet hooked up. Do you use the internet?’
‘Bob does.’ Lois sounded confused. ‘We have a computer at home he uses for bills and such. But it’s old.’
‘Let’s get you a tablet, too,’ Tom said. ‘You know my grandpa set up an endowment for the hospital? This is just the sort of thing he wanted it used for.’
‘I can’t...’ Lois breathed.
‘You don’t have to. Grandpa already did. So what’s next? I’m going to ask Jenny’s lad, Lachlan, to give you a lesson on how to use it. You know Lachie? He broke his hip rock-climbing a couple of weeks ago. He’s wheelchair-bound, home from uni and bored stupid. I’ll ring the techie store over at Ferndale and get them to put your notebook on the bus this morning and we’ll see if we can get one to Sandra just as fast. Because it’s a police case, I reckon I can use their Social Welfare unit to help Sandra. With Lachie’s help and a bit of luck you’ll be video-calling by dinner time.’
‘Video-calling?’
‘It’s like telly,’ he said, smiling confidently at her stunned expression. ‘Looking at each other’s face on the screen while you’re talking. It’s the next best thing to being with her. You can almost give her a virtual hug, and you’ll be able to talk to each other all day if you want.’
He paused, thinking it through, but then forged ahead with the next thing. ‘Next is the kids’ passports and exit permissions. New Zealand and Australia are so close and there’s good communication at high level. Have there been problems with Stuart before?’
‘Lots,’ Lois told him.
‘Anything documented?’
‘He hurt her badly last year.’ Lois still sounded stunned. ‘He ended up hitting one of the neighbours and the police were called. Sandra wouldn’t press charges—she never does—but the neighbour did. Stuart got off with a suspended sentence or something. Sandra went back to him, of course. She says it’s her fault, she annoys him. Over and over she says it; he has her too subdued to think about fighting. But this time he hit William and he’s only seven. Will tried to stop him hitting Sandra and he turned on him. Surely she can’t go back to him now.’ She broke off and hiccupped another sob.
But Tom was nodding as if all was going to plan. ‘Lois, this is excellent,’ he said. ‘Let’s not think about the past. Let’s focus on the future. So Stuart has a previous conviction for domestic violence. I’m sure we can use that. I have an old uni friend who’s now a lawyer in Canberra, something high up in immigration. I lent him my dinner suit when I was nineteen—for his first date with a girl he was keen on. But apparently my suit was left on the bedroom floor, and before he could give it back his girlfriend’s Labrador had puppies on it. He couldn’t afford to buy me a new one. Over time I suspect he’s forgotten, and I haven’t called in the debt. I believe this is the time to remind him.’
He smiled, cheerfulness and optimism personified. ‘So who knew puppies could be useful? For such a favour—I reckon he even owes me his marriage!—we might have Sandra and the kids helping milk your cows by Monday.’
Lois was looking even more stupefied than Rachel felt. ‘You’re serious?’
‘Never more so. You know what? If Dr Rachel concurs, we might leave the trip across to Ferndale in favour of video-calling lessons instead. But for now...’ He checked his watch. ‘I really need to get things moving if I’m to get that tablet on the Ferndale bus. Let’s get some details and then I want you to snuggle down and sleep until we have something concrete to tell you. Is that okay with you?’
‘That’s...that’s fine,’ Lois murmured, sounding totally bewildered.
Tom rose—and then, to Rachel’s astonishment, he leaned over the gaunt woman in the bed and gave her a solid, reassuring hug. Then, still holding her, he forced her to meet his gaze.
‘Lois, we’ll do our best to fix this,’ he told her. ‘This is not all on your shoulders. We’re calling in the big guns while you sleep. But sleep you will and that’s an order. Do you concur, Dr Tilding?’
‘I concur,’ she said faintly.
‘Excellent,’ he said and beamed. ‘There is still the matter of a mucky chest but the antibiotics might take advantage of sleep to get on with their work. I do like a definitive course of action.’
‘Lovely,’ Lois murmured and grasped his hand. ‘You’re lovely.’
‘I need to go,’ Rachel said shakily. ‘I have vaccinations waiting. Excuse me.’
And she fled.
* * *
He’d seen her face as she’d left, and even though they were both late he suspected she wouldn’t head straight to her vaccination appointments. He’d seen her before on the back veranda, taking a quick breather between patients, and that was where he found her.
It was the same place they’d kissed the night of Col’s operation. Then, though, there’d been mutual relief at a great outcome. Now Rachel’s hands were pressed to her cheeks. She looked a picture of mortification.
‘Rachel?’
‘How did I do that?’ she whispered. ‘Missed diagnosis. Argh! If you hadn’t intervened she’d be in the ambulance, getting more stressed over tests she doesn’t need.’
‘Hey, you weren’t to know.’
‘I should have asked.’
‘About a daughter you hadn’t heard of?’
‘I had heard of her. You told me when Bob was sick.’
‘I tell you heaps of things about the locals. So does Roscoe, and so does Jenny, and probably half the population of Shallow Bay. You can’t be expected to remember all of it. Besides, she may still be sitting on pneumonia.’
‘We both know it’s unlikely. Shallow breathing, chest pain, fear... The only symptom not explained by anxiety is the fever, and even that was slight.’
‘And there were shadows on her X-ray.’
‘Marginal.’
‘So you’re beating yourself up why?’
‘Because I didn’t get it.’ The sun was glinting on the sea below them but she wasn’t noticing the view. ‘It’s not just that I didn’t get it. It’s that I don’t get it. I don’t read the signs. That’s why I should be starting radiology right now instead of pretending to be a family doctor. You read Lois right off. Me, I floundered. I’m a medical technician. I join the dots I can see, but when the dots are emotional they’re invisible. It’s like I’m colour blind.’
‘But you’re learning,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve watched you. You care.’
‘I don’t care,’ she said, almost wildly. ‘I don’t know how to. I’ve just learned to follow the rules.’
‘You’re saying you don’t feel emotion?’
‘I can’t feel emotion. It scares me.’
‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’
‘Of course there is. How can you doubt it? It gets you into all sorts of trouble. Like hugging a patient with an infection. Cross contamination? Why would you do that? And ethics? Hugging? That’s the biggie. You must have attended the lectures on medical defence. You know the boundaries.’
‘Well, contamination’s hardly a problem,’ he said
dryly. ‘Or I can’t let it be. Do you know how many people sneeze at me every day? One hug is hardly likely to make a difference. And I didn’t cross any ethical boundaries with Lois.’
‘That’s not what Medical Defence would say.’
‘What, hugging a patient to comfort her, to say she’s not in this alone? How is that ethically wrong? I even had a female colleague there as chaperone—you—but it wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t. Do you think she could possibly take it the wrong way?’
‘I’d never risk it. I don’t touch. Ever.’
‘Really?’ He looked at her with concern, seeing her internal struggle. He was starting to figure her out by now. So much had been hammered out of her by her awful childhood, by adults who’d betrayed her in the worst way—but there was so much still in there. He wanted to reach out and hug her, and it was an almost physical struggle not to.
But the more he saw of Rachel Tilding, the more he knew he had to try. And it wasn’t just sympathy, he acknowledged. She made him feel...
Yeah, well, he couldn’t go there. It was enough for the moment to accept that he had to get through those barriers.
‘So...the night of Col’s operation,’ he said slowly. ‘You touched me then. Was that comfort, or was that something else?’
And, rightly or wrongly, things suddenly moved to a whole new level. He watched Rachel’s face and saw confusion. And panic.
She was remembering that kiss.
‘You know that wasn’t comfort,’ she managed. ‘You’re right—it was something else. It was stupid.’
‘It didn’t feel stupid,’ he said, and he could resist the confusion, the fear, on her face no longer. He reached out and took her hands. Gently though. She could pull away if she wished. ‘But no, it wasn’t comfort. Maybe it started that way but that kiss, Rachel, was something else entirely.’
‘It wasn’t. I mean...’ She seemed to be struggling with words, struggling with the feel of her hands in his. Struggling with the urge to pull away?
She could if she wanted to, he thought, but her body didn’t seem to be cooperating.
Rescued by the Single Dad Doc Page 12
