Rescued by the Single Dad Doc

by Marion Lennox

  ‘I have a plan,’ she said briskly. ‘I remembered the coordinates from last night’s rescue. I have an interactive map, showing me exactly where I am. I have my fully charged phone and I have my portable charger for backup. Oh, and I have bacon and a water bottle. Anything else you can think of?’

  ‘No!’ he practically groaned. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘You want to be here. To be honest, I’d like you here too. But the boys need you.’

  ‘I can’t let you go.’

  ‘I need to go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘Rachel, he’s just a dog.’ He hated saying it but it had to be said. ‘You can’t put yourself at risk.’

  ‘I’m not risking. Hey, I know... Tom, my phone has this neat location sharing thing on its map app. On my map I’m a little blue dot and I’m following a blue line to where the boys were found. If I hit “Share” I think you can follow my little blue dot on your phone. You’ll be able to watch me all the way.’

  ‘Like that’ll make a difference.’

  ‘It’ll make me feel less alone. I’ll feel like you’re with me.’

  ‘Rachel...’ Deep breath. The urge to toss back the bedcovers and head out there to stop her was almost overwhelming. ‘Why are you doing this? It makes sense to wait until someone can join you.’

  ‘And risk Tuffy getting further away? No. Tom, I will be safe. I have my blue line, my dot, my phone, my gear. I have you watching me. But I need to do this.’

  ‘Why?’ He felt as if he could hardly breathe.

  ‘Because I love what Tuffy did for the boys,’ she said softly. ‘And I can’t bear that he’s out there. I think... I love Tuffy. Love... How scary’s that for a confession? Tom, I need to go. I’m sending my location now. You should hear the ping any minute.’

  And she turned and headed away, walking steadily until her shadowy figure disappeared from the clearing. She was already on the track leading into dense bush.

  He was staring sightlessly at the window. Henry’s hand was clutching his arm; he was stirring from sleep. ‘T-Tom?’

  Had she disconnected?

  ‘Oh, and this love thing...’ he heard her say, and it was almost an afterthought.

  ‘Rachel...’ Henry’s hand tightened in his. He couldn’t move. He’d never felt more helpless.

  ‘I can’t talk any more,’ she told him. ‘I need to watch my feet. I just thought I should say... Last night we talked about love. This morning... Tom, I’m not sure what it is but I think I’m learning.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE RAIN KEPT right on raining. For the next two hours Rachel fought her way through the bush. Tom watched her little blue dot and held his boys, and he’d never felt so torn in his life. She was safe, he told himself. Rachel was sensible. She was in communication.

  She was alone and he hated it.

  It was okay—almost—when she was moving, when he could see the dot progressing. When the dot stopped, his head went straight to disaster scenarios—Rachel falling, broken ankle, head hit on overhead branches, drop bears, antigowobblers... He was going out of his mind!

  She knew he’d be worried, though. Often when she paused, she texted.

  Bit of a tough uphill. Taking a breather. Still good.

  And...

  Undergrowth’s heavy. Taking a recce to see if there’s another way around.

  By the time the kids stirred the dot was pretty much where she’d set her destination. Which was good because almost as soon as the boys woke they were fretting about Tuffy.

  He showed them the map and the blue dot.

  ‘That’s Rachel,’ he told them. ‘She’s gone up to fetch him.’

  ‘Rachel’s bringing him home?’ He watched their faces sag into relief.

  ‘She hasn’t found him yet but she will. She’s just reached the spot.’

  ‘But she’s by herself.’ Marcus was perusing the map with the eye of a scientist, expanding it so he could see details. Trying to see the unseeable.

  ‘She shouldn’t be there by herself,’ Henry said, frowning. ‘We were all together and we were scared.’

  ‘It’s light now, though.’

  ‘But it’ll still be scary,’ Henry insisted. ‘We should help her.’

  ‘We could all go,’ Kit said. ‘We could rescue Rachel and Tuffy.’

  He looked at them, his three kids. They were scratched, bruised, battle-weary. They’d been truly terrified last night. He’d tucked them straight into bed without bothering about baths. They looked like refugees from a battle zone.

  They could rescue Rachel?

  He looked again at her little blue dot and he thought, She knows where she is. She said she was fine. She was being sensible. She was on her blue line and she didn’t need rescuing.

  And then he felt the kids around him, the warmth of the big bed, the feeling of the kids depending on him—and, being honest, the way he depended on the kids—and he thought, did she need rescuing?

  She might know where she was on the map, but where was she in the world? Did she have a place to come home to?

  And then he thought—rescuing Rachel...the word was suddenly topsy-turvy. Why did it feel as if it’d be rescuing himself?

  And as if on cue there was a knock on the door. The boys cringed—they were expecting Charles and Marjorie? But it was Rose. Of course it was Rose, bearing a pile of steaming pancakes and a jug of maple syrup.

  In two minutes the boys had her up to speed. She stared at the dot Marcus was showing her and she set her pancakes on the kitchen table and glared at Tom. ‘I don’t understand dots,’ she told him. ‘But she’s up on the ridge?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s only one dot.’ It was an accusation.

  ‘I couldn’t leave the boys.’

  ‘I understand that, but you can leave now,’ she told him. ‘I’ll put some pancakes in foil and make you a Thermos while you pull your boots on.’

  ‘Rose...’

  ‘She’s saving Tuffy,’ she said. ‘She shouldn’t be alone, should she?’ And then she fixed Tom with a look. ‘Especially when you love her.’

  ‘Rose...’

  ‘Blind Freddy can see that you do,’ she told him. ‘You want to deny it?’

  ‘I... No.’

  ‘Then go,’ she told him, and he paused only long enough to give her a big hug that somehow ended up embracing the boys as well.

  ‘I’ll ring Roscoe on the way,’ he told the boys. ‘I doubt Marjorie and Charles would dare to come near us, but if they do... Roscoe will keep an eye on you all. You’ll have half of Shallow Bay here to keep you safe in seconds.’

  ‘Then all you need to do is keep Rachel safe,’ Rose retorted. ‘And find Tuffy and bring them both home.’

  But she didn’t need to say it. He was already gone.

  * * *

  It took quite a while but she found him.

  She’d spent a miserable couple of hours bush-bashing through almost impenetrable undergrowth. She’d found the X-marks-the-spot where the coordinates on her phone matched the coordinates she’d seen on the screen the night before. She’d found irrefutable evidence that technology hadn’t let her down. The clearing she was in was flattened from many boots, churned to mud in some places. There was even a wrapper from a chocolate muesli bar to prove this was where the rescuers had embraced the boys.

  No Tuffy.

  She’d called and called. She’d gone a little way in either direction, still calling. Nothing.

  And then she’d come back to her X-spot, and as she’d sat on a wet log to think, a tiny movement caught her eye.

  A mound of grevillea lay in front of her, an Australian native plant with crimson bottlebrush-type flowers and a scratchy, twiggy centre.

  She lay
down in the mud to try and see under. She shone the torch.

  Two terrified eyes peered out at her.

  ‘Tuffy?’

  He didn’t move.

  She tried to wriggle under.

  He growled and whined and shrank deeper.

  He sounded terrified, she thought. She edged out, trying to figure what to do. If she pushed further under he might bolt. Having him run away was the last thing she wanted.

  She unwrapped her bacon and set it under the bush, pushing it until he started backing away. Then she retreated to her log. And phoned.

  ‘Tom? I’ve found him.’

  There was a moment’s silence, as though he’d caught his breath and wasn’t sure what to say.

  ‘He’s under a really big bush,’ she told him. ‘I can’t get him out.’

  ‘Don’t do a thing,’ he told her. ‘Stay right where you are, love. I’m on my way.’

  ‘The boys...?’

  ‘Are with Rose, with Roscoe standing guard. Everyone’s safe. Stay still. I’m coming.’

  * * *

  This was a far cry from the neat, controlled Rachel Tilding he was accustomed to. This woman... Well, to put it bluntly, she was a mess. She was filthy and sodden. Her hair, hauled out of its knot from contact with undergrowth, was full of twigs. Mud smeared her cheeks. Rain was dripping steadily down her face.

  Tom broke through the last section of undergrowth and he thought he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

  She was seated on a moss-covered log. She looked huddled and shaky and alone.

  She looked up at him as he emerged from the foliage, she smiled and approximately two seconds later, give or take a millisecond, she was in his arms. Gathered to his heart. Held and held and held, as if he could never let her go.

  As he never intended to.

  She was melting into his body, curving against him, hugging him as fiercely as he was hugging her. The rain dripped on regardless. It didn’t matter. There was no need for words. In those first few moments promises were being made, vows formed, ties created that would last for the rest of their lives.

  He could feel her heartbeat and it seemed to be in sync with his. That was how it was. That was how it would be.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind about last night’s offer,’ he managed, and it was a struggle to get his voice to work. ‘I accept. You will marry me. I don’t care what we have to do to make it work but it will happen.’

  She gave something between a sob and a laugh. ‘Oh, Tom...’ But somehow she remembered priorities. ‘Tuffy...’

  Their hold had lasted less than a minute, a hold which meant so much. It felt as if the world had changed. Or settled? It had righted itself on its axis and it was time to move on.

  Tuffy.

  ‘He’s over there,’ Rachel said, somehow pulling back. ‘Under the bush. I put the bacon out but he hasn’t gone near it. I can’t see if he’s hurt.’

  She was freezing—what the hell was she wearing?—surely not bushwalking gear. Cotton trainers. Some sort of city rain jacket, designed for the odd light shower, not this deluge. Jeans.

  He could feel her shaking.

  ‘Tuffy,’ she said again, and he thought of priorities and hypothermia but she was standing, pointing at the bush.

  Tuffy was obviously right up the top in her triage assessment. A dog who’d saved his kids.

  She was the woman who’d saved his dog.

  First things first. He hauled off his oilskin and draped it round her shoulders. ‘Get that wet top off and get into this,’ he told her. ‘Now.’

  Something in the tone of his voice stopped her protests. She complied while he grabbed the torch and peered under the grevillea.

  And there he was. The source of all the trouble.

  No. He wasn’t trouble, Tom thought. He was simply a little dog who’d brought joy, who’d done what he could.

  ‘Tuffy,’ he said.

  Rachel’s bacon was within reach. He pushed it a little way forward.

  Tuffy was a rescue dog. He’d been mistreated in the past. Teaching him to trust had been huge.

  It was a big ask now. Rachel hadn’t been able to manage it, but then Tuffy didn’t know Rachel all that well.

  Could he trust now?

  ‘Tuffy,’ he said again, and the dog stirred and whined.

  ‘Come on out,’ he said gently. ‘Come on, mate. We have bacon and we have warmth and we have Rachel. We’ll keep you safe. Come on home.’

  And, as if he understood, the little dog stirred and wriggled forward, slowly, tentatively. He reached the bacon and sniffed and Tom thought he might grab it and retreat.

  But then he wriggled forward a little further. And sniffed Tom’s fingers. And made a decision.

  He was suddenly out from under the bush, on Tom’s knees, every fibre of his small scruffy body wriggling in relief and doggy joy.

  And Tom picked him up—and the bacon—and carried him back to Rachel on her log.

  And hugged them both for a very long time.

  * * *

  Promises had already been made, deep and abiding. On the trek back to the house they were made again.

  Tom had Tuffy tucked under his sweater. The little dog had a nasty gash on his hind leg but he seemed otherwise okay. Full of bacon and one of Rose’s pancakes, nestled against Tom’s chest, he was where he wanted to be.

  As was Rachel. Tom had her hand. He wasn’t letting her go for a moment. He was leading her down the mountain, treating her as the most precious thing in the world, and it was okay by her.

  Life was okay. Her teeth were still chattering. Tom’s coat was keeping the worst of the cold at bay, but the damage had already been done. She was soaked, shivering, but Tom was holding her and she’d never felt so happy in her life.

  ‘We’ll get married soon,’ Tom said. They’d hardly spoken—Tom was focusing on his feet, on the path ahead, on his job to get them all safe and warm as soon as possible. But he said those four words and Rachel let them sit for a while, savouring them.

  Knowing she should think about it. She should be sensible.

  ‘Yes please,’ she said, and he tugged her closer and kissed her fiercely on the mouth.

  And that was her fate sealed, she thought as he led her on. Just like that, her armour had disappeared.

  Just like that, Rachel Tilding decided that she’d fallen in love. And she’d fallen in love for ever.

  * * *

  An hour later she was dressed in a pair of Tom’s jogging pants and an oversized singlet. Tom was towelling her hair while the boys fussed over Tuffy and Rose heated soup. It was almost a dream setting, Rachel thought—Tom’s towelling, the way his hands touched her neck with each downward stroke, the warmth of the room, Rose’s fussiness...the care...

  And suddenly Marcus looked up, focusing on what Tom was doing. Focusing on Rachel.

  ‘What are those things on your arms?’ he asked, frowning in sudden concern.

  ‘They’re scars,’ she told him but then as he kept frowning—Marcus knew by now what scars meant—she struggled through her mist of fuzziness, of peace, of home, to find an explanation.

  ‘When I was little I had to face a dragon,’ she told him. ‘It wasn’t a real dragon but that’s what it felt like. So these scars are little dragon teeth burns—see, they’re all the same? But you know what I did? I fought my dragon. Back then I fought by myself but now I realise I don’t have to. Because people who love you always come to your rescue. Like you went to rescue Tuffy last night, and Tom came to rescue me. People who love you chase away your dragons and you don’t have to worry any more.’

  ‘Wow.’ Henry rose to inspect the scars and was impressed. ‘Dragon teeth!’

  ‘That’s better even than crocodile teeth,’ Kit decreed. ‘Cool!’

  ‘I wish I had dr
agon teeth on my arms,’ Henry said. ‘You’re really lucky.’ But then he hesitated. ‘I expect they hurt when you got them.’

  ‘They did a bit,’ Rachel said, drifting back under the warmth of the towel, the gentleness of Tom’s hands. ‘But I’m lucky. I guess... I seem to have found so many people who’ll scare away any imaginary dragon who comes near. I’ve seen your video game. You guys seem to be experts.’.’

  ‘I’ll chase away your dragons,’ Henry said stoutly.

  ‘And me,’ Kit said. ‘And Tuffy will help.’

  ‘Me too,’ Marcus said, though she could see, at ten, he was a little more dubious about the dragon teeth explanation. ‘I guess...whatever it is we’ll chase it away together.’

  ‘I’m in, too,’ Rose declared from the kitchen. ‘Let any dragon come near us and I’ll tell them what’s what.’ The boys giggled. The vision of plump, aproned Rose fending off dragons had them all chuckling.

  ‘What about you, Tom?’ Marcus said, figuring there had to be a full set. ‘Will you fight for Rachel?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ Tom said, settling a kiss on her hair. ‘Any dragon comes near this lady and he’ll meet a fiery end. All of us will make sure of that. We’re your family, Rachel Tilding.’ And then, maybe because he thought there’d never be a better time to say it, he tilted her chin and stooped to kiss her.

  ‘So what about it, Our Rachel,’ he said softly, lovingly, with all the tenderness in the world. ‘Now you’re warm and dry, now we’re back in the real world. Let’s make it formal. I know it’s crazy. I know it’s way too soon. But what the heck... Will you marry us?’

  ‘What? All of you?’ She could hardly speak. She had every set of eyes in the room on her, including Tuffy!

  ‘Yes!’ Marcus yelled and whooped. And then he paused. ‘But I won’t be a pageboy. One of the boys at school says pageboys have to wear velvet suits. Yuck.’

  ‘I don’t like velvet suits,’ Henry said worriedly, and Rachel couldn’t help herself. This was supposedly the most romantic moment of her life and she found herself giggling.