His Island Bride

by Marion Lennox

  It didn't matter. He looked like Grant and that was enough. She wanted him gone. Or herself gone. She should have fled that afternoon while she'd still had the chance.

  'Tell me about the twins,' he said heavily from behind her. 'Your boys. Susan, I need to know. Are they Grant's sons?'

  The silence stretched out to eternity. What do you want me to say? Susie thought miserably, and then fear kicked in. After all this time, to have someone suggest there might be a custody claim...

  That was dumb. That was pure, illogical terror, for when had there ever been a threat to her boys? There was no power in the world that would allow a claim now. Grant was dead. There was nothing to fear. But she took a long, deep breath, then another, for suddenly it seemed she needed courage to answer openly.

  'I have twin boys,' she said. 'Grant is their biological father.'

  He said nothing. She turned to face him then but he was looking straight through her, at something she couldn't see.

  'Did Grant tell you about them?' she asked, and their gazes met. But now he was looking at her as if she was crazy.

  'Did Grant know?' he demanded.

  'Know what?'

  'That he had children.'

  It was her turn to stare blindly at him. Of all the sick jokes...

  'Oh, sure,' she said, struggling not to sound bitter. 'I hid it from him so I could keep all the fun to myself.'

  'I didn't mean—'

  'You don't know what the hell you do mean,' she said, and she walked the few steps through the shallows back up the beach so she could see his face more clearly. 'Sam, why are you here? I'm very sorry that Grant is dead. Believe me, I am. Once I thought I loved him, and I've told the boys he was a fun, loving doctor who went off to save the world instead of being a dad. They'd rather they had a dad but until four months ago they had a wonderful grandpa, and this close island community means they'll never be lost for someone to do the dad bit. Kick a footy. Learn what a razor's for. That sort of stuff. So there's no need for you to feel bad, or feel you need to take a hand. And I don't want money either. I really don't want Grant's money, no matter what he's left me.'

  'Why?'

  'I told you.'

  'That you don't want anything to do with Grant or anything that concerns him. Why?'

  'It's none of your business.'

  'It is my business,' he said savagely and she took an involuntary step back. Her face gave him pause.

  'I'm sorry,' he said, contrite. 'Susan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.'

  'Then don't shout. Get in your car and go home.'

  'He was my twin,' he said, lowering his voice but not much. 'I can't believe he had children and I didn't know.'

  'He barely knew himself.'

  'Then you...'

  'Not for want of telling,' she whispered, and the anger surged again. 'I left Australia eight years ago and it was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime. I'd just qualified as an exercise physiologist and I got a job in a rehabilitation unit in London. I thought I was, oh, so clever. But J was, oh, so lonely. And then I met Grant. It was Christmas Eve. One of our patients had collapsed and I went up to the ward to see him. Grant kissed me under the mistletoe—how corny's that?—and we were together for three months. Three fabulous months. I couldn't believe we were so happy. Then he asked me to marry him. Oh, we didn't announce it—he was flying back to the States for two weeks and he wanted to break the news to his parents first. That's what he said and I was so dumb that I thought that was fine. I was so in love. So we were getting married and on the nights before he left he asked if we could stop using condoms. Because it didn't matter, he said. And what sort of ring did I want when he came back?'

  She choked on the last couple of words, feeling again the anger, the sheer raw emotion of his betrayal.

  'But he'd never intended to come back,' she said flatly. 'He just.. .went and I heard nothing. Three weeks later I rang his parents. Your mother. I knew her number. He hadn't given it to me but.. .just a crazy whim, I guess, but I'd copied it from his phone. Your mom told me he had a job in New York and he had a darling new girlfriend, and of course she'd give me his work number. If I really wanted it.'

  'Oh, Susan,' Sam said, feeling sick. He could hear his mother doing that. She may well have suspected Susan was upset but she'd protect her beloved Grant for all she was worth.

  'So I rang him and I told him I was having a baby,' she said. 'He told me to get rid of it and he'd send me a cheque to cover the cost. And you know what? He didn't even do that. Not that I ever would have used it. So I had the twins and I came back here to live with the people I trust. But every birthday and every Christmas I send Grant photographs, hoping, I guess, that as they get older he might crack and let them contact him. But he's never contacted me. He's never said a word. And now...'

  'Now he's made you the beneficiary of his life insurance policy,' Sam said, and he named a sum that made her stagger.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She wouldn't take the conversation further. It was as if the money had formed an impenetrable barrier.

  How would she have reacted If Grant himself had come? Sam wondered, watching her face in the moonlight and trying to guess at emotions behind the facade.

  Grant had wounded her far more than she'd ever admit. He heard it in her voice, and he saw it on her face.

  It fitted with everything he knew of Grant.

  Grant had possessed everything—intelligence, looks and charm. His charm had carried him through life with gay abandon. When their parents had split up, their mother's millionaire lover had decreed he could cope with one child, not two. So Grant had been taken, while Sam had stayed behind, caring for their devastated father.

  When Grant's results hadn't quite gained him a place in a prestigious medical school, suddenly Grant had become best friends with... well, the right people, and places miraculously opened up.

  When their father had lain dying of inoperable cancer, with the hard yards done by Sam and his aunt, suddenly Grant had been there, reaching out to his father, regretting his absence, charming, charming, charming, so the last-minute change in their father's will hadn't been in the least surprising.

  That Grant would fill his time in London with a homesick beauty—yes, Sam could see him doing the whole romantic bit. Except a ring, of course, because that would involve monetary sacrifice. And then walking away.. .Yes, absolutely, that was Grant.

  But toward the end of his illness Grant had suddenly thought he mightn't make it. Those last weeks Grant had spent in blind terror. That must have been when he'd made his will. By then he'd gone through all his money, but there had still been an insurance policy paid for by his mother. Maybe he'd left it to Susan only because he'd realised otherwise it would go to Sam. That might be an ignoble thought, but Sam had been sure of it. Now, though...

  Now Susie was looking at him with distrust, and he hated it. He hated it that Grant had hurt her. She was so... so....

  No. He didn't have a word for it. He'd never met anyone like this woman, and the thought that Grant had hurt her was almost unbearable.

  'He really wanted you to have it,' he said solidly, but Susie shook her head.

  'He'll have had another agenda. You know I've been broke for years? When I found I was pregnant I knew I had to upgrade my qualifications to basic nursing if I was going to make a living on this island. That meant another twelve months at university before I came home, and it nearly killed me. Grandpa couldn't help. He was on a pension and not well himself. So I worked nights right up till I was eight months pregnant to pay my way. In desperation I wrote and asked Grant to send the cheque he'd originally promised. He didn't bother to reply.'

  'I'm so sorry.'

  'Don't be,' she said brusquely. 'I have it sorted now. I've managed to scrape together enough to open my little pilates studio, and I have remote nurse status so I can charge for basic medical treatment. There's nothing more I need.'

  'And if the boys want to go to university?'
<
br />   'I'll worry about it when the time comes.'

  'You're knocking back security for them.'

  'Maybe I am,' she whispered, and she sounded just a little unsure.

  'I'm happy to organise the money into a trust fund for the boys,' he said gently. 'If...'

  'If what?'

  'I have a great-aunt,' he said, thinking it through as he spoke. He'd barely had time to come to terms with the existence of the children himself. The idea that was coming to him now...

  'A great-aunt,' she said blankly, and he shook himself, smiling ruefully at her in the moonlight. The whole situation had him off balance, but the way she looked in the moonlight. . .yeah, off balance was the least of it.

  'Sorry. I'm thinking aloud. I'd imagine your brain's spinning as fast as mine. What say we consider our options and meet again in the morning?'

  'I'm busy in the morning.'

  'Doing?'

  'Pilates.'

  'I don't understand the pilates.'

  'What's there not to understand about pilates?' She sounded almost belligerent and he grinned.

  'I'm just an ignorant doctor...'

  'Don't patronise me.'

  'I'm not,' he said, and swallowed his smile. Which was tricky. She was wearing faded jeans with the knee ripped out of one leg, and a tiny singlet top. She looked like a beautiful, free urchin of the sea.

  The sight of her took his breath away. It was doing his head in.

  He'd come because of Grant, he told himself harshly. He had no business to be looking at her like he was looking.

  'Honest,' he said helplessly, and she glowered.

  'Yes, you are,' she snapped. 'You don't know the first thing about pilates but I'll bet you have a whole list of labels in your head in the same category. Yoga. Tai chi. Meditation. Myotherapy. Hypnosis...'

  'Hey!'

  'Going up the scale till you reach midwifery, physiotherapy, dentistry and ear-candling. All very nice in their way but infinitely inferior to medicine. Your medicine.'

  'My Aunt Effie will love you,' he said, and she stopped in mid-tirade and blinked.

  'Your Aunt Effie.'

  'She's an astrologer.'

  'An astrologer.'

  'That's someone who—'

  'I know what an astrologer is,' she said, putting her hands on her hips and glaring. 'I'm a Virgo.'

  'I can see that about you.'

  'I bet you don't hold with it.'

  'On the contrary, I hold with it absolutely. I had to type up Aunt Effie's astrology charts every month for years while I was a kid. It was the way I got my allowance.'

  'But you don't believe it.'

  'You see,' he said apologetically. 'Grant and I were the same sign.'

  'And you're very different from Grant.'

  'I'm the cautious one. Not exciting. Just plain plodding Sam.'

  She blinked. 'So diving into pools of burning petrol...'

  'It wasn't burning when I dived in, and it was totally out of character,' he said, and suddenly found that he was smiling. Because he wanted to make her smile? Yes, he thought/Damn you, Grant, of all the lousy deceits...

  She'd turned and was walking up to the house. He followed, a yard or so behind, keeping his distance, aware it benefit him to tread warily. Now that he'd thought of Aunt Effie...

  'There's no reason for you to stay on the island,' she said, cutting across his thoughts, and he nodded. Reluctantly.

  'Maybe not. If we can meet tomorrow.'

  'I told you. I have pilates.'

  'After pilates.'

  'I do house calls after pilates. Come and watch a session.'

  'I don't think—'

  'Or come and do a session,' she said unexpectedly. 'You have a stiff neck.'

  'How do you know I—?'

  'I watch how people move. I've watched you. It's not today that's made it stiff, is it?'

  'No, but—'

  'That's what I thought. Your core stability is all over the place.'

  'My core stability is nothing of the sort,' he said, sounding affronted, and she chuckled. It was lovely chuckle, he thought. Nice and rich and throaty. He started to smile back...

  The phone rang.

  The house was fifty yards from the beach, up a slight incline. By now Sam had figured that the majority of the islanders lived on the far side of the island from the bridge, on Doris's side, on a horseshoe harbour where the fishing fleet was moored. There was a cluster of homes around the harbour, with a few shops, a pub and a small school. The centre of the island was barren, a shearwater colony he'd been told, so the land was a mass of tunnels made by nesting birds, with uncleared bushland in between.

  Yet Susie's house was on the side nearer to the mainland, in a spot that seemed almost desolate. Cars going back and forth over the bridge would give some sense of human connection, he thought, but now the bridge was down there was nothing. Away from the lights of the house there was only darkness.

  The phone was ringing loudly, an outside peal designed to be heard from much further away than the distance they were from the house. A woman inside the house flung up a window, and peered out.

  'Susie?' the woman yelled. 'Are you there?'

  'Get it for me, Brenda.'

  'It'll be you they want,' Brenda grumbled, but she slammed the window down and the ringing stopped.

  'It'll be me they want,' Susie reiterated, trying not to sound relieved. She turned to him and held out her hand, expecting it to be shaken. 'I need to go. Goodnight, Dr Renaldo.'

  'I'll see you tomorrow.'

  'My pilates class starts at nine.'

  'And it finishes?'

  'My day finishes about seven. Then I'm committed to the boys.'

  'So it's pilates or nothing.'

  'It'll do you good.'

  'Thank you, but no.'

  'Susan?' The window was flung up again.

  'Coming, Brenda.'

  'Who's with you?'

  He watched as Susan hesitated, but she had to answer. 'The doctor who saved the guy this morning.'

  'That's really handy.' The woman calling out the window looked extraordinary. She was dressed in a flowery pink housecoat, with a floppy red bow at her neck. Her head was a mass of plastic hair curlers. She was leaning right out of the window, trying to see. 'Can you both go?'

  'Go where?' Susie called back in a voice of foreboding.

  'There's been an accident on the wharf,' Brenda called. 'Henry's boat's dropped off the crane and Lionel says that Henry's under it.'

  'Dear God,' Susan said, and headed up the veranda, three steps at a time.

  'It's OK,' Brenda said reprovingly. 'He's not dead or anything. I asked. But Lionel says he thinks he might have broken his arm.' She beamed at Sam, obviously delighted the way this was playing out. 'So if you could take the doctor with you it'd be great.'

  'Let me talk to Lionel.'

  'He's hung up. He said he had to organise the crane to get the boat off.'

  'I'll go,' Susie said, resigned. 'Brenda, can you ring Nick and ask him if he can go down to the harbour as well? I don't want those yahoos playing with cranes.'

  'I'll tell them you called them yahoos,' Brenda said.

  'You're welcome to,' Susie said shortly. 'Sorry, Sam, but I need to go.'

  'Take him with you,' Brenda retorted.

  'He may not want to go,' Susie said doubtfully, and Brenda snorted.

  'He's here, isn't he? He's got a pulse and he's a doctor. What else do you want? Ooh, Henry will be really pleased if he has a doctor to fix his arm right here.'

  Brenda slammed down the window. Susie turned back to Sam. Resigned.

  'It's OK,' she said. 'You don't need to come.'

  'Why don't I need to come? If this Henry is being squashed by a boat...'

  'It doesn't sound like he's all that squashed. And you don't live here. I'm on call.'

  'There's no other medical help on the island at all?' he asked, and she shook her head.

  'I'm it. But if it was s
erious, the boys would have told me to hurry. I'm not panicking.'

  'Having a boat drop on you sounds serious.'

  'Maybe,' she said dubiously. 'But if I gunned the car across the island every time someone said they're dying I'd have hit 'roos and been dead myself these last seven years.'

  ' 'Roos?'

  'Kangaroos.'

  She might not be panicking but she was moving fast, crossing to the garage at the end of the house and hauling the doors wide.

  'I'll come,' he said, and she hesitated. Serious or not, being called to a medical emergency when you were on your own would be hard. She was clearly torn.

  'I am a doctor,' he said, and she teetered and was lost.

  'Thank you. I'd appreciate it.'

  Afterwards he thought maybe he should have followed in Doris's car, but his instinct was to join her and she didn't object. Seconds later he was in the passenger seat of the old estate wagon he'd driven that morning. The car rattled ominously as she backed it out of the garage, then backfired as she gunned the motor and headed across the island.

  'You like to announce your coming?' he said mildly, and she shrugged. She seemed tense. And why not? he thought. She'd had a rough day. She'd be tired and she didn't know what she was facing. As well as that, having him sitting beside her must feel like she was with a ghost.

  'The islanders are taking a collection for a new car for me,' she said briefly, deflecting his thoughts. 'Maybe in a couple of years...'

  'So Grant's cheque will come in handy?'

  'I won't touch his money.'

  'Maybe you need to get your head around it,' he said gently. 'It's not as if Grant's alive to see you throw his money back in his face. Taking a moral stance will only hurt you.'

  She bit her lip and retreated into silence. It was a ten-minute drive across the island, and there were indeed kangaroos. He'd seen them as he'd driven this way, grazing calmly on the verge. One had just as calmly leapt in front of his headlights earlier in the evening, so he could appreciate why Susie was driving slowly now.

  This set-up was weird.

  'If you're the only medic for the entire island, why live on the far side of the island to the rest of the population?' he asked cautiously.

  'It's my grandfather's house,' she said. 'He used to be the ferryman before the bridge. I'd like to be in town but I'm hardly in a financial position to swap.'