His Island Bride

by Marion Lennox

  'You've done a great job,' he Said, and she smiled.

  'I have.'

  'You should be proud.'

  'I am.'

  'And you will take the cheque?'

  'Yes,' she said, turning back to look down at him. 'I will. I thought about it all morning and decided that as long as there's no strings attached...'

  'There can't be any strings attached. It's straightforward. But...'

  'There has to be a but,' she said, and sighed.

  'It's just. ..I would like to be able to see them.'

  'You have no—'

  'No right. I know that. I'd never ask that they leave the country or anything. But...' He hesitated. 'I rang my great-aunt this morning. My great aunt Effie practically brought me up and she's devastated at Grant's death.' He hesitated, but then he shrugged. This woman was practically family. Why not let it all out?

  'She blames herself for the way Grant...for some of the things Grant did,' he said. 'It's dumb but there it is. She's saying she should have been more forceful—she should have stood up to my father and made him intervene and stop the way my mother indulged Grant. It's dumb but it plays with her. I'd love her to meet the twins, and see that Grant's left a legacy of more than distrust and dislike. Seeing Joel and Robbie...I suspect it'd be better than a truckload of antidepressants.'

  'You're using my sons as a prescription?'

  'Maybe,' he said, and he smiled. 'Better than a bottle of pills any day.'

  'But a few more unpredictable side-effects,' she said absently. 'Um...when?'

  'As soon as she can organise flights. Susie, I'm holding no gun to your head,' he said gently. 'But I'd love Effie to meet them.'

  There was a moment's silence while she thought about it. He half expected her to shake her head, to back away. There was a large part of her that wanted to do just that, he thought. But she didn't. Instead, she became thoughtful.

  'So you'd stay here until Effie arrives?'

  'If I can. It'll take her a while to organise time off...'

  'From being an astrologer?'

  'She's a busy lady,' he said, and he smiled. 'But she'll want to come. If it's OK with you.'

  'Maybe it is. If you'll agree to a swap.'

  'Pardon?'

  'I have four elderly islander people who are bedbound,' she said. 'Once a week the mainland doctor comes across and does house calls, but he hates it. Last week he said he was having trouble with his car and didn't come. Now the bridge is down there's no way he'll come, even if I beg. But these people all need comprehensive assessment. I can't change drug regimes myself.' She eyed him assessingly. 'Maybe you can.'

  'I can't treat patients here.'

  'You're a doctor.'

  'Yes, but I'm not registered to practise in Australia.'

  'I can get you registered in two minutes,' she told him. 'We've always been classified as remote. Now the bridge is down we're classified as really remote. Really remote means if we can verify your training then the government will let you practise yesterday. I have Dan Mullins with cancer of the oesophagus and suffering pain I can't control. I have Claudia Miller with advanced Parkinson's and I need to adjust her medication but I don't know how. I have Ray Fifer whose leg ulcers are beyond me and Roger Carmichael who's miserable and I'm sure has just got piles, but there's no way he'll let me look.'

  'You want me to treat them all?' he demanded, astounded.

  'I'll do the hands-on treating,' she said. 'I always have and there's no need for me to stop now. What I want is for you to stand back and give me directions. Oh, and as you and Effie will be seeing my twins for free, you won't be charging Ray and Roger and Dan and Claudia. Right?'

  It seemed he had no choice. She stood, smiling pertly down at him in her little red bikini. He would have agreed to anything. 'Right,' he said, dazed.

  'Great,' she said briskly, smiling. 'That's sorted. Do you want a swim before we start?'

  'When do we start?'

  'After the swim.'

  'I'm not—' he started, seriously startled.

  'If you're going to quibble,' she said, sounding exasperated, 'then I can quibble, too. I know you're not registered but I can take each of your suggestions—you are going to give me suggestions—and then I can run them past Doc Blaxson on the mainland, who has to be the laziest doctor in the known universe. He can OK them. Which he will because Doc Blaxson will do anything for a quiet life.'

  'You interfere with his quiet life?' he queried, stunned.

  'Too right I do. All the time. But even I can't force him to take a boat over here to where I need him. But now that's sorted. I've solved my medical dilemma and we only have another forty minutes before we need to take the boys back to Brenda. OK?'

  There didn't seem to be a lot of choice. 'OK.'

  'There you go, then,' she said, beaming. 'So, swim?'

  'I only have this pair of pants.'

  'Nonsense,' she said bracingly. 'Our first call can be to Ray and he's just your size. A house call in return for dry pants is a good deal, don't you think?'

  'Um...'

  'There you go, then,' she said again, and she reached a hand down to tug him to his feet. He was so surprised that he let her pull him up. And then.

  She'd been laughing. The tone had been brisk and businesslike, but she tugged and he rose too easily, guided by her hand, letting her take part of his weight, surprised into letting her do the tugging. He rose and his feet braced unwittingly against her feet.

  He ended up right before her. Really close.

  Really, really close.

  She staggered back and he caught her. His hands gripped her waist and held. Momentarily her breasts pressed against his chest. She fitted against him as if she belonged there. The sensation was indescribable.

  She felt...she felt...

  Her skin was warm and soft and supple. Her hair had blown free; it was wafting around her shoulders in a flame-coloured cloud. She was wearing her lovely crimson bikini and nothing else, and he held her and the sensation hit him that he'd never held, he'd never seen, he'd never experienced anything, anyone, quite as lovely.

  Susie.

  'No,' she said, and stepped back, and he made no move to stop her. Even though he wanted to. Things were happening here that he had no control over—that he had no idea what to do with. He could only look down into her lovely brown eyes and know that her own confusion was mirroring his.

  'I'm sorry,' he managed, and she took another step back.

  'I...It's OK. I pulled you. Are...are you coming in for a swim?'

  'I think I will,' he said. The water would be cold, he thought, and that was reassuring. When all else failed, take a cold shower.

  'I don't want...' she said, faltering, and he knew what she was saying.

  'Neither do I.'

  'That's good,' she said, and gave a decisive little nod. 'Because there's no way.. .no way...'

  And then she shrugged. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I'm not talking sense. As if you'd want...' Her colour mounted and she backed up a couple more steps and wheeled away.

  'I'm going swimming,' she called over her shoulder, and she ran down the sand toward the twins as if she was being chased by demons.

  He hesitated. Susie raced down the beach and dived into the first wave, swimming strongly out to a buoy a hundred yards from shore. The boys whooped and gave chase—they swam like little seals—but halfway to the buoy they stopped as if simultaneously struck by the same thought, then turned and trod water while waiting for him to follow.

  He was wearing borrowed clothes. But the sun was too warm to be comfortable, the translucent shallows beckoned and the boys were waiting.

  Susie had reached the buoy. She held onto it lightly while she watched, waiting to see what he would do.

  He shouldn't. It was asking for trouble.

  He shrugged and abandoned his doubts. He hauled off his shirt and hit the waves with the same sureness as Susie.

  The twins headed straight back to him, and
when he surfaced there they were, two beaming faces, bobbing in the waves, welcoming him into their world.

  'Race to Mum,' they said and off they went, and again he was left to follow if he wanted to.

  Susie was waiting.

  He did want to. He put his head down and swam with confident strokes. The twins had a ten-yard lead by the time he started. He expected to reel them in but they reached Susie well before him. The boys beamed their pleasure as he finally joined them. Susie was smiling, too, but she looked a little unsure. Maybe very unsure. This was uncharted territory for both of them.

  'Race to the rocks at the other end of the cove,' Joel pleaded.

  Sam looked where he was pointing and thought, How well could these boys swim?

  'Maybe we'd better give Sam a head start,' Susie said.

  'You're kidding me.'

  'We're seriously fast,' she warned.

  'I can swim—'

  'I never said you couldn't.'

  'I can swim fast,' he said, and tried to glower, which was a bit hard with water dripping into his eyes and Joel and Robbie splashing each other from either side of him.

  'Right,' Susie said. 'Let's see you strut your tail feathers. Are we ready, everyone? One, two, three...go!'

  She beat him.

  He beat the twins but only just.

  He surfaced, gasping, and Susie was laughing at him and he nearly choked.

  She looked.. .she looked...

  'The honours are mine,' she said smugly. 'You did manage to beat the seven-year-olds.'

  'You guys live on the beach.'

  'Yes,' she said kindly. 'And we're younger and fitter.'

  'Hey!'

  'You want a rerun?'

  'When I get my breath back,' he gasped and she grinned some more.

  'OK, boys, let's leave Dr Renaldo here like a beached whale, recovering his breath, while we go swim a few more miles.'

  'I think we should go start work,' he gasped. 'Medicine's easier.'

  'It is,' she agreed, teasing. 'And I'm sure a bit of medicine could help you. Come back to my pilates class and we'll get a bit of core strength going.'

  'There's nothing wrong with my core strength.'

  'No, Doctor. Whatever you say, Doctor,' she said meekly. 'Let's go, boys, and see if the good doctor can keep up.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  So Sam settled in and immediately found himself busy. Which he didn't mind. It'd take Effie a few days to get here and he may as well do something useful. The alternative was to take a boat to the mainland, find himself another hire car and come back when Effie arrived.

  But he didn't want to leave. The rays of light filtering through the fog of his depression were getting longer.

  He'd been severely depressed. Sam had accepted that, even if he hadn't been able to fight it. The shrink had suggested medication but Sam knew that there were things going on his head that somehow he had to come to terms with in his own way, and medication wasn't going to help.

  But this helped. Being on the island helped. Spending time with the twins helped.

  Spending time with Susie helped most of all. The dreary lethargy he'd been functioning in for the last few months somehow lifted when he saw her, when he heard her chuckle, as he watched her move patiently, with skill and with care, among the islanders she obviously loved.

  He'd agreed to work in exchange for Effie's visiting rights. It had started as something of a joke but he soon discovered that Susie was absolutely serious. With the bridge down there was no access to a doctor without taking a boat to the mainland and then a taxi to the clinic a few miles south. For ill patients that was a big ask, and Susie had no intention of putting her friends through it while she could make use of him.

  On Saturday afternoon he saw four bedbound patients. On Sunday he saw six more. By midday Monday Susie had his temporary registration through and he could prescribe medications without the OK from another doctor. Therefore Susie deemed a clinic would be in order. She did a fast phone-around, and suddenly he had a list of eight patients waiting to see him.

  'How many access visits to the twins am I paying for?' he demanded, startled, and she grinned.

  'I bet Effie will want to see the boys often. I reckon you should get as far into credit as you can.'

  Why not? he thought, bemused, and picked up his patient list and studied it. Haemorrhoids. Shingles. Leg ulcers. Indigestion. Constipation.

  'I'm an orthopaedic surgeon, you know,' he said mildly.

  'I know.'

  'I suspect you know more about how to treat these patients than I do.'

  'Maybe I do,' she agreed. 'But I'm not a doctor.'

  'Would you have liked to be a doctor?' he asked, and was surprised by a flash of longing in her eyes that she fought fast to disguise.

  'There's lots of stuff I wouldn't mind being.'

  'Did you get the marks to get into med school?'

  'I... Yes, but there was no money. It's no use wishing for what you can never have.'

  He thought of Grant. He thought of the unprincipled means Grant had used to get his medical degree.

  And this girl...

  Hell.

  'Do you know how to treat haemorrhoids?' she was asking, moving on, and he was forced to move with her.

  'I believe I might. If I can check the pharmaceutical lists before I see the patients—and if I have the internet to hand.'

  'Well, what more could we ask of our island doctor,' she said admiringly. 'OK, Dr Renaldo, let's pronounce the Ocean Spray medical clinic officially open.'

  And to his astonishment it was fun. For every patient he saw Susie would fill him in on the history, tell him what she thought was wrong, let him know previous medications... She had comprehensive medical histories for everyone on the island filed in her head, as well as detailed notes.

  'These are your patient files?' he asked in the gap in appointments she'd decreed necessary to fill him in on the next few patients.

  'Yes.'

  'The doctor has his own?'

  'Not as comprehensive as mine. There's always something going wrong. I can second-guess most problems if I have a decent history.'

  'So how do you cope with problems?'

  'If they're haemorrhoids or similar, they see the mainland doctor when he comes over. If they have something like shingles, where early treatment is needed, then I make a tentative diagnosis, ring the doctor, have him agree with me and then the medication is sent over.'

  'He always agrees with you?'

  'Anything for a quiet life,' she said, wrinkling her nose. 'And he charges as if he's seen them.'

  'So that's why you charge peanuts,' he said cautiously, looking at the desk where his last patient had set down a ten-dollar note before leaving. Ryan Flinders had just popped into the clinic to have his shingles checked. Susie had cleaned and dressed a raw patch of inflamed skin on his shoulder. Sam had checked his medication, had a look on the internet for current therapeutic guidelines and sent an urgent request to the pharmacy on the mainland to send a change of medication with the next supply boat.

  Ten dollars?

  'If you stayed here for a while you could be registered for government health rebates,' Susie said diffidently. 'You'd get paid well.'

  'So what would I be paid for what we just did?'

  'Long consultation. Dressing.' She gave him an amount and he nodded, thoughtful.

  'That sounds reasonable. So how come you get ten dollars?'

  'I'm not a doctor.'

  'You're a very good nurse. Plus a great pilates teacher.'

  She flushed, just a little. He liked it, he decided. She'd blush and she'd fight it. He'd watch while she tried to act nonchalant and he found it fascinating.

  OK, he found her fascinating.

  'Mr Flinders was a friend of my grandfather's.'

  'You've just used live dollars' worth of dressings.'

  'Yes, but—'

  'How the hell are you making a living?'

  'I'm fine,' she sa
id and then added grudgingly, 'Your cheque will make a difference.'

  'I'm dammed if I want Grant's cheque chewed up on dressings for the likes of Mr Flinders. I'm willing to bet he has more money than you do.'

  'It's my lifestyle,' she said defensively. 'It's what I choose.'

  'Do you like staying on this island?' he asked incredulously and she looked defensive.

  'It's a great place to—'

  'Raise kids or retire? What about practise medicine? Susie, you're a charity.'

  'I'm not.'

  'Every one of these people is a friend of your grandfather's. A friend of yours.'

  'So?'

  'So does the schoolteacher here work for peanuts because she knows everyone?'

  'It's different. These people were good to me when—'

  'When you came home with your babies. I'd imagine they were.' He softened. 'OK, Susie, I'll be nice to them, but I'm damned if I'm working for ten bucks an hour,'

  'You're working for Effie visits.'

  'No,' he said softly. 'I'm working for you.' He hesitated. She was looking confused. As well she might, he thought. He was feeling confused himself.

  'I'm figuring out really fast that the Effie visits are a certainty,' he said softly. 'Could you refuse my Aunt Effie a visit to the twins? I don't think so. You're soft, Susie. No wonder Grant took advantage of you.'

  'He didn't.'

  'No?'

  'I mean...'

  'He used you,' he said softly. 'Everyone seems to be using you. Even this Brenda.

  'Oh, will you leave it?'

  'She's your fifth cousin seven times removed and you support her.'

  'She was housekeeper to Grandpa when I was away. I couldn't have left the island if she hadn't been here. And now she takes care of the twins.'

  'She's a little…'

  'Simple. Yes, she is,' Susie said defensively. 'She can't hold down a real job.'

  'So you'll support her for ever.'

  'And you'd have me throw her out. Like Grant.'

  'I am not like Grant.' It came out of nowhere, a blast of icy anger so furious that it shocked them both. They were left staring warily at each other, wondering what had just happened.