A woman he’d hurt by inferring some sort of ulterior motive. He hadn’t accused her out loud, but she’d heard the insinuation. He’d seen the flash of hurt before the anger.
But she’d come out fighting, and then she’d put it aside, moving on. More generosity.
Something inside him was twisting and it was twisting hard.
What’s the worst?
‘I was a medic in a war zone,’ he said, heavily, and the words felt as if they were being ripped out of him. ‘I misread a situation. It was a trap, a bomb, planted just outside a family home. An old lady with a baby in her arms, kids by her side, came to our camp, pleading for me to see her sick daughter. Said she’d been in labour for three days. The sergeant in charge of camp security told me to leave it—ordered me to. We were supposed to treat within the security of the camp, not go outside. But how could I say no? So I overrode orders, and the sergeant caved and sent backup with me. I went in first, cautious, but there was a woman in the house, and she was in labour. I thought how can it be a trap? And then it blew—a ring of home-made explosives, around the house. I survived—just—as did the women and kids in the house, but my backup didn’t, including the sergeant I’d disobeyed. I took them there. I killed them.’
‘Oh, no. Oh, Hugh, that sucks.’ She touched his hand, a fleeting touch, an acknowledgement of what he’d just told her. She hesitated for a moment and then said: ‘I’m guessing you’ll have been told time and time again that it wasn’t you who killed them—you must know it—so I dare say it’s no use me saying it again.’
‘It’s not,’ he said shortly.
‘Okay, I won’t say it,’ she said and touched his hand again—and then took another bite of her sandwich.
Moving on again? Which sort of seemed...shocking.
What had he expected? Raw sympathy? The kind he’d had in spades? Probably not judgement—he surely had enough in his own eyes to be going on with. But every time anyone learned the story, he’d see shock and horror, and endless, endless sympathy.
He could still hear the words of his trauma counsellor resonating after all this time. ‘The horror will fade over time. You need to be kind to yourself. Forgive yourself and move on.’
Forgive... It was a heavy word, and in the counsellor’s eyes he could see she thought he could.
He also saw she felt he needed to.
‘It’s not fair,’ Gina said, across his thoughts. She was gazing over the waterfall, reflective words faintly muffled by sandwich. ‘This fate stuff. You do the best you can and then, bang—fate. And you’re left with the consequences. Scars fathoms deep.’ She looked down at the remains of her sandwich and took another bite.
‘I’m not sure whether hiding yourself away on Sandpiper is the way to deal with them, though,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘but who am I to judge? I spend my life on adventure cruises and maybe that’s running away, too. Running from the thought of ever wanting a home. Other people seem to want homes, but they scare me stupid. Putting down roots only for them to be torn up again seems just plain stupid. Who wants that sort of pain? But once again, who’s judging? Except you, judging me for packing condoms.’
The twist in conversation was so unexpected he blinked. ‘I didn’t judge.’
‘Yes, you did but I’m over it.’ She headed back and fetched the basket, hauling it over to set it between them. ‘Have another sandwich. Hey, there’s beef and mustard down here. Hooray for Aunty Babs. I’m going to eat two more sandwiches and a slab of fruitcake and then I reckon it’s time to go home. Time to move on. Right, mate?’
And he got it.
Mate.
She was no longer the woman he’d just made love to. In that one sentence, with that one word, she’d turned them back into colleagues.
Friends?
She’d put a type of barrier in place, and he thought maybe it was a barrier that she needed as well as him.
He should say something. What she’d just given him... Warmth, passion, generosity.
Acceptance.
Time to move on.
‘Yeah,’ he said, striving for lightness. ‘One more swim though.’
‘Not me,’ she told him. ‘It’s freezing.’
‘Not once you get in.’
She grinned. ‘Liar,’ she told him. ‘But you go ahead. I’ve jumped into deep water once today and I’m not doing it again. And actually...maybe I should remind myself not to do it again, ever.’
* * *
They trekked back to his truck pretty much in silence. Hugh fell behind, just a little, allowing Gina to set the pace. The track along the creek bed often widened, giving them room to walk side by side, but neither of them felt like it.
It didn’t feel wrong to be separate, though, Gina thought. What they’d shared... She couldn’t regret it. It had been a magic day and she felt a bit like the cat leaving a cream bowl. The memory of his body merging with hers...the feel of him, the taste, the strength...it’d stay with her, she thought. She’d hold it for as long as she could.
But she would move on.
Babs. How long would she be needed here? She was forcing her mind to the practical—which was really hard when Hugh was right behind her. But she needed to be practical, so she attempted to haul errant thoughts about sexy males into a more useful channel.
If she wasn’t to spend her time figuring how she could jump the man behind her, how could she fill the days until she could leave?
This week had been busy and in some ways that had been a blessing. Yes, Babs needed her. She’d watched her aunt clench into herself as the pain of angina hit. She’d seen her fear, but she’d also seen the almost fierce determination to stay in control. To keep her precious independence for as long as she could. Until now, Gina had left the house each day, giving her privacy, and for Babs that seemed a blessing. She wanted Gina here, but she didn’t want her close.
So where did that leave Gina?
And the way she was feeling about Hugh... How could she back off?
She had to. She’d leave the island when Babs died. What else could she do? Stay, settle, wait for the next catastrophe?
It didn’t have to be a catastrophe, she told herself, and for a moment she let herself indulge in the fantasy of a future here. With Hugh?
With a man who was as damaged as she was, but whose method of dealing meant closing out the world rather than embracing it? Pigs might fly. Reaching out to the next adventure was the only safety she knew, the only security that didn’t scare her witless.
Hoppy ran forward and brushed her ankle with his nose—as if just checking. Behind she heard Hugh’s steady steps. The slight falter from his limp.
His limp wasn’t stopping him. The strength of him almost seemed an aura.
If she feigned a fall and said she’d hurt her ankle he’d be strong enough to carry her back to the truck, and she found herself smiling as she considered the temptation. To be carried in this man’s arms...
Um, not. She’d pretty much seduced him already, she told herself. She needed to leave him alone. That seemed to be what he wanted.
But then she thought...yeah, but was it what he needed?
She’d reacted calmly to his story, sensing he didn’t need her horror, but images kept playing in her mind. Hugh, doing what he thought right, and paying with a lifetime of remorese. Hugh, with all the time in the world to regret and regret and regret.
Which made her heart sort of...lurch.
This was one gorgeous man. He was an excellent doctor, he was skilled and kind, and if she’d been in the market for...
Stop, she told herself sharply. Don’t go there. She had no thoughts of trying to share his solitude.
But maybe, maybe she could help. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone—or whatever that analogy was.
They reached the truck, she climbed in and she made her decision.
‘I’ve decided to keep the clinic open,’ she said as he started the engine. Hoppy had leapt up onto her knee and she was hugging him—maybe to give her the courage for what she suspected might well be a response of wrath.
‘You’ve what?’
‘I know, it was only to be temporary until we cleared the backlog from the explosion, but Babs doesn’t need me...’
‘Babs does need you.’ And there it was, the hint of returning hostility.
‘She might need me, but she doesn’t want me,’ she told him. ‘She caught me looking at her last night and hit the roof. “What are you staring at?” she demanded. “Figuring how long it’ll take me to die so you can get out of here?” I was, in fact, figuring whether I’d have the courage to offer to cut her hair. I went ahead and offered, and she told me where I could put my haircut. “I’ll die with my hair the way it is,” she told me. “Who’ll be looking at me in the meantime? Not you, miss, leave me alone.”’
‘Ouch.’
‘Yeah, so I went into my bedroom and touched up my ballerinas,’ she told him. ‘But I can’t do that for ever. So I figure I’ll ring the guys on Gannet and tell them I’ll keep on working here, in the clinic, for as long as Babs doesn’t need me. Even if it’s only for a few weeks it’ll be a help. The locals tell me the once-a-week doctor’s visit from Gannet fixes the urgent stuff, but day-to-day stuff a competent nurse practitioner could deal with often doesn’t get done. Mind,’ she said, casting him a cautious glance, ‘a doctor on board would be great as well.’
‘Sandpiper doesn’t need a doctor.’ It was a growl.
‘You know it does. Marc, the guy I spoke to on Gannet, says there are all sorts of problems they can’t fix. It’s an elderly population. People are ill at home. Depression, minor ulcers, diabetes, leg cramps, niggles, things people think are too minor to get an appointment and wedge into a crammed once-a-week doctor’s visit. Until they escalate.’
‘So you’ll fix that?’
‘I can stop them escalating and I can refer to the weekly doctor if I can’t.’
‘Until you leave.’
‘It’s better than nothing,’ she said, defensively. ‘And who knows how much good I might do? Mind, a doctor on call would be so much better. It’s really hard that there’s no one.’
‘So what?’ he said, his anger obvious. ‘You’d haul me in even further than I am now? For how long? And then you’d leave, and I’d be stuck with expectations.’
‘Well,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘would that hurt? You have a great veggie patch, but how many veggies can one man eat?’
‘Gina...’
‘Yeah, I know, it’s none of my business,’ she said. ‘But it seems such a waste.’
‘Like you, wandering the world on cruise ships.’
‘Hey, I fix people.’
‘People who are putting themselves at risk. All you’re doing is enabling them.’
‘And having fun in the meantime,’ she threw at him. ‘How much fun are you having?’
Silence.
‘Well,’ she said at last. ‘I’m going to keep on running the clinic. You can do what you want.’
‘And if Babs gets sick while you’re on the other side of the island?’
She took a deep breath. ‘What choice do I have? Do you think either Babs or I could cope with me hanging around her house waiting for her to get worse?’
‘That’s an excuse.’
‘It’s not an excuse,’ she snapped. ‘But even if it was...you know what? I can head to the far side of the island with a clear conscience, because I know you’ll be here, brooding over your veggies. And I also know that one phone call and you’ll come, Dr Duncan. Because you care. I know you do.’
‘And if I help you, then I won’t be there for Babs.’
‘That’s an excuse and you know it. Babs isn’t counting on me, and I’m not counting on you. I’m talking about morning clinics only, and if you were around to help...’
‘I won’t be.’
‘Then end of discussion,’ she told him and folded her arms and then had to unfold them because that made Hoppy uncomfortable. The little dog squirmed and wriggled and reached up and licked her nose.
And it helped. She hugged Hoppy and the tension she was feeling eased.
‘Hey,’ she said, hauling herself together. She’d pushed where she had no business to push, and she needed to back off. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘That was out of line and it’s no big deal. I’m not trying to blackmail you into anything you don’t want. You sort problems your way and I’ll sort mine. I need people and work and fun to keep the demons at bay. If Hoppy and a veggie patch full of zucchinis do it for you, then so be it.’
‘I can’t stand zucchinis,’ he said tangentially, and she grinned.
‘Really? Then don’t go near ’em, Dr Duncan. Don’t go near anything that makes you fearful. And maybe,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘that might include me.’
CHAPTER NINE
HE WAS AWAKE on Monday morning feeling bad.
Blackmailed?
Conflicted.
This morning Gina would be heading across to the clinic to do what? There was no emergency work left.
But he knew there was a need. And he also knew there’d be people lined up to see her.
Because she’d done her homework.
The island had a social-media information feed. It showed basic stuff like tide times, community meetings, whale watching, anything the islanders needed to share. Yesterday there’d been a simple post, stating Gina’s qualifications and her willingness to see any minor problems. She’d added a disclaimer—her work was backed by the Gannet Medics, but her expertise was that of a nurse practitioner only. Also, the service she was operating was only temporary, available while she was visiting her aunt on the island.
Every islander would read it and understand. They’d also get the inference about being backed by the Gannet Medics. Her offer didn’t include him.
Because he was to be left in peace. To water his vegetables?
Gina would be busy; he had no doubt. Because of her association with Babs, she’d be considered enough of an islander to trust, and everyone had either seen or heard of the work she’d done last week. He’d done a decent stint in family medicine straight after his training, and he knew what sort of work she’d be getting. Mums worrying about babies, teenagers with teenage angst, farmers with stuff they considered too trivial to bother a doctor with, elderly islanders who just wanted to talk. Maybe there’d be underlying medical issues and maybe there wouldn’t be.
But she could deal, and she could point anything urgent to the visiting Gannet doctor.
Who came once a week, for half a day.
It wasn’t enough. Dammit, he knew it wasn’t. He knew she’d be uncovering problems that needed a doctor.
Until now islander problems would have stayed uncovered until they grew serious enough to need urgent care. Or people would struggle on alone.
There was a need.
But he didn’t want to be needed. To go down the medical path again...
It was as if there were a brick wall stopping him. One instant where his response to need had seen such tragedy...
‘Time to move on. Right, mate?’
Gina’s words were replaying in his head, and he couldn’t get rid of them. He headed out to the veggie garden and spent an hour or so taking his frustrations out on weeds. He had an online meeting with the administrators of the trust this morning. He could get the asparagus bed sorted and then head online.
He was doing good. The Trust was doing good, and this separation was what he needed. Doing what concerned him and blocking out everything else.
Ignoring the needs of the locals?
Blocking the fact that Gina was doing something he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t. Dammit,
it was fine for Gina, he thought savagely. She could play nurse and in a few weeks she’d pack up and leave without a backward glance. No long-term commitment at all.
Except she wouldn’t be playing nurse, he thought. She’d be being of use.
As opposed to him. Who needed perfectly weeded asparagus beds?
‘But if I go,’ he said, savagely, out loud, ‘there’ll be no way I can walk away after a few weeks. She’s using this to fill time, to stay out of Babs’s way until her aunt really does need her. What she’s doing is just a convenience.’
Except she cared.
And he knew that was true. He’d watched her during the last week. He hadn’t been able to fault her professional skills, and he’d been impressed with her empathy. Her kindness.
He thought of the expeditions she’d been on, and he thought the expeditioners would have been lucky to have her.
But surely they didn’t actually need her. It was their choice to put their safety on the line.
As it had been his choice, working in conflict zones?
He thought of the village where he’d been stationed before the explosion. The locals had been traumatised by years of fighting. He’d been attached to an international peace force, trying to sort an ongoing reconciliation.
They’d been successful, too, but not until after he’d left. Not until there’d been more deaths.
That last scene was still in his mind now, the peacefulness of that small village. The old woman coming towards him, tears in her eyes. Pleading.
The consequences...
Back away.
He rose and stretched, brushing the dirt from his hands. Hoppy was looking up at him, head cocked, enquiring. Troubled?
Because he’d been talking out loud?
A little dog with three legs. A dog who deserved to see his days out in this place of refuge, of peace, with a garden, a beach, sun on his face...
Yeah, but Hoppy had loved his day with Gina. He’d practically turned inside out with all the new smells, the picnic, the stuff going on.
Healing Her Brooding Island Hero Page 11
