‘Oh, hell…’
There was a sudden howl from the crowd. A tackle had brought one of the forwards down, and the injured player was clutching his knee in agony out on the field.
Mike sighed and dragged his attention from Tess. ‘Well, there goes my quiet time,’ he said with resignation. ‘I’ll leave you to your friends, Dr Westcott.’
‘Hey, I’m coming too.’ She slid off the car and tucked her arm into his. ‘I’m your partner, OK?’ Her smile widened. ‘I’ve always dreamed of running onto the field as team doctor. It’s one of my career goals. Like at the movies when they interrupt with, “Is there a doctor in the house?”.’ They did it all the time before I graduated, but never since.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not running onto any ground,’ he told her firmly, watching as the trainers raced over to the injured player with a stretcher at the ready.
‘I’ll only go if they yell that he’s stopped breathing. Even then I’ll wait until he turns blue. The players here have a nasty habit of getting on with the game, regardless. The only thing they ever stop for is Strop and that’s because he eats the ball. It took me months to teach him the pie tent was a better place to hang out than the centre of the playing field.’
‘You’re kidding.’ Tessa’s face creased in laughter. ‘It’s not a good doctor image-to have a ball-eating dog.’
‘No,’ Mike said darkly. ‘If I had my time again…’
‘You’d have him put down?’
‘Well…’
Tess chuckled and tucked her arm tighter in his. ‘Yeah, I know. Tough he-man Dr Llewellyn-with the squishy edges. So we’re not running out on the ground?’
‘Last time I went onto the ground I got hit in the face with the ball.’ Mike was incredibly aware of her proprietary arm. It made him feel as if every nerve in his body were alight-but, then, it’d seem churlish to haul it away. ‘The player only had a bruised knee, but I copped a bloody nose and a black eye,’ he managed. ‘They had to help me off!’
‘It’s not a good professional look.’ Tessa chuckled. She walked easily beside him, her arm still tucked in his. ‘So where do we do our doctoring?’ she asked.
‘The red tent. The player who’s coming off is wearing red for Bellanor North.’
‘Oh. Right. I’ll remember that.’
She would, too, he thought. Tessa’s quick, intelligent mind was busy tucking in item after item of what she’d term useful information. You wouldn’t need to tell her anything twice.
‘I don’t think you’re supposed to come into the training tent,’ he said faintly. ‘The rules are rigid. Women aren’t allowed.’
‘Oh, pooh,’ she said blithely. ‘I’m not a woman here, Dr Llewellyn. I’m a doctor.’ And she glanced up at him sideways and twinkled. ‘Do you reckon that’s something you can remember? It seems to me that it’s really important.’
And what the hell was he to make of that?
Jason Keeling was clutching his leg in agony. By the time they reached him, the trainers had deposited him on the bench and were looking down helplessly. Jason wasn’t letting them near his leg. He was curled almost into a foetal position, hanging onto his leg for dear life and swearing as if his life depended on it.
‘OK, Jason, let’s have a look,’ Mike said, bending over him and trying to see.
Jason didn’t look up. He was whimpering in pain and the swearing didn’t ease one bit.
‘Hey, I don’t know half those words.’
It was Tess. Of course it was Tess. She stood back from Jason and regarded him with frank admiration, and Jason was so stunned to hear a woman in the training room that momentarily he forgot to swear. He looked up from his leg and uncurled a bit.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded.
‘I’m one half of the Bellanor medical team,’ she said blithely. ‘The better half. Show us your leg, Jason.’
And Jason was so flabbergasted that his hands fell away from his leg. Mike was in there before he could put them back, holding his leg and gently easing it to an extended position.
‘Fancy this happening just as you were winning,’ Tess said sympathetically. She perched on the end of the bench and put a sympathetic hand on his cheek. Mike could only bless her. For all Jason Keeling was six feet six inches of pure beef, he was a real wimp when it came to pain. Now, though, Tess had his full attention and Mike could run his hands carefully over the injured limb.
He couldn’t feel a break…
‘What do you mean-one half of the Bellanor medical team?’ Jason demanded. The team trainers were staring at Tess as if she’d just flown in from Mars, and so was Jason. Mike might just as well not have been present.
‘I’m a doctor.’ She chuckled as she glanced around at the men’s astounded expressions. ‘Believe it or not, that’s what I am. Mike said I might have to prove my qualifications or you’ll throw me out of the training tent.’
‘You can stay in any training tent you want, miss,’ one of the trainers breathed. ‘And I’ll personally chuck out anyone who says different.’
‘That’s really nice of you.’ Tessa’s eyes danced as she twisted to look down at the injured leg. Still her hand rested on Jason’s face. She was sitting so close to him that her crazy yellow jacket was brushing his body, and Jason was clearly completely thrown by the sensation. ‘What’s the damage, Dr Llewellyn?’ she asked. ‘Do you think we need to amputate? Do I get to hold him down while you chop it off?’
‘I reckon we might manage without amputation.’ Mike grinned in return. To examine Jason when he was in pain was usually a nightmare, but she had Jason absolutely silenced. Now she shifted from the bench to support Jason’s leg as Mike carefully ran his hands from the knee down. He watched Jason’s face as he did, but Jason didn’t utter a whimper. ‘What happened, Jason?’
‘I was running,’ Jason muttered. ‘I just felt something…like a bang. Like something snapped.’ Jason’s eyes were still on Tessa, fascinated.
Mike nodded, moving to feel above the ankle. His suspicions were being confirmed here. There was a definite notching.
‘Can you move your ankle, Jason? Will your toes lift?’
Jason stared wildly from Tessa to Mike, trying to collect his wits. It was as if he was having trouble remembering he had a leg at all. Tessa’s pompoms and her gorgeous red hair had him in thrall. Finally he shook his head. ‘Nah…’ Then his face creased again as he remembered his wimpishness and he remembered his pain.
‘I reckon we might get some morphine on board,’ Mike told him hastily. ‘That’ll ease the pain.’
‘But what’s wrong? What’s wrong?’
‘I think you’ve torn your Achilles tendon. It’s hard to say whether it’s a complete tear or not without a fuller examination, but that’s what it feels like.’
‘Aw, hell…’
‘Hey, it beats a compound fracture,’ Tessa told him. Mike was settling the leg back on the bench. Tessa turned to touch Jason lightly again on the face, and Jason stared up at her in stupefaction. ‘It’s not much better, I guess,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but a little.’
‘But it’ll mean I miss the rest of the season,’ Jason wailed. ‘I’ll have to stay on the sidelines and watch…’
‘Like me,’ Tessa said cheerfully. ‘I know nothing about this game. Back home in the States, I love football. Here, though, it sure looks different. I need someone who knows it inside out to teach me what’s happening. You look like just the man-that is, if you don’t mind me barracking for Jancourt.’
‘Jancourt…’ Jason lay back on the bench and stared up at her in stupefaction. ‘Jancourt. Why the hell are you barracking for Jancourt?’
‘Dr Llewellyn said I should,’ Tessa said blithely. ‘And he’s my boss now. It’s always wise to do what your boss says-don’t you think?’
‘Yeah. Right.’ Jason couldn’t think of a single thing more to say.
And neither could Mike.
There was only one m
ore medical case for the afternoon-a bruised hamstring muscle that could be left safely in the hands of the trainers-so they got to watch most of the game. Jason was sent to the hospital. He’d need to be checked later and the leg properly X-rayed and examined, but before that the nurses could clean away the worst of the mud and his family could fuss and generally settle him down. There wasn’t much more to be done in the short term.
‘What if it’s a complete tear?’ Tessa asked as they sat on the trainers’ seats and watched the Bellanor North players storm their way to victory.
‘We’ll send him to Melbourne.’
‘There’s no one closer to do orthopaedic surgery?’ If the Achilles tendon was completely separated then it would have to be surgically joined. A partial tear would heal itself, given several weeks’ immobilisation in plaster, but a full tear wasn’t quite as easy.
‘I could do it,’ Mike said heavily. He was feeling really odd, sitting beside this girl. She was acting as if they’d known each other for ever-as if they were partners in every sense of the word. And yet…
Hell, he felt strange.
‘You’ve done surgical training?’ she asked.
‘I trained for this job,’ he told her. ‘I knew I’d be isolated when I came to work here so I got myself training in everything I could get my hands on. There’s not a lot of emergency medicine I can’t do, but I’ve found it’s not a lot of use if I don’t have an anaesthetist.’
‘I can give an anaesthetic.’
‘You…’
‘Now don’t say it like I’m a porriwiggle,’ she begged. ‘The fact that I’m American doesn’t mean I’m low-life. I’m not even wearing a cheese hat.’ She swung her head to prove it, and her crazy purple pompoms bounced.
She wouldn’t need to give an anaesthetic, Mike thought. She only had to wiggle her pompoms and she had a man mesmerised. She could do anything she wanted…
‘Look, it doesn’t matter whether you can give an anaesthetic or not,’ he managed. ‘You’re not registered. You can’t.’
‘But Maureen says she’ll swing my registration within twenty-four hours from the medical board opening for business on Monday. Jason’s surgery’s not urgent. We could do it Tuesday.’
‘What sort of anaesthetic work have you done?’ he asked. Hell, he was fascinated. He was trying to listen-not watch.
‘General.’ Once more, the pompom waggled. ‘I told you, I’ve always fancied the idea of moving to the country. I was thinking I might do ER in a smaller country hospital so I figured anaesthetics-you know, intubation and pain relief and the rest-might give me an edge.
‘Then I sort of changed my mind. I wanted kids and dogs and prostates instead of car smashes and drug overdoses. But I’ve done a solid basic training in anaesthetics. I’m not volunteering to give the anaesthetic for open heart surgery here, but I can certainly give a healthy hunk of beef like Jason a guaranteed sleep.’
Mike fell silent. He stared out over the football ground, his mind racing. What on earth…? An anaesthetist, right on his patch…
‘Look, I’m not asking you to take me on trust here,’ Tessa said, mistaking his expression. ‘Ring my ex-boss on Monday and run through my credentials with him. Don’t take me at face value. I wouldn’t myself.’ Then she grimaced as the phone on Mike’s belt rang. ‘Ugh.’
That was what Mike felt. He didn’t want more work now. Or did he? Maybe he did need an excuse to leave and think things through.
The game was just coming to an end. The siren blared and the field erupted into red and black madness. A hundred car horns hooted. Mike turned away and covered his exposed ear while he talked into the phone.
By the time he’d finished, Tessa was clapping the jubilant players off the field, for all the world as if it was grand final day, she totally understood the game she’d been watching and she’d been supporting these players for years. To Mike’s bemusement, when the losing side ran off the field she greeted them with just the same enthusiasm.
As Mike came up behind her, she turned and grinned at him.
‘OK. I’ve clapped till my hands are sore. Was that another call? Do we need to go?’
‘I need to go.’ It wasn’t that he didn’t want Tessa beside him, he thought. He figured it was just that he needed to get away for a while. He badly needed time to think. ‘Stan Harper’s a sixty-year-old farmer who lives out the other side of Jancourt,’ he told her. ‘He rang to say he’s having chest pain.’
‘Yeah?’ Her smile faded. ‘Heart?’
‘In a way.’ He smiled a trifle bleakly and shook his head. ‘Stan’s wife died six months ago. Since then he gets chest pain every few weeks or so, and he panics. I’ve run the gamut of tests on him and there’s nothing wrong.’
‘But you’ll go anyway.’ Tessa’s face softened.
‘Yeah, well…’ He could get Stan to drive himself in to the hospital. It’d be safe enough. But he knew what Stan really wanted.
Stan wanted Mike to care about him a bit-to fuss like his Cathy had and to tell him he wasn’t alone in the world. He wanted someone to share a beer and stare at a few cows and talk about the outcome of a football match that Stan wasn’t ready to face without Cathy.
‘Yeah, I’ll go, but I do need to go by myself. Sorry.’ He bit his lip at the sound of the words. He sounded surly.
How else was he supposed to sound? He didn’t know. He needed to figure out some way to get things on a solid, sensible footing here, he decided. Maybe he needed to talk to this girl for a while. Yeah. That was it. He needed to know all about her medical training, and he needed to know soon, before he made a decision about sending Jason away for surgery.
‘Tess, I should be back in town by about seven,’ he said slowly, thinking his mental diary through. He wasn’t expected at the shire ball until nine. There was time to talk first, especially if they did it over a meal. ‘There’s some steak in my refrigerator. I’m going out to the shire ball later but, well, we could eat first. Talk about things…’
‘I’d love that.’ She beamed and the thing was settled before he had a chance to say another word-or before he had a chance to decide whether he was totally stupid or not.
‘I’ll meet you in your apartment at seven,’ she said. ‘Unless you need me beforehand. Meanwhile, I’ll stay here and celebrate or commiserate, and then I’ll go and sit with Grandpa a while. But I’ll be there at seven, Mike. Steak sounds fantastic.’
Hell! He felt like he was being steamrollered here, but there was little he could do about it. And maybe…maybe it was what he wanted. ‘I just…need to collect Strop,’ he said weakly. ‘He’s over at the pie tent.’
‘Of course he’s over at the pie tent.’ Tess grinned. ‘I should have known Strop would be here and where Strop would be while he was here. Don’t worry about him. I’ll take him home.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. It would be my very great pleasure to take care of your dog, Dr Llewellyn.’
And, as he moved away, Mike swore he heard a faint echo.
‘And it would be my very great pleasure to take care of you.’
Surely he must have been mistaken!
As he’d thought, there was nothing the matter with Stan Harper.
Mike gave him a thorough once-over, but his vital signs were all just as a healthy sixty-year-old’s should be. Stan accepted the verdict with resignation-hell, it was almost as if the man wanted a heart attack-and poured him a beer. They went out to sit on the back verandah to drink it in what was almost becoming a ritual.
‘I missed you at the game,’ Mike told him, staring out over the mountains at the setting sun. ‘Your team lost. They don’t play the same without you holding up the bar and cheering for them.’
‘Or Cathy hooting for all she’s worth in the car,’ Stan said morosely. ‘I know we never stayed together at the footy, but she was always there. I don’t know, Doc. It doesn’t seem the same without her. Nothing’s the same.’
There was nothing to
say to that. Mike took a swig of beer and stared some more out over the paddocks. This was all he could do for this man. To be here. To be a mate.
‘Why the hell don’t you get married?’ Stan demanded suddenly. He filled his glass again and turned his attention full on Mike. ‘A man’s a fool if he doesn’t get married.’
‘Everyone’s different.’
‘Yeah, but you’re not a natural loner. You could do with a good woman.’ Stan eyed Mike with speculation in his eyes. ‘Your mum was a bonzer woman.’
‘Maybe that’s why I don’t get married,’ Mike said uneasily. ‘No one measures up.’
‘There’s good women around. Your mum. My Cathy. You just gotta look.’ Stan frowned into his glass, deep in thought.
At one level Mike welcomed this conversation. It made him uncomfortable, but at least Stan was thinking about something other than his misery.
‘What about this new lady doctor?’ Stan said, and all of a sudden the conversation was totally unwelcome.
‘What about her?’
‘They say she’s a knockout.’
Mike thought of the purple pompoms and could only agree.
‘How about it, Doc?’ Stan demanded. ‘Are you interested?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m too busy to be thinking about a love life.’
‘Then think about this girl instead,’ Stan said warmly. ‘Not a love life. A future. A lady doctor as a wife… That’d mean half the workload and someone warm beside you in bed at night. A man’d be a fool to look a gift horse like that in the mouth.’
‘Yeah. A man’d be a fool.’
A man was a fool anyway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MIKE was late for dinner, but Tess didn’t wait for him. He arrived back at the hospital to find Tess had taken dinner into her own hands. He opened his apartment door, and there she was.
‘What are you doing here?’ He stopped dead at the door, his nose wrinkling in automatic appreciation of the smells wafting toward him.
‘You asked me to dinner-remember?’ She glanced at her wrist. ‘Half an hour ago. Strop and I had the choice of sitting on the doorstep and looking bereft, or taking some action. And looking bereft isn’t our style.’
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