The Marriage Gamble

by Meredith Webber

  ‘Did I?’

  Jacinta studied him a little longer, thinking not about her reply but how unusual it was to have someone noticing her frowns—perhaps caring how she felt.

  Her mother did, of course, but this was different.

  Very different.

  ‘I was thinking how hard it must be for a woman with young children to juggle them and hospital visits when her husband is ill. Wondering if Mrs Hemming has relatives who’ll help her.’

  ‘More lame ducks, Jacinta?’ Mike said, but his voice was soft, as if her caring had somehow touched him.

  ‘Those ones are definitely not my responsibility,’ she said, ‘though I do hope she has good support. She sounded quite cheerful, and apparently your specialist friend was very positive about good outcomes for patients where Legionaires’ disease is detected early.’

  ‘He’s a top man,’ Mike assured her, effectively ending the conversation.

  Jacinta turned her attention back to the menu.

  ‘Far too many choices,’ she said. ‘How can anyone possibly decide when there’s so much on offer?’

  Mike smiled at her and she knew he’d put a different twist on her words.

  ‘What do you like?’ he asked, so huskily she felt tremors in her knees.

  ‘In the way of food, I meant,’ he added, his eyes twinkling at her obvious confusion.

  ‘Small meals,’ Jacinta said, determined to take control of the situation. ‘I might have two entrées.’

  ‘An intriguing idea,’ Mike murmured, and the trembles worked their way down to her tingling toes, while the perfume in the air seemed to intensify, causing further chaos to her senses.

  ‘Stop right now!’ Jacinta told him. ‘There are so many reasons why we shouldn’t be considering a relationship, I don’t know why I said yes to dinner.’

  She gave him what she hoped was a stern look, then remembered and went on, ‘Actually, I do. You bribed me.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t have come otherwise?’

  She gave up on the menu and studied his face once again. Almost straight black brows above the silvery eyes, a nose that balanced the no-nonsense chin. Cheekbones so sharp they might have been cut by a sculptor’s knife, the lot enhanced by taut, lightly tanned skin.

  You skipped the lips, a voice whispered in her head.

  And shall continue to do so, she told it.

  A good-looking man, she mentally summed up, but not stunningly so—not so magnetic that women fell at his feet in droves. Though they probably did, but his money would help there.

  ‘Finished?’

  Mike saw her flush and wondered just what she’d been thinking. Jacinta’s dark eyes had scanned his face with the intensity of a skin specialist seeking out any lurking cancers.

  Was it because he couldn’t guess at her thoughts that he found her so intriguing?

  ‘I think I’ll have the Thai-style prawns first and then a small Tandoori pizza,’ she said, ignoring the other implications of the question, though her eyes told him she knew exactly what he’d meant.

  He found himself smiling again, a genuine, heartfelt smile because he was enjoying himself—enjoying the way the conversation ducked and weaved while the undertones of their unexpected attraction for each other coloured nearly every word.

  ‘Why did you expand? Go from hands-on medicine at Abbott Road to big business?’

  The waiter had taken their orders and departed, and Mike had been about to point out a full moon, rising slowly behind the houses across the river.

  So much for romance!

  But the question made him think back.

  ‘Had you always intended to open more than one?’ Jacinta prompted.

  ‘No,’ he said, because that was easy to answer. ‘When I started Abbott Road, I thought that’s where I’d stay. Chris Welsh came in with me almost from the beginning, and the practice was profitable for both of us. As it grew we had to take on someone else, and suddenly three doctors were making nearly twice as much as two because we didn’t have to increase office staff.’

  ‘So the spectre of great wealth to be made raised its tempting head?’

  Jacinta spoke lightly but Mike sensed disapproval in her voice—or maybe he imagined he did.

  ‘I guess so, though I didn’t ever consider “great wealth” a goal. A secure income was more important,’ he admitted. ‘And though so many people seem to think making money is immoral, providing one isn’t hurting anyone in doing it, surely it should be seen as admirable.’

  ‘Which it is,’ Jacinta agreed, and he peered suspiciously across the table at her.

  Jacinta Ford agreeing with him?

  Fearing hidden sarcasm in the remark, he found himself explaining.

  ‘All the clinics we set up were in new areas. There were no existing medical services so no one was put out of business. Forest Glen was different—it’s an older suburb but experiencing a lot of growth so the existing services couldn’t cope.’

  ‘I’m not criticising you, just wondering why the switch from medicine to business. Medicine’s not an easy profession to get into, given all the study required, and to give it up after that…I just wondered if perhaps you didn’t enjoy it. If you found it too limiting.’

  It was Mike’s turn to study her. Intent brown eyes fixed on his, the creamy skin and soft pink lips framed by the silky, shiny dark hair that fell so neatly—sweetly—down across her ears.

  ‘I’m sure I didn’t find it limiting. In fact, the time I’ve spent at Abbott Road has reminded me of how much I enjoyed hands-on medicine. But things just grew, and as the clinics expanded, the business needed someone to look ahead—to consider the options for further expansion.’

  He paused, wondering if she’d understand or if admitting the force which had driven him would put her off him for ever.

  Which wouldn’t be a bad idea, his conscience suggested. Given what you’ve yet to tell her.

  ‘You see, part of me had always wanted to establish a base of long-term financial security. Not so much for myself, but for Dad and for any children I might have. My father was a clever boy, topped his class at school, could have been anything, but the family wasn’t well off and he had to leave school early to help support them. He went into the mines, in the days when most miners worked underground and didn’t earn a lot of money. My mother died when I was two—

  ‘Two? How on earth did your father manage working with a two-year-old?’

  ‘His mother helped, and my mother’s mother, minding me when Dad was on shift, but when I was growing up it seemed as if he was always there. And his dream was for me to have the education he’d missed out on.’

  Mike saw Jacinta smile and cocked an eyebrow at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did he want you to have it for the sake of learning, Mike, or so you’d make a lot of money?’

  In spite of the smile, her voice was soft with understanding. Which, contrarily, made him feel worse, not better.

  ‘What is it with you?’ Mike demanded. ‘You have an uncanny knack of firing your sharp little arrows right through whatever weak defences I might have erected. Of course he wanted me to have the learning, but that didn’t stop me wanting to repay him—to make enough money so he’d be comfortable for the rest of his life.’

  ‘I can understand that,’ Jacinta assured. ‘And is he?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ Mike told her. ‘He was injured in a mine accident while I was still at university, and lost the use of his legs, but during a long stay in hospital and an even longer convalescence he became a voracious reader. Something he hadn’t had time to do before. Now, as long as I keep up my library stocks, he’s happy.’

  Mine accident! Mike had said the words so calmly, but Jacinta could imagine the churning terror that must have struck the young student Mike had been. She’d seen the scenes on television—desperate family members clustered by the top of a shaft, not knowing what the rescuers might find. She could picture Mike there, unable to help, imagining
the death of his sole parent. Then rescue, and again the waiting, this time for a verdict—life or death—and finally the reality of the man who’d done so much for him coming through it all, but no longer the strong and active one in their relationship.

  She reached out and took his hand, and brushed her thumb across the backs of his fingers.

  ‘I’d have wanted to give him the world,’ she said softly, as this revealing insight into the man she’d labelled a materialistic entrepreneur made her feel closer to the person behind the legend.

  The arrival of their first courses brought the revelations—and the hand-holding—to an end, but Jacinta felt as if Mike, in revealing this sketchy fragment of his past, had bestowed a gift on her.

  And in doing so had shifted the parameters of their relationship.

  Her head got into the act again, telling her such thinking was fanciful nonsense, then the subtle but delicious flavours of the food demanded more attention and she gave herself over to the sensory delights of eating.

  ‘Enjoying it?’

  Mike’s smiling comment reminded her of his presence—though she hadn’t totally forgotten him.

  ‘Very much so,’ she said. ‘I love food. No doubt I’ll end up the size of a house—a small house—if I ever stop working, and having to run around frantically when I’m not working, to catch up with my life.’

  ‘And people label me a workaholic!’ he teased. He seemed about to add more when a muted sound made him reach for his pocket and extract his mobile.

  He held it to his ear, and his eyes flicked towards Jacinta.

  ‘Yes, she’s here. I’ll put her on.’

  The thoracic specialist she’d spoken to earlier explained that Pat’s urine test had been positive for Legionnaires’ disease. Although that was a quick early way of getting a positive diagnosis, further tests would be needed for one hundred per cent identification.

  ‘We’re looking at your other patient now, but I wanted to thank you and also ask you to alert the other doctors in your practice to the situation. If they’ve any doubts about any patient, please, refer them to me. I’ve contacted the Health Department and they’ll test the building’s air-conditioning. In fact, someone’s probably onto it already.’

  Jacinta thanked him for phoning, but he insisted it was he who was thankful.

  ‘We should get together,’ he added. ‘Get Mike to bring you around some time.’

  It was a simple remark, and didn’t mean the specialist was thinking of Jacinta as anything other than one of Mike’s colleagues, but the warmth she’d felt earlier—the belonging she’d felt with her hand in his—dissipated. She doubted whether she’d be in his life long enough to be introduced to his friends, and if she was—if such a thing did happen—wouldn’t the inevitable parting be even harder?

  ‘Was it bad news?’ Mike asked as she passed the phone back to him.

  ‘No,’ she said honestly. It had been her decision to have dinner with him, not the news, which had been bad. ‘At least now someone’s doing something before more people are affected.’

  ‘So you should look happy. After all, you began the alert.’

  She tried a smile but felt it wobble on her lips.

  ‘Yes, I should, shouldn’t I?’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘THERE’S a path down to the river if you’d like a short walk,’ Mike said, when Jacinta had refused coffee and he’d paid the bill. ‘Libby found it last time we were here.’

  Mike took her hand and led her through the dining room and out a door. The setting, and the scene before her, especially now the moon had got into the act, was so romantic it was easy to imagine they were the only two people in the world. Yet doubt and sadness, in equal measure, had wormed their way into Jacinta’s heart.

  He’d told her about his father, mentioned his daughter often in his conversation, yet even if she became more involved with him she’d never be part of these people’s lives. And now she knew a little of his history, she could understand his unwillingness to risk his father’s security.

  Honestly, Jacinta, her head muttered at her. You’ve known the man less than a fortnight and you’re worrying because a relationship with him might be short term. And you talked to him about expecting relationships to fail! Take a hint from the river—go with the flow, enjoy whatever you can get out of it then move on.

  But her heart knew it wasn’t that easy. Time made no difference. What she felt for Mike had already gone beyond physical attraction.

  ‘Figured it out yet?’ he asked, the huskiness of his voice causing the goose-bumps to pucker her skin.

  ‘No,’ she answered honestly, wondering if she was always so transparent or if Mike saw things others didn’t see.

  ‘Maybe a kiss will help,’ he suggested, guiding her into a fern-shaded grotto by the river.

  A kiss will seal my fate, she thought, then wondered if it was a quotation she’d heard or read somewhere as it seemed an unlikely thought to be having.

  But while her head puzzled over its own words, her body was revelling in the way Mike’s hands brushed across her skin, the way his fingers lingered in specific spots—beneath her ear, above the pulse in her wrist.

  His touch was priming her for what was coming, and she let him touch her. Her nerves and sinews tightened in expectation, her mouth felt dry and pebbled nipples brushed against the confines of her bra.

  So when he finally gathered her close and pressed his lips to hers, she responded with all the fire he’d built inside her and gave herself up to the multitude of sensations just kissing him provoked.

  ‘I think this grotto is an even worse place than an examination table to be making love to you,’ he muttered when, this time, she disengaged her lips and moved far enough apart to draw in some much-needed air.

  ‘Are you busy this weekend? Painting walls somewhere?’

  Jacinta knew what he was asking, but the kiss had, as promised, already sealed her fate.

  ‘I’m working Saturday morning and, no, being the boss doesn’t mean you can change my duty hours. But after that…’

  She should be out at the new house, helping the kids, volunteers and the new house-parents set it up for the big opening. They’d barely started on the gardens. Or she should be catching up with her mother, whom she’d seen more at meetings than at home lately. Or—

  ‘Then I’ll pick you up after work and we’ll go up the coast. Or would you prefer the mountains—one of those cabins in the hills, where the owners provide hampers of food and perfect privacy? Name the place you’d like to go.’

  Jacinta felt his words surge over her like a tidal wave, tossing and tumbling her until decision-making was impossible.

  ‘You decide,’ she managed to say, before he kissed her to seal the agreement.

  In the cool light of day, the idea was, of course, ridiculous. Jacinta arrived at work wondering if Mike’s promise that she’d always be able to contact him held true. She’d find out when she phoned him later—in the first break between patients.

  Or maybe at lunchtime, though he could have a business lunch so not be available.

  She worked her way through the usual stream of minor illnesses, injuries and assorted pain, and between patients argued ceaselessly with herself.

  ‘Without an X-ray it’s impossible to tell how badly affected the joint is, Mrs Nevin,’ she said. ‘X-rays these days aren’t harmful, and as you’re on a pension you can have it done at the radiology clinic for nothing.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m on a pension, young lady?’

  Mrs Nevin’s querulous demand startled Jacinta.

  ‘Aren’t you on a pension?’ she asked, looking more intently at the elderly woman, clad in threadbare rags and, as usual, clutching an armful of plastic bags bulging with an assortment of equally threadbare garments.

  ‘I wouldn’t take money from the government if they paid me to!’

  Pale blue eyes darted fire at Jacinta, daring her to ask more.

  A dare she
set aside for the moment.

  ‘If you’re not on a pension, you can have a free X-ray at the hospital,’ she suggested.

  ‘I don’t need a free anything, young lady, so don’t patronise me! I can pay for an X-ray if I want one, but I don’t. Nasty things, those X-rays. They do more damage to your insides than you doctors let on. If God had meant us to know what was going on in our bodies, he’d have given us transparent skin, now, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘I guess so.’ Jacinta found herself agreeing, though weakly. Transparent skin? The image it threw up was horrifying!

  ‘But,’ she said, rallying again, ‘you could get rid of the pain in your hip for ever with a hip replacement. Wouldn’t it be worth having an X-ray to see if it would be an appropriate treatment?’

  ‘Have someone else’s hip in my body? No thank you!’

  Jacinta wondered just how badly she’d muffed the beginning of this consultation to have Mrs Nevin thinking this way. She sorted through a drawer, found a picture of a metal hip prosthesis and began again, explaining hip-replacement options to her patient.

  ‘I’d rather have the pain,’ Mrs Nevin told her. ‘If you could just make my tablets a bit stronger, then it wouldn’t be so bad.’

  She struggled to her feet, collected up her plastic bags and prepared to leave, but every time she moved Jacinta saw the wince of pain imperfectly concealed.

  ‘Here’s a prescription for a different type of anti-inflammatory tablet that might help with the pain.’ She handed the slip of paper to Mrs Nevin. ‘Sometimes changing tablets works for a while. But, please, come back and see me soon. We’ll talk again about what can be done.’

  Mrs Nevin shot her a doubtful look, as if by even mentioning hip replacement Jacinta had somehow let her down.

  She opened the door to let her patient out, and realised she wouldn’t need to phone Mike. He was there, over by the reception desk, chatting to Carmel as if he popped in every day.

  He nodded to Jacinta then, as she pulled the next patient card from the box and was about to call the patient’s name—at least she’d achieved something this week—he held up his hand, said something to Carmel and crossed the distance between the reception area and Jacinta’s consulting room with long, sure, determined strides.