The Road to Hope

by Rachael Johns

  Hannah summoned one of the duty nurses to take the samples from their patient. They took the usual bloods and a urine sample and did an ECG.

  ‘Looks like a UTI,’ a nurse informed them, as she held up the dipstick for them to examine. ‘Antibiotics?’

  He nodded. ‘We’ll prescribe her something to take home. I get the feeling we’d need a police guard to keep her here.’

  The nurse giggled. She had a pretty face, but was nothing on Lauren.

  He discussed the results of the tests with Hannah, and then followed her into the corridor to discuss the situation with Mrs Quartermaine’s family. The other woman in the treatment room turned out to be Karina, Mrs Quartermaine’s daughter-in-law and the mother of the groom. Hannah introduced Tom to everyone including the bride, Ellie—that was her real name—groom, Flynn and his sister, Lucy. She looked pale and anaemic but it could have just been worry. In their fancy clothes, the Quartermaines were the only people in the small waiting room and Tom found himself distractedly looking out through the glass automatic doors into the car park. But there was no sign of Lauren. She’d be long gone of course.

  It seemed odd she hadn’t introduced herself—they were going to be living together, after all—but then again, she’d been focused on the patient as any good nurse would be.

  ‘Thanks so much, Tom. It’s great to meet you.’

  Tom came out of his reverie to see Flynn’s hand outstretched towards him. He shook it warmly. ‘And you too. Congratulations to you both on your special day.’

  ‘You know, you should come to the reception,’ Ellie suggested, grinning at her new husband for support.

  ‘Yes. You should.’ Flynn nodded. ‘It’ll be a great opportunity for you to meet the locals—well, a damn lot of them—and dinner will be our way of saying thanks for looking after Gran.’

  And nurse Lauren would be there.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to accept the invitation when Dr Bates answered for him.

  ‘Unfortunately, Tom’s busy with me today.’ She offered an apologetic smile to the newlyweds. ‘I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning and we need to make sure he knows all about our practice procedures and the hospital patients.’

  Tom swallowed his disappointment. ‘Yeah, but thanks for the offer,’ he said. ‘I hope you all have an awesome night.’

  ‘Thank you. We will.’ Ellie smiled and leaned into Flynn. Her white dress contrasted with his dark suit, reminding Tom of chess pieces.

  Flynn’s mum convinced the newlyweds to go and start their bridal party photos and they left, punctuating their walk across the car park with a number of stolen kisses.

  While Hannah went through Mrs Quartermaine’s care plan with Karina, Tom returned to the treatment room to organise the medicine and help the nurses ready her to leave.

  ‘How’s my favourite patient?’ he asked, striding across to where she was once again sitting in the wheelchair.

  Mrs Quartermaine snorted but her eyes smiled. ‘I’ll be good once I’m out of here. No offence, Doctor, but when you get past a certain age, hospitals make you nervous.’ She leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice. ‘My last two friends who came here for a “short” visit left in a hearse.’

  ‘My professional opinion is you’re a long way from a hearse, Mrs Quartermaine.’ He smiled as he grabbed the wheelchair’s handles and began pushing her towards the door.

  ‘Please, call me Hilda. Awful name but that’s the one my uninventive mother—God rest her soul—gave me. I think we’re going to be friends, Tom, and that means you must come out to Black Stump for a Sunday roast.’

  ‘That sounds like an offer too good to refuse. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal for almost two months.’

  One of the agency nurses held the door open. Hannah and Karina were still engrossed in conversation in the corridor. The words Paris, Christmas and Eiffel Tower wafted towards him, indicating they’d moved on to discussing Hannah’s travel plans.

  ‘Come along Karina.’ Hilda looked up at her daughter-in-law. ‘There’s champagne waiting for me.’

  Karina rolled her eyes, hitched her bag up on her shoulder and started towards the entrance. The three of them settled the elderly woman in the car and then Tom and Hannah stood in the car park until they were out of sight.

  ‘She’s a character that one,’ Hannah said with a laugh. ‘Now, let’s go inside and get a cuppa. Then I’ll introduce you to our residents in the nursing home wing. I hope you don’t mind missing the wedding reception, but I probably did you a favour.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said as they began back towards the hospital.

  ‘It’s just that social occasions can get difficult in small towns,’ she elaborated. ‘I advise you to keep a bit of distance from the community, or you’ll find everyone taking advantage of your position. Either the folks at the wedding will be trying to matchmake you with the region’s single girls or you’ll have every man and their dog coming up and presenting their medical woes. I’m sure you know what I mean.’

  He chuckled. Being match-made with single girls didn’t sound like a huge hardship. ‘Of course. I have a similar experience every time I attend one of my nieces’ birthday parties. The moment someone finds out I’m a doctor, the mums are lining up to talk to me about their children’s ailments.’

  Truth was he didn’t actually mind those kinds of questions—people meant no harm—and there wasn’t any risk of him making attachments, not anymore.

  ‘Good.’ Hannah nodded. ‘I’m glad we’re on the same page.’

  He spent the next couple of hours going through paperwork with Hannah and meeting the elderly people in the nursing home, which was attached to the hospital and usually held the majority of the patients. During his time in Hope Junction, in addition to his work at the medical surgery down the street, these patients would also be in his care. There were four permanent residents and Hannah gave a rundown of each one, very few flattering. By the time they’d finished, it was late afternoon and she offered to give him a tour of the town. He declined, preferring to find his own way and form his own opinions as he went.

  ‘You have a great holiday,’ Tom said when they parted ways in the car park. ‘I’ll expect postcards.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll get them. And you’ve got my email, so please don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any questions or problems.’

  ‘I will, but there won’t be. Enjoy yourself.’

  Tom felt almost like a kid set free from his parents for the first time as he walked across the car park to his ute. He ran a hand along the top of the door as he opened it, smiling at the beast he’d bought only a couple of months ago when he’d decided that travel was what the doctor ordered. He’d always wanted to travel around Australia and this seemed as good a way as any. Just himself, this beautiful vintage Holden ute, a surfboard in the back for those times his journey took him near the coast, and the open road. Rural Australia had lots of long stretches of highway, perfect for contemplation, and an extreme need for locum doctors. He and it were a match made in heaven.

  When his world had first tipped on its axis, he didn’t think he’d want excess time to think, but after months of his family and ex-fiancée pushing him to talk about it, solo time had become appealing. Thinking of his sisters and mother, he slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind him. He owed them a phone call, but decided it could wait.

  Having arrived in town later than expected, he hadn’t had time to stop by the house before meeting Dr Bates and he was keen to unload his things and have a shower. Despite this need, he couldn’t resist a quick drive around Hope Junction first. The main street was almost deserted, something he’d come to expect on Saturday afternoons and Sundays in the small towns he’d been working in. People in the city needed shops open 24/7 but country folks were more resourceful. They managed to get their groceries during specified hours and do more important things with their nights and weekends. He respected that.

  As h
e drove, he made a mental map of the town—the position of the supermarket, the post office, the two pubs and the swimming pool, where he noted there was an early morning session for lap swimmers. Although it was no substitute for the sea, he’d make it a priority to get down there as often as possible. Exercise wasn’t only good for the body; it was also tonic for the mind.

  With that thought, he picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages for the one that held the address and direction to his lodgings. Lauren would still be at the wedding, but Frank had told him there was a spare key under a ceramic frog on the front verandah if no one was home. He smiled. How very, very country.

  Chapter Three

  ‘Are you sure I can’t get you a drink?’

  ‘No thanks. I’m fine.’ Lauren smiled through her teeth at the man speaking to her. He’d introduced himself as Dwayne Wright, Ellie’s agent all the way from the eastern states. Judging by the gold band on his ring finger, she was pretty sure the guy was married. But even if he didn’t have hair greased back to rival The Fonz—with none of the sex appeal to go along with it—and even if he were single, her answer would still have been the same.

  Finally defeated, the man retreated back towards the dance floor, sloshing his glass of beer all over the floor and his expensive Italian shoes as he went. He didn’t appear to notice, instead turning his attentions on Lucy Quartermaine, whose teenage boyfriend, Sam, wouldn’t hesitate to take the older man on.

  Sighing, Lauren shifted on her stool and took a sip of sparkling mineral water as she gazed out at the happy revellers. She should probably vacate her spot at the bar if she wished to stop being harassed by half-toasted male wedding guests, but it provided the perfect vantage point. There were plenty of other single women at the reception, but none of them had her reputation.

  The speeches were done. Why couldn’t Flynn and Ellie just cut the cake and be gone? Then Lauren could leave too. Her gaze drifted across the new Distillery restaurant and settled on old Mrs Quartermaine, who was watching the shenanigans from a chair on the edge of the dance floor. Her face aglow with a broad smile, she was slapping her hand on her knee in time with the lively country music. Hannah had called earlier and told Lauren their patient had a UTI, but she didn’t appear to be letting that spoil her fun.

  Watching Hilda Quartermaine made Lauren think about the new doctor, Tom Lewis. Just the memory of him made every organ in her body flutter. And that made her cranky. He’d been a prominent player in her mind all evening. She kept glancing at the entrance as if expecting—hoping—for him to walk through, but of course there was no reason for him to.

  She’d seen the way he looked at her at the hospital, his eyes hot and mischievous, and felt certain that if she played her cards right, they’d end up in bed. But they weren’t the cards she wanted to play anymore. The only good thing was that thoughts of Tom distracted her from the hurt of seeing Flynn with Ellie.

  ‘Hi honey, great wedding, hey?’ Whitney landed on the stool beside her and slipped off her heels. She leaned down to rub the arches of her feet. ‘I must be getting old. It’s not even midnight and already I’m dreaming of bed.’

  Lauren simply smiled.

  ‘I saw that Dwayne guy coming onto you.’ Whitney wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. ‘Not interested?’

  Lauren’s smile morphed into a thin line but she gritted her teeth. Whitney didn’t mean anything by it, but the fact that her best friend thought she’d fall into bed with any guy who asked her showed Lauren just how dire her situation had become. Didn’t people think she had any standards? Any self-respect? Time to change the subject. ‘I see you’re not drinking tonight. Do I take it that means you’ve hit the jackpot?’

  Rats and Whitney had been trying for a baby for almost a year. Whitney had been a little anxious about the possibility of altering her wedding dress to fit a burgeoning bump, but that had proved an empty worry. Apparently they’d been doing it like they do on the Discovery Channel, but still no conception had occurred. And now they were a few months post nuptials.

  The light left Whitney’s eyes and she shook her head. ‘Nope. Still trying. I’m mid cycle so not drinking just in case. If it doesn’t happen this time, we’re considering IVF, but it’s so damn expensive and Rats’ folks pay us practically nothing for all the work he does on the farm.’

  Lauren patted her friend’s hand. ‘I’m sure it’ll happen.’ As a nurse she’d heard the advice given to couples trying to conceive—just have fun, go on a holiday, pretend you’re not trying—but this always seemed like a brush-off.

  ‘I hope so. Knowing my luck I’ll have a baby in the middle of seeding or harvest and Rats won’t even be able to make it off the tractor.’

  Lauren tried to offer her friend another sympathetic smile but it was difficult when she was still stuck in the find-a-man-who-wants-commitment stage. Cake or no cake, it was time to leave.

  She rubbed her forehead.

  ‘You all right?’ Whitney asked.

  ‘Just a slight headache. It’s been a long day. I think I’m going to make a move.’

  Whitney looked aghast. ‘You can’t leave before the bride and groom.’

  Of course not. Because Lauren really needed to watch Ellie as she floated around the room saying goodbye to everyone. Not!

  ‘They won’t miss me.’ She gestured to the crowd around them.

  ‘But I will.’ Whitney pouted and grabbed hold of her arm, indicating she wouldn’t be letting her go. ‘A few of us were going to hit the top pub for a nightcap.’

  Lauren raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you and Rats would be eager to get home to do some baby-making.’

  Whitney snorted. ‘One rest day won’t do us any harm. Besides, Rats is near-paralytic already. He wouldn’t know where to slot A into B.’

  ‘Did I hear my name?’ Rats appeared beside them, his voice slurred. He leaned close to his wife, but Lauren thought it was more to stop himself falling over than a show of affection.

  Whitney and Lauren exchanged a look and a snigger, and then Whitney turned back to Rats and cradled his head between her two hands. ‘Just girl talk, honey.’

  When Rats leaned in for a kiss, Lauren took the opportunity to slip away. As she wove through the crowd of jubilant wedding guests, she took one last glance at Hilda Quartermaine. Karina was sitting beside her now and they both looked happy, relaxed and healthy, basking in the joy of seeing their boy blissfully wed. Satisfied that she could leave without the old woman’s health on her conscience, Lauren ignored the brutal urge to take a last glance at Flynn and Ellie. She already had enough sickly sweet wedding images imprinted on her mind to last a lifetime.

  When she stepped out of the Distillery into the evening air, she paused a moment and took a deep breath. It was still a warm, balmy night and her lungs rejoiced in being away from the crowds. She sucked in air quickly as she headed towards her car, anticipating the drink she’d have once safe in the confines of her own home. Not drinking tonight had been a conscious decision—she hadn’t wanted to say or do anything stupid—but her aching heart more than needed something to help her forget.

  Picking up pace again, she found her car amongst the jam of guest vehicles, clicked it open and slid into the seat. As she drove the short distance to her parents’ house on the hill at the edge of town, she anticipated sinking into a relaxing bathtub heaving with bubbles, a tall glass of champagne her reward for surviving the day. She couldn’t wait to pop the cork and toast the new beginnings she’d decided on today. Tomorrow she’d type up her resignation and start looking for jobs in the city. Or maybe she should do something totally drastic and join Frank working overseas, helping communities in need.

  So consumed was she in such thoughts, she almost didn’t notice the unfamiliar ute parked in front of the garage. Drawing her own car to a stop, she frowned at the old-looking vehicle and then at the house. Lights shone through the gap in the lounge room windows. She swallowed, her heart skipping a few beats as she tried to remember
whether she’d left any lights on when she left. Sometimes she did so when she was working the late shift and knew she’d be home after dark, but she’d been in such a fluster this morning that she didn’t think she’d had the foresight.

  She glanced again at the strange ute, which looked like a vintage Holden of some sort. Aside from her, the only people with keys to the house were her parents and Frank, and they were all currently out of the country. Besides, she couldn’t imagine any of them driving a car like this. She quite liked it actually. It had character, unlike so many of the generic-looking utes today.

  Holy hell Lauren! Who cares what it looks like? She should be far more concerned with who owned it and what they were doing in her house. Could it belong to a psychopath? Someone waiting for her to come home so they could hurt her? Did serial killers announce themselves in this manner? She didn’t think so, but the smart thing would be to call someone just in case.

  But damn, everyone she knew was at the wedding.

  Convincing herself that there must be a perfectly reasonable explanation, Lauren tugged the keys out of the ignition, grabbed her bag off the passenger seat, got out and went to the boot to retrieve the jack. It mightn’t be much of a weapon, but in lieu of anything else, she could throw it at the intruder’s head and make a run for it.

  As she approached the house, she heard the dull mumble of noise coming from the television. Whoever it was inside was making themselves right at home—watching her TV and doing Lord knows what else. She hissed out air between her teeth as her hand closed around the front door handle. The other hand tightened on the jack. They’d chosen the wrong day to mess with Lauren Simpson.

  ‘Hi Lauren.’

  She froze in the doorway as the door swung back and hit the wall. There was a man standing before her. And what a specimen of man he was, wearing nothing but black board shorts that left precious little to her imagination. She looked from his tanned washboard abs to his broad chest and finally his chiselled jaw. It took about five seconds to place him.