The One Man to Heal Her

by Meredith Webber

  Peter nodded, and thanked her, and she finally departed, leaving him eating cold hospital sandwiches and drinking a cup of tea.

  ‘Want a cuppa yourself?’ a nurse called as she came out.

  ‘Yes, that sounds good,’ Alex told her, as tiredness from what now seemed like another never-ending day swamped her.

  Had it really only been this morning she’d driven into town to shop?

  Had it only been three days since she’d arrived in Australia?

  A cuppa was exactly what she needed, and she sank down onto the couch in a small tearoom behind the nurses’ station and gratefully accepted one.

  The woman who’d offered the tea had made herself a cup as well, and she settled herself on a chair opposite Alex.

  ‘I remember you, you know,’ she said. ‘I was only a kid, but my family went to the same church and that bastard was always touching us kids. I feel ashamed now I didn’t say something but at least my parents shifted us away from there. I remember Mum saying they treated you something cruel, those church people and your family.’

  Alex shook her head, exhaustion hanging heavily in her body, but the woman’s words had struck home.

  ‘I hadn’t even thought about people remembering,’ she said. ‘It was so long ago and so much must have happened since.’

  Yet the woman on the phone had remembered…

  ‘I don’t think it’ll bother you. I think these days people are far more aware of sexual abuse, and I bet a lot of the folk who thought him innocent changed their minds over time. You did right and I remember my mum saying how brave you were to stand up to him and all those others that reckoned he was God.’

  Even in her tiredness, Alex found a smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That really makes me feel good, but right now I need to finish this cuppa and get home before I fall asleep. I start work in the morning, so I might pop in before I go to the rooms, if that’s okay, and check on any patients I’ve got here.’

  The nurse, whose name, belatedly, Alex read was Robyn, took her teacup, assured her she’d be welcome any time, and Alex found her way out of the hospital, across the road to the car park, then drove home very slowly, catching the last ferry and realising, as she spoke to the ferryman, that she’d have to find a bed somewhere in town for nights when she’d missed this last one. She wouldn’t have liked to drive the long way round as tired as she was tonight.

  And there’d be plenty of nights like this…

  The chug of the ferry was soothing, and she drove off the ramp and along the river road.

  It had been nearly twenty years but tonight it really felt as if she was coming home.

  Until she saw the shattered window!

  She couldn’t help but notice it as she swung the car into the drive and the headlights shone straight onto the front of the house.

  A bird, she decided, although coldness in her chest suggested that was wishful thinking.

  Parking the car, she locked it and then the garage door, before walking along the front path, taking in the damage more closely.

  The slope of the land, down towards the river, put this part of the house only a few feet above the ground, so by standing on tiptoe she could peer through the hole in the window and see the glass, glinting in the light from the streetlight outside, scattered over the floor and furniture in the living room.

  She didn’t see the rock until she went inside, or the note wrapped around it.

  WHORE!

  In blood-red letters!

  She’d have to report it but right now she was just too tired, though finding a room in town was becoming a better and better idea.

  Angry that the home she’d been so looking forward to had been rudely assaulted, she stomped through the rest of the place, checking there was no further damage.

  Remembering Will coming in with the key from outside, she went back out and found the hollow rock, brought it and key inside.

  Did people who made anonymous threats and threw rocks escalate to personal violence? She was sure she’d learnt something about these things in psychology lectures many years ago, but right now she couldn’t think.

  Glad she’d shopped, she checked the doors were locked, heated a ready meal in the microwave, ate most of it, and went straight up to her new bedroom.

  Things would look better in the morning.

  * * *

  They didn’t!

  In fact, the broken window looked more menacing somehow.

  She’d woken at six and after surveying the damage had phoned the police.

  ‘I know you probably can’t come out now,’ she said, ‘but I’m starting work and will be out all day and I want to get a glazier to fix the window as soon as possible.’

  ‘Where do you work?’ the policeman asked, and Alex explained.

  ‘What if you could take a photo then put the rock and the note in a plastic bag and take them both to work? We’ll send someone round to collect them and take a formal statement. Perhaps you could get your secretary or someone to phone and tell us a suitable time.’

  Impressed by how obliging he was, Alex agreed, then she did an internet search and found a twenty-four-hour glass replacement firm. They could come in the early evening when she hoped she’d be home from work. It was the best she could do and, to her surprise, the positive actions she’d taken made her feel a whole lot better about the attack.

  She fixed herself a simple fruit and cereal breakfast and took it out on the deck, sharing it with Buddy, who seemed to have forgotten about Bruce in his delight with being able to say, ‘Such a wuss.’

  ‘That could get old very quickly,’ Alex told him—not that it made the slightest difference to his performance.

  * * *

  The nurse on duty in the coronary ward was as welcoming as Robyn had been the evening before. She found a space for Alex at the desk in the nurses’ station so she could read the computerised records of the patients before she met them, then led Alex around the rooms, introducing the patients.

  To her, they were a typical mix—a woman with congestive heart failure, a youngish man who’d just had a pacemaker implanted and should be discharged later in the day, another man undergoing tests, which would include an angiogram later that morning.

  ‘Am I doing that?’ Alex asked, as she hadn’t seen any mention of it in the diary Marilyn had emailed to her.

  ‘No, he’s Mal Parker’s patient and he’ll do it today before he goes away. The doctors usually like to keep patients overnight before and after an angiogram.’

  Alex nodded. If beds were available it was a wise move, as there could be complications after the procedure, including bleeding from the site through which the instruments had been threaded—in this case his groin—or reactions to the dye used to highlight problems.

  ‘So I’ll be discharging him tomorrow,’ Alex said, and the nurse nodded.

  ‘Unless he’s asked Will Kent to see to it,’ the nurse said. ‘Will will be doing the anaesthetic,’ she said, and Alex knew from the tingle in her nerve endings that Will was close.

  ‘Mal has asked me to discharge him,’ Will said cheerfully, ‘so don’t try to pinch my patients, Dr Hudson. You can have him back for his next appointment.’

  Alex turned to face him.

  He was in doctor gear—casual doctor gear, as befitted a hospital in a large coastal town. Under his unbuttoned white coat she could see a dark grey polo shirt and paler grey slacks.

  With his stethoscope hanging out of his coat pocket and a wide grin in place, to Alex he was sex on legs.

  Blimey! Was she really thinking things like that while she was at work?

  ‘And good morning to you,’ she said, hoping she sounded far cooler than she felt.

  ‘Cardioversion was good, wasn’t it?’

  He sounded cool!

  She nodded. It was easier than speaking, but she knew she had to get over this Will thing—and soon—because she was going to be seeing him around the hospital all the time.
<
br />   But right now escape was the best option.

  ‘I’ve got to fly. First patient due and you’ve already told me how fierce Marilyn can be if we run late.’

  She whisked away, hoping it looked like professional haste, not a desperate escape bid.

  * * *

  Will watched her go, aware there was something bothering her.

  Him?

  Hardly!

  ‘So, are you going to talk to your patient about his anaesthetic or just stand there, mooning over the pretty new doctor?’ the nurse asked.

  ‘I do not moon!’ he said gruffly, although that probably was what he had been doing.

  ‘She’s really beautiful,’ the nurse said in a kindly voice—perhaps excusing the mooning.

  ‘I knew her way back when,’ Will said firmly. ‘She lived next door for a few years.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ the nurse teased as they went in together to see the patient. But he was also worried about the mooning. It was happening too fast, this attraction to Alex. And although he’d known her ‘way back when’, the attraction hadn’t been there so he couldn’t blame that for the way this had hit him.

  He saw his patient, chatted to him about the upcoming operation and the light anaesthetic that he would be given, checked for allergies, discussed the weekend surf, and headed back to the ICU.

  But the nurse’s silly tease stayed with him, bringing this time a sense of foreboding.

  He had Charlotte to consider, and an ill-conceived relationship could affect her, while an ill-fated one—which surely this would be—could be even more disastrous.

  His ICU patients were all behaving themselves, more’s the pity, because there wasn’t an urgent problem to distract him from his thoughts.

  Although there was always paperwork. He’d get on to that—letters to the general practice men and women whose patients he was tending.

  He’d just have to try and keep images of Alex from flashing through his mind. Had he ever mooned over Elise? He’d loved her, he knew that, but early on in their relationship, had images of Elise flashed through his mind at inappropriate times?

  * * *

  The policeman came at five-thirty—Marilyn deciding it was too risky to try to schedule him between appointments. Her curiosity about the visit was evident but Alex was reluctant to explain, mumbling something about official stuff that had to be done and hoping Marilyn would assume it was to do with her father’s death.

  When he did come, a young constable, he was very sympathetic about the broken window, and he took the note and a copy of the photo but doubted it would be much help. Reluctantly, Alex told him of the phone call.

  ‘But you’ve just arrived in town. Who could you possibly have upset?’

  Alex shrugged. She looked into his pale blue eyes and realised, if he was a local, he could have been at kindergarten with the twins. The past would be unknown to him.

  Did she have to tell him?

  Not really, but now she’d reported it, and if the aggravation continued, wouldn’t the police start looking for a reason?

  Taking a deep breath, she said quietly, ‘Before I left town more than fifteen years ago I upset a lot of people, including my parents. I can only think that there’s someone out there who thinks I deliberately harmed them. I really, really do not want the whole situation stirred up again, but if this escalates then I suppose you’d have to look for someone from back then.’

  The policeman looked puzzled and Alex regretted, more than anything, getting officials involved.

  ‘I see,’ he finally said, although it was obvious he didn’t have a clue. ‘We don’t normally do patrols out on that side of the river, but I’m sure we can arrange for a car to drive that way from time to time. Maybe its presence might put a stop to this.’

  Or not, Alex thought.

  But the young man departed with her statement and the note, and finally she could go home—go home and get the window fixed.

  Driving home wasn’t quite the pleasure it had been the previous evening, but the trip across on the ferry soothed her, allowing her to slough off the tiredness of the day and feel renewed. It was dusk as she drew into the drive and as far as she could see there was no further damage.

  Maybe it was over—whoever it was had got their anger off their chest and she’d been foolish bringing the police into it.

  Maybe!

  * * *

  By Thursday she was certain the harassment had stopped. She’d settled in at work, was enjoying meeting her new patients, was getting to know the nurses at the hospital, and had been spared contact with Will, who was apparently in Sydney at a two-day seminar.

  The patients behaved themselves so she was able to leave work early on Thursday, getting home in time to shower and change into casual clothes before Tony arrived.

  She had a snack in case the meeting went for longer than her stomach could handle, and considered having a glass of wine to steel herself for the effort of her first social outing.

  Best not, she’d decided.

  Tony arrived on the dot of six.

  ‘Were you waiting up the road until it was time?’ she teased, and he smiled, and took her arm to lead her out to his robust four-wheel-drive, complete with not one but two kayaks on the top.

  ‘Do you paddle one and lead the other, like people did with horses in the old days?’

  He chuckled, a nice warm sound, and explained one was an old one a friend had given him, too small for him but he’d thought it might suit her.

  ‘You’re being very kind,’ she said.

  ‘Well, people were very kind to me when I first arrived in town. It’s paying it forward, isn’t it?’

  So they chatted all the way to town, easy talk, very little of it personal, although they did establish that although he’d been married in the past, neither had children, and both were currently unattached.

  It felt strange, getting back into the swing of social life. Strange to realise that this was the beginning of a friendship that could lead anywhere.

  Perhaps not anywhere, Alex admitted to herself, given the spark of attraction was missing—at least on her part.

  But friendship would be good. That’s what she’d need as she settled back into her old home town.

  And friendship she’d have, she decided later, if she joined the kayak club, for it was an extremely pleasant evening, listening to the club’s plans for the next month, hearing the stories and feeling the camaraderie amongst the members, most of whom had gone on for a very noisy meal later.

  ‘So, what do you think? Can you see yourself joining that crew?’ Tony asked, as he drove her home after dinner.

  ‘I can,’ Alex admitted, for there’d been a warmth among the members and a feeling of welcome. ‘But first I’ll have to see if I can stay upright in a kayak.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll manage,’ Tony told her, ‘and once you do you’ll never give it up. Gliding silently through the backwaters of the river, or riding rapids, there’s so much pleasure to be had.’

  Alex could understand that, especially the silent gliding part for she usually switched off the tinnie’s engine to glide among the mangroves.

  They were nearly home and although Tony had shown no indication he was interested in a more personal relationship, she did wonder if he’d try a kiss. And, pondering this, she was the last to see the desecration—the word ‘Bitch’ spray-painted in two-foot-high letters across the front of her house.

  ‘Good grief!’ Tony growled. ‘Who on earth would do something like that?’

  Alex felt sick, almost too sick to get out of the car.

  ‘You can’t stay here,’ Tony said as she shrank against the door. ‘I’ve a spare bedroom. Let’s get you whatever you need and you can stay with me.’

  It was a wonderful idea, and for a moment Alex was tempted, then anger came to her rescue.

  ‘No way,’ she said, finding some of the fight that had carried her through the court case all those years ago. ‘I will not let someone
chase me out of my home.’

  Especially not out of my beautiful new bedroom!

  ‘Then I’ll stay here,’ Tony offered.

  Suddenly exhausted, Alex shook her head.

  ‘No, I’ll be all right. I’m sure whoever did this is long gone, and there are good locks on the doors, although if you wouldn’t mind just walking through the house with me…’

  The anger hadn’t lasted long, that she’d made this pathetic plea to this man she barely knew.

  He came, and together, turning on lights and checking each room, they walked through the house and out onto the deck, where the moonlight turned the river to a sheet of silver.

  ‘I’m happy to stay,’ he said, ‘at least until the police come. You will phone the police.’

  ‘I’ll ring them in the morning,’ Alex promised. ‘There’s nothing can be done now.’

  He gave her a hug, and when she walked him to the door he dropped a swift kiss on her cheek—a kiss of comfort, nothing more.

  A good friend in the making, she decided as she watched him drive away. But who was behind the harassment? Who could she possibly have hurt so much that nearly twenty years later they still held such bitter hatred towards her.

  Saddened by this person’s pain, and apprehensive now about her decision to return home, she took herself to bed, taking comfort from the river and from Buddy bouncing on her pillow.

  ‘If only you could really talk, you could probably tell me who did this,’ she told him, but all he did was ask who the pretty girl was.

  At least that meant, worried as she was, that she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THIS TIME THE noises outside her front door woke her—at the unearthly hour of five-thirty.

  Fear gripped her for a moment, and then rational thought told her the harasser wouldn’t be doing anything in broad daylight.

  So who was doing what?

  She walked through to her father’s room and peered out the front window. Tony’s big vehicle was pulled up on the kerb, and three, or maybe four, young men were scouring the front of her house with brooms and something that smelled like turpentine.