Lily's Scandal

by Marion Lennox

  ‘Nobody gives a toss what you usually do,’ Elaine said. ‘The fact is that our mighty Dr Williams has been shagged by an agency nurse.’

  ‘I did not …’

  ‘It doesn’t matter whether you did or didn’t,’ Elaine said bluntly. ‘Gossip is truth as far as this hospital is concerned, and we’re delighted. Let him try and keep his armour after this. A girl with accommodating morals was just what he needed. Now … we’ve just got word there’s been a boat crash on the harbour, two guys with suspected spinal injuries and a girl with deep facial lacerations expected any minute. I suspect we’ll want you in Theatre again. Scrub?’

  ‘I … Yes.’ At least this was a vote of confidence. She’d expected to be treated like a pariah. Here she was being handed a position of responsibility.

  ‘You did great last night,’ Elaine said. ‘In more ways than one. But hands off the rest of our male staff, at least until you’re off duty. You’ve done us a favour with our Luke, but let’s not push things too far.’

  And that was that.

  A girl with accommodating morals … Everyone was looking at her.

  Aaagh.

  He’d come close to having sex with an unknown nurse in the on-call room. It was like being a member of the mile-high club, he thought. Sordid and stupid.

  Only it hadn’t felt like that at the time.

  But that’s how his colleagues were treating it, as a huge joke. Medics had black humour at the best of times. Jessie’s death last night had upset them all and Luke’s out-of-character behaviour was a welcome diversion.

  Even Finn commented. ‘About time,’ he growled. ‘Now take her out properly and do it again.’

  Huh? He didn’t date. Ever.

  He wasn’t starting now.

  What had happened? He’d been gutted by the events of the night; he’d found himself in the on-call room simply because he hadn’t had the strength to get back to his apartment without getting some sort of grip on himself, and she’d been there.

  He’d lost himself in holding her. She’d felt …

  Amazing. Just amazing. From a night where all he could see was black, he’d been lifted into a world of warmth, and strength and laughter. Yes, even laughter. She’d made a gentle joke as the world intruded, she hadn’t let him apologise, she’d slipped away and he’d thought he might not even see her again.

  What would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted? He should feel grateful that they had been—they’d both been well out of control. Instead, strangely, he felt an empty regret. And worry for her. The gossip machine in this hospital was ruthless.

  When he’d finished his day’s list he’d gone back to the agency sheet, checked for her address and found a simple ‘To be advised’. So he couldn’t find her even if he wanted to. She was an agency nurse. She might not even turn up tonight.

  She did.

  Evie called him at dusk.

  ‘Your lady’s back. She’s contracted to us for four weeks. Are you popping into Emergency tonight by any chance?’

  Evie was laughing.

  ‘I might,’ he conceded.

  ‘To introduce yourself?’ Evie was definitely laughing.

  ‘What makes you think I don’t know her?’ he growled before he could stop himself.

  ‘You know her? I thought this was lust at first sight.’

  ‘Leave it alone,’ he told her. ‘I’m coming in.’

  ‘The lady’s busy,’ Evie said. ‘We’re run off our feet. She goes off duty at six; you can come and take her home.’

  They met before that. The woman with lacerations needed someone with real skill if she wasn’t to be scarred for life. Once again he found himself in Theatre, with Lily as second scrub.

  This wasn’t a life-and-death situation. Becky Martin would survive with barely a scar from her drunken joy ride in a powerboat, and the mood in the theatre was a far cry from last night’s trauma.

  But it was also a far cry from the usual relaxed theatre. Everyone was watching Luke—and Lily. One glance between them and it’d start again.

  No. They didn’t even have to glance for the gossip to keep going, Luke thought. This hospital used gossip as a means to dispel tension, and what they’d done last night had started a wildfire that only time would extinguish.

  Or Lily leaving.

  She might. She looked strained and flushed.

  She was working with professional competence, anticipating well, displaying skills he valued. Even so, he wasn’t sure he wanted her here. He didn’t like his staff distracted and they were distracted by her.

  That wasn’t fair, he thought grimly. She was being judged because she’d tried to comfort him.

  His colleagues thought his actions were amusing. They saw her as … easy.

  That was a harsh judgement by any standards.

  He put in the last suture, stood back from the table and sighed.

  ‘Well done, Luke,’ his anaesthetist said. ‘Great job. You deserve a wee rest. I hear the on-call room’s free. Nurse Ellis, maybe you’re free, too?’

  ‘Leave it,’ he growled, and watched in concern as Lily started to clear.

  The junior nurse was sniggering.

  He needed to talk to her, he thought. He needed to apologise.

  Not in the on-call room.

  He was due to sleep. Lily was on duty all night. He’d come in at change-over, he decided. He’d see her then.

  Not in the on-call room.

  Luke disappeared and she could get on with her night’s work. Which was just as well. The guy was distracting, to say the least, and the staff reaction was well nigh unbearable. With him gone she could lose herself in what needed to be done.

  She felt mortified. She was also feeling … ill? Her stomach cramps were getting worse, and now there was nausea on top of them.

  She’d left Lighthouse Cove to get rid of the tension that was making her sick. In two days here, she’d only created more tension.

  ‘You’re looking pale,’ Elaine said in passing. ‘You’d better not be coming down with gastro. Half this hospital’s had it, but I thought we were past the worst. Are you feeling okay?’

  ‘I’m just tired,’ Lily said. ‘I’ve had a hard …’ She caught Elaine’s gaze and stopped. ‘I mean …’

  ‘No, no, I understand,’ Elaine said, grinning. ‘You and Luke … I’d imagine he can be very tiring. But according to Dr Blain, who heard it from Dr Lockheart, word is you already know him. Is that right? Why did you make me tell you about him if you’re old friends?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘I know he keeps to himself, but if he pairs up with someone who does the same thing we’re in real trouble,’ Elaine said. ‘Apparently he’s coming to take you home at six. If you make it that long.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re looking sick as a dog. Tell you what, you stick round the nurses’ station until handover and finish the paperwork there. If you’re coming down with gastro, we don’t want you near patients.’

  ‘I’m just tired—and I don’t need anyone to take me home.’

  ‘It’s not anyone, it’s Luke Williams. Paperwork for you, my girl, and then let your lover take you home to bed.’

  Lily had felt bad before. She tackled her paperwork feeling infinitely worse.

  Luke found her in the locker room, preparing to leave.

  He could have gone the whole four weeks of her contract without seeing her again, he thought. With the gastro outbreak almost over, staff levels were nearly back to normal. He could easily arrange for her not to be rostered to Theatre with him.

  He could pretend the encounter had never happened.

  Finn used women to forget, Luke thought. Maybe he could, too.

  Only … there was something about Lily that made him think it hadn’t been a casual embrace. That her need had been almost as great as his.

  A lesser man wouldn’t need to ask why, but for some reason this didn’t feel like a simple matter of honour. It was how she’d made him feel. It had been the generos
ity of her body, the smile behind her eyes, the touch of her …

  He’d remember it, he thought, and he honoured her for it.

  And she was being labelled because of it. The least he could do was thank her and apologise.

  He opened the locker-room door and she turned to face him. She looked white faced. A bit unsteady on her feet. Wobbling?

  He crossed the room in four long strides to reach her. Gripped her shoulders. Steadied her.

  ‘Hey …’

  ‘It’s … it’s okay,’ she said, and hauled away to plonk herself down on the wooden bench. ‘I’m just having a queasy moment.’

  ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’

  She gave him a look that would have withered lesser men. It was the look he deserved.

  What had made him say that? Of all the ridiculous …

  ‘We didn’t make it that far, Superman,’ she retorted. ‘You don’t get pregnant by kissing, no matter how hot you think you are.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, with feeling. ‘That was dumb. Plus offensive. But you’re ill.’

  ‘I suspect,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster, ‘that I’m coming down with this blasted gastroenteritis that half this hospital seems to have suffered. You should have a huge skull and crossbones on the entrance with a sign saying “Abandon hope all ye who enter here”.’

  ‘Or abandon the contents of your stomach.’

  ‘Don’t,’ she begged. ‘Go away.’

  ‘Let me take you home.’

  She glared. ‘Tell me you don’t have a car with leather upholstery and I might be interested.’

  ‘I do,’ he admitted. ‘But we can go via Emergency and get a supply of sick bags. I had it last week so I won’t get infected.’

  ‘You might have infected me.’

  ‘Then that’d be yet another thing I need to apologise for,’ he said grimly, and took her elbows, propelling her up. ‘We’ll organise you a shot of metoclopramide for the nausea. Then we’ll take some paper bags and take you home and to bed.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘I mean, yes, please,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘Only I need to spend ten minutes in the bathroom first.’

  They didn’t speak on the way to the address she’d given him. She didn’t lose her dignity, but he could see she was holding onto it with every shred of effort she could muster. One shot of metoclopramide was barely holding it.

  She wasn’t what she’d seemed. Questions were crowding in, but his medical training told him that breaking her concentration would be unwise. So he focused on driving, found the address, pulled up in front of a boarding house that looked as if it had seen better days and watched in astonishment as she struggled out of the car.

  ‘You don’t live here?’

  ‘No,’ she said, closing the car door with care, as if it was a really tricky task. ‘I’m staying here. Thank you for bringing me home.’ And she headed for the gate.

  He was out of the car, through the gate, stopping her.

  ‘Don’t stop me,’ she pleaded. ‘I need …’

  ‘I know this place,’ he said. ‘When I was an intern we averaged one drug overdose a week from this dump.’

  She was trying to shove past him, looking increasingly desperate. ‘It’s only until payday. It has a bathroom. Please …’

  She was nothing to do with him, he told himself. This was none of his business. He’d brought her home. He’d done what he had to do.

  But … she’d held him. She’d stopped his grief from stripping him raw.

  She’d lightened his life.

  That had to be an overstatement, he told himself. One crazy impulse did not mean emotional change. She’d simply been there when he’d needed her, had responded to his need, had maybe used him to assuage her own needs.

  Her own needs were pretty apparent now. She’d broken from him and was doubled over behind a scrubby hedge. The garden was filthy.

  Questions.

  She was a skilled theatre nurse from a town he remembered as being quiet and beautiful.

  His colleagues had her labelled as wanton.

  She’d held him.

  Whatever she was, he couldn’t leave her here.

  She was crouched, trembling, in the filthy garden, sweaty and sick, and he knew he had no choice.

  He waited for the spasms to cease. Then, giving her no chance to argue, he stooped and lifted her into his arms and carried her back to his car. He deposited her back into the passenger seat before she knew what he was doing.

  ‘What’s your room number?’ he demanded.

  ‘T-twelve.’ She could barely speak. ‘But—’

  ‘Give me your key.’

  ‘I don’t …’

  He took her purse from her limp grasp and retrieved the key.

  ‘Don’t argue and don’t move,’ he said, and headed for the house.

  She didn’t go anywhere. How could she? That last episode had left her wanting to do nothing so much as to lie down and die. Her bed in the boarding house was lumpy and none too clean, but it was a bed and right now she wanted it more than anything else in the world. Only her legs didn’t feel like they’d take her anywhere.

  After the week she’d had, it needed only this. Of all the stupid hospitals she had to temp in, it had to be Sydney Harbour Hospital during a gastro epidemic.

  She wanted to die.

  Why was she sitting in Luke’s car?

  It was too hard to do anything else.

  She closed her eyes and he was back again, carrying her suitcase. That got through … sort of. ‘What …?’ She was trying to get her thoughts in order. She wasn’t succeeding.

  ‘You’re not staying here,’ Luke said grimly. ‘This place is drug bust central.’ Then his face sort of … changed. He slid into the driver’s seat and pushed up her uniform sleeves.

  She got that. No matter that she was dying … he thought she was a crackhead?

  Enough. There were some things up with which a girl did not put. Or something. She wasn’t making sense even to herself, but as he tried to check her pupils she found the strength to haul back her hand and slap him. Straight across his cheek with all the strength she could muster. Which wasn’t actually very much. He recoiled but not far, then caught her hands in his before she could do it again.

  ‘Just checking,’ he said, mildly.

  ‘I drink champagne every time I get a pay rise,’ she managed through gritted teeth. ‘I’m addicted to romance novels and chocolate. I once got a speeding ticket and a parking fine all in the one month. Evil doesn’t begin to describe me—but I don’t do drugs.’ She tried, very badly, not to sob, as she hauled her hands away from his and fumbled for the door catch.

  ‘No.’ He leaned over and tugged the door closed, took her shoulders and twisted her to face him. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Me, too. Let me out.’

  ‘I’m taking you home.’

  ‘I am home.’

  ‘My home.’

  ‘You don’t want a junkie at home.’

  ‘You’re not a junkie,’ he said wearily. ‘I’ve seen enough to know I’ve mortally offended you. Can I start making amends?’

  ‘There’s no need …’ But her stomach wasn’t up to arguing. Another cramp hit and she doubled over.

  He handed her a paper bag but she didn’t need it. There was nothing left.

  He waited for the spasms to cease, then magically produced moist wipes. ‘Paper bags and wipes from Emergency,’ he said softly as he cupped her chin in one hand and washed her face. She was so limp she couldn’t argue. ‘You get parking tickets. I steal wipes. Criminals both. You want to do a Thelma and Louise and run for the border?’

  ‘I … No.’

  ‘Thought not,’ he said, and fastened her seat belt for her. ‘Let’s find you an alternative.’

  His surgical list started at eight and he made it only fifteen minutes late. This morning was his private list, cosmetic sur
gery. The woman he was treating had travelled overseas to get cheek implants, a reshaped nose and liposuction for her thighs. She’d got what she’d paid for and she hadn’t paid much. She’d ended up with a perforation of the nasal septum, a nasal obstruction and nasal deformity. One of her cheek implants had slipped, which meant her face was weirdly lopsided and her thighs were … undulating. She had lumps and bumps all over the place.

  He wasn’t working on her legs this morning. He’d remove the cheek implants first—he wasn’t the least sure of their quality and the last thing she needed was one to burst. Then he needed to focus on revision rhinoplasty and repair of the septal perforation.

  She’d need further procedures and he couldn’t be sure she’d look as good as she had when she’d started.

  Cosmetic surgery could sometimes be brilliant, restoring self-image, but this time it had been a disaster.

  The surgery he’d had as a child had been brilliant.

  Luke’s childhood had been made miserable by a massive port wine birthmark almost covering one side of his face. His parents, cold and emotionally detached, had decreed it was simply ‘character building’, but when he’d been fourteen his uncle had stepped in.

  ‘I’ve arranged the best plastic surgeon I can afford,’ he’d told his father. ‘The kid’s getting that off his face whether you like it or not.’

  His uncle was a bachelor, taciturn, unsentimental, refusing thanks. He and the plastic surgeon he’d found had changed Luke’s life and had set him on the path he was on now.

  His uncle’s farm had been lifesaving as well. It still was. Even though his uncle was as emotionally distant as the rest of his family, his farm had been a retreat from the world.

  He hadn’t been to the farm for two weeks now and he was missing it. Maybe he could take off for a few days. Leave his apartment to Lily. Whoever Lily was.

  Not a junkie. An unanswered question.

  Don’t get close.

  ‘So tell me about your lady of the night.’ Finn’s voice from the doorway to his office made him start. Dammit, he should be used to it. He wasn’t. ‘My what?’

  ‘Your one-night stand. Or your one-morning stand. You planning to make it two mornings?’

  ‘Leave it,’ he growled. He thought of Lily as he’d left her, huddled in his bed, so sick she could hardly acknowledge he was leaving. He’d stayed with her for an hour and made sure the retching had stopped. He’d left her with fluids, and he knew all she needed was sleep, but still he’d hated leaving her.