‘It wasn’t obvious?’
‘It was obvious that she was either high or low. Almost as soon as we were married I saw the mood swings that she’d been careful to keep from me, and I suspected psychological problems. But before I could do anything about it a little boy came into Casualty with meningitis. Sylvia had been employed as the emergency registrar, but she’d gone home early, leaving no doctor on duty. The nursing staff saw him and were worried, suspecting meningitis. So they rang Sylvia. But Sylvia couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. She gave phone orders for a dose of antibiotics that was a tenth of what was needed, and said she’d see him in the morning.’
‘Oh, no… Oh, Blake…’
‘When the child’s condition worsened they tried again,’ he went on inexorably. ‘But they couldn’t raise Sylvia any more. And no wonder. She was zonked out of her brain—almost unconscious.’
‘Where were you?’
‘I was up to my neck in Theatre, dealing with a car-accident emergency. When the little boy started deteriorating the charge nurse came to find me to ask how they could raise Sylvia, but by that time the kid had been in trouble for six hours. And he’d lapsed into a coma. I changed the antibiotic orders—any fool would have and the charge nurse should have seen it himself. When I finished operating I took over Sylvia’s role, but it was far, far too late. And when the little boy died, I went to find her.’
It made everything so clear. Dreadful but clear. ‘And…’
‘And I couldn’t wake her. So I went through her bedside cabinet. Six weeks married.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I couldn’t believe what I found. I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. She’d taken so much…’
He closed his eyes on remembered pain. ‘I was so furious. Unbelievably—explosively angry. And then, when she finally woke and I told her what had happened, she turned into the Sylvia who’d laughed when I’d first proposed marriage. Supercilious. She said I was being ridiculous, and she didn’t have to put up with this. Before I could stop her she’d headed out to the car and driven off. Fast. Too damned fast. I sent the police after her and went searching myself, but she went over the cliff a couple of miles out of town.’
‘Oh, Blake…’
‘Pathetic, wasn’t it?’ He gave a ghost of a dreadful smile. ‘The town had employed her because of me, and I was too stupid to see what was happening. I failed them.’ He looked down at his hand, and he twisted the ring. ‘And I failed Sylvia.’
‘How do you figure that?’
‘I should have seen. Maybe I did, but I didn’t want to know. I was so damned busy. I was too damned smitten.’ He took the ring from his finger and then replaced it, like it was a chain that held him a prisoner. ‘Anyway, I moved. I came here. I decided I’d practise alone. I wouldn’t depend on anyone.’ He raised his head and met Nell’s look head on. ‘And I don’t.’
She hesitated. ‘But you need me.’
‘I don’t need you,’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t need anyone.’
‘You’re running yourself into the ground.’
‘No.’
Her hand came across the table again and took his. She held it firmly, using both of her hands to hold his one, and her eyes were direct and deadly serious.
‘Blake, you can’t stay alone for ever because of one stupid mistake.’
‘Tommy Vanderboort will be dead for ever because of my mistake. He was six years old and he’s dead. And so is Sylvia.’
‘So one day we’ll all be dead,’ she said, exasperated. ‘But, meanwhile, you need to get a life.’
‘I have a life.’
‘Yeah, medicine, which can very easily be shared. That’s why I’m here.’
‘For four weeks.’
‘I’m here for ever,’ she said bluntly. ‘And I want to work. You may as well use me.’
But Blake’s mind had closed against her. The remembered pain was still reflected in his eyes. ‘I’ll use you over the Christmas rush,’ he told her. ‘Until you need to go to Blairglen to have your baby. But that’s all. I won’t depend on anyone else.’
‘So you’ll take the medical needs of the whole community on your shoulders alone—for how long? Until you collapse of a nervous breakdown?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘It’s you who’s ridiculous,’ she snapped.
‘Look, let’s leave it.’
‘No.’
His face shuttered in anger. ‘Leave it, Dr McKenzie. You’re employed for four weeks. No longer. The board won’t put you on permanently without my approval.’
‘And you won’t give it?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then you’re a fool.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘Think nothing of it.’ And then her mood suddenly seemed to lighten and she smiled. It was an extraordinary smile, given the circumstances. ‘Hmm.’ She pushed herself back in the chair and surveyed him thoughtfully. ‘Look, this is crazy. You and me…we’re a right pair. We’ve both had marital disasters. The only difference is that I refuse to let it wreck my life—in fact, I figure it might well have been the catalyst for me to start living. You’ve decided otherwise. So I only have three weeks left to change your mind.’
‘I won’t change my mind.’
‘I’m not a drug addict.’
‘No, but you’re a…’
‘A woman?’
‘Yes!’
‘Well, how about that?’ she said slowly, and her smile widened. ‘Well, well. So, if I had a sex-change operation, it’d be OK to employ me?’
‘No, but…’
‘But what?’
‘Nothing.’ Blake shoved himself back from the table so hard the chair fell over. ‘Nothing at all. I’m going back to the hospital.’ He hesitated. ‘There’s some orders for Aaron I forgot to write up.’
She didn’t believe him, and it showed, but she was being polite. ‘You do that, Dr Sutherland,’ she told him cordially, and her smile didn’t slip. ‘Off you go. Minister to the sick and needy all by yourself.’
‘I—’
‘Don’t let me stop you.’ What the hell was she playing at? She was still laughing. ‘What a hero. But if you’re setting yourself up as a hero, then I’ll be a heroine.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Meaning that if you can be a drama king then I can be a queen to match,’ she said kindly. ‘I made a fool of myself over a man, and you did the same over a woman. But I took off my wedding ring and threw it into the middle of next week. You should do the same.’
‘No.’
‘You will.’
‘Nell…’
But she appeared to be thinking and her attention didn’t seem to be on him. ‘Three weeks. It’s not very long.’
‘I can’t—’
‘But Christmas is in between.’ She wrinkled her forehead, deep in thought. ‘All that brandy sauce. It might do the trick.’
‘Nell!’
‘Now, don’t you worry about a thing.’ Her smile deepened. ‘Leave it to me.’
‘Leave what to you?’
‘Curing your broken heart, of course,’ she said. ‘After all, I’m an expert. I chopped up my king-sized quilt and it fixed me. What can we chop up of yours?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I’ll think of something.’ Her brow creased even more. Then she looked up at him and smiled. ‘What are you waiting for? You have work to do and I have thinking to do. So let’s start now.’ She waved him away and she smiled. ‘Go on, then. Shoo!’
‘But—’
‘But nothing,’ she told him. ‘Just go! Leave Ernest and me to our thinking.’
He’d never been told to shoo in his life before. But he had no choice. Blake Sutherland…shooed.
It was a tricky problem.
Nell sat underneath the Christmas tree and threaded a bit more popcorn and ate a lot more, and then she hugged Ernest and fed him the rest. ‘Because I’m getting as fat as a whale,’ she told him. ‘If this
bulge is all baby then I’m having a twenty-pound whopper.’
Ernest looked at her with sympathy—and obligingly scoffed her popcorn.
‘But what will we do with Blake?’
Ernest patently didn’t know.
‘So it’s over to me.’
Ernest scoffed the last of the popcorn and looked hopefully toward the kitchen—just in case she was thinking of popping more. Which she wasn’t.
‘You’re thinking it’s none of my business?’
It was certainly none of Ernest’s business. All he could focus on was popcorn.
‘I certainly don’t need the complications of hauling Blake Sutherland back to the real world.’ Nell nodded and considered. ‘But I do need a part-time job in medicine. I don’t want to give up my medicine for ever, and I want to stay here.’
Hmm.
‘You think I should leave all this until after this baby’s born?’ she demanded of Ernest. ‘Let Blake stew in his own juice for a bit? Maybe that’d work. But Emily says he’s headed for a breakdown and she’s right.’
Ernest licked her hand, but Nell was oblivious. She scratched Ernest’s ear, deep in thought. ‘So should we let him break down, then leap into the breach and fix it? Like a true heroine? And a true heroine’s dog?’
She gave a rueful grin to herself and ran a finger down the small of Ernest’s back. Ernest almost turned inside out with pleasure.
But Nell was still thinking. ‘That way I might lose him completely,’ she said out loud. ‘We all might. And the town doesn’t want that.’
‘Why not?’ she demanded of herself.
‘Because he’s a wonderful doctor,’ she retorted—but there was a part of her that knew she was lying. This wasn’t anything to do with the fact that Blake was a wonderful doctor. And it had nothing to do with the medical needs of the town.
He was a very intriguing man. And maybe he was something more that she was hardly admitting to herself.
Yet…
CHAPTER EIGHT
FIVE a.m. Blake stirred from sleep and peered at his bedside clock. Something had woken him. Not the phone. What?
He threw back his covers and made his way out to the living room—and stopped short.
Nell was sitting beneath the Christmas tree. Ernest was snuggled in by her side and she was balancing a cup of tea on her very pregnant tummy.
She was wearing pyjamas covered with pink elephants. She looked cute and desirable and very, very alone. She looked like someone who he should just walk across to and gather into his arms and…
Hell! What on earth was he thinking of? He gave himself a mental shake and pushed the door wider. ‘What are you doing?’ he said carefully, and her cup of tea jumped on her bulge, splashing her pyjamas.
‘Damn,’ she said crossly. ‘That’s the third time I’ve sploshed.’
‘The third time?’
‘My bump actually doesn’t make a very good table,’ she admitted. ‘Not when junior kicks. He’s bumped it twice and now you’ve scared me into bumping it again.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘What did you say you were doing?’
She smiled up at him, and his impression of cuteness and desirability and…and, despite the smile, forlornness deepened even further. ‘I didn’t,’ she told him.
‘Oh.’ He paused. The situation was weirdly intimate. He was suddenly conscious of his own pyjamas—and the fact that he was wearing only the trousers. His chest felt very bare—and Nell was so damned close that…
Stop it!
What on earth was she doing? ‘Are you going to tell me?’ he demanded.
She considered. ‘Would you believe I’m waiting for Santa Claus?’
He grinned. ‘You’ll have a long wait. There’s still a week to go.’
‘I’m a very patient woman.’
‘You’re a very pregnant woman,’ he said gently. ‘You should be in bed.’
She looked up at him then, surprised by the gentleness of his tone. Touched, even.
‘Thanks, but you try telling that to Cornelius.’
‘He’s giving you trouble?’
‘He’s kicking his mother,’ she said with dignity. ‘You’d think he’d know better. Boy, will I have some words to say to him when he comes out.’
Blake hesitated. He should go back to bed. He should leave her there. But the temptation to do the opposite was suddenly impossible to resist.
He resisted no longer. He crossed the room and sat down beside her, and her look of surprise deepened.
‘So what’s your excuse?’ she asked. ‘Who’s kicking you?’
‘No one,’ he admitted. ‘But Ernest’s thumping woke me up.’ That’s what it must have been, he decided. The goofy dog was in seventh heaven. His head was on Nell’s knee and his tail was banging against the floor like a drumstick going flat out.
‘Oh, heck.’ Nell shoved a hand down and tried to still the offending thumping appendage. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll make him stop.’
Which was easier said than done. Her hand moved up and down with the tail. Ernest was as strong as a horse and his tail was determinedly cheerful.
Blake grinned. ‘Right, then, Dr McKenzie. You’ll make him stop. So how are you going to do that?’
‘Most cocker spaniels have their tails chopped off at birth,’ she said. And then she looked at the tail. Its thumping was an expression of pure bliss. ‘Though how anyone could…’ She sighed. ‘I guess that’s another way of saying I haven’t a clue. I think as a disciplinarian I’m a failure.’
‘You’re not a failure.’ Blake was sitting on the plush Turkish rug beside her. Above their heads were his three Christmas angels. They should have twinkly lights, he thought inconsequentially, and made a mental note to buy some, because suddenly it seemed important. Meanwhile, somehow he forced himself back to what Nell was saying.
‘It’s nice of you to say I’m not a failure, but so far I don’t seem to have managed very well,’ she told him. She took a deep breath. ‘And how I’m going to manage being a mother…’
‘You’ll be a wonderful mother.’
She cast him an unsure glance. ‘Do you think so? It scares me stupid.’
‘Why wouldn’t you be a good mother?’ he demanded, and her look of uncertainty deepened.
‘I have no role model. Except my grandparents. And they were great teachers—I don’t think! If I follow their example, the very first time my baby annoys me I’ll order her to leave home. I’ll tell her she’s useless and that she’s only in the way.’
He grimaced. ‘That’s what you were told?’
‘All the time.’
‘Do you know what happened to your own mother?’ he asked carefully. This wasn’t a scene he would have chosen to share—it was too damned intimate for his liking—but leaving her alone now would have been selfish.
Selfish on whose part? Not his, he had to admit, because he wanted to stay.
‘She’s dead.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Mmm.’ Nell nodded. ‘I made enquiries almost as soon as I graduated and earned enough to pay an investigator.’ She shrugged. ‘So I found out, but it doesn’t make pretty telling. Fifteen-year-olds who are kicked out of home because they’re pregnant rarely end up living happily ever after.’
He nodded wordlessly. As a doctor, he’d seen enough of the lives street kids led to know she was speaking the truth. ‘Your grandparents have a lot to answer for.’
‘They do at that.’
‘But you’re not in the least like them,’ he told her, sure of that at least. ‘And your mother and father must have been really special people to have produced you.’
‘I don’t even know who my father was.’
He looked at her sideways and thought this through. And smiled. ‘I bet he had freckles.’
‘Probably. And red hair because my mother was a blonde.’ But she didn’t smile. Her eyes had lost their customary laughter and the echoes of sadness were there in its place.
‘You’d like to know your father?’
‘I’d like to know anybody,’ she said simply. ‘My grandparents didn’t want me. My mother’s dead. I have no one.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Normally I don’t mind but sometimes it’s so damned lonely. I guess that’s why I was stupid enough to fall for Richard.’
‘You won’t be alone for ever. There’ll be someone else.’
‘Oh, sure. I’m so desirable.’ She managed a smile then, but it was a feeble one. ‘Me and my baby and my best dog, Ernest.’
Blake wasn’t to be deflected. ‘Lots of men would think you were desirable.’
She fixed him with a look. ‘Ha! You don’t.’
‘But I’m…’
‘Different?’ She tried to smile again but it didn’t quite come off. ‘I know. You’ve told me. Alone for life. Just like me. Only my aloneness isn’t by choice.’
‘It really worries you?’
‘It’s so damned hard,’ she blurted out. ‘Not the loneliness bit. At least not for me. I can cope with that. But my baby…Hell, my baby’s father doesn’t want her. He wanted me to have a termination, and I’m betting he never comes near me. In fact, even if he does surface he’ll end up in jail, and how useful’s a jailbird as a father? If anything happened to me, what would happen to my baby?’
He met her fear head on. ‘Then it’s lucky you’re as strong as a horse.’
‘That sounds defensive.’
‘It wasn’t meant to sound defensive. It was meant to sound reassuring. Pregnant women get odd fancies…’
‘That they might die in childbirth.’ She was glaring at full strength now. ‘Yeah. Really unrealistic. But you’re a doctor. You know it happens.’
‘What happens?’
‘Mothers die. If I got eclampsia…’
He was startled at that. Eclampsia… ‘You’re being checked?’
‘I’m checking myself.’
‘You shouldn’t be checking yourself.’ He felt a surge of real concern. Hell, if she did have eclampsia… ‘Nell, for heaven’s sake. Are you OK?’
‘Well, yes.’ she admitted. ‘I guess I am. Emily checked me over last week and before that I saw the best obstetrician Sydney Central has. But…’
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