‘Jack!’ Her voice was warm, but he could hear an edge of briskness, noises in the background that told him she was busy.
It was the weekend. She shouldn’t be at work, but Annalise was often at work when she wasn’t on duty. They both were. If you wanted to climb the career ladder, that’s what you did.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked. ‘Dolphins, prayer flags and a bit of ear candling on the side?’
They’d laughed about this, both of them having the same reaction to alternate therapies. He was taking Harry here because Helen had insisted. He didn’t believe in it.
But now, looking out over the bay, remembering the way Kate had stood back while Harry had turned again into a laughing, crowing little boy, thinking of Toby and of Susie, he thought he might well have been stupidly biased.
‘It’s early days yet,’ he said cautiously. ‘But I may have been wrong.’
‘You’re joking,’ Annalise said. ‘Are the dolphin mantras getting to you?’
‘They’re making Harry smile. I’m not asking for anything more right now.’
‘Well, that’s wonderful,’ Annalise said briskly. ‘If they can bring him out of his shell enough so he can come home and undertake real therapy then I’ll even concede the uses of a little mantra-chanting. You’re being marvellous, darling. Is there anything else? I really am busy.’
‘Of course you are,’ he said, and disconnected a moment later feeling strangely dissatisfied. Why? She’d said what they’d both been thinking. And brisk phone calls when they were working was what he was used to.
He hesitated and then phoned Helen. Any emotion he’d missed with Annalise was more than made up for by his Harry’s paternal aunt.
He told her about the dolphins and she sobbed.
‘Oh, Jack, that’s wonderful. He laughed? He spoke? Tell me again what he said.’ She wanted to know every detail and by the end of the call he found himself thinking maybe Harry should end up back with Helen. Five kids or not, there was no doubt Helen cared.
He’d argued hard with Helen to take over Harry’s care. With memories of his quiet sister Beth, who’d spent her life engrossed in her karate and her science, happy with her boffin husband in her own little world, he’d seen Harry swamped by a world full of Helen’s kids. But what sort of life could he give him as an alternative?
The question was too hard. Take one step at a time, he told himself.
‘And I’ve been doing a bit of enquiring about Cathy Heineman,’ Helen was saying, and her words pulled him back to the here and now like nothing else could. ‘No one’s heard of her for years. Everyone’s astounded she’s turned up there.’
Uh-oh. He’d forgotten he’d asked Helen about Kate.
‘There’s no need to make further enquiries,’ he said, trying to sound as if it didn’t much matter. And then he thought, Dammit, this was important, say it like it was. ‘Helen, I talked to Kate—to Cathy—last night about the identity thing. It seems she’s run from a violent marriage. She’s changed her name. She doesn’t want anyone to know.’
There was a moment’s silence and then indignation. ‘You could have told me that yesterday.’
‘I didn’t know yesterday.’
‘Well, I hope I haven’t blown her cover,’ she said dubiously. ‘I doubt it, though. How long ago was she married?’
‘Several years.’
‘There you go, then,’ she said, relaxing. ‘Old history. But I understand women who’ve faced abuse can’t put it behind them. I don’t think anyone I talked to yesterday would have taken it further. Most could hardly remember her, and no one seemed to know her husband.’
If you put Helen on a project she was like a terrier with a bone. How many people had she talked to?
‘I wouldn’t tell her I’ve been asking,’ Helen said. ‘You’ll only make her fearful again, poor girl. And if she’s helping Harry...from a selfish point of view I want all her attention on him. You keep them both safe, Jack Kincaid, and stay in touch. Give Harry a big kiss from me and tell him to get well fast.’
She disconnected, satisfied. Jack sat back and tried to feel satisfied as well.
He wasn’t. He was disturbed.
Should he tell Kate that he might have blown her cover?
He thought of her smile, the way she’d laughed with Harry, her joy when her dolphins made Harry happy.
He’d be messing with that joy if he told her.
But if he didn’t warn her...
He didn’t have a choice, he decided. He had to. At least for the next couple of weeks he’d be here and could keep her safe.
Ha! That was the caveman in him. Neanderthal man, complete with club, protecting his woman.
But he looked out at the calm waters, at the peace of the bay, and he wondered how there could ever be threats here. Helen was right, Kate’s marriage was history. Her husband would have long moved on. Telling her there might be the sniff of a threat would mar her peace for nothing.
I do need to tell her before I leave, he told himself. But I’m sure she’s safe. Stop worrying. For now Helen’s right. Let’s just focus on Harry.
CHAPTER FIVE
LET’S JUST FOCUS on Harry.
That was all very well, Jack thought as the days wore on, but Kate was right there in his focus as well.
The more he saw her, the more entranced he became.
It wasn’t that she was classically beautiful. Almost permanently dressed in a skin suit that flattered no one—a supermodel could hardly look good in skin-tight electric blue—with her often damp hair tugged back, her face devoid of make-up and her nose splodged with white zinc, she looked a world apart from the career-women in Jack’s normal world.
Maybe that was the attraction—but surely the attraction was that she was so caring. The attraction was the way she made Harry smile—and the attraction was the way she smiled herself, her dimples, her freckles, her total and absolute focus on the child she was treating.
She loved her work, and she was good at it. Very good.
While Harry played with his dolphins he watched her discreetly manipulate play, so that Harry was forced to use his bad leg, so he was turning and twisting in a way he’d never do on land. The water took the weight from his legs so it wouldn’t hurt as much, but still the unused muscles would be complaining. But because the dolphins were waiting for their new friend to join in with the next trick, Harry didn’t notice.
In the normal physio sessions back at the hospital in Sydney, Harry hadn’t tried. It had hurt and he’d wanted his mother. He’d been a ball of misery, and the more he’d curled into himself, the more the muscles had atrophied.
Here, under Kate’s gentle guidance, he was stretching more than Jack had dared hope.
Kate couldn’t be everywhere at once—she had a dozen small clients to treat—but the swimming pool physio sessions in the afternoon with the other trained staff were almost as effective. The physios back in Sydney had been good, Jack conceded, but they’d never had the enticement of ‘If you can kick to the end of the pool, you and Hobble might be able to have a race tomorrow.’
‘That’s silly,’ Harry had said, and once again Jack had caught his breath because this was Harry who was talking. Harry’s tongue seemed to have atrophied as well, but now the muscles were tentatively in use again. ‘I can’t beat Hobble,’ he said.
‘He gets handicapped,’ the physio told Harry.
‘What’s...what’s handicapped?’
‘We tell Hobble he has to zoom around the enclosure ten times while you use your board to kick from one side to the other. If he wins he gets a fish. If you win you get to feed all the dolphins a fish, so Hobble has to watch all his mates get one, too.’
Harry giggled, grabbed his foam kick board and started kicking. His wasted quadriceps meant he moved slowly but the
up and down motion continued. With the dolphins used as a wonderful enticement to continue, Harry worked harder than Jack could believe was possible.
But as good as the support staff were, as successful as the physio programme was, it was Kate who did the most good. Harry and Kate had a one-on-one session each morning, supposedly playing with the dolphins, but there was a psychological component undercurrent running through it that stunned him.
The first time Harry ‘beat’ Hobble, Kate whooped with excitement. She fetched fish so Harry could solemnly feed all four dolphins. Harry giggled as Hobble took his fish and retreated to the far reaches of the pool—for all the world as if he was sulking at having to share. Kate chuckled, handed Harry the bucket of fish and said, oh, so casually: ‘Oh, Harry, your mum and dad would be so proud of you.’
There was a moment’s silence. The same sentence would have seen Harry shut down a week ago, but the dolphins were lined up for fish, Hobble was edging back and there was no corner to curl up in and withdraw.
Hobble sneaked in and knocked the bucket. A fish slipped out and Hobble had it. He reared back and Jack could have sworn he was laughing.
Harry smiled as well, but he still looked fearful. Kate had reminded him of things that were terrible.
‘My mum and dad are dead,’ he said.
And there was a breath-catcher, too. Harry had never referred to them, not once since the crash.
‘That’s right. They were killed in the accident where you broke your leg,’ Kate said matter-of-factly. She took a fish and held it up. ‘But I bet they’re still proud of you. Some very wise people think that when parents die, part of them stays around for their kids. Not like they were, of course, but in the only way they can manage. It might be like the wind; when you feel a warm wind on your nose it’s like a cuddle from your mum. Or the sunbeams. They could be your mum and dad smiling.
‘Hobble, this is Splash’s,’ she said to Hobble, who was eyeing the fish she was holding, obviously wondering if another swoop would pay off. ‘If you want to be the only one who eats fish then you have to beat Harry, and Harry’s getting faster.’ She tossed the fish to Splash and watched the dynamics as the two fishless dolphins shoved their way to the front. Jack thought she was abandoning the deep and meaningful—but no.
‘But I’m guessing the accident must have been really frightening, Harry,’ she said.
All attention was on the dolphins. When the psychologists had talked to Harry at the hospital all the attention had been on him and he’d refused to answer.
This time he answered. ‘Yes,’ said Harry.
‘Was Jack there when you woke up at the hospital?’
‘Yes. And my Aunty Helen. But I want my mum and dad.’
‘I’d want my mum and dad, too,’ Kate said, again matter-of-factly. ‘More than anything in the world.’
‘I want them to come and get me. Now.’
They didn’t have pockets in these damned suits. What Jack needed right now was a man-sized handkerchief. Or six.
‘What are you worried about most?’ Kate probed gently, handing Harry a fish. ‘Don’t let Hobble or Splash get this one.’
That took concentration. Harry might forget the question, Jack thought, but it was a huge question and Harry didn’t forget.
‘I don’t think Mum and Dad will come back,’ Harry said at last, in a dreary little voice. ‘They’re dead.’
‘Don’t forget the sunbeams,’ Kate said, and Harry looked up towards the sun and let his nose warm up a little.
‘No,’ he whispered, and Jack wanted a handkerchief again.
‘So who do you think should care for you, now that your mum and dad can’t look after you?’
There was a long silence. Harry took a couple of steps forward, gripped his fish, waited until the right dolphin edged close—and then put the fish in the waiting mouth just as Hobble swept forward to intercept.
Hobble missed out and Harry managed a quavery smile. The edge of the awful question had been taken away.
But it lay unanswered. Kate gave him all the time in the world, and finally he went back to it.
‘My Auntie Helen will keep me,’ he said at last. ‘She said to Uncle Doug, ‘“One more kid doesn’t make any difference. We’ll scarcely notice.”’
Jack drew in his breath. He remembered that conversation. Harry had still been in hospital. They’d all thought he was asleep.
‘So your Auntie Helen and your Uncle Doug want you to live with them.’
‘Yes.’
‘Jack says they’ve given you a neat bedroom,’ Kate said. They’d fed the dolphins the big fish but she had whitebait in the bottom of the bucket, tiny fish which could be eked out to extend a conversation. ‘Is all your stuff there?’
‘Mum and Dad aren’t there.’ He threw a tiny fish, hard, and the dolphins played a nudging game to get it.
‘Your mum and dad aren’t in your bedroom?’
‘No. They’re dead.’
‘I can see that makes you feel angry,’ Kate said, a no-brainer as he was hurling individual whitebait with force.
‘They’ve left me with Aunty Helen.’
‘You’re with Jack now,’ Kate pointed out.
‘He doesn’t want me. I heard my mum say that Jack and Annalise don’t have time for kids. He’ll go back to work. I want my mum and dad.’
Whoa. So much information, so much emotion, where there’d been nothing. He opened his mouth to say something but Kate shot him a warning glance. Don’t mess with this, her glance said, and he subsided.
‘You know, there’s a whole lot of stuff you need to sort out,’ Kate said. ‘There’s a whole lot of stuff that Jack needs to sort out, too. Missing your mum and dad is the biggest thing. It must hurt and hurt and hurt. But Jack loved your mother very much. He’s her brother. He must be missing her just as much as you are.’
‘He’s not,’ Harry said. ‘He’s a grown-up.’
‘Grown-ups cry,’ Kate said. ‘Only sometimes they do it on the inside where you can’t see. Is it like that for you, Jack?’
‘Yes.’ There was nothing else to say to a question like that.
‘I think you and Jack are hurting just as much as each other,’ Kate said. ‘But, Harry, you have a sore leg as well, which means you get more chocolate ice cream tonight than Jack. Uh-oh. We’ve run out of fish. Is it time to take a shower before lunch? I think it’s fish and chips today.’ She turned to the dolphins and waved her empty bucket. ‘No more for you, guys, but we’re having fish for lunch as well.’
And the session was over, just like that.
Jack was feeling winded. He turned to leave the water, but suddenly Harry was right by his side, and a small hand slid into his.
‘Do you cry inside?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I do.’
Harry looked at him quietly and then nodded.
‘I want some fish and chips.’
* * *
Why was she so...discombobulated by the sight of Jack? Why was he doing her head in?
He seemed to be everywhere and yet he was only doing the normal thing dads did with their kids. Playing on the sand. Splashing about in the shallows. Taking a little time out to do long laps of the pool while she played with Harry. That was the hardest—her attention had to be totally on Harry and it was, but there was a part of her allowing her peripheral vision to take in his long, lean body stroking lazily through the water.
He was struggling with Harry—she could see it—and that twisted her heart a bit, too. He wasn’t Harry’s dad but he was trying. Every time Harry fell over, literally or metaphorically, he was there to pick him up. The little boy was withdrawn, mostly unresponsive, but it didn’t stop Jack from hugging him, laughing with him, teasing him, caring for him.
He was a high-flying, ambitious
medic. He was taking two weeks to try and bond with Harry.
He was also helping with the other kids here, subtly but surely. The way he’d responded to Susie had been more than kind; it had been empathic and sensitive. Susie was already talking about dancing again. Jack had used the admin. equipment to print pictures of famous dancers and Susie had them pinned to her wall. Why that did her head in she didn’t know, but somehow a chord was touched. And she loved what he was trying to do with Harry. She didn’t quite understand how these two could manage at the end of their two weeks here but for now he was trying and she had to give the man credit.
She didn’t, however, need to give the man attention. Unfortunately her hormones thought otherwise.
‘It’s just that they’re out of practice,’ she told herself crossly. ‘Get over it. The man’s here as a client and that’s all. Remember it.’
* * *
It was hard to remember when he was on her doorstep. She was watching telly when she heard a tentative knock on her door. It was eight o’clock but she was never off duty here. She was the only doctor so in any medical emergency she was available.
This wasn’t a medical emergency. Jack was on her front porch, looking worried.
‘I know,’ he said, as she answered the door. ‘You’re staff and I’m a client. I’m supposed to make an appointment to see you. But I couldn’t go to sleep tonight without saying thank you.’
‘What I do is my job,’ she said gently.
He was wearing chinos, an open-necked, short-sleeved shirt and no shoes. How fast her clients became beach bums, she thought. The blue sun suits were practical but they were a great leveller. Clothes could be used as a defence and there were no defences here.
‘I didn’t want to bring him here,’ he said, and she hesitated and then stepped out onto the veranda. It was a corny soap she’d been watching anyway. The fact that television soap characters had become a big part of her life was irrelevant.
‘You thought we were a pack of crystal ball gazers.’
‘Something like that. I was wrong. I just...needed to say it.’
A Secret Shared... Page 8
