by Leah Martyn
His blue eyes bored into hers. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
In other words, butt out. Great. Emma felt completely put in her place. At this rate they’d be lucky if the contract they’d signed lasted as long as six weeks—let alone six months!
By the time they’d got back to the surgery, Emma knew what she had to do and, by the end of the day, she’d accomplished most of it. She hesitated about telling Declan what she’d done. Would he even care…? Her train of thought was interrupted by the rap on her door and the man himself poked his head in.
‘Moira said you’d finished for the day,’ he said by way of explanation.
Emma beckoned him in, drawing back in her chair as if to reclaim her space. She took a deep breath, ultra-conscious of him as he walked forward and planted his hands on the desk in front of her. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve an update on Adam. They’ve operated. Bit of a mess but the foreign object came out cleanly. They’ll hit him with antibiotics for the next little while. Should be a straightforward recovery.’
Emma nodded, feeling the awkwardness between them cloy and magnify. She made a quick decision and swung off her chair. ‘Let’s go through and get a cup of tea. I’m parched—unless you need to be somewhere else?’
Several expressions chased through his eyes before he said with a rough sigh, ‘No…A cuppa sounds good.’ He tacked on a forced smile. ‘Perhaps we can make some inroads into that fruit cake as well.’
‘We’ll give it a good shot,’ Emma said, relieved that he’d at least agreed to have some down time, if only for a little while.
Switching on the electric jug, she got mugs down from the cupboard, all the time conscious of Declan’s restive movements about her kitchen. She cut slabs of the fruit cake and set them on a plate and then, when the water boiled, she made a pot of tea. She didn’t care how many cups it took, she was going to make Declan O’Malley talk to her about this morning.
‘Delicious cake,’ she said a bit later, swiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth. ‘Family recipe, you said?’
‘Mmm.’ Declan was on his second cup of tea. Taking up his mug, he looked at her narrowly over its rim. ‘Spit it out, Emma.’
Her eyes widened innocently. ‘The cake?’
‘No, not the cake.’ His voice rumbled with dry humour. ‘You want me to spill my guts about my reactions this morning, don’t you?’
Her shoulders twitched. ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly. But if it would help you to talk…’
His blue eyes traced her features one by one, then flicked back to lock with hers, their expression uncertain. ‘I—realize I lost it a bit. I jumped all over you. It’s the last thing I wanted to do.’
Emma drew in her breath sharply, and suddenly it was there in the air between them. The raw, overwhelming need, the awareness. The fear if it all went wrong. But, for now, they had to stay on track, keep it all professional. She moistened her lips. ‘It’s OK.’
‘It’s not OK,’ he contradicted. ‘I’d like to think it was a oneoff but, realistically, I guess I’m going to have to face more of those knife-edge moments in the future—’
‘But you’ll also learn to cope, Declan,’ she responded earnestly.
He snorted. ‘Well, let’s hope so. Otherwise, I’m not going to be much use to you as a rural doctor, am I?’
‘Was it just the fact you doubted your physical capability in the situation?’
‘That and the frustration I felt.’ He sat back, linking his hands around his mug and staring broodingly into its contents. ‘The fact is I should have been able to whip Adam into surgery here. Think how much easier it would have been for the family. How much more comfortable for Adam not to have had the road trip to Toowoomba.’
‘But it would have been quite the wrong decision for you!’ Emma’s voice was ripe with emotion.
‘I know that too,’ he agreed, a small rueful twist to his mouth. ‘It doesn’t make the frustration any less, though.’
‘Frustration you can live with,’ Emma declared quietly. ‘It would be a far worse outcome if you were to rush in when you’re not ready.’
‘Just to prove a point,’ he tacked on dryly.
‘Exactly.’
She was wise as well as beautiful. Declan ached to hold her again, feel the silkiness of her hair glide through his fingers. He closed his eyes briefly. He’d better face the fact. Emma Armitage had got to him as no other woman had. Ever. He wanted—needed her to think well of him. It mattered. A hell of a lot. He certainly didn’t want her to think of him as some kind of lame dog she had to carry in the practice. He blinked and focused as Emma began speaking again.
‘Don’t keep beating up on yourself over this, Declan. In an ideal situation, the firemen would have been on hand to do the tree climbing today. We should have had only to carry out our role as doctors. But, like it or not, that’s run-of-the-mill rural medicine,’ she ended, spreading her hands in a philosophical shrug.
Declan frowned and changed the subject. ‘I had a long conversation with Neal Drummond this afternoon.’
‘About what?’
‘Opening the swimming pool for use by our senior citizens.’
Emma’s widened gaze registered her surprise at his proactiveness. ‘What was his response?’
‘He’s willing but he’ll have to confer with the school’s P&C committee before he can give us an answer. I figured if we could get some water aerobics going for the seniors, it would be of immense benefit health-wise, lessen their stress levels, be a social outlet as well.’
‘It would certainly benefit patients like Carolyn Jones. Well done, you.’
Declan’s mouth kicked up in a crooked smile. ‘Well…I’m slowly getting the hang of this kind of community medicine. Perhaps, by the end of our six months’ trial, I’ll be taking it in my stride.’
Emma’s heart skipped a beat. But if he wasn’t—what then? ‘Um—I’ve done a bit of organizing of my own. While Carolyn’s away in Toowoomba, I’m having Adam’s two older siblings to stay with me.’
He huffed dryly, ‘Why am I not surprised?’
‘I’m a hands-on kind of girl,’ she defended.
‘I’d have to agree with that.’ The look he sent her was blue-metal hot.
Emma’s insides heaved crazily. She felt heat rising, warming her throat, flowering over her cheeks. Suddenly, her train of thought was gone, her thoughts all over the place. ‘It just seemed the logical thing to do.’ The words pumped up jerkily from her chest. ‘Lauren and Joel know me. Before their lives went pear-shaped, Carolyn did some housekeeping for Dad and me. The kids used to come with her sometimes. They had the run of the house. Moira’s round there now, helping them pack a few clothes. The school bus can pick them up from here in the mornings and drop them back. It’ll be good.’
Declan’s gaze softened. ‘You’re so like your father, Emma. He believed in actions speaking louder than words too.’
Emma dipped her head, sudden tears blurring her eyes. He couldn’t have given her a nicer compliment.
Chapter Six
CHILDREN made the house a home, Emma thought indulgently, watching as Lauren and Joel scooped up their breakfast cereal with obvious enjoyment. ‘Now, I’ll get on and make your school lunches,’ she said, placing some buttered toast on the table between them. ‘What would you like on your sandwiches, guys?’
‘Anything will do,’ ten-year-old Lauren said shyly.
Blue-eyed Joel sent an innocent look at Emma. ‘It’s tuck shop today.’
‘We’re not allowed tuck shop.’ Lauren gave her younger brother an old-fashioned look.
Probably because their grandparents couldn’t afford to hand out money they didn’t have. Emma’s soft heart was touched. Poor babes. ‘Why don’t we have a treat today, then? Let’s do tuck shop.’
The children stopped eating and looked at Emma. ‘Could we?’ Lauren fisted a small hand across her chest.
‘You bet,’ Emma said.
‘Yay!’ Joel yelped with delight. ‘Can I have a burger?’
‘Please,’ Emma directed, hiding a smile.
‘Please…’ Joel parroted with a grin.
‘What about you, Lauren?’ Emma sent the little girl a warm smile. ‘Like a burger as well?’
Lauren nodded her wheat-blonde head. ‘Yes, please, Emma.’
‘Good. Now, what do we have to do—write out an order or something?’ Emma racked her brains thinking back to her own primary school days.
‘We write what we want on a piece of paper and put it in our lunch box with the money.’ Joel was only too happy to provide the answers.
‘And the tuck shop ladies make up the lunch orders,’ Lauren filled in quietly.
‘Right.’ Emma looked from one to the other. ‘That sounds easy-peasy.’
Lauren giggled.
‘And you can get other stuff too,’ Joel said around a mouthful of toast.
Emma reached for her scribble pad and a pen. ‘Let’s get started, then.’ While the two pairs of young eyes watched intently, she wrote the orders for the burgers and then asked, ‘Now, what else would you like, Lauren?’
The little girl thought for a minute. ‘Could I have a strawberry yoghurt, please?’
‘Of course, you may.’ Emma wrote diligently. ‘Joel, honey?’
‘Packet of chips—please?’
Emma raised a brow. It wasn’t the most nutritious of choices, but hey, today’s lunches were meant to be a treat. ‘OK, done.’ Emma stuffed the notes into the waiting lunch boxes and enclosed the appropriate money. ‘Now, if you’ve finished breakfast, hop off and brush your teeth.’
Joel took off along the hallway, making vroom noises as he flapped his arms like an aeroplane coming in to land, almost colliding with Declan, who was making his way in. ‘What’s that all about?’ Declan cranked a dark brow in query.
Emma chuckled. ‘Joel’s on a high because I said they could have tuck shop today.
‘He’s not the only one on a high.’ Declan’s eyes and voice teased.
‘It’s lovely having them here.’ Emma’s blood sang. ‘This house was made for children.’
And perhaps she’d fill it with her own one day. The wild idea of him being the father of those imaginary children stopped Declan in his tracks, sending rivers of want and doubt and sheer amazement cascading through his bloodstream. The thought was crazy…‘Er…I came in early. Thought you might want a bit of a hand. But I see I needn’t have worried.’
‘No—’ She saw his gaze settle on her mouth and linger. And suddenly she could feel his presence, his masculinity like the ticking of a time bomb…‘They’re great kids. Ah—here they are again. All set?’ She snuggled them into their anoraks, gave Lauren a hug and laughed as Joel squirmed away. Handing them their backpacks, she ushered them outside to wait for the school bus.
‘It’s cold out there—’ Emma was rubbing her arms as she came back into the warmth of the kitchen. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I’ve put the kettle on for a fresh pot.’
‘Oh—good. That’s good.’ Emma’s voice trailed away and she glanced at her watch. ‘You are in early.
‘I couldn’t stay away. It’s more fun here.’
There was a moment of awkward silence while they smiled at each other in a goofy kind of way. Then the water boiled and Declan turned away to make the tea. Tea made, he turned back with the pot cradled in his hands. ‘Am I making myself too much at home here? Just yell if I am.’
‘No—it’s nice…’ The words spilled out on their own and she squirmed at her transparent honesty. ‘I’ll get the mugs.’
‘So—did you happen to find out the reasons for Adam’s misadventure?’ Declan asked her.
‘Mmm, I did, actually. I had a little chat to Lauren last night when she was getting ready for bed. I didn’t press her,’ she added, seeing Declan’s sharp look of concern. ‘Lauren volunteered the information. She said her gran lost her temper and smacked Adam on the legs.’
Declan’s mouth drew in. ‘Hard?’
‘With a rolled-up newspaper.’
So, not too hard, then. They didn’t need a case of child abuse to add to the already difficult situation. ‘What was the problem?’
‘Adam wet the bed—again.’
‘He’s obviously disturbed. Poor little kid.’ Declan shook his head. ‘So, as doctors, what do we do—start looking for definitive solutions for this family?’
‘If there are any.’ Emma sighed. ‘Carolyn will be beside herself.’
‘Wallowing in guilt is not going to solve anything.’
‘That’s a bit hard.’
‘So is what’s happening to these kids. Be realistic, Emma. Do we know where the mother is?’
‘Tracey?’ Emma pulled her thoughts together. ‘Toowoomba somewhere, I think. Carolyn has an address.’
‘So, will she let Tracey know what’s happened?’
‘I don’t think they speak much.’
Declan blew out a frustrated breath through his teeth. ‘So, Tracey is living in a twilight zone with her junkie boyfriend while the grandparents slave their guts out to raise her kids. That’s not good enough. Those kids need their mother.’
‘They need a functioning mother,’ Emma countered. ‘And stability—which they have now with their grandparents.’
‘They could still have that but Tracey should be there as well, sharing the load. Carolyn and Nev are nearing an age when they should be thinking of enjoying their retirement. They shouldn’t have this extra burden of having to rear their grandchildren because their daughter-in-law chooses to opt out of her responsibilities.’
Emma rolled her eyes. ‘So, what are you going to do—drag Tracey back by the hair and make her be a proper mother to her kids?’
‘No, Dr Armitage.’ Surprisingly, Declan grinned. ‘I’ll go and see her, talk to her and try to get her into some decent rehab programme.’
‘You’re quite serious about this, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am.’ Declan’s look turned pensive. ‘I’m remembering my own childhood, when our lives suddenly turned upside-down.’
‘I don’t see the connection,’ Emma said. ‘Your mother appears to have made a wonderful job of raising you and your sisters.’
He shrugged. ‘Given a different set of genes, who knows how she might have coped? It’s both as simple and as complicated as that. Anyway, I’d like to try to see Tracey. Ascertain what I can do to help.’
Emma was about to offer to accompany him but she held back. She guessed this was something he needed to do off his own bat. He was on a steep learning curve but he seemed to be getting the hang of family medicine with all its uncertainties and pitfalls. She should be grateful. ‘When will you go?’ she asked instead.
‘This afternoon, if I can get away reasonably early. I’ll make a few phone calls first, see what’s out there in the way of help for Tracey. When I get to Toowoomba, I’ll swing by the hospital and see Adam, have a word with Carolyn and hope she can give me Tracey’s address.’
‘Just—don’t expect too much, Declan, from yourself or—’ Emma’s flow of words was interrupted by a loud banging on the front door of the surgery. She jumped to her feet.
‘Wait!’ Declan cautioned. ‘Let me get the door.’
Emma stopped mid-stride. ‘But surely it’s an emergency!’
‘We don’t know that for sure. And people are aware you live alone, Emma.’
‘Oh—’ Beating back a shadowy unease, Emma fell in behind Declan as he went to the front door. Switching off the alarm, he unlocked the door and slid it open. ‘Yes?’
A man dressed in workman’s clothes rocked agitatedly from one foot to the other. At Declan’s appearance, he pulled back uncertainly. ‘You a doctor, mate?’
‘Yes, I am.’ Declan’s response was clipped. ‘What’s happened?’
The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘I’m the foreman from the building site across the road, there. One of t
he guys slipped off the scaffolding—tore his hand on a bloody wall spike. Bleeding’s pretty bad.’
‘You go!’ Emma practically pushed Declan out of the door. ‘I’ll follow with my bag.’
As quickly as she could, Emma followed the men across the road to the site. ‘Who and what do we have here?’ She hunkered down beside Declan.
‘Brett Cartrell, de-gloved hand.’ Declan’s dark head was bent over his patient. ‘Did you bring morphine?’
Emma delved into her case and handed him the drug plus an anti-nausea medication. Ah…not good. She clamped her teeth on her bottom lip, seeing where the skin had been forcibly pulled back from the workman’s hand. The injury would surely need microsurgery.
‘Crikey, Doc…’ Brett was pale and sweating. ‘This is killin’ me—’
‘I know, mate.’ Declan slipped the oxygen mask into place. ‘Breathe away, now. That’s good. IV now, please, Emma.’ He shot the painkiller home. ‘Normal saline.’
Emma knew it was their best option to stave off shock. Prompting a vein to the surface, she slid the cannula into place.
‘What’s the ETA on the ambulance?’ Declan brought his gaze up, addressing the shocked faces of the men around him.
‘They’ll be a while, the base reckoned,’ Cam Creedy, the foreman, said.
‘God, I love that euphemistic term,’ Declan growled, running a stethoscope over Brett’s chest. ‘Breathing’s OK,’ he relayed in an aside to Emma. ‘Could you get a pressure bandage over the injury, please?’
Quickly and gently, Emma secured the bandage. ‘Sling now?’
Declan nodded. ‘I’ll hold his hand steady while you do that.’ He addressed the site foreman. ‘I take it you’ll be doing a report for the Workplace Health and Safety people?’
‘Goes without saying.’ Cam Creedy pushed back his hard hat and scratched his head. ‘I don’t know how it could have happened. I always get the guys to check and double-check before they climb anywhere.’
‘Accidents happen,’ Declan said darkly. ‘I can vouch for that.’
Emma sent him a sharp look. He seemed in control and there was none of the edginess of yesterday. She daren’t ask him if he was OK. He’d probably shoot her down in flames and she didn’t want that. Not when they seemed to be forging a more positive kind of relationship.
