by Leah Martyn
‘Now?’
‘Please.’
‘OK.’ Emma left what she doing and went with him along to the staff kitchen.
‘This is just to pull a few things together before the week gets away from us,’ Declan explained to the assembled group.
‘Before we start, Declan,’ Moira said, ‘what’s the latest on Agnes? They won’t tell me anything at the hospital except the standard response.’
‘Sorry about that, Moira. I should have got back to you,’ Declan apologized. ‘Agnes has settled quite nicely. At this stage they don’t think they’ll have to operate. And I believe some family members from Brisbane arrived yesterday to be with her.’
‘Oh, that is good news.’ Moira picked up her cup of tea and held it against her chest. ‘How long will she be in, do we know?’
‘Not sure. I wouldn’t think the hospital will be in any hurry to discharge her, though.’
‘In that case, I’ll send some flowers.’
‘Better still, Moira, make the flowers from all of us and charge them to the practice,’ Declan said. ‘I think the place can stand the cost for one of our senior citizens.’
‘That’s a nice gesture,’ Emma said quietly.
‘I’m a nice guy,’ Declan joked.
Emma laughed huskily, trying to hide the sudden leap in her pulse as his thigh brushed against hers. ‘What else is on the agenda?’ she got out quickly before her thoughts became entirely scrambled.
Declan sent her a wry smile. He knew what he’d like to be on the agenda. Instead, he snapped to attention. ‘Cedric Dutton. I called round to see him, managed a good chat about things. He’s OK now about you making a home visit, Libby. Just keep it low-key, hmm?’
The practice nurse made a small grimace. ‘In other words, don’t be a bossy cow.’
Declan grinned. ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly. But he’ll respond better if we all gentle him along. He’s also agreed to try and socialize a bit. He thought the card morning at the seniors’ club might be a start. He’ll need transport, though. Ideas, anyone?’
‘I’ll have a word with Tiny Carruthers,’ Moira said. ‘He runs a minibus around to collect the older folk. There are a few with mobility problems. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding Cedric to his list.’
‘Tiny Carruthers?’ Declan looked a question between the women. ‘Is he quite fit himself, then?’
Emma chuckled. ‘Perfectly. Tiny is six feet and used to play rugby.’
‘I see…’ Declan raised an eyebrow.
‘He treats the older folk like they’re the most important people in the world,’ Moira enlarged. ‘Cedric will be well looked after.’
‘Good.’ Declan nodded approval. ‘I’ll leave that in your capable hands, then, Moira. Now, as you know, I’m invited to the P&C meeting at the school tonight to put our case for the pool to be opened for the seniors’ use. I wondered, Moira, whether you’d be free to come with me?’
‘Me?’ Moira looked flustered. ‘What would you need me to do?’
‘What you do best.’ Declan tipped the older woman a reassuring smile. ‘Advocate for the seniors. I can cover the obvious health benefits that participating in physical activity brings. Like helping to strengthen bones and muscles and so reduce the possibility of falls and so on.’
‘To say nothing of maintaining folk’s independence and social connection,’ Moira added, warming to her role. ‘And water aerobics is so low-impact and lovely. It’s such a shame the pool can’t be put to use for the benefit of our older folk.’
‘You’ve convinced me.’ Looking pleased, Declan leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
‘Oh, heavens, I fell right into that, didn’t I?’ Moira looked a bit bemused. ‘But I’m happy to do what I can.’
‘Would you like me to swing by and give you a lift to the meeting?’ Declan asked.
Moira flapped a hand in dismissal. ‘You’d have to come in from the cabin and then detour to collect me.’
‘Why go home at all after work?’ Emma turned to Declan with a sudden idea. ‘Stay and have dinner with me and the kids. Then you can leave from here for the meeting.’
He thought about it for one second. ‘Thanks. Like me to cook?’
Remembering Friday night when he’d cooked for them, Emma felt her body engulfed in heat. But with the children around there’d be none of that happening tonight. She didn’t know whether to feel glad or sorry. She lifted her gaze to his and for a second their eyes held and they were lost in a hush of silence, a stillness as profound as a mountain top at dawn. ‘No need—’ Emma blinked, lifting a hand to clutch the unbuttoned collar of her shirt. ‘I’ll pop a casserole in the slowcooker at lunch time. If that’s all right with you?’
His rather bemused smile began at his lips and moved to his eyes. ‘I’ll look forward to it. So, Moira—’ he snapped back to attention ‘—I’ll collect you and drop you home after the meeting.’
A few more matters regarding the practice were raised and settled.
‘You going all right, Jodi?’ Declan asked as the meeting broke up and people began standing and clattering their chairs back into place. ‘Finding the job OK?’
‘I love the work. It’s so…interesting.’
‘Perhaps you’ll rethink your uni course.’ Emma laughed. ‘Switch to medicine.’
‘Don’t think so.’ Jodi wrinkled her pert nose. ‘I love my thoroughbreds too much.’
‘I know it’s difficult but try to avoid the temptation to scratch,’ Emma told her first patient for the day. Shannon Gilmore had recently moved from North Queensland to settle in Bendemere’s much cooler climate.
‘Pardon me for saying the obvious, Doctor, but you don’t have this wretched condition. Some days I could scratch myself to pieces.’ The thirty-year-old’s bottom lip quivered. ‘I don’t think the climate here suits me. I wish we’d never had to leave the north. And I don’t think it’s fair that the wife has to trundle along like so much baggage wherever the husband’s job takes him.’
So, they were dealing with much more than her patient’s eczema here. Emma’s professional instincts sharpened and she prepared for a longer than usual consult. It was obvious Shannon had issues with alienation and resentment and probably sheer loneliness that were all adding to her stress levels and pushing the symptoms of her eczema into overdrive. Her doctor offering half-baked platitudes was not going to help matters. ‘It must be difficult when you have your own career to think about,’ she commiserated.
‘I didn’t have a structured career as such. But I had a nice little shop specialising in home décor. And clients willing to pay quite large sums for my expertise. I loved it…’
Emma thought. ‘Is there a possibility you could start something like that here?’
Shannon’s smile was brittle. ‘If I hear that once more, I’ll scream. I was living in the tropics, selling pieces in beautiful vibrant colours. Here, it’s so cold all the time. Who wants to go out and shop? And the days never warm up.’
‘Well, they do, actually.’ Emma proffered a wry smile. ‘But obviously not to the degree you’re accustomed to.’
Shannon’s shoulders hunched over.
‘I understand things seem a bit bleak and insurmountable at the moment,’ Emma said gently. ‘But if we can’t change that immediately, at least let’s see what we can do for your eczema, shall we?’
‘I didn’t mean to come across as so pathetic and needy…’ Shannon’s little shrug was almost defensive.
Emma decided no follow-up comment was required. Instead, she said, ‘First, I think we should consider the type of clothing you’re wearing, Shannon. Overheating is a trigger for the eczema to flare up and the skin to start itching.’
‘I just can’t seem to get warm.’ Shannon’s fingers plucked at the bulky-knit jumper she was wearing.
‘Anything synthetic is probably not a good choice for you at the moment. You’d be better wearing layers of lighter garments so your skin can breathe. Cotton clothing is
good. Check out the shops in Toowoomba. You’ll find they have a range of wonderful separates. I’m sure you’ll find something to suit you. Now, on more practical matters, I imagine you know it’s best to avoid soap and detergents?’
Shannon nodded. ‘I use a non-perfumed moisturizer and I’m aware of the food allergy factor.’
‘And stress,’ Emma added gently.
‘I guess…’
‘You’re obviously on the right track with your food.’ Emma smiled. ‘But you could try increasing your intake of vitamins A, E and C and fish oil supplements can help rebuild the skin. All that will take a little while to kick in so in the meantime I’ll give you a script for a steroid cream as a short-term measure. That should get you back on track and don’t hesitate to use a cold compress to help things along.’
‘Thanks for this.’ Shannon took the script and folded it into her bag. ‘And for just listening, I guess…’
At the end of the surgery hours Emma popped her head into Declan’s room and asked, ‘Are you through for the day?’
He looked up from his computer, his eyes softening. ‘One more patient to see.’ They exchanged a smile. ‘I’ll come through when I’m done, OK?’
‘Fine. Lauren and I are making an apple crumble for dessert.’ She fluttered a two-fingered wave. ‘See you.’
Declan still had the smile on his face when he scooted his chair back and got to his feet. Rolling back his shoulders, he stretched. He had a few minutes before his last patient for the day was scheduled. He’d never read so much nor spent so much time on the Net than in the past weeks, he thought a bit ruefully. But there were so many areas where he’d had to refresh his knowledge to function effectively as a family practitioner. But he was getting there. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
Chapter Ten
DECLAN walked Moira safely to her door and then returned to his car. The meeting had gone well and he was upbeat about how his suggestions had been taken on board by the committee. It was a good outcome for the seniors. Very good.
Suddenly, he wanted to share his news with Emma. And it wasn’t that late. She might still be up. He was only a few minutes from Kingsholme. He could cruise by and see whether her lights were on. Decision made, he started the motor and slid away from the kerb.
When he arrived at Kingsholme, Declan could see one solitary light on at the rear of the house. She was probably in the kitchen. Getting out of the car, he followed the path along the side of the building to the back verandah and mounted the steps. He gave a cursory knock and opened the kitchen door, calling gently, ‘Emma? It’s me.’
‘Declan?’ She spun round from the stove and frowned uncertainly. ‘I didn’t expect you.’
‘Hi.’ Slightly bemused, he stood with his back to the door and looked at her. She was dressed in polka-dot winter pyjamas, a cuddly dark blue dressing gown and fluffy socks. She looked adorable and he wanted to hold her for ever. ‘I wanted to tell you about the meeting.’
She nodded vaguely. ‘I’ve made some hot chocolate. It’ll stretch to two.’
‘Thanks.’ He rubbed his arms briskly, watching as she tipped the hot milk from the saucepan and filled the two mugs. ‘It’s cold out there.’
Taking their mugs, they sat at the kitchen table. Declan leaned forward eagerly. ‘The committee have agreed to the seniors using the pool. They’ve even gone a step further and suggested having a huge fundraiser to have it heated.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘And Moira was impressive—in full flight,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘The committee didn’t know what hit them. Even asked what more they could do for the older folk. I hope something comes of it—’ He stopped abruptly. Emma was barely listening. Instead, she was gripping her mug like a lifeline and staring fixedly at the opposite wall. ‘Hey…’ he said gently, touching her arm to bring her out of her trancelike state. ‘Are you all right?’
She looked at him blankly. ‘Mum’s here.’
A frown touched his eyes. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘It could be. I haven’t told her about you. Only that I have a suitable partner for the practice.’
Declan’s frown became more pronounced. ‘What are you saying, Emma, that you don’t want me to meet her?’
‘Of course I want you to meet her!’ Her gaze fluttered down and she hesitated. ‘But when she hears your name—what if she…?’
‘Connects the dots? Emma, we can’t be held responsible for what our parents did. We don’t even know if they did anything untoward. Do we?’
‘No…’ She swallowed heavily and foolish tears blurred her vision. ‘I’d hate for her to be hurt, Declan.’
‘Because of us and what we mean to each other? Emma, that’s ridiculous.’ He took her hands in his and gently chafed them. ‘You’re imagining wild scenarios that have no basis in fact. I’ll meet your mum, OK?’ he cajoled softly. ‘And we’ll go from there.’
She nodded mutely.
‘Good.’ He gave her fingers an approving squeeze. ‘Now, drink your nightcap. It’ll help you sleep.’ Declan looked thoughtful as he lifted his own mug and took several deep mouthfuls of the hot chocolate. ‘When did your mother arrive?’
‘Just after you’d left for the meeting. She flew up today from Melbourne and hired a car at the Brisbane airport. She said she wanted to surprise me.’
Well, she’d certainly done that. Declan finished his drink. ‘Is she just here for some family time or—’
‘No,’ Emma cut in and shook her head. ‘There’s an auction at one of the heritage homes in Toowoomba tomorrow. She’s interested in bidding for a couple of paintings for her gallery. But I imagine she won’t stay long. She’ll want to get back to her business. We didn’t have a chance to talk much. She was tired after the drive so she more or less had a shower and went off to bed.’
‘I’ll come in early, then.’ Declan made up his mind. ‘That way, I can at least meet her before she heads off about her day.’
Emma resisted the urge to lean closer and rest her head on his shoulder. Just. ‘That might be best. I guess…’
‘Emma, we can’t keep walking on eggshells about this. Let’s just take things as they come.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ She drummed up her best and brightest smile.
He glanced at his watch. ‘I should go and let you get some sleep.’
‘And you as well.’ She walked with him to the door. ‘See you in the morning,’ she said.
Declan cupped her face with both hands. ‘I’ll be here early.’
She gave a nod of understanding and agreement.
‘It’ll be all right, Emma.’ His mouth brushed against hers. ‘Trust me.’
The following morning, Emma felt the nerves in her stomach churning endlessly. She’d fed the children and now they’d gone to get dressed for school while she organized their lunches. Earlier, she’d heard her mother’s alarm so she’d probably be up and dressed by now…Was Declan on his way in from the cabin? Oh, Lord…
‘Morning, darling.’
‘Oh—hi, Mum.’ Emma’s heart rate quickened as her mother came into the kitchen. ‘Sleep all right?’
‘Seemed a bit odd to be back in Andrew’s and my old bedroom. But I slept well. I like the makeover, by the way.’
‘It seemed time.’ Emma was guarded. ‘Now, what about some breakfast?’
‘Just toast, thanks. Do you have leaf green tea?’
‘China canister there on the shelf. Help yourself. I’ll just finish packing the kids’ lunches.’ Emma’s mouth flicked into a quick smile. ‘You look lovely, by the way.’ Dressed in her beautifully tailored black trousers and jacket, her mother looked Melbourne chic all the way. ‘Your boots are gorgeous.’
‘And comfortable. I expect to be doing a bit of running around today.’
Emma watched as her mother slid bread into the toaster. ‘Are you after anything else beside the paintings?’
‘The Kingsley estate was vast. There are some extremely delicate tapest
ries I might go after—if the price is right,’ she added with a wry smile.
True to his word, Declan arrived early at Kingsholme. He unloaded his medical case in his consulting room and then made his way through to the living quarters. He heard muted conversation from the vicinity of the kitchen and guessed the voices belonged to Emma and her mother. His heart did a quick tango. He’d pretended to be calm about things for Emma’s sake. But he was far from it. Mrs Armitage’s reaction could ruin everything he and Emma had found. He hoped with all that was in him it wouldn’t come to that.
Reaching the kitchen, he paused and then leant against the doorframe and poked his head in. Emma’s mother was standing against the bench of cupboards, a delicate teacup in her hands. At least he supposed it was her mother. She looked like an older version of her daughter. Declan’s gaze flicked discreetly and quickly over the slender-framed woman. She oozed style and sophistication in her dress and very good gold jewellery decorated her throat and hands. Hell, he hoped he’d measure up. He cleared his throat. ‘Good morning.’
‘Declan!’ Her heart thumping, Emma turned, holding Lauren’s lunch box like a shield against her chest. ‘Come in. Um—this is my mother. Mum—’ she smiled, her voice a bit breathless, earnest with her own need for things to go well ‘—this is Declan O’Malley, my practice partner.’
Emma’s mother turned with a graceful movement and replaced her cup on its saucer and then held out her hand. ‘Declan. How very nice to meet you.’
‘Mrs Armitage.’ Declan’s handshake was firm. ‘It’s good to meet you too.’
‘Oh, please. Call me Roz.’ The older woman smiled. ‘You’ve an early start this morning?’
‘Most mornings,’ Declan replied. ‘But we don’t mind, do we, Emma?’ His wide-open gaze seemed natural and frank but it was telling Emma so much more. First hurdle over. It will be all right.
‘It’s like most jobs, I guess,’ Emma said, getting into the spirit of the conversation. ‘You get into a rhythm of sorts.’
Declan looked hopefully around the kitchen. ‘Any tea going, guys?’
