‘You don’t have to make your bed this morning,’ his mother teased, but everyone knew a treat was in the offing.
After they’d gone, Emma finished up the last of the patients to be allowed to go home and tidied her end of the ward before she drifted back down towards the critically ill Seamus. They’d taken blood, run through two litres of fluid and given paracetamol for the fever and his aches and pains, but there was talk of transferring him to Brisbane if he worsened.
By lunchtime the pathology results were back and as Gianni had suspected Seamus had brought home an infection from Africa. Dengue antibodies were isolated and at least they knew what had caused his fever. The implications for his family were something nobody discounted. Seamus must have incubated the bug since he’d been home and now three weeks later he was sick.
‘The real threat is cross-infection to others if he’s been bitten by the local mosquitoes,’ Gianni told Christine. ‘I’ve seen epidemics like this in disaster areas. In the normal cycle of dengue, the female mosquito feeds on an infected and viraemic human, and in ten days the salivary glands of that mosquito become infected for life. That way the disease is spread to other humans before you know it you have an outbreak.’
He glanced at the wall clock. ‘We’ll notify the local infectious-diseases department but I doubt they’ll do anything with only one case.’
Christine held her husband’s hand. ‘So how soon will he feel better?’
‘It will take a week at least,’ Gianni said, ‘though sometimes patients can relapse for a few days.’
Emma remembered that adults were more likely to be infected than children, because the town had had a small outbreak a few years ago, but children could become quite ill with the worst forms of the disease. She’d have to watch Grace.
Gianni went on. ‘His headaches and muscle pain will probably get worse and he may get gastric symptoms. This part of the disease process has to pass before he’ll improve sufficiently to feel normal.’
Christine stroked her husband’s forehead. ‘Does he have to stay in hospital? Can we do anything for him by keeping him in that I can’t do at home?’
‘Perhaps not now he’s rehydrated, and as you’re a nurse. As long as he drinks. He’ll be sick and uncomfortable, if you think you can manage.’
Christine looked at Seamus who muttered, ‘Let’s try home, love.’
Emma touched Christine’s arm. ‘I’ll set up a roster so someone comes to see you morning and afternoon to give you a hand.’ That was how it worked in Lyrebird Lake. If someone needed help, the load was shared through the network of friends, especially with those who worked at the hospital. ‘I’ll come around in the morning and help with his sponge and changing the bed,’ Emma promised.
Gianni continued, ‘If he gets worse, ring for an ambulance again and bring him back. We’ll set up a room that’s isolated. Otherwise paracetamol for the pain and fever. No aspirin or anti-inflammatory drugs because of the risk of bleeding.’
Gianni laid his hand on her arm. ‘Keep the insect repellent on all of you. We don’t want any mosquitoes that have bitten Seamus biting you. Or your son.’
‘Patrick,’ Emma said quietly.
Gianni nodded. ‘And have Patrick empty any plant pots with water and clear away piles of leaves. No water lying around for mosquitoes to breed in.’
Gianni would have seen this many times in disaster-affected areas. If they haven’t already bred, Emma thought, and promised herself she’d check around her own house.
Gianni hadn’t finished. He added, ‘A mosquito net over Seamus through the day, as well. Remember it is those mosquitoes that feed morning and afternoon that pass on dengue, not the night-time ones.’
Christine nodded. ‘I’ll get Patrick to see to it.’ They strapped Seamus, head drooping, in the passenger seat of Christine’s car, and Gianni closed the door for them.
They stood together as Christine and her husband drove off. Emma sighed. ‘That’s how it spread last time, a teacher back from Indonesia and then through the local insects.’ She watched the car drive away with a worried frown. ‘Do you think she’ll manage? He’s a big man.’
Gianni shrugged. ‘It is the right of a wife to care for her husband. And vice versa. If he’s too much for her to handle then we can care for him here. Or if he becomes more unwell, he’ll be transferred out to Brisbane.’ They turned to go back inside. ‘I think your Christine needs to try, and you seem to have a good support system here.’
‘We do.’ She stripped the bed and wiped it over. To her surprise, Gianni returned the monitors to their place against the wall and cleared the paper litter. She hadn’t imagined he was used to helping nurses. To cover her confusion, Emma rattled on. ‘I’ve spoken to Montana. We’ll finish the shift one down but she’ll cover Christine’s shifts for the next few days with my friend Tammy.’
Gianni helped her tuck the sheet in and then watched her as she slid the new cover over a pillow. ‘It is a very efficient service here. I’ve never worked in a hospital that feels as close knit and supportive as your Lyrebird Lake.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked at him and could tell he was sincere. No doubt it would be totally different to his work conditions. ‘I imagine it’s pretty fraught when you arrive at disasters with very little back-up. Here we have Andy for the doctors and the hospital admin, and Montana for the nurses, and they’re both great troubleshooters. They’ve been here since before Grace was born.’
‘And one day, your daughter, Grace, she will work here too?’ He smiled and she nodded.
She just hoped she was well enough to see that. Emma glanced around the tidy room and realised there was just the two of them now the influx of patients had cleared. ‘Cup of tea? Might be a good idea to have lunch—this place is feast or a famine with patients.’
Gianni also looked around and she could see his surprise that the ward was empty. ‘You finished everyone. They have gone home? Well done when we weren’t looking.’
She felt a little glow from his praise. A glow was safe enough. As long as he didn’t touch her. ‘You’d written in their notes, so no problem. We’re a good team.’
There was a pause as they both thought about what she’d said, and suddenly the banter died. ‘Everyone who works here is a good team,’ Emma said, and turned away. ‘Have you any lunch or do you want to go to the kiosk and buy something? I’ve brought mine.’ Not that she felt like eating. ‘I’ll watch the door.’
‘Louisa has packed my lunch. Like a bambino. She gives me fruit, as well.’ He shrugged and grinned, and she saw for a moment the small boy he’d been many years ago.
‘Lucky you.’ Bummer, Emma thought. So much for him leaving for a brief respite. She chewed her lip. Of course Louisa would enjoy looking after a man again. For herself, she wished Louisa hadn’t. Five minutes to get her head together would have been very welcome.
They moved to the tea room through an open door adjacent to the emergency entry and both sighed as they sank with relief onto the chairs in the little room.
He was so close. Emma slid across to the far edge of her chair. The space was much too small to sit comfortably with Gianni, Emma grumbled to herself. Strange when she’d had many a pleasant break in here with Christine.
He opened his lunch and bit into a roll with relish. Emma looked at her salad and put the lid back on it. How did you behave normally with a man you barely knew yet knew intimately? Where did she look? What could she say and how could she make her body ignore the fact that he’d touched every inch of her with magic and she him?
She picked up a magazine and fanned herself before she realised what she was doing. Horrified she’d given herself away, she replaced it carefully on the table.
Her eyes slid across to his and he was watching her. With the barest hint of a smile on his face, but it was enough for her to know. Her face flamed.
‘Well, it is embarrassing.’
‘Si.’ His dark eyes softened on hers. ‘Perhaps a little.’ And he s
miled again. ‘But delightful.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Great. You find it delightful that I want to sink into a hole in the ground.’
He frowned. ‘I have no shame, only if I have caused you distress, and neither should you.’ He turned to face her fully, and before she realised it he’d lifted the hand from her lap and clasped it in his. In that movement he could make her feel small and protected. Something she hadn’t felt since Gianni had left.
‘No,’ he said earnestly. ‘Shame is not what you should be feeling. You should feel pride at bestowing a precious, healing gift on a man who had no expectation of feeling life again.’ He glanced around as if for support. ‘You asked me not to contact you. That it was a moment in time for you, so instead I thought of you. Every moment. But in the end I am glad of my chance to see you again.’
Emma looked down at her hand held in his and considered the implications of his statement, and the panic galloped up her throat. ‘Let’s not talk about this. Here. At all.’
He raised his eyebrows and she could see that wasn’t going to happen. She sighed. ‘Or at least give me time.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll need weeks,’ she said under her breath, ‘to get used to the idea that you came back.’
He let go and sat back. ‘Of course. I apologise. You are right. I did not intend to…’ He hesitated as if to search for the right word. ‘Accost you at work.’
Emma drew in a long breath and changed the subject. ‘So what did your brother think of you coming out here?’
He shrugged and then he sighed. ‘I have not lingered at home since my marriage so he is used to me being away. And sometimes the guilt rises because I should see my wife’s parents.’ There was no doubt he felt his responsibilities. Which seemed strange when he’d spent so much time away from them. ‘My nephew will inherit my part of the family lands and businesses if I do not marry.’
His brother might reasonably expect that, Emma thought, after ten years. ‘Can I ask what happened between you and your brother?’
He spread his strong fingers and she yanked her eyes away from them. ‘His wife did not like me or my rapport with my brother. She succeeded in driving a wedge between us. Now that she has gone, my brother admits that.’ There was little visible emotion in his voice, and Emma wondered if he could really be that calm about such a strong subject.
‘That’s sad. I can only imagine how hard that would be for you both.’
His face was a mask. He needed to learn that sympathy wasn’t a dirty word, and she couldn’t prevent her hand reaching for his shoulder to squeeze. He lifted his hand and patted hers. ‘I do not deserve your kindness. If I had kept my own wife safe, I would have a whole family of my own by now.’
He’d loved her. And now he suffered for years at his own guilt. Life could be so cruel.
Like her father suffered because he loved her mother. Like Emma didn’t want any man to love her when her time came. Her eyes narrowed at the tragedy she wouldn’t allow. ‘Allowing love is a dangerous business.’
Gianni saw the moment when it became personal for her. When the fear to risk love stepped in and she looked to the future. And shook her head.
Now he understood.
It shone from the darker blue streaks in her blue eyes, the denial of any man being tied to the shell of her. Louisa was right. Emma was scared to allow someone to love her. It was her nightmare.
‘Like everyone deserves, Emma,’ he said softly.
‘I think I hear a car coming.’ She stood up and walked out the door without looking at him, and his heart ached for her. He’d been so close to telling her he knew her secret. But then what?
And what if she was positive? Could he lose another woman he might grow to love?
No. But how did one stay cold-blooded? How could anybody look into her face, see her courage and honesty, and not want to be there for her? Except she held everyone away.
Emma pushed in an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. She’d been right. There was a car and the next two hours were taken up by a steady stream of outpatients with strained ankles, lacerations and croupy coughs.
When the afternoon staff came on she slipped out without saying goodbye and walked briskly away and didn’t look back. She didn’t need Gianni to see the inexplicable weak tears that made her blink and frown at herself for being pathetic. It was so unlike her not to pull back her shoulders and get on with it.
Today, the short walk along the path under the lakeside trees to her house seemed to last for ever.
Her feet lifted and fell leadenly, her shoulders drooped and the queasiness from lunch returned to disconcert her.
Maybe she was coming down with something, though hopefully not dengue fever. But there’d been several cases of stomach upsets the last two days and that could be what was making her fragile.
Her period was due. She frowned. Was a week overdue, in fact, and her feet paused in mid-stride as she digested the palpitating horror of that thought.
No. She shook her head and patted her chest to quieten her heart. They’d taken precautions. Good ones. Gianni had been assiduous even in the ardour of many heated moments. She had been sure she’d been safe the next day when the first shards of good sense had pierced the euphoria of the morning.
But even the best-laid plans…a tiny voice squeaked in her mind, and her lagging footsteps picked up and she scurried home to check her calendar.
Ten minutes later her car roared out of the driveway on the way to the chemist.
Twenty minutes later Emma perched shakily on the edge of the bath and stared with horror at the second pink line on the test strip. She couldn’t be.
By Gianni. A man who lived on the other side of the world in a whole different culture but at this moment in time was here—to see her fall.
She was pregnant.
It was impossible. How could she have two nights of sex in her life and both times she’d fallen pregnant? With a genetic disease hanging over her child. This was her worst nightmare, something she’d vowed she’d never do again, and she needed to think.
Except she couldn’t. Her whole world teetered on the craziness of those pink lines in front of her. She stared back again and then dropped the offending strip into the bathroom bin.
One of that two per cent who still fell pregnant despite precautions? No. She screwed her eyes shut and dropped her head in her hands. No, no!
The door banged and a satchel dropped on the kitchen floor. Routine noises in a day that had turned out anything but routine. ‘Mum! I’m home.’
Grace. For a crazy moment Emma scoured the bathroom for somewhere to hide and then she stopped at the ridiculousness of that thought. ‘Get a grip, woman,’ she muttered to herself. ‘In the bathroom, honey,’ she called. ‘Be out in a minute.’
‘Okay.’
Emma heard the fridge door open. Everything seemed louder, clearer as the normal world prepared to disappear for ever.
She needed to tell Gianni. That thought was followed closely by another.
She couldn’t tell Gianni.
She couldn’t see Gianni because she would never be able to hide her distress.
The tears stung and rolled down her cheek. Another baby and another fear that would consume her. Had she been so wrong to share those few hours with Gianni that she deserved such punishment.
‘Mum?’
‘Coming, darling.’ She scrubbed under her eyes with the tips of her fingers. Then there were the moments of such profound joy with her daughter it was all worth it. Maybe this would prove that way, too. Nothing she could do except love this baby. Too late not to have the test but the result could stay buried. And be put off indefinitely because now three lives would be affected, and she couldn’t deal with that, too.
She opened the bathroom door and plastered a smile on her face.
‘Hello, darling.’ She hugged her daughter, a little harder than usual, drawing what comfort she could for the future. Almost as if she sensed her mother’s need, Grace hugged her fierc
ely back. That love reminded Emma how fortunate she was. The thought was well timed, and she drew a deep breath and let the tension drain from her shoulders. Like she’d learnt to do the hard way—she would worry later.
‘How was school, Grace? Did you practise the songs for the play today?’
Grace was big with news. ‘My teacher was off sick. She’s in the hospital. I lent six people…’ her eyes grew big ‘…even two boys…’
She glanced at her mother for the reaction of that news so Emma made a ‘wow’ sound before Grace went on.
‘My mosquito repellent because the principal said we had to use it at lunch.’
‘That was very sensible of you. We don’t want anyone else becoming ill, and there could be some nasty mozzies around at the moment.’
‘Okay.’ Grace wriggled out of her mother’s arms. ‘I’m going to make a hospital in my doll house in case Barbie or any of her friends get sick.’
‘That’s a good idea, sweetheart.’ Emma watched her daughter run off happily to her room and wished she too could be so blithely settled in life.
CHAPTER SIX
GIANNI couldn’t track Emma for the next week. Missed her by minutes every time he searched, and he knew that she’d arranged it that way.
He was sure Emma hid in birthing as her clients went into labour and he couldn’t get away from his own work, snowed under as they were with minor accidents and a slow increase of dengue fever sufferers, to search her out. He was helping to cover the ward work as well as Emergency, with the other two doctors, Andy and Ben, also working long hours. Angus had picked a good time to go away.
When Gianni called on Christine and Seamus out of hours, he found Seamus slowly improved at home again after a brief relapse, but it seemed Emma had only just left. Every time.
On the Friday of that hectic week he glanced at the clock as it edged towards four and decided he’d waited for an accidental meeting long enough. He would search every house in town if he had to.
Then the emergency doors opened and it was Emma. Fortune was finally smiling, he thought with satisfaction, until he noticed the two men, both decidedly unwell, who droopily flanked her.
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