The Family Practitioner

by Leah Martyn

  Joanna felt a long shiver of awareness and turned her head toward Matt

  In the semidarkness it was difficult to see more than the outline of his face. But she sensed him breathing, felt the beat of his pulse under her thumb as it curled against his wrist.

  Matt tightened his grip on her fingers, feeling her respond. He wanted to draw her closer, much closer, bury his face in her hair, breathe in her perfume. His throat worked as he swallowed. “Joanna…”

  Suddenly, as starkly as the crack of a rifle in an arctic wilderness, their absorption with each other was shattered by a piercing cry of anguish.

  Dear Reader,

  These days, sport has a high profile in many countries. I got to thinking about the people behind the champions—the doctors, physical therapists, trainers and, not least, the families. Then, into my imagination stepped Matt, Joanna and Jason, and soon I was weaving a story not just about how sports medicine is delivered but about the effects on a family when one of its members wants to pursue his sporting talent to the highest level. It’s a story about family and youth and the realization of dreams.

  I hope you will enjoy The Family Practitioner.

  Leah Martyn

  The Family Practitioner

  Leah Martyn

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘A NUDE calendar!’ Joanna felt her jaw drop.

  Flushing slightly, Jason dipped his head, slotting the last of his textbooks into his back pack. ‘It’ll be cool.’

  Joanna’s mouth tilted wryly. ‘Well, it would be, if you’ve nothing on.’

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ Jason wheedled. ‘It’s the only way to raise big bucks fast. The club needs a canteen and Matt says all the abseiling gear’s stuffed as well.’

  Matt says, Matt says. Frustratedly, Joanna speared both hands through her thick dark hair, sending the stylishly cut bob into disarray. The words had begun to sound like a mantra, repeated with monotonous regularity by Jason for the past couple of months.

  In fact, ever since Dr Matthew McKellar had arrived in Glenfield and taken over the old gym with the intention of revamping it into a sporting centre-cum-sports-medicine clinic.

  And, of course, if it had anything to do with sports, Jason wanted to be involved, she thought.

  ‘Well, is it OK?’ Hefting his bag over one shoulder, Jason’s look was hopeful. ‘The rest of the guys are cool about it.’

  Joanna sighed. Why was nothing ever simple? ‘You’re sixteen, Jase. I need to know more about it.’

  ‘Matt says it’ll be tasteful—’

  Joanna rolled her eyes. ‘Let me think about it.’

  ‘I have to know by the weekend—’

  ‘And I have to think about it.’ Joanna was firm. Getting up from the kitchen table, she wound a hug around his shoulders. ‘Now go,’ she added gently, ‘or you’ll miss your bus. And it’s my late evening at the surgery,’ she reminded him.

  ‘No worries. I’ll heat up the last of the lasagne.’ He grinned winningly, as if he already knew he had her onside. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Dropping a brief kiss on the top of her head, he shot out the door.

  ‘And make a salad!’ she called after him. Without turning, he lifted a hand in acknowledgement and Joanna shook her head. He was maturing so fast, miles taller than her now, and showing every sign of turning into a fine adult.

  And that was all she’d ever wanted for him. Watching him jog down the path and vault the low front fence, her dark eyes were wistful.

  Then she turned abruptly, as if coming to a decision. Her first appointment wasn’t until ten this morning and she had no house calls listed. Quickly putting the kitchen to rights, she went through to her bedroom.

  Nude calendars indeed! It was time she found out just where this Dr Matthew McKellar was coming from.

  Annoyance was still simmering as she pulled on the rust-flecked trousers and camel shirt she normally wore to the surgery. Closing the zip at the waistband of her trousers, she brought her head up, almost startling herself with her own reflection in the full-length mirror.

  Joanna’a spirits sagged. She looked so…ordinary.

  Her hairstyle and make-up were, of necessity, simple and took no more than a cursory five or six minutes in front of the mirror each morning. And so what? she rationalised. Even if she had time, she had no wish to start preening. A month ago she’d turned thirty-five, for heaven’s sake!

  Suddenly, her expression firmed. Like it or not, if she was going to tackle Matthew McKellar about the ethics of what he was proposing, she needed power-dressing.

  ‘I don’t believe I’m doing this!’ she muttered, and began hastily to divest herself of the clothes she’d just put on.

  She slid back the door on the fitted wardrobe, taking only seconds to select the outfit that had been her present to herself on her recent birthday. Carefully, she laid the purple tweed trousers and matching pure wool sweater across the bed.

  She took her time dressing and then looked in the mirror, pleased with what she saw. She loved winter. The coolness of the season allowed one to dress with much more elegance, she decided, slipping her feet into neat little ankle boots.

  And now for the pièce de résistance. Her heart skipped. The softly fitting jacket had been a sheer extravagance but worth every cent. Her fingers stroked lovingly along the lapels of the lushly toned aubergine leather. Heavens, she felt almost sexy…

  Disbelieving of her wayward thoughts—thoughts she hadn’t had in years—she quickly deepened her shade of lipstick and slid an oval silver bangle over her left wrist.

  She allowed herself a final look in the mirror, disconcerted to see someone she didn’t quite know…

  In the kitchen, she slipped back into her parenting role, scribbling a note for Jason to put out the garbage bin for collection. The salutary reminder of her real world curved a wry smile around her mouth. Then, hefting her medical bag, she collected her keys from the hall table and made her way outside to the carport.

  Joanna drove her sporty little sedan through the leafy suburb towards Glenville’s central business district, not for the first time thanking providence for directing her to this pleasant regional city in Queensland.

  She’d arrived here two years ago with a moody teenager in tow, hoping she’d done the right thing in coming north from Canberra for this job in the Strachan Clinic where she now worked as a family practitioner.

  And it had worked out well, she considered. Set free from two sets of over-indulgent grandparents, Jason had become self-reliant, even holding down a Saturday job at the local supermarket and scholastically doing well at the boys’ college where he was enrolled.

  And yet…A tiny frown etched itself between her brows. Just lately she’d noticed subtle changes in him. Were they tied in with his involvement at the sports centre? She shook her head. This wasn’t the time to begin making snap judgements but, quite obviously, it was time she met Dr Matthew McKellar.

  Almost as if she expected a clash of temperaments, her stomach muscles tightened as she turned into the rear car park of the white stuccoed building from where Dr McKellar conducted his business.

  Her medical case would be safe enough in her boot, she decided, hitching up her plain leather shoulder bag and dropping her keys into the side pocket. Turning from closing the door of the car, she took a moment to look around her.

  Although it was still reasonably early, there were already a number of
cars in the parking area. She felt undecided, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. Perhaps she should have done him the professional courtesy of making an appointment…

  Her shoulders lifted in a deep, controlling breath, sudden nerves sitting heavily on her butterflies as she moved across the car park towards the covered walkway that ran down the side of the building.

  Joanna had no idea what to expect. Would there be bodies pumping iron all over the place? An atmosphere of male exclusivity? It had been years since she’d been near a gymnasium. These days her only concession towards fitness was the occasional weekend game of tennis with her colleagues from the practice.

  Well, here goes, she thought, releasing the single button on her leather jacket before pushing open the heavy plate-glass front door.

  She’d unconsciously braced herself for nothing like the reality, she thought, turning in a space that was light, warm and welcoming. She felt the calming atmosphere immediately and realised it was being enhanced by the unmistakable, uplifting sound of a Vivaldi string ensemble that was being piped throughout the building.

  Cautiously, Joanna raised her head, her gaze suddenly uncertain as it travelled along the curved staircase leading up to a gallery floor. She swallowed unevenly. She’d guess that’s where he had his office—

  ‘Hi! Can I help? You look a bit lost.’

  Joanna spun round and looked straight into a pair of the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen. She blinked, feeling a jolt of something that rocked her to the core, and stammered, ‘Um, I—I’m looking f-for Dr McKellar.’

  ‘You’ve found him.’ The man held out his hand and she took it, feeling her own engulfed by the masculine firmness. He raised a darkish brow. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Oh!’ Joanna was completely off balance, flushing under his warm regard. ‘Joanna Winters. I don’t have an appointment,’ she added jerkily. ‘I, uh, just wondered if I could have a word about my son, Jason.’

  Matthew McKellar was taken aback. The lady looked hardly more than a teenager herself. And she was lovely…He felt the oddest twist in the pit of his stomach. Almost defensively, he lifted a hand, thrusting his fingers through the short strands of his dark hair. ‘Better come on up, then.’ He thumbed across at the staircase and promptly led the way.

  He took the stairs with a swift athleticism and Joanna followed, her gaze absorbing the six-foot length of him. He was clad in track pants and a white T-shirt delineating a sleek grouping of muscles underneath and bearing a logo that exhorted, MAKE ANOTHER HEART THROB. GIVE BLOOD.

  Innovative, she approved. And heaven knew, there was always an urgent need for blood donors.

  A bit warily, she stepped over the threshold of his office and looked around. It was upmarket but unpretentious, with linen pull-down blinds at the windows and unobtrusive pearl-grey paintwork on the walls. She made a thoughtful little moue with her bottom lip, intrigued to see there was no desk as such. Instead, a round table and chairs were grouped in a conversational-type setting near the window.

  ‘Have a seat.’ McKellar pulled out one of the softly upholstered chairs. ‘Would you like juice, coffee?’ He smiled then, the action softening his slightly hawk-like features.

  Joanna’s return smile faltered. ‘Coffee might be nice, thanks.’ And at least it would give her something to do with her hands, she reflected ruefully, watching him take down two plain white mugs from a shelf and fill them from a vacuum jug on the counter top.

  He opened a bar fridge, taking out a carton of milk and placing it on the table in front of her. ‘Sugar?’

  Joanna shook her head. ‘No, thanks—this smells wonderful.’ She poured a dollop of milk into her coffee. McKellar, she noticed, took his black with no sugar.

  ‘So—how can I help you, Mrs Winters? Or do you prefer Ms?’ His eyes widened in polite query.

  Joanna’s mouth twitched. ‘Actually, it’s Doctor. But I’d much prefer Joanna.’

  His expression gave nothing away. ‘Joanna it is, then. And I prefer Matt. If I hear Matthew, I’m inclined to think my mother’s on my case.’

  Joanna gave a spontaneous chuckle. She had no wish to mother him. Far from it. And that wayward thought sent a flush to her cheeks. She hastily dragged her mind back to her surroundings and the reasons why she was here. ‘About this calendar…’

  ‘Is there a problem?’ McKellar took a mouthful of his coffee.

  Make it a thousand. Joanna’s fingers curled around the handle of her mug like a lifeline. ‘For starters, Jason is under age.’

  The silence was deafening, and something about its quality made her bring her gaze up and look searchingly at the man opposite.

  ‘He didn’t tell me.’ McKellar’s voice was flat. ‘On the other hand, I didn’t ask.’ He lifted a shoulder expressively. ‘A stupid mistake on my part. I just assumed he was older. He’s a big lad.’

  ‘He’s like his father.’ Joanna’s eyes softened. ‘Damon played rugby for the state. He died before Jason was born—non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He was twenty-one…’

  There was an echo of deep silence, until Matt broke it very quietly. ‘Life really chucks it at us sometimes, doesn’t it?’

  She nodded, embarrassed. It was the first time in a long time she’d felt the overwhelming need to mention those very early days. And why on earth now? she fretted. With this man? He’d begin to think she was some kind of nut case. To cover her confusion, she lifted her mug and took a gulp of coffee.

  ‘I take you don’t want Jason involved in the making of the calendar, then?’ Matt gave her a sliding, sidelong glance, before swinging up out of his chair and going to the window, looking out. He half turned his head. ‘It will be tastefully done with a professional photographer.’

  ‘I’m sure…’ Joanna bit the inside of her cheek. Was she being old-fashioned, over-protective, out of touch with present-day mores?

  While she hesitated, Matt turned to face her, parking himself against the window-ledge, as if preparing to do battle. ‘These days, there’s nothing shocking about clubs of all descriptions opting to raise funds this way, you know. In fact, didn’t I read the other day that a group of rural women in their quite senior years did a light-hearted shoot to raise money for a new stage curtain in their farmers’ hall?’

  ‘Well, you may have done.’ Joanna lifted a shoulder. ‘And I’m not shocked,’ she added. ‘I’m a doctor, for heaven’s sake! But I would rather my son waits until he’s a bit more emotionally mature before opting to take off his clothes for a calendar shoot.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Matt reached for his coffee and drained it, clattering his mug back onto the bench top. ‘And don’t worry.’ He met her eyes and she could see the faintest hint of amusement in their depths. ‘Jason needn’t know you’ve been here. I’ll let him down lightly. He’s a good kid.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Joanna got awkwardly to her feet. ‘That’s really all I came for and I’m probably keeping you from your work…’

  ‘You’re not,’ he dismissed. In an abrupt movement, he moved towards the door, astounded by his train of thought. He didn’t want her to leave. And how crazy was that? ‘Would you like to see over the place?’ Oh, hell! He winced silently. He must appear like an overeager puppy trying to impress. He saw her glance at her watch and cringed even further. ‘Another time, perhaps. You probably need to get to your own work.’

  ‘No…’ She shook back her silky dark hair, a tentative smile edging her mouth. ‘I have a few minutes and I’d like to see where Jason’s been spending his leisure time.’

  Matt gave her the grand tour, his manner suddenly upbeat, his expression mobile, as he gestured with well-shaped, long-fingered hands.

  And Joanna was impressed, particularly with the thought that had been given to access for the disabled.

  ‘We like to term it “differently abled”,’ Matt said.

  How enlightened. ‘Do you get many?’

  ‘Only one or two yet. But I’m liasing with the hospital all the time, getting the new
s out there. We’re happy to see anyone whose capability has been lost for any reason—not specifically sporting. Often we can get folk on an exercise programme to give them a much better quality of life.’ He gave a controlled smile. ‘And if we can save them sitting for hours in a rehab centre somewhere, waiting for their turn, so much the better.’

  Joanna nodded. She was impressed beyond words. There was so much good work going to be happening here, much more than she’d imagined. ‘Oh, you have indoor courts as well!’

  Matt had wound back a set of folding doors to reveal not only the usual gym equipment but courts for both basketball and soccer, plus male and female changing rooms.

  ‘At the moment we’re concentrating on basketball. Jason’s in the junior team. Did he tell you?’

  ‘Not specifically,’ Joanna said honestly. ‘He told me he’s involved in lots of things here. Should he be paying a fee…?’ The thought had just occurred to her. Obviously the place didn’t run itself. ‘He hasn’t asked for extra money…’

  Matt registered her look of vulnerability and hastened to reassure her. ‘If they can afford it, the lads kick in a few dollars for the use of the place, maintenance and so on. That side of things is my baby.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I grew up in a country town where there was never enough happening for young people. And while Glenville isn’t a country town, it’s a smallish regional city for all that, with not a lot being offered towards teenage recreation.’

  He was right, Joanna realised. Apart from what was organised for them at school, the kids had nothing much beside the movies and a ten-pin bowling alley to keep them off the streets. She supposed she should be grateful Matt McKellar had taken up the challenge and done something about it. She smiled a bit uncertainly. ‘But the sports medicine side of things is your real business, isn’t it?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He jammed his hands into his back pockets as they continued to make their way through the precincts. ‘My background is in orthopaedics but I’m happy to speak to anyone who has concerns about their level of fitness.