The Family Practitioner

by Leah Martyn

  Jason reached into the pocket of his track jacket. ‘I’ve a flyer for you from Matt. Invitation to a barbecue and stuff for parents on Saturday week. It’s all here.’ He passed over the slightly crumpled sheet of yellow paper.

  ‘Oh. OK. I suppose I should make an effort and go, then?’ Joanna dredged up a smile, groping for normality.

  ‘Whatever.’ Jason jackknifed from the sofa. ‘I’ll hit the shower before dinner.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Joanna said absently, and began smoothing out the flyer.

  As they sat down to their meal, Joanna said casually, ‘This barbecue is being held at Featherdale. Isn’t that out of town a bit?’

  ‘A few Ks.’ Jason dug into his jacket potato with youthful appetite. ‘It’s a farm. We went there on a field trip from school this year. They have quolls in captivity.’

  ‘Quolls?’ Joanna sent him a questioning look. ‘Those little marsupials that look like cats? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.’

  ‘You probably haven’t. They’re a threatened species,’ the boy enlightened her. ‘We learnt about them as part of our science project.’

  Joanna forked a path through her peas. ‘So, does M—Dr McKellar live at Featherdale or what?’

  Jason lifted a shoulder. ‘Don’t think so. He’s got a flat in town somewhere.’

  Oh, well, she could ask around at the surgery, Joanna decided. Someone was bound to know something.

  An early phone call at work on Monday solved her dilemma.

  Joanna had been at the window in her consulting room, staring out. For the whole of the weekend she’d felt unsettled, dreamy. Dreamy? She snorted. That emotion was for teenagers. Get a grip, she told herself impatiently, turning with a sigh when her phone rang.

  ‘Dr McKellar for you again.’ Steffi’s tone had a knowing, sing-song quality about it.

  ‘Put him through, please.’ In return, Joanna’s manner was crisp. But her heartbeat had the fluttering quality of a trapped bird.

  ‘Not crowding you, am I?’ Matt asked when Joanna came on the line.

  ‘Of course not,’ she told him quickly, picturing him, remembering his mannerism of pushing his fingers back through his hair. Was he doing that now? she wondered. The thought warmed her, distracted her. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘It’s more what I can do for you—that’s if you’ll allow me.’

  Curiouser and curiouser. Joanna lowered herself onto the edge of her desk.

  ‘I, uh, wondered if I might offer you a lift out to Featherdale on Saturday.’

  ‘That’s nice of you,’ she said after a moment, surprised at how steady her voice sounded.

  ‘It’ll be dark early so I’ll collect you about five. That’ll give me time to show you around before the fun starts, OK?’

  Joanna’s fingers went to the silver chain at her throat and grasped the tiny medallion. ‘Fine. Do you have my address?’

  ‘It’ll be on Jason’s registration,’ Matt confirmed. He didn’t add he’d memorised it already. ‘Till Saturday, then. Goodbye, Joanna.’

  Matt clipped the receiver back on its rest. He’d done it! He sat back down in his chair with a motion more like falling. Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts run riot.

  Joanna got through the week in a haze of unreality. By Friday afternoon, she was almost giddy with anticipation.

  Showing her patient out of the treatment room, she turned back, impatient with her wayward thoughts. Tugging off the light cotton gown, she washed her hands with undue vigour. Even that distraction didn’t help.

  Still she thought of Matt McKellar.

  But if anything did happen between them, it would be complex, she acknowledged. There was Jason for a start…

  She made a sound of frustration. Wasn’t she jumping the gun just a tad? Returning to her consulting room, she picked up the card from her desk and went out to the waiting room to call her last patient for the day.

  Sharon Nolan was a new patient. Joanna glanced at the card, noting her date of birth placed the young woman at eighteen years of age. ‘So, Sharon.’ She smiled. ‘What can I do for you today?’

  ‘It’s all a bit embarrassing.’ The young woman grimaced, her even white teeth edging nervously along her lower lip. ‘I’ve got this tattoo…’

  Joanna leaned forward attentively. ‘Has it become a problem?’

  ‘Kind of.’ Sharon shook back her ash-blonde hair, which shimmied past her shoulders. ‘It’s my boyfriend, Rhys…’

  Joanna held back a smile. ‘He doesn’t like it?’

  ‘He doesn’t know about it.’ Soft heat brushed Sharon’s cheeks and she swallowed. ‘It’s…on my rump.’

  Joanna lifted an eyebrow. She could see where the young woman was headed. ‘Is it unsightly? Is that the problem?’

  ‘It’s awful! Well, I suppose it’s not that awful,’ she reconsidered. ‘But I got it done when I was sixteen—Mum didn’t know. But my boyfriend then was called Aaron so I got two hearts tattooed with our names…’ She looked appealingly at Joanna and they both laughed—Sharon a bit reluctantly, it had to be admitted.

  Joanna picked up her pen, tapping it end to end on her desk. ‘So you’d like the tattoo removed, is that it?’

  Sharon pulled a face. ‘Would it hurt a lot?’

  ‘Probably not half as much as getting it on in the first place,’ Joanna said bluntly. ‘I can refer you to a cosmetic surgeon specialising in the removal of tattoos, but you’d have to go to Brisbane. Would that be a problem?’

  Sharon shook her head. ‘I attend uni there anyway. I’m only home in Glenville for a swot vac.’ She bit her lip. ‘I won’t be left with tell-tale ugly marks, will I?’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so.’ Joanna was reassuring. ‘Skin is pretty amazing stuff. The doctor would most likely use a tissue expander. The idea of this is to increase the area of skin available so that when your tattoo is removed, the wound can be covered by your own skin. It should all heal nicely, perhaps with only a very fine scar line.’

  Sharon blinked. ‘I’ve heard about laser treatment,’ she said tentatively.

  ‘Well, that’s a possibility as well.’ Joanna flicked open her referral pad. ‘Just be aware that everyone’s biology is different so not everyone is a suitable candidate for laser treatment.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘But as you seem keen, I’ll give you a note for Charles Hunter. He’s a dermatologist at our local hospital. In fact, it’s probably the best place for you to start. And if, when he examines you, he’s of the opinion you’d be better off with a cosmetic surgeon, he’ll refer you on.’

  ‘Thanks, Doctor.’ Sharon’s rather beautiful green eyes lit up. ‘That’s brilliant.’ She turned up the collar on her little fake-fur jacket. ‘I promise I won’t ever do anything mad like that again.’

  ‘What do you think of tattoos?’ Joanna directed the question light-heartedly to her son. It was the next morning and they were in the kitchen, washing up from their weekly Saturday treat of a cooked breakfast.

  ‘Why? Are you thinking of getting one?’ Jason grinned, dodging the spray of detergent bubbles she flicked at him. ‘Some of them are cool.’ He shrugged. ‘Some are gross.’

  ‘Well, if ever you’re tempted to get one…’ Joanna rinsed a plate and placed it in the drainer ‘…talk to me first, please, love.’

  ‘No worries, Jo-Jo,’ Jason responded cheekily. He swivelled a glance at the little carriage clock on top of the fridge. ‘I’d better take off for work.’

  ‘Want me to run you?’

  ‘Nah. I’ll take the bike.’

  ‘I’m going to this barbecue tonight, don’t forget.’ Joanna lifted a soapy hand to brush back a strand of hair from her cheek. ‘Do you want to ask Daniel over, get a pizza?’

  Jason shifted a bit awkwardly. ‘Uh, we thought we’d catch an early movie and then go on for a burger. We’re meeting Skye and Amber.’ He dropped his gaze. ‘It’s not a date or anything…’

  Joanna covered her faint surprise with a smile. ‘Do you need ext
ra money?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ He aimed a thump at the louvre door as he turned to go through. ‘Got paid this week.’

  Of course it was a date. Joanna was thoughtful as she wiped down the counter top with a long sweep of her sponge. She shouldn’t be surprised. Her son was in his seventeenth year. Girls would have to be high on his agenda.

  Sighing, she shook out a fresh teatowel and began to dry the dishes. If Damon had lived, they would have shared their son’s growing pains, leant on one another for parenting support. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Not ever.

  Throughout the day, indecision was coiling a knot in her stomach. Should she tell Jason that Matt was calling for her—or not?

  We’ve hardly met! she protested silently to the winter roses, stripping the spent blooms before picking a bunch of the splashy yellows and reds for the vases. It might all fizzle out, she rationalised, and it’s not like a date or anything…Her son’s words came back to unsettle her all over again.

  She was being ridiculously coy. Joanna gave herself a mental shake. Of course her son needed to know her arrangements for the evening. And she’d tell him the moment he arrived home from his Saturday job.

  In the end it proved almost a non-event.

  ‘Matt’s probably giving some of the others a lift as well.’ Jason gave her a look much older than his years. ‘He drives the club’s mini-bus all over the place.’

  Joanna’s spirits dropped like a stone. How naíve she’d been to assume Matt’s offer of transport had been anything more than just that. Reality settled like oil on the sparkling waters of her expectations. She bit her lips together. You’ve been indulging in pipe-dreams, she berated herself, turning away with a little twitch of her shoulder.

  When it was time to get ready, she hardly knew what she put on—or cared, she qualified thinly, pulling on jeans and a plain silk shirt. Nevertheless, she brushed her hair until it shone, took care with her make-up and was reasonably pleased with her appearance when her front doorbell rang.

  Assuming it was Matt, she hastily slipped on a short, biker-style jacket and went to let him in.

  ‘Hello…’ She blinked out into the soft light, reacquainting herself with the shape of him, trying not to stare but noting he was casually dressed in jeans and a white crew-neck jumper that accentuated his lean darkness.

  His eyes flinted briefly. ‘Not too early, am I?’

  ‘No.’ Her breath lodged in her throat and she motioned him inside. ‘I’m quite ready. I…um…just have to locate my mobile. Won’t be a tick.’

  Matt let out a steadying breath, jamming his hands into his back pockets and looking around the slightly cluttered living room. She’s a natural home-maker, he decided and wondered why the idea pleased him.

  His gaze sharpened, lingering on the cluster of photographs and then dropping to the richly coloured rugs that gave the room a welcoming warmth. Slowly his gaze circled the room and dwelt with a longing he couldn’t explain on the old-fashioned sofa that faced the open fireplace…

  In a second his musing was interrupted and he spun round, hearing what he presumed was the soft closing of her bedroom door. And then she was there in the room with him. He caught the waft of her perfume, subtle, teasing his senses. ‘All set?’

  ‘Finally.’ She flushed and laughed uncertainly. ‘Should I bring my bag?’

  ‘Not unless you particularly want to. I’m well equipped for emergencies.’

  They stepped out into the porch and Matt turned to pull the front door closed, the action causing his hand to brush Joanna’s shoulder. She took a sharp little breath, a feeling of awareness putting her off balance, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

  Feeling a sense of unreality that he was here with her, that this evening had happened at all, she turned her gaze sharply towards the street, expecting to see the parked bulk of a mini-bus. She blinked uncertainly. There was no such vehicle in sight. Instead, a discreet, silver-grey Mercedes was hugging the kerb.

  Joanna suddenly wanted to laugh, to dance.

  ‘What?’

  She saw Matt’s dark brows flex in query and let the happiness bubble out. ‘You came in a car!’

  ‘You expected a motorbike? Dammit!’ His head went back and he slammed one fist against the open palm of his other hand. ‘I knew I’d get it wrong.’

  Joanna gave a snip of laughter, deciding to play along with the silly game. ‘Can’t blame a girl for hoping.’

  ‘Or a guy, for that matter…’

  Joanna’s heart crashed against her ribs. His voice had dropped, gone all husky, creeping right over her bones. Her perceptions were suddenly heightened, becoming as taut as a trip-wire. And he was close, so close she had to tilt her head to look at him.

  And when their eyes met, the impact was searing, as if they were being drawn inexorably to where the outcome was already preordained.

  Joanna felt her safe world tilt and emotions she’d thought buried began stirring, clamouring for light, for the chance to grow and blossom. She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat as her body responded to his nearness, his maleness…

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered his slow movement. And then she was in his arms, as though they were about to dance. So close she could feel the strength and line of his lean body.

  She shivered at the strangeness, yet at the same time recognised the familiarity of once more being in a man’s embrace.

  Matt tightened his arms about her, the shock of contact with her female softness shattering him to the core, as though some tight screw had suddenly unwound and set him free. On a strangled breath, he bent to her, placing the softest kiss on each eyelid before brushing her mouth once, twice, three times.

  Joanna’s eyes flickered open, the whispered touch of his lips leaving fire shimmering all over her skin. Her breath fluttered out in a long sigh and, drawing back slowly, she lifted weighted lids to stare bemusedly into his eyes. She swallowed. ‘That was a bit unexpected, wasn’t it?’

  Opalescent fire shone in his blue eyes. ‘I feel as though I’ve been hung up by my heels.’

  A ghost of a smile touched her mouth and she placed her hands against the solidness of his chest. ‘That doesn’t sound very safe.’

  ‘Do you want to be safe, Joanna?’ His tone was burred with sensual awareness and he sought her lips again.

  Opening her mouth to his, Joanna kissed him back, her body, with a mind of its own, stretching slinkily against his. She caught him closer, locking her hands at the back of his head, and for a few seconds it was as though they were in the grip of a flood-tide that was sweeping them out to a dark sea of sheer sensation.

  Then just as suddenly it was over. Like a fever that had passed.

  ‘Oh.’ Joanna exhaled a ragged little breath and buried her face in his chest, breathing in the warm male closeness of him like lifesaving oxygen.

  After a while Matt put her gently from him and then drew her back as if he couldn’t help himself. His chest lifted in a long sigh. ‘I guess we should make tracks,’ he murmured into the softness of her hair.

  ‘Guess so…’

  CHAPTER THREE

  MATT was silent as they drove, and several times Joanna glanced at his still profile, before she asked, ‘So, why Featherdale?’

  ‘Ah…’ He seemed to gather himself. ‘It’s my sister Debra’s place. She and her husband, Scott, are attached to the Parks and Wildlife Department. They have interested groups through the place all the time and the facilities to cater for them. Which suits me.’ He sent her a fleeting grin. ‘Socially, it takes a hell of a lot off my shoulders and I’d rather see them get the club’s business than anyone else.’

  ‘That makes sense.’ Joanna leaned back on the soft leather. ‘Jason said his class had been out to Featherdale on a science field trip recently.’

  ‘Deb and Scott do quite a bit of research,’ Matt confirmed. ‘They’re both science graduates but there was no way they wanted to be stuck in a lab all day so this is t
he answer they came up with.’

  ‘It sounds fascinating.’ Joanna smiled, cocooned in a bubble of wildly mixed emotions she wasn’t about to explore.

  ‘Do you like being a GP?’

  ‘For the most part, yes.’ At the abrupt change of conversation, Joanna tried to capture her thoughts, which were spinning, fracturing like ice under heat. ‘And I have to earn a living,’ she pointed out on a jagged laugh.

  ‘Yes, I imagine you do.’ Matt’s rejoinder was bland.

  Featherdale was a low, sprawling farmhouse, its front verandah heavily laced with greenery. In the distance, Joanna could see a windmill, its blades silent now in the still air of early evening.

  ‘Two hectares at the back are under vines,’ Matt told her, as they bumped gently along the track and drew to a stop at the rear of the house.

  ‘I’d no idea there were any vineyards in the district.’

  ‘See, you’ve learned something already.’ He curved her a brief smile. ‘Deb and Scott make a rather nice Shiraz. You’ll probably get to sample it this evening.’

  As they got out of the car, a black streak flew towards Matt in an explosion of joyful tail-wagging.

  ‘Hello, boy!’ He was clearly in thrall, bending over the dog’s wide, blunt features, rubbing him between the ears. ‘This is Finchly.’ He grinned.

  Joanna looked on delightedly. ‘He’s a Staffy.’ She recognised the terrier breed. ‘They’re very people-friendly, aren’t they?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Matt’s rubbing tapered off. ‘Great with kids.’ He moved to unlatch the back gate.

  ‘Do your sister and her husband have children?’

  ‘Twin boys, Andrew and Hamish. They’re eleven. And talk of the little devils…’ Turning his head, he shaded his eyes and looked down the track a bit to where the youngsters had appeared from under the drooping foliage of a bottlebrush. They were toting small fishing rods.

  ‘Hey, Uncle Matt!’ the childish voices called in unison.

  ‘Hey, guys!’ Matt beckoned with his arm. ‘Come and meet Joanna.’

  ‘They’re like two peas in a pod,’ Joanna said, laughing, after the introductions had been made and the sandy-haired duo had run off about their own business.