Her Dr. Wright

by Meredith Webber

  Perhaps if she offered appropriate clothes, Sarah would go over to the hospital next and let David have a decent sleep.

  David! The name sang like a simple melody in her head while the thought of him sleeping right there in her bed sent a slow shiver down her spine. Fighting a desire to touch him, she tiptoed out again.

  She knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

  ‘I’ve a warm nightdress you can borrow, and I found some clean dry clothes. My things will be a bit big for you but they should do.’

  The door opened and Sarah, wrapped in a towel, her skin pink from the bath, smiled at her.

  ‘I thought that’s probably what you were doing,’ she said, the teasing grin lighting little gleams in her eyes. ‘And in the dark as well. Thank you!’

  She took the clothes then leaned forward and kissed Rowena on the cheek before stepping back and closing the door again.

  Must be something to do with passing clothes from one person to another, Rowena decided, pressing her hands to her feverish face.

  She went back to the front door and found David’s wet clothes on the floor. She took them through and hung them on a drying rack near the fireplace, then went back to get his shoes from outside to stuff with old newspaper then set them to dry as well.

  Sarah came in as she finished this task, wearing the nightdress but carrying the other clothing.

  ‘I assume it was David who came in,’ she said.

  Rowena felt her face flame again and hoped Sarah would blame the heat of the fire.

  ‘Yes, he’s gone to sleep.’

  ‘Good!’ Sarah told her. ‘Best thing for him. We’ll let him stay that way. I’ll go across to the hospital if anyone’s needed, though how will they let you know? I left my mobile at the surgery so I took the liberty of borrowing your phone to ring Tony, but the line was dead.’

  ‘It happens in a storm,’ Rowena told her. ‘But we’ve a two-way system that works between places on the island. Knowing David’s staying here, whoever’s on duty will use the two-way to contact him.’

  ‘Is it in the bedroom? Will it wake him if it suddenly sparks to life?’

  Was Sarah aware of Rowena’s jittery happiness that she was keeping the conversation focussed on practical matters? Or was she simply trying to ease over an awkward situation with talk?

  ‘It’s in the kitchen,’ Rowena replied, realising that, whatever Sarah’s motive, it was working. ‘I’ll hear it from the spare bedroom and wake you. I hope you don’t mind sharing the bedroom with me. And although the hospital’s only across the road and up one, opposite the surgery, you should take my car if you have to go. You can get out under cover at the hospital so you won’t get wet. David walked back earlier and got drenched. I’ll fit you out with wet-weather gear in case you’re called out to anyone else during the night.’

  She was talking too much, a sure sign of nervousness, but Sarah didn’t seem to notice, picking up instead on one word right near the end of the garbled reply.

  ‘If I’m called out? I gathered from Barry’s panic that the baby was almost with us.’

  Rowena chuckled.

  ‘Didn’t you meet Margo? Or was she asleep when you saw her? If you think Barry’s bad, Margo’s ten times worse.’

  ‘She did seem a little hyper,’ Sarah said. ‘I thought she must have been having a contraction at the time I was introduced and put the drama down to that.’

  ‘Well, she might have been,’ Rowena said, giving Margo the benefit of the doubt, ‘but when David saw her at the surgery she’d just had her first pain. I went home with her to pack, took her up to the hospital and stayed with her for quite a while. I reckon I was with her for an hour at least and there was no further pain so she still had a long time to go before things got interesting.’

  ‘She went to hospital after the first pain?’ Sarah sounded as surprised as Rowena had been when Margo had insisted on being admitted immediately.

  ‘She’s a panicky type,’ Rowena explained.

  ‘Poor thing—she’ll be bored to death. Much better to stay home and do things right up to the last minute. In fact, with Braxton-Hicks’ contractions, you can ease them by walking, by keeping moving.’

  Rowena grinned at her.

  ‘You know that and I know that, but Margo doesn’t—nor did she believe it when I told her. Though I doubt she’ll be bored. More likely driving the nurse on duty to distraction with demands for this and that.’

  ‘Including demands to see the doctor. Maybe I’d better get out of this very comfortable night attire and into your dry jeans. I’ll give it another hour then go over and check on her before going to bed. Surely by then I’ll be able to give her some idea of how long it will be and maybe we’ll all get some sleep.’

  Leaving Sarah in front of the fire, Rowena busied herself with preparations for a night—possibly more than one night—without power. In the storeroom behind the house she checked she had fuel for the generator. If power wasn’t restored by morning, she’d run it while she was at work to ensure the frozen things in her refrigerator stayed frozen.

  While there, she found a long oilskin that had been Peter’s. She’d put it in the car in case Sarah was called out to somewhere beyond the hospital.

  Another couple of lamps might come in handy if they were going to be without power for a few days. And another torch—good. She had new batteries in the kitchen.

  Practical Rowena! her brain mocked, but all the time she was fussing over her preparations her physical self was remembering the feel of David’s skin, the hungry way his mouth had claimed hers and finally the fierce possession when he’d stopped arguing with himself and given into the dictates and demands of his body.

  Her body shivered with remembered delight, then renewed desire warmed it once again.

  Would it be so terrible to spend the night with him? Steal some solace from this miserable situation?

  Sarah would understand…

  Then Rowena recalled the coldness in David’s eyes when he’d asked her to leave his bedroom the previous evening, and knew she couldn’t handle seeing such a look again.

  But could he have made love to her with such passion if he felt nothing? If the coldness had been real?

  Perhaps their love-making had been no more than a physical release of tension on his part?

  There were no answers to these, or any other of the myriad questions racing through her head.

  Practical Rowena reasserted herself.

  ‘Here’s a torch to take with you and I’ll leave a lamp burning in the garage,’ she told Sarah, who was now ready to go across to the hospital. ‘You know where the bedroom is. If I go to bed, I’ll leave a lamp burning there as well. I’ve put an oilskin in the car in case you’re called out anywhere beyond the hospital, though hopefully you won’t be.’

  She looked at Sarah’s slight frame and shook her head.

  ‘Bad enough the jeans are swimming on you, without you drowning in Peter’s oilskin. I know. I’ll get David’s from the porch—it’ll be closer to your size. I can leave Peter’s there for him should he need to go out again. I’d lend you mine but it’s got a huge rip down the back from an argument with a barbed-wire fence. I’ve been meaning to have it patched, so it serves me right if I get wet.’

  She walked through the house, pausing in her bedroom doorway to listen to David’s quiet, steady breathing. Smiling with memories of the happiness she knew would probably prove transient.

  Opening the front door, she fought against the wind, but held it long enough to snag the coat and drag it inside. The porch was deep, its wall protected from the rain, and most of the water collected earlier should have dripped off the coat, though the weight of it suggested it was still fairly damp. Folding it inside out, she took it out to the car, retrieving Peter’s and taking it out to the porch where David, if he woke and wanted to go out, would find it.

  She watched Sarah back out, then stood in the doorway and saw the headlights illuminating the slashing rain as s
he drove slowly over to the hospital.

  Now, alone, Rowena was tempted to go back into her bedroom but realised an urge to watch her boss sleeping could be considered slightly sick, so she headed for the bathroom where she showered, cleaned her teeth and pulled on her own warm nightgown.

  Hardly glamorous attire for the morning after, her mind teased, but her body was still hungover with happiness and ignored the jibe.

  As she slipped between the sheets in the room that had once been Adrian’s, she felt the familiar stab of pain evoking his name always caused. But life moved on, and while he and Peter would live for ever in her heart and hold a very special place, like a secret shrine, in her memory, she knew she had so much love banked up inside her it would be wrong not to at least offer some of it to David.

  David woke to a greyness which suggested that somewhere beyond the rain and a thick covering of cloud the sun was rising.

  He looked around the unfamiliar room, seeking to make form of the shadows, seeking also the answer to what he was doing here.

  Rowena’s house.

  He closed his eyes.

  Rowena’s bed!

  His mind, no doubt refreshed by deep and dreamless sleep, thoughtfully provided an almost complete recollection of his arrival at the house and the events that had followed.

  He couldn’t recall every word they’d spoken—in fact, couldn’t recall any conversation at all—but he was fairly certain he’d fallen on Rowena like a ravening animal, swept her into this room—into this bed—and…

  Into this startling picture came sound bites, little murmurs of encouragement, breathy cries of pleasure.

  Maybe he hadn’t been the ravening animal he’d first supposed. And maybe the pleasure which his body remembered quite vividly had been mutual.

  Then why wasn’t she here? Snuggled up beside him?

  The thought made him sit up. He slammed his hand against his forehead.

  Idiot! Halfwit! For Pete’s sake, can’t you keep a thought in your head for longer than a couple of hours? You’re supposed to be protecting her and to do that you need to distance yourself from her, not look for her snuggled up against you in her bed.

  Her bed!

  He groaned so loudly he heard the noise echo back from the walls of her bedroom.

  Damn it all.

  He stood up and looked around then felt absurdly grateful when he saw his underpants lying on the floor.

  Surely he’d be able to think better when he was at least partially clothed.

  He’d barely pulled them on when there was a tap on the door and it opened far enough for Rowena to poke her head through the aperture.

  ‘I heard a noise and thought you might be awake. Sarah’s at the hospital. She checked on Margo during the night and has just gone back to see her before going to the surgery. Margo’s actually heading into true labour now. I’m on my way to open up at the surgery. The storm’s expected to last another day at least, possibly two. I spoke to Bart before the phones went out and he was going to put your animals in their pens last night and feed them, then check them again this morning. Bathroom’s down the hall, there’s hot water on the stove and plenty of food in the kitchen. Help yourself when you’re ready.’

  The head withdrew, and David, torn between fury that she’d managed to avoid even hinting at what had happened between them the previous evening and relief she had handled things so calmly, slumped back down on the bed and tried to figure out how he felt.

  How he felt deep inside, in the cold heart of him which had been shut protectively away from personal closeness with a woman for a long, long time.

  Frustrated was the easiest bit to figure. Given the way his body had reacted to even such a brief appearance, he was glad he’d found his underwear before she’d looked in.

  Underwear! It was all very well to have retrieved this much, but where were the rest of his clothes? And what was happening about getting stuff from his house? Had Barry been serious when he’d said it was off-limits?

  Man! He had to get with it here! Get his mind into gear.

  Get some clothes first! Then reassess the strategy for protecting Rowena.

  Mary-Ellen was stalking the island like a hungry lioness. If she were to get Rowena in her sights…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SARAH finished her examination of Margo, assured the now tired but still excitable young woman she was doing well then drew Barry outside.

  ‘It’s just a shame she came in so early,’ she told the exhausted policeman. ‘Both of you could easily have spent the night at home in bed. As I explained last night, those early contractions can go on for days.’

  ‘But she’s having real contractions now?’ Barry asked. ‘Things have started to happen, haven’t they?’

  Sarah smiled encouragingly at him, though she wondered just how much anxiety he could take. The fun part had barely started.

  ‘Yes, they have, but she’s still only at the early stages of true labour, what we call the latent phase. It will still be hours before things get interesting.’

  ‘I don’t know that I can take it,’ he muttered.

  ‘Then go home and get some sleep. Come back when you’re rested, or when someone calls you.’

  ‘But Margo has to be here, doesn’t she? And if I’m not with her then I’m letting her down, aren’t I?’

  I should have knocked their heads together and sent them both home last night, Sarah thought—but last night Margo had been David’s patient. He’d admitted her and up till eight-thirty had been the one checking on her.

  Thinking of David reminded her.

  ‘Barry, on another subject altogether, all my clothes are out at David’s place. I can wear the same clothes for two days, but after that I’ll probably get a bit ripe. I’ve patients to see this morning, but have you any objections to me going out there at lunchtime to get my suitcase? Or do you want the house as well as the shed sealed off?’

  He ran his hands distractedly through his hair.

  ‘I’ve been trying to think what to do! I’ve put a couple of fellows—fishermen who don’t work at this time of year—out there to keep an eye on the house and sheds, but, honestly, what clues would anyone find after all this time?’

  He paused and Sarah could see him thinking, then he glanced at his watch.

  ‘Look, none of your patients will be early in weather like this—in fact, half won’t turn up at all. Islanders tend to stay indoors when it storms. We’ve one police vehicle having a service today and Nick’s got the other, but if you don’t mind driving me out there now, you can get your belongings and pack some stuff for David as well. I’m only covering my back by not letting him out there, you know.’

  Sarah started to say she didn’t have a car, having left Rowena’s for her to use and made the dash across the road on foot. Then she remembered David’s—parked out the back of the hospital beside the small outbuilding.

  She patted her pockets but found no keys.

  ‘Heavens! I think I must have left the keys in it. Island mentality is getting to me.’

  ‘Have you got a raincoat?’ Barry asked, and Sarah nodded, then headed out on to the front veranda where she’d discarded the weatherproof coat and hat Rowena had found for her the previous evening.

  She met up with Barry again at the back door and together they shrugged into the heavy oilskins designed to withstand the kind of rain the island could produce. Sarah added the sou’wester, pulling it down low over her forehead, while Barry produced a thick black beanie, which he rammed down over his curly hair.

  Though the walkway between the buildings was covered by a curved tin roof, the rain, blown almost horizontal by the wind, still lashed beneath it.

  ‘Are you ready to make the dash?’ Barry asked.

  ‘I guess,’ Sarah said. ‘Let’s go!’

  They hurried across the walkway then left its dubious shelter, Sarah heading for the driver’s side of the car, Barry for the passenger’s.

  I should have let hi
m drive in this weather, Sarah thought, but as she opened the door and at the same time heard Barry’s alarmed oath, she was thankful she hadn’t suggested it.

  The body of the tall detective tumbled unceremoniously out of the vehicle, knocking Barry into the mud and landing right on top of him.

  Muttering some swear words of her own, Sarah sloshed as fast as she could to Barry’s aid. Her hands shaking with shock, she helped him up, then the pair of them stood and looked incredulously down at the man.

  Almost automatically, Sarah knelt to feel for a pulse, but his pallor and stiffness, his blank-eyed stare, had already told them he was beyond medical assistance.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she muttered, willing her mind to make the connection between sight and understanding.

  Barry was looking equally bewildered, but he recovered first, his professional training coming to the fore.

  ‘Do you think there’s any chance you and I can get him into the outbuilding?’ he asked. He was obviously worried about someone seeing the body, casting a glance towards the main hospital building as he spoke, but no one had ventured outside in this weather.

  ‘I guess we could try,’ Sarah said, knowing why Barry wanted it done this way. The less people who knew the better at this stage. ‘Do you have the keys?’

  His turn to feel in his pockets, though he met with more success than Sarah had earlier. He produced two keys—one for the padlock, the other for the door.

  ‘Felt it was better to keep them on me,’ he explained. ‘I’ll open up then we’ll give moving him a go. If we can’t do it I’ll get Nick, but the longer we leave him here the more chance there’ll be of someone seeing him. Then, as well as a storm, we’ll have wholesale panic!’

  Sarah looked at the dead man and considered the situation more rationally.

  ‘I think we should get Nick anyway,’ she said. ‘You and I would have to drag him and that’s not going to do much good to any trace evidence there might be. Among the things Jane brought over were some more plastic sheets. I’ll cover him with one, then if we shift the body bag off the dissecting table in there—it’s wheeled—we can bring it out here so all we have to do is lift him onto it.’