New Doc in Town / Orphan Under the Christmas Tree

by Meredith Webber

  Mike explained that as he’d never suspected Richard might be violent, he’d had no idea what the upset man might do and had thought it best to talk to Jo about it in person.

  ‘Cam’s suggested setting up a programme for men with abuse issues,’ she said. ‘Something that could be ongoing because, as we all know, physical and mental abuse is like substance abuse, it goes in cycles. So although the offender wants desperately to kick the habit, so to speak, it’s nearly impossible without strong, ongoing support.’

  Cam didn’t expect Mike to greet this plan with overwhelming enthusiasm, but a nod of acceptance or a ‘Good idea, mate’ might have been appropriate. But maybe because he, Cam, was a stranger in town, Mike had a policeman’s natural suspicion of him.

  Small towns sure were different from the city …

  ‘If you’re a friend of Richard’s, maybe you could talk to him about it,’ Jo continued.

  ‘Hard to do that if he doesn’t admit to being abusive,’ Mike replied. ‘It’d put me in the position of deciding he’s guilty whether he is or not, and that would certainly be offensive to him.’

  Cam could see Mike’s point.

  ‘You don’t want to ruin a friendship by stepping in,’ Cam told him. ‘The man might need help but he needs his friends to stick by him as well. From what I’ve read, most of the men attending programmes have been ordered to attend by the courts.’

  Jo sighed and nodded at him.

  ‘You’re right, but less than fifty per cent of our women ever take their partners to court or even get a domestic violence order against them.’

  ‘I can’t see that a programme would work if we’re expecting men who don’t believe they’re abusive to attend voluntarily,’ Mike told her.

  ‘But we need to get it started. As well as helping men learn to react in non-violent ways, which I accept is the main reason for such a programme, it’s just the kind of thing that could add to our worth as far as the funding bodies are concerned. That could help keep the refuge open,’ Jo replied. ‘It’s exactly the kind of thing that they—the relevant government departments—like to see happening. It would fit into their blueprint for long-term solutions for battered women, and it would show we have an integrated service instead of just a safe place for women to stay on a temporary basis.’

  ‘Could we work it through the women’s support group that Lauren runs?’ Cam suggested, not liking the desperation in Jo’s voice and pleased to be able to add something useful to the conversation. ‘What if the women concerned could make their partner’s attendance in a programme a condition of their returning to the relationship—would that work?’

  ‘It might,’ Jo said, offering a rather tired smile—a tired smile that reminded him that it had already been a long day, with more than enough emotion involved, first of all collecting Jackie, then Jo’s unhappiness on the walk up the headland.

  ‘It’s not the best time to be discussing this,’ Cam said firmly. ‘We need to get together, maybe get Tom on board as well, and definitely Lauren, and see how we can make a men’s programme work.’ He turned to Mike. ‘Now, do you think Richard Trent represents a danger to Jo? If so, I’m happy to sleep in my camper in the carport. Any vehicle approaching would wake me with its lights.’

  Mike looked put out, as if Cam had undermined his official authority somehow.

  ‘I doubt Richard Trent would take his anger out on Jo,’ Mike admitted.

  ‘I’ll be fine so go home, both of you,’ Jo told them. ‘We’ll talk again tomorrow. Cam’s idea of all of us getting together is a good one. I can organise an afternoon with no appointments later in the week—is Friday all right for you, Mike?’

  ‘This week it’s okay—next week is schoolies and chaos. But, yes, if you can get Tom and Lauren, we could have it at the community centre in town and brainstorm some ideas.’

  Jo led the two men back through the house to the carport, fully expecting Cam to peel off and go into the flat, but, no, he hung around while Mike said goodbye, hung around as Mike drove off, then, as she was beginning to wonder if he’d ever go inside, he touched her lightly on the shoulder.

  ‘Why don’t you sleep in the flat—in the second bedroom—just in case?’

  They’d been moving enough for the sensor light to have remained on, so she was able to look up into his face, but she could read nothing there but concern and kindness.

  ‘Just in case this man turns up,’ he clarified, then, as if aware she could barely fathom the offer, let alone make a decision, he added, ‘Go on! You know it’s the safest option. I’ll wait here while you get your gear and toothbrush, but don’t fuss around—I need to get to bed if I’m going to catch a wave before work in the morning.’

  Jo went.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t spent time in the flat before, she reminded herself. She’d lived there in the rose garden when her father had still been living in the house—when she had been working with him after Jilly’s death.

  And an angry Richard Trent was an unknown quantity to all of them, so it made sense to sleep in the flat.

  In a bedroom right next door to Fraser Cameron?

  The same Fraser Cameron who’d held her in his arms, comforted her, and for a moment made her think he might have kissed her?

  The same Fraser Cameron who made her stomach drop when she turned and saw him unexpectedly?

  Well, she wouldn’t be seeing him unexpectedly, would she? She’d be in one bedroom and he’d be in the other and she could stay in bed until he went for a surf then scurry back home to shower and get ready for work.

  It would be okay …

  And it was.

  Right up until she walked into the flat and saw him in the boxer shorts he obviously wore to bed. Not tight enough to be too revealing, they still clung to a butt that could make any woman swoon, while the bare chest, a toasty brown with a scattering of dark hairs, made her knees go weak.

  Attraction shouldn’t be so strong so quickly. It must be that she was tired and over-emotional that this man’s body was tugging at hers, as if invisible threads—finer than spiders’ webs—were tangling them together.

  ‘Hot chocolate?’

  She heard the words but the picture they conjured up—licking chocolate off that chest, dipping her tongue into a chocolate-filled navel—made her groan out loud.

  ‘You don’t like hot chocolate?’

  She dragged her eyes upwards to his face and caught an expression of disbelief.

  ‘I thought everyone liked hot chocolate,’ he added, with such a warm, open smile she felt doubly ashamed of her thoughts and could feel blood rushing to her cheeks to make her shame obvious.

  ‘Not tonight,’ she managed in a garbled voice, and she fled to the second bedroom, so pleased to escape him she had to open the door she’d shut behind her to call out a goodnight.

  After which she shut it firmly once again and collapsed onto the bed.

  What was happening to her?

  Easy to answer that. She was falling in lust with her employee.

  And just where would that get her?

  Given that he was the epitome of tall, fairly dark and extremely handsome and could obviously have any woman he wanted and wouldn’t look twice at a scrawny redhead, absolutely nowhere, that’s where.

  Not that she wanted this inexplicable attraction to go anywhere. Love led to loss in her experience and she wasn’t ready to lose any more bits of herself.

  Love? Where had love come into the equation? She’d been thinking lust—nothing more.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE flat was curiously empty when she awoke, feeling surprisingly refreshed, the next morning. Her tenant’s bedroom door was open, revealing the rose-covered spread drawn tightly across the bed—army training no doubt—but it was in the kitchen, where she went to get a glass of water, that the surprise awaited her. A plate of fruit, but set out like a smiley face, two cherries for the eyes, a slice of pawpaw for a nose, a curved banana for a mouth. Balls of orange rock
-melon curled around the face, while her name was spelled out in carefully cut pieces of watermelon—a riot of colour, taste and nutrition.

  Assuming he didn’t make himself smiley-face fruit breakfasts every morning, it meant he’d done it especially for her.

  Wanting to get in good with her so he could stay on permanently?

  Or simply because he was a kind and thoughtful man?

  A little pang inside her suggested that she’d like to think it was because he liked her, maybe was a little bit attracted to her, but common sense prevailed and she took the plate through to her house, apparently undisturbed overnight, and ate the fruit as she got ready for work.

  Work.

  She had to contact the Bennetts to find out if they’d decided what they wanted to do about a sleep programme for Kaylin, talk to Cam about IVF and Helene, contact Tom and Lauren to see if Friday afternoon suited them for a meeting …

  She’d walked onto the deck as she was finishing the fruit and considering the day ahead, and now she sighed, thinking of Cam out there on his board, wishing for the first time in years that she was out there too.

  Which reminded her of Cam’s promise to young Aaron. She was pretty sure the baby boards on which she and Jill had learnt to surf were in the storeroom downstairs. She’d check on her way down to work. They’d be ideal for the two little boys, though Cam couldn’t handle both of them safely on his own. Would Jackie join in surfing lessons?

  Now it was a squirmy kind of disturbance in Jo’s stomach. No, she wouldn’t help. Bad enough having to work with a man to whom her body was attracted, but out of office hours?

  At the beach?

  No way.

  Never!

  ‘Can I help?’

  The offer startled her as she was hauling the boards out from behind other cast-off rubbish in the storeroom beneath the deck, sorry she hadn’t left the task until after work, because her hands were filthy and she was covered with dust.

  Her tenant, standing in the doorway, was also ready for work—but clean.

  ‘Thanks, but I’ve found what I was looking for,’ she told him, not that he appeared the slightest bit interested in her reply, for he was lifting her old board—the last board she’d had specially shaped to her own design before she’d stopped surfing—running his hands over its smooth lines, the delight on his face suggesting he’d just discovered hidden treasure.

  ‘It’s a Silver Crowne,’ he said, in awed tones. ‘I’ve heard of these boards but never seen one up close. Silver Crowne only made pro boards.’

  The slight accusation in the final sentence made Jo stiffen, but she refused to answer him, passing him the small boards instead.

  ‘Mind your clothes, these are still dusty,’ she said, ‘although most of the dust seems to have transferred itself to me. I thought they might do for the Trent boys.’

  Cam grinned at her.

  ‘Wow, great idea. Teaching them to surf is a far better idea than taking them for one ride on my board. You’ll help?’

  No was the obvious answer, but somehow it failed to come out. Jo made a big deal of dusting off her clothes, then gave up.

  ‘I’ll just run upstairs, have a quick shower and change into something clean—tell Kate I’ll be down in a few minutes.’

  He seemed to accept she wasn’t going to reply for he asked, ‘Will these boards be safe if we leave them out, or should we lock them back in your storeroom but near the front?’

  Jo was halfway out the door when she realised he was still holding the boards—and she hadn’t thanked him for breakfast.

  ‘We’ll leave them just inside and if you could shut the door and close the padlock that would be great. And thank you for the breakfast, it made my morning.’

  She looked into the blue eyes she’d been avoiding since he’d appeared in the storeroom and read kindness in them, nothing more, she was sure, yet her heart was skipping around like a wayward wallaby, and some stupid sector of her brain was whispering it might be more than lust.

  Which was impossible.

  Lust at first sight was possible—she had no doubts about that—but anything else?

  She wasn’t going to give the alternative ‘L’ word brain space.

  Cam watched her dash away. She’d coloured as she’d thanked him for the breakfast that some fit of hitherto undiscovered whimsy had prompted him to make for her. Had he embarrassed her?

  He didn’t have a clue. For some reason, all the useful information on how women thought, stuff his brain had collected from his sisters and his ex-fiancée, was no help at all in figuring out this particular woman.

  Though why he thought it should when he’d only known her, what—less than two days.

  And why it mattered …

  He pondered these things as he made his way down the steps to the surgery, deciding in the end that it was because his body was attracted to her that his brain was confused.

  Well, it would just have to stay confused, because he wasn’t going to act on the attraction. Honour was important in the army and how honourable would he be if he did act on the attraction? How could he have an affair with a woman when he was still getting over his experiences in the war, still getting vivid flashes of injured and dying young men, still hearing echoes of their cries in his ears, and not only when he was asleep?

  He knew these flashbacks sent him into a kind of shock, making him withdraw, making him appear all the things Penny had said he was—remote, detached, morose—cutting him off from whatever company he was in.

  Could he land some other woman with those mood swings?

  Make her suffer as Penny must have to have broken off the engagement?

  Best to stay unattached.

  Jo heaved a sigh of relief when she saw Kate and one of the nurses in the lunch-room. No need for one-on-one again with Dr Cameron, although Cam wasn’t present and, no, she wasn’t going to wonder where he was. He could have been delayed with a patient, or gone shopping, surfing, anything.

  Avoiding her as she would like to be avoiding him?

  Her relief was short-lived.

  ‘Heard you and the new doc in town, our delectable Dr Cam, were dining together at the surf club last night,’ Kate said brightly, and too late Jo remembered Kate’s brother was the apprentice chef at the club.

  Small towns.

  ‘We were eating together—late. It had been a long day.’ Jo hoped her repressive tone would stop further conversation, but she’d bargained without Kate’s persistence.

  ‘Moonlight on the water, was there?’

  ‘Where? When?’ Cam would choose that moment to come into the room. Not that he seemed interested in the answer, already delving into the refrigerator to check out the sandwiches on offer today.

  ‘Last night,’ Kate told him. ‘The view from the surf club. Romantic?’

  Cam looked up at her and grinned.

  ‘Now I know what your boss means when she talks about small towns.’ He put enough emphasis on the ‘your’ to make Kate look a little uncomfortable. ‘For your information, we’d just completed an errand of mercy, it was late, and we were hungry. It was the surf club or fast food.’

  He turned to look at Jo.

  ‘Was the moon out? Can you remember?’

  Jo was so pleased he’d diverted the conversation she smiled at him.

  ‘Far too interested in my calamari to notice,’ she said, then she turned to Ellie, the nurse who did shifts at the surgery and the hospital, to ask about the babies’ sleep programme.

  But she was aware that the community interest she’d foretold when she’d taken Cam on board was already rife, and with a small twinge of sadness accepted there’d be no more dinners at the surf club with him.

  Or was she being silly?

  She could handle talk, especially talk that had no basis in fact.

  Although given the instant lust thing going on, there was probably a teeny, tiny basis …

  ‘Are you listening?’ Ellie demanded.

  ‘Of
course,’ Jo told her, hoping her mind could rerun Ellie’s explanation for her. ‘You need at least four nights. If we could get Amy in over a weekend—starting Friday and running through to Tuesday—it might be easier for Todd to get help with the milking.’

  ‘If you left it until the school holidays—another couple of weeks—there might be a high school kid who’d be happy to have the work.’

  Obviously Cam had been following the conversation better than she had, that he’d come up with such a sensible suggestion, although—

  ‘If Kaylin’s sleep avoidance is as bad as Amy suggested, another couple of weeks might be too long to wait,’ Jo told him.

  ‘What about an in-home arrangement?’ Coming from Cam, this second suggestion was so surprising Jo had to ask.

  ‘You’ve been in the army, not general practice, what would you know about in-home arrangements?’

  He gave her a smug smile—but even smug it tickled her sensitive bits.

  ‘Three sisters and at last count eight nieces and nephews. One of my sisters had terrible trouble with her second baby and she got someone to come in.’

  He turned to Ellie.

  ‘It sounds as if you’re involved in the programme at the hospital. What exactly do you do?’

  Ellie straightened in her chair and Jo realised she wasn’t the only one in the practice who was feeling the effect of the pheromones that had infiltrated the atmosphere with Cam’s arrival.

  ‘We put the mum to bed in a separate room and one nurse stays up with the baby, handling it when it wakes. We don’t use controlled crying, but use a coaching technique that we’ve found successful. It’s best with babies who’ve started solids three times a day, and usually it works in three nights, though we say four in case we need the extra night.’

  Jo thought about it then nodded.

  ‘Kaylin’s six months old and she’s on solids. In fact, although she’s still being breastfed, I suggested Amy try her on them when she came in about sleep problems earlier.’

  She was still thinking about Kaylin when Cam entered the conversation again.

  ‘If you’re doing this programme at the hospital, would you be willing to do it at their home?’