And somewhere, in some still functioning part of her brain, she thought, This was what it was like the first time—this feeling of being truly alive—every cell of her body somehow recognising this man, wanting him, needing him, part of him somehow.
Heat built within her, consuming all thought, and she found herself responding with a passion she’d forgotten could exist.
‘We have to talk,’ he said when, needing to breathe, they finally drew apart.
It took a moment for Kate to register the words, but when she did the excitement drained from her body, leaving her cold and shaken.
We have to talk usually heralded something the listener didn’t want to hear. And would his talking mean she had to talk...?
Tell...?
Angus had bent to retrieve his shoes, and now he slung an arm around her shoulders and steered her back along the beach, closer to the water now so little wavelets lapped across their feet.
But the silence was killing her, stretching as tight as a bowstring between them.
‘So, talk,’ she finally said, and he laughed.
‘If only it was that easy.’
He paused, turning her again to face him, touching her hair, her cheek, his fingers outlining her lips.
‘I think we’re both adult enough to acknowledge the attraction between us, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to see more of you, enjoy some time with you—some special time.’
‘You sound as if you’re making a speech about your tent,’ she told him, bemused by the delivery of his ‘talk’.
He smiled and shook his head.
‘This isn’t easy, you know. In fact, it’s damn near impossible. But what I’m trying to say is that whatever happens between us will be for now, can only be for now.’
His eyes grew serious.
‘I don’t want to make a big melodrama of it, but once I’m back on normal duty I won’t know where I’ll be from one day to the next. Most of my army mates have wives and families, and even though there are separations at times, it still works and works well. But now, possibly because I’ve been single, I’ve taken a different path. I’ve become involved with an emergency response unit and that led to designing and overseeing the manufacture of the prototype of what you rudely call “the tent” and some ancillary ones as well. But once it’s past the testing time in Australia and into production, then I’ll have to go where they—the tents—go. Can you see that?’
Earthquake zones, war zones, disease outbreaks in developing countries—yes, Kate could see each and every one of them, see them all in terrible, horrific detail.
‘So what we have is now,’ she said softly, not wanting to think beyond that, but at the same time relieved because with ‘now’ the past didn’t matter.
Couldn’t matter...
Then again, given how her body was reacting to him, wouldn’t this idea of ‘just for now’ leave her wanting more or, worse, hurting again?
That was the risk.
But at least she’d feel alive again—and have happy memories to take into the future.
How could it hurt?
Silly question—it had hurt before, hadn’t it?
And back then she’d known that all they’d have was just one night!
Except this time there’d be no consequence, and that part had hurt the worst.
So why not just live for the moment—for however many moments they might have?
Wasn’t this just what she needed?
Something to jolt her out of the hole she’d dug for herself, to feel again—anticipation, excitement, desire, fulfilment—emotions she hadn’t felt for so long...
He kissed her lightly on the lips, stopping all the arguments going on inside her head.
‘The now,’ he said, as they walked on. ‘This isn’t some great doom-laden thing, I’m pretty good at surviving anywhere, but it’s the being away, the not knowing when I’ll be back—it’s destructive on relationships. I tried that with Michelle and it didn’t work. It put too much pressure on her, far more than on me because I was always too busy to be thinking about anything but the minute, or hour, or day ahead.’
He paused as they walked up the steps, back to the promenade, then added, ‘And I wouldn’t like to do that to you.’
They sat again, Angus putting on his shoes, though Kate still held hers, the bottoms of her jeans so wet she was better without shoes.
‘Well?’ he said, when he’d tied his second lace.
Kate sighed.
‘What am I supposed to say?’ she asked. ‘Back when I was dating—about a million years ago—we didn’t have discussions like this. We went out a few times, kissed a few more, and if we both wanted to go to bed together, eventually we did. Or that’s how it seems to have happened. Now it’s like a timetable. If I say yes, will you tell me where to be and when so we can continue the whatever it is.’
He laughed and she added crossly, ‘It’s not funny!’
He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, defusing the bit of what she’d felt was righteous anger, and bringing back all the sensations she’d been feeling... Was yearning the word?
‘It’s a little bit funny, you must admit, and hopefully fun,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘I just needed to be honest with you so you knew right from the start this wouldn’t be a for ever and ever thing. I tried it once—well, more than once, but with the same woman—and it didn’t work, so what do you think?’
He kissed her again before she could answer, not that she had an answer to give him, but somehow the kiss told her it would all work out, and made her admit that Alice had been right. She’d shut herself away not only from others but from her own emotions for far too long.
It was time for a change!
‘I’m on call tonight so I’m going home now,’ she told him with only a little quaver in her voice. ‘But now you’ve done your honesty thing, I should warn you that I work horrendous hours, and my work is just as important to me as yours is to you, so you’ll have to put up with broken dates...’
She paused, looking at him.
‘Will they be dates?’ she asked, and he smiled at her, mischief glinting in his eyes.
‘Oh, they’ll be dates all right, just you wait and see.’
He stood up and put out his hand to help her to her feet.
‘Come on, I’ll walk you home and kiss you goodnight and you can text me your work schedule for the next few weeks or as long as you know it, and leave the rest to me.’
Kate chuckled.
‘For such a good organiser you’ve forgotten one fairly important thing,’ she told him. ‘How can I text you when I don’t know your number?’
He pulled her close and kissed her again, oblivious to the passers-by on the promenade.
‘I’m glad you can still chuckle,’ he said quietly as they drew apart, though not too far apart. ‘That was something I remembered most about you.’
Angus gave her his card, pressing it into her hand, and felt her fingers close tightly over it—as if it was somehow precious—and for a moment he wondered if he was doing the right thing, seeing more of Kate while he was here. He’d made it clear to her that it was just, in her words, ‘for now’, but what of him?
Could he walk away so easily when this woman—and her chuckle—had not been far from his mind for the last three years?
But would it be fair not to?
In the darkened apartment entrance, he kissed her goodnight, holding her close, allowing a little of the emotion he was feeling to seep into the kiss.
Had she felt it that she responded, running her fingers up his neck to clasp his head with both her hands, and hold his lips to hers. It probably didn’t go on for an aeon, but when she’d drawn away, then lightly pressed her lips to his with a whispered, ‘Goodnight,’ and he was walking back to his hotel, he felt as if it h
ad lasted for ever.
Not that ‘for ever’ featured in his life these days.
From now on it was nothing more than ‘for now’.
* * *
His mind was still in a pleasant haze, imagining what lay ahead, as he walked along the promenade towards the hospital late the next afternoon. His visit to the State Emergency Service headquarters had been productive, with positive comments about the little model of his tent—damn it all, she had him calling it that now! He’d taken notes of all the suggestions they’d offered, particularly in regard to some new fire-retardant spray under development. He’d have to follow up on that. The fabric of his tent was fire-retardant but no one had ever tested to what degree it would withstand fire and keep the workers safe inside it.
He’d made appointments for the next day, including one at a factory whose management had expressed interest in manufacturing the internal fittings for the tent—might as well stick to tent now—although the prototype was being made in Western Australia, and the real thing would probably be manufactured in China.
And he’d also made a booking at a restaurant up the hill behind the hospital that, he’d been assured, had a magnificent view of the beach. With Kate’s roster saved on his cell-phone, he was confident that if her shift supposedly ended at five, she should be available for dinner by eight.
And about now, if she did finish on time, he’d be able to walk her home.
‘Mickey!’
The frantic scream came from behind him at the same time as a small, tousle-headed boy flew past on a scooter, crashing full tilt into one of the recycling bins a careful council had placed along the promenade.
He reached the boy and bent to untangle him from the now buckled scooter, and saw the blood running copiously from a split lip.
If that was the only damage, he was lucky, Angus thought, feeling in his pocket for the clean handkerchief he’d folded in there that morning.
He was pressing it against the wound when the mother arrived, and the child, getting over his initial shock, began to wail.
‘He’s okay, just a split lip,’ he said to the mother. ‘I’m Angus, I’m a doctor and I think it will need stitching. I can carry him up to the hospital—it will be faster than an ambulance.’
The mother half smiled, relief wiping some of the worry from her face.
‘Are you sure?’ she said, one arm around Mickey and the other hand holding the mangled scooter. ‘He’s got so big now I can barely lift him.’
‘Quite sure,’ Angus said, putting his arms around the little boy and lifting him as he stood up. ‘Okay, Mickey?’ he said. ‘We’ll get that lip of yours fixed in no time. I bet the other kids at kindy will be jealous when they see your stitches.’
Mickey stopped wailing while he thought about that, then recovered enough to say, ‘School, I go to school. I’m a big boy now.’
‘That’s grand,’ Angus told him as he strode towards the hospital, Mickey’s mother trotting by his side. ‘It’s even better to go to school with stitches. And you’ll have a great bruise to show your friends, all blue at first and maybe purple.’
‘Or black?’ Mickey asked hopefully. ‘I like black.’
They were still discussing the colours of bruises when they reached the ED, where the first person he saw was Sam Braithwaite, Blake’s fiancée, whom he’d met at the talk.
‘Uh-oh,’ she said, as she took him straight through to a small paediatric room. ‘Looks like Kate’s not getting off on time. We do minor stitches here but for a face, especially a child’s face, we call for help.’
* * *
Kate felt a spurt of annoyance as her pager went off. She’d really thought she’d be leaving on time for once—secretly hoping Angus might be there to meet her. Putting on a bit of make-up and lipstick, and blushing as she did it, so out of touch with ‘dating’ she felt more trepidation than excitement.
She blotted off most of the lipstick, and hurried down to the ED.
Where Angus was dominating the space in the small theatre room.
‘You’re like a genie who pops out of a bottle, just appearing in front of me wherever I go,’ she muttered at him.
Only not quietly enough, for the child—a small boy—on the table piped up. ‘Genies come out of lamps, not bottles,’ he told her, his voice muffled by a gauze pad he was holding to his upper lip.
‘Angus rescued me and he’s going to stay with me instead of Mum, ’cos Mum faints when she sees a needle, and if she’s on the floor the stitching lady—is that you?—would have to walk around her all the time.’
‘I see,’ Kate said weakly, wondering just how Angus, Mum and the small boy had all come to be together. Apparently, they’d shared more than a few minutes because she could hear Angus in the boy’s words.
‘So, let’s see what we’ve got,’ she said, and lifted the pad. While Angus talked to the boy about the new scooter he’d have to get, Kate examined the wound.
‘Whatever he’d hit must have had a sharp edge as it’s a through and through cut, impacting on the inside of the mouth.’ She smiled at the boy—Mickey Richards, she’d discovered from Angus’s talk—and said, ‘I’m going to have to stitch your lip, Mickey, but I’ll give you something that will stop it hurting. We use what we call gas and you just breathe it in like you breathe in air and you might go into a dreamy sleep, but you won’t feel a thing while I fix your lip.’
She turned to Sam, who’d followed her in to assist.
‘Have you spoken to the mother? Explained we’ll need to sedate him—?’
‘And got her written permission,’ Sam finished for her. ‘And I know you like using nitrous oxide so I’ve got it ready. Nose mask and fifty-fifty with the oxygen?’
Kate checked the admission report with Mickey’s weight and nodded.
‘Now, Sam’s going to put the mask over your nose and all you have to do is breathe through it for a few minutes.’
She paused.
‘And no chatting to Angus while I’m stitching. I need your lip to stay still.’
But Mickey was already in a pleasant dream world and she doubted there’d be much chat.
She checked for any broken or cracked teeth. He’d been lucky as they were all intact.
Sam slid a suction device into his mouth, keeping it away from the wound. Kate flushed the tear, checking there were no tiny pieces of debris in it, then set to work.
She used absorbable sutures to fix the wound inside his mouth, knotting each stitch four times.
‘Why the bigger knots?’ Angus asked, peering into Mickey’s mouth. Kate realised she’d been so caught up in her work she’d forgotten he was there.
Almost forgotten.
Except for little prickles on her skin.
And a slight flutter as she caught his deep voice saying something to Sam.
Concentrate on what you’re doing!
But she still risked a glance at him as she answered.
‘You know what it’s like when there’s something irritating in your mouth, a broken tooth, a tiny cut or graze?’
‘You can’t help poking it with your tongue,’ he replied, and although she couldn’t see him now as she was concentrating on her stitching, she knew there’d have been a smile on his face.
‘Exactly!’ she said, tucking the knots into the tissue under the repair to further safeguard them. ‘Tying more knots stops them unravelling.’
‘Do you use absorbable sutures on the outer skin as well?” Angus asked, and Kate nodded.
Medical chat made things easier.
‘They’re best on young kids as it saves them the added trauma of having to have them removed. The outer layer is trickier as we need to align the vermilion, that white line around the lips, or the scar will show.’
She worked quickly but carefully, smiling ruefully to herself as she realised Angus
would know as well as she did what the vermilion was.
Angus.
She’d finished and as she wiped small spots of remaining blood from Mickey’s face, she allowed herself to again give in to her awareness of Angus’s presence.
As a man.
Her man!
Well, her ‘for now’ man anyway...
Sam brought Mickey’s mother into the room to be with him as he rested, a dreamy smile on his face.
‘Did I go to sleep?’ he asked Angus.
‘Maybe dozed, sport, and now you’ve got a new lip, want to see?’
He found a mirror and held it up so Mickey could see the repair.
‘Cool!’ the kid said, with a slightly lopsided smile.
‘He’s so good with children,’ Mrs Richards said, and Kate’s heart clenched in her chest.
He had been good with Mickey.
She put two small strip dressings on the repaired skin above his lip, then turned away to write a script for antibiotics, giving it to Mrs Richards and explaining she could get them at the hospital pharmacy or from her local chemist.
‘Can I go now?’ Mickey asked, obviously anxious to be gone so he could show off his stitches to all his friends.
‘In a little while,’ Kate said, touching him lightly on the shoulder. ‘I’d like you to stay here and rest for a few minutes. See the clock on the wall? When the big hand gets to the nine you can go. Do you know your numbers?’
‘Of course,’ her patient told her in a tone of great disgust. ‘I’m five.’
‘And a very sleepy five,’ his mother said, running her hand over his forehead as his eyes closed.
Leaving Sam to watch the child, she walked out with Mrs Richards, introducing herself properly and explaining that Mickey would probably be sleepy when he got home, and not to be concerned if he didn’t want anything to eat, but some jelly or an electrolyte ice block would be good.
Healed by Her Army Doc Page 5
