Healed by Her Army Doc

by Meredith Webber

  He turned back to Kate, caught her perusing him in much the same manner he’d been watching her with the menu earlier.

  ‘It’s kind of exciting, getting to know someone new,’ she said, adding with a smile, ‘Well, almost new.’

  The smile made his bones melt.

  Men’s bones didn’t melt!

  Not soldiers’ bones anyway.

  Shouldn’t have had the champagne.

  ‘It is,’ he said, smiling back. See, it’s easy being normal.

  Except if this was normal he was in trouble...

  * * *

  Angus seemed a little distracted, but Kate was so entranced by the décor and the menu she was happy to carry the conversation, pointing out carpets she particularly liked, or reading the ingredients of dishes she’d like to try at home.

  ‘You could come for dinner one night and I’d cook it,’ she said, and although Angus smiled and accepted the offer politely, she knew something had shifted between them.

  Maybe not between them, but on his side anyway.

  Was her inviting him to dinner a step too far from their ‘here and now’ relationship?

  She shook away the thought. They had three days together, that was the here and now, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

  No doubts, no regrets, no analysing their relationship, because there really wasn’t one. And when it finished, at least she’d have good memories this time, memories of fun and laughter, and of simply being together.

  They rode the ferry to Manly the next day—the old ferry, not the fast commuter—and Kate marvelled at the number of little bays and inlets on either side of the harbour, many with houses right down to the water’s edge, others with carefully preserved bushland, while still more had massive steep sides of sandstone, with houses perched on top.

  Angus stood beside her at the rail, one arm round her waist, pointing out a tree, a bird, a tiny sailing skiff, his body talking to hers in a way that added magic to the boat trip.

  The tall Norfolk pine trees along the beachfront at Manly reminded her of all the pictures she’d ever seen of Manly beach—so familiar it was hard to believe she was here. Or that she’d lived in Bondi for two years and had never been to Manly. Her life really had become restricted.

  She hooked her hand through the arm of the man who’d brought her back to life, squeezing his arm in a silent thank you because words would never be enough to explain how wonderful she felt.

  It was an idyllic day—the sun warm, with sufficient breeze to whip up a few foaming white horses on the ocean. Hand in hand, they walked the beach, then ate hot dogs at one of the tables on the esplanade.

  The problem was it felt so right, being with Angus, talking or not talking, holding hands, bodies close, doing their own communication. It felt like for ever, and she mustn’t fall into the trap of thinking that way—mustn’t be misled into imagining this was anything but here and now.

  They made the most of the day, catching the fast ferry back to the Quay and a little one across to Luna Park, Angus having expressed disbelief that she’d never been there.

  ‘Scared of heights?” he asked.

  ‘Like I could rappel down to an injured victim on a cliff face if I was?’ she teased.

  ‘You do that?’ he asked, so astonished she had to laugh.

  ‘Mostly in training but once here and several times when I was in the SDR in Brisbane. We’ve mountains just north of the city—the Glasshouse Mountains—that idiots with no experience insist on climbing by the hardest route.’

  He was leading her towards a Ferris wheel, and looking up to see the height of it she was very glad she wasn’t afraid of heights. Although...

  ‘You know, sitting in one of these swaying cradles right at the top isn’t quite the same as working on cliffs with a safety harness on and ropes attached to solid objects and team members around to make sure you’re safe.’

  He put his arm around her, pulling her closer.

  ‘I’ll anchor you,’ he whispered, and for one wild moment it sounded like a promise of forever.

  They rode up into the sky with stupendous views over the harbour and the city, then wandered through the park, eating fairy floss and hot dogs because that’s what you ate at fairs. They rode the big dipper, Kate shrieking as they zoomed down the steep slopes, and got lost in the mirror maze.

  To Kate, it was a magical experience—nothing more than going out and having fun really—but to somewhere new, and especially with someone, well, special, her whole being seemed filled with joy and happiness.

  ‘And just what are you contemplating so seriously?’ Angus asked, as they paused under a shady umbrella, eating ice cream.

  She smiled at him but hesitated about answering. To be contemplating fun?

  He’d think she was crazy!

  Except she had been!

  Having fun, that was.

  Probably best not to mention the joy and happiness...

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT HAD BEEN enough of a day to justify room service back at the hotel, and as Angus fed her fresh fruit and her body shivered in delight and anticipation, she found it hard to remind herself that it was just for now.

  And later, much later, as they lay, still breathless, on the bed, with Angus nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear and whispering that he’d have to order room service more often, the thought of it not being just for now lodged in her head, and she put her arms around him and drew him close.

  To hold him forever?

  No, it couldn’t be but for now they were together and if what she was beginning to feel felt like for ever, that was just too bad.

  * * *

  ‘Today we do the city!’ Angus announced when they finally surfaced at close to ten in the morning. He added quote marks with his fingers, and although deep down he was thinking he’d just as soon spend the day in bed with Kate, something told him that would be a bad idea.

  Being together twenty-four hours a day, doing simple things like sightseeing and fun park rides seemed to have shifted something inside him.

  He couldn’t define it and definitely didn’t want to think about it too much, but it had somehow changed from a good idea to show someone around his city, to finding huge pleasure in that someone’s company, and an awareness that this had become a very special time.

  For Kate too, he was sure. To him, she seemed to grow more beautiful every day as if happiness was radiating from inside her.

  While in bed—well, he wouldn’t think about bed or they’d never leave the room. But her body seemed to match his in its ardour and excitement, in the intensity of some of their encounters and the soft, slow lovemaking of the early morning.

  He knew he had to walk away from her—his life too uncertain, too chaotic for him to offer much in the way of a husband.

  Husband!

  Where the hell had that come from?

  ‘Well, I’m done in the bathroom,’ the subject of his concerns said, appearing in a pair of long tailored shorts, a blue patterned top, and a silly hat with orange sunglasses at the front perched on her head. He’d bought it for her at Luna Park the previous day, more as a joke than anything else.

  ‘Urchin!’ he said, and she laughed.

  ‘I thought you’d like the hat,’ she told him. ‘It kind of finishes off the outfit.’

  And as she stood there, clean and ready for the day, grinning at him from under the hat, he wanted nothing more than to get up off the bed, take her in his arms and hold her.

  Possibly forever.

  He pushed off the bed and dodged past her into the bathroom, dodging past just in case his arms reached out—

  Perhaps, he thought when he was under the shower, not quite cold but cool enough, it was just because they were with each other all the time and having fun together—that would explain things.
<
br />   Practical as that explanation was, it didn’t sit easily with him, so he set the matter aside and concentrated on their itinerary for the day.

  Art gallery first, he decided, then...

  They were halfway across the beautiful park leading eventually to the gallery when he stopped.

  Kate had moved on another step but was pulled back by their joined hands.

  ‘You do like art galleries, do you? I didn’t ask. I love this one, and there’s a super exhibition on at the moment.’

  She smiled, came close, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  ‘I love them, big ones and little ones. They are the parts of Sydney I do know.’

  An hour later, they were in a new exhibition of Australian aboriginal art when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket.

  Cursing inwardly, he pulled it out, praying it was something simple, an enquiry about the tent maybe—

  ‘I’ve got to go!’ he said, staring blankly at the message telling him to report to base ASAP and well aware his words were equally disbelieving. ‘I’m so sorry, Kate. I was going to take you to the Queen Victoria Building after this, you can still go, and you can stay on at the hotel and have room service. I’ll sort the bill when I pick up my car but I—’

  She put her finger to his lips.

  ‘You have to go,’ she said. ‘I do understand. I always understood it was just for now, and now has been tremendous fun. I’ll stay on here at the gallery for a while and go to the arcade but probably go home to Alice tonight.’

  He wanted to argue, but what about? This was his life.

  He pulled her tight and kissed her hard, oblivious of the people around them.

  Opened his mouth to say he would be in touch, then closed it again because would he?

  Where was he being sent?

  How long would he be away?

  Would he even return?

  He squeezed her hand and walked away, determined not to look back, not to check if she was as upset as he was, crying perhaps—not that he was crying.

  Not on the outside anyway, and definitely not when walking through a public gallery, but he felt as if something had been wrenched out of his insides, out of his gut perhaps—couldn’t be his heart...

  He was halfway out the door, still battling to find a way through all the swirling emotion in his head—well, his head and his body—when he noticed the gift shop. Art gallery gift shops sold mostly books on art and classy posters, but they also sold top-of-the-range souvenirs.

  Jewellery?

  He ducked inside and was rewarded with an array of Australian gemstones set in earrings, bracelets, necklaces and—yes, just over there—a pendant.

  It was an opal, radiating brilliant red and blue and green with flashes of gold as the sun caught it. To him, it seemed to exemplify all the colours of the happiness he and Kate had shared. He bought it, wrote a quick note on a card, and left it at the hotel when he went back there to get his stuff. She’d have to return there to pack and he wanted her to have it as she left the city—have something to remember him by, something as beautiful as their time together had been.

  Now he could go back to work...

  * * *

  Kate watched him leave, waiting for him to turn, to wave, determined not to cry in case he did turn, wanting to cry when he didn’t. Then, aware of the covert glances of the few people who’d been in this part of the gallery, she continued her inspection of the paintings, a little blurry perhaps, because she knew that ‘now’ was over.

  From there she went to the Queen Victoria Building, the beautifully restored old building that housed some of the city’s most expensive jewellery stores and small boutiques.

  There, tucked into a corner on the upper level, she spotted a beautiful sign, scrolled in gold, Lady Marmalade! Intrigued, she went closer, and smiled as she saw the red velvet-covered antique chair in the window, a mannequin sitting demurely on it in black lace underwear.

  With the taste of Angus still on her lips after their farewell kiss, she slipped inside. The exquisiteness of the garments stole her breath, and her fingers trembled as she touched sheer silk and delicate lace. She might never see Angus again, but the last few days had changed her in ways she barely understood.

  Outwardly she might look the same, and she’d return to work as dedicated as ever, but inwardly she’d been awakened to such joy and happiness that it seemed only right she should celebrate it. And, she decided as she slid a few more hangers off the rails, having sexy underwear under her work clothes was as good a way as any. The slither of silk against her skin would keep her memories alive.

  Keep her alive?

  She returned to the hotel, considerably less well-off but with the pain of loss lessened just a little by her mad, impulsive buys. As she walked through the lobby, a receptionist called to her, handing her a package.

  ‘Your friend left this,’ she said, and, although intrigued, Kate slipped it into one of the carrier bags and went up to their room before she opened it.

  Inside the package was a small white box, tied with blue ribbon, and inside that—

  Her legs went from under her and she dropped down onto the bed, holding the opened box in both hands, staring in wonderment at the beautiful gem inside it.

  ‘So you’ll always remember our “now”,’ the note said. As if she’d ever forget it!

  And as she sat there, on the bed, her fingers running lightly over the words Angus had written, she felt again the terrible pain that loss could bring—the ache inside her threatening to spoil her memories of the joy, and loving, and laughter.

  Had Angus guessed this was how she’d feel that he’d sent this beautiful gift?

  She picked it up, clenched it in her hand and sent a promise through the ether to wherever he was that she would remember.

  She slipped it around her neck, fastened the catch at the back and smiled at her reflection.

  How could she not?

  Once packed, she had the concierge call a taxi for her and headed back home—to Alice and to real life, but to a better real life, she told herself. She owed it to Angus to get back to the Kate she had once been. He’d shown her the life she’d forgotten; the way life should be lived.

  Oh, she’d still work as hard, and train for the SDR, but she’d start saying yes when the team went for a drink after training, and she’d take Alice out to dinner once a week.

  As the taxi pulled up outside the apartment block and she found money to pay the driver, she wondered just how long these great resolutions would last.

  And, more importantly, just how would they help heal the ache she felt inside, fill the emptiness in her heart?

  * * *

  Those questions were answered, or at least set aside, when she returned to work, where one of their almost cyclical busy weeks had already begun. Hurrying from theatre to theatre, being seconded to orthopods and gynaes, as well as working with her supervisor, Kate had no time to brood over Angus’s departure, although she did try to call in and see Harriet at least once a week, bringing her news and gossip from the hospital and encouraging her to join her occasionally for a quiet dinner uptown.

  Harriet’s ex-boyfriend Pete had finally manned up enough to admit the relationship was over and had taken his toothbrush and shaver and what clothes he hadn’t managed to sneak out during his ‘disappearing’ weeks.

  Kate felt Harriet was taking it well, but when her new friend said rather bitterly, ‘I no longer suited his image of us as the perfect couple,’ Kate knew just how upset, how hurt Harriet had been by his defection.

  Although a rather complicated camera sitting on the coffee table in Harriet’s room did please Kate, as did Harriet’s enthusiasm for her new hobby.

  ‘I know you’re right and I could spend all my time just taking photos from my balcony of all the different moods of the sea, but it’s been gre
at for my leg as it’s got me out walking and I’m going a little further each day.’

  ‘Good for you!’ she told Harriet, before heading back to Alice’s apartment to see what was for dinner.

  So far her ‘going out for a drink with the team’ hadn’t happened, but she and Harriet had become closer and one day, hopefully, she’d get off work early enough to actually go out—with anyone or no one, even for a walk on the beach.

  Work did ease off and if the SDR team teased her a little when she joined them for a pizza after a meeting, she just smiled and laughed with them and actually felt enjoyment in the company.

  She told herself she owed it to Angus to get out more but the real upside was that working hard, chatting to Harriet or eating pizza with the team took her mind off the hollowness inside her, even if it was only temporarily.

  At times, it seemed as if it was the physical side she missed so much—his closeness in the bed, the touch of his hand as they walked together, the way he slung an arm around her shoulders...

  But she missed their talk as well, from work discussions, to what wine to drink with crab, to silly things about their youth. She’d been totally consumed by the man, and although she’d been left bereft, she worked on, and socialised, and tried desperately to fill this new emptiness inside her with whatever she could find.

  * * *

  Angus had been called not to a military or humanitarian disaster but to the far side of the country where the second of his prototypes was being manufactured. He’d incorporated various modifications into it, and the manufacturer had other projects lined up but was having difficulty with the new tent, hence the urgent summons.

  So, although he spent what seemed like twenty hours a day either arguing with the project manager at the factory, or writing up changes to the specifications into the wee hours of the morning, he found himself missing Kate.

  And although he wasn’t in any danger—except perhaps from increasing frustration—he reminded himself that his sudden departure from Sydney had been because of his job—a job that could just as likely taken him into a war zone.

  But Kate had sneaked beneath his skin. He could feel her there, feel the way she moved against him, smell the scent of her shampoo on the pillow next to him, hear her chuckle at a silly joke—this last one when he was arguing with an increasingly bad-tempered project manager.