Prescription—One Husband

by Marion Lennox

That silenced Sam for only a second. Then he raised himself on his elbow.

  ‘Your aunt’s old, though, Fern,’ he said savagely. ‘And your uncle was with her. Surely your place is with your husband.’

  Count to ten. Count to ten, Fern…

  Behind her, Fern was aware of Quinn Gallagher watching with malicious enjoyment.

  ‘You’re not my husband yet, Sam,’ Fern finally managed. She took a deep breath. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Dr Gallagher and I need to attend to Mr Reid.’

  ‘But I’m going to be sick again,’ Sam hissed.

  Fern sucked in her breath, fury mounting. How could she possibly have given in to this man’s pressure to marry her? Of all the insensitive oafs…

  She looked down at the bedside table and picked up the shiny aluminium kidney dish.

  ‘Fine,’ she snarled. ‘Have a basin, Sam. Just do what you have to do and leave us alone.’

  He wasn’t sick again.

  Sam lay back on his pillows and watched with sullen resentment as Fern and Quinn worked on Frank.

  ‘I’d like your assistance, if you don’t mind,’ Quinn told her. ‘Both my nurses are suffering from the effects of your oysters.’

  She would have helped without being made to feel guilty, Fern thought grimly, as she assisted Quinn to move Frank from trolley to bed. While Quinn set up a drip to replace the fluids the old man had lost, Fern gave him a gentle bed bath and helped him change into hospital pyjamas.

  It took time to make the frail old man comfortable and by the look on Sam’s face it seemed that he was almost jealous. Fern felt herself growing angrier and angrier, especially as Quinn Gallagher made it clear that he was enjoying the whole situation.

  ‘I’ll take these blood samples down to the lab,’ Quinn told her finally as he filled a small vial with Frank’s blood. ‘Are you right to finish here?’

  ‘I’m right,’ Fern said through gritted teeth. She managed a smile down at Frank. ‘As long as you’re happy having me treating you rather than Dr Gallagher?’

  ‘You can treat me any time you choose, Fern Rycroft,’ the old man smiled back. ‘Eh, you’re a right ministering angel and that’s the truth. One in a million.’ He cast a malicious look across at Sam. ‘And you and Doc Gallagher work a treat together. A real pair you make—unlike some…’

  It didn’t help Fern’s anger—or Quinn Gallagher’s irritating sense of humour. Quinn choked on laughter and left, chortling, and Sam choked on fury.

  Finally, Frank was settled. Fern checked the drip flow rate, bade Frank a concerned goodnight and Sam a rigid one and walked out to find Dr Gallagher waiting in the corridor.

  ‘What, a ten-second goodbye to your love?’ Quinn quizzed her as she closed the door behind her. ‘I’d expected a half-hour of passion, at the very least. Don’t you realise you can pull the curtains round the bed? Once Mr Reid’s asleep it could be almost a honeymoon suite in there.’

  Quinn was leaning against the wall of the corridor, stethoscope swinging idly from those long, surgeon’s fingers. He was watching the diminutive, red-haired Fern with malicious amusement.

  Surgeon’s fingers…Fern didn’t know he was a surgeon. Why had she thought that?

  It was just the man’s supreme air of confidence, Fern thought angrily. Confidence? Arrogance. Either way it was something that she usually saw only in doctors who were supremely skilled in their work—and both they and their colleagues knew it.

  ‘Why did you admit Sam?’ she demanded angrily. ‘You know he doesn’t need to be in hospital.’

  ‘I thought you’d like to have him well looked after,’ Quinn said blandly and watched her face. He was waiting for a reaction and she knew it.

  ‘And if someone really ill needs the bed?’

  ‘Then I guess it’s up to Mr Hubert’s future wife to toss him out into the snow.’ Quinn grinned. ‘Meanwhile he’s argued himself in here with all the aplomb of the legal mind. He’s quite a lawyer, your intended. I get the feeling your Sam could convince a jury black’s white while gargling chilli sauce—or maybe even seventy fathoms under water without air tanks. He’s quite a little persuader, your Sam.’

  ‘What…what did he say?’ Fern said uneasily.

  ‘Only that if I didn’t admit him and he happened to die in the night he’d hold me personally responsible. When I pointed out if he died maybe he wouldn’t be in a position to hold anyone responsible, he appointed you surrogate to sue me for the shirt off my back and see my medical degrees torn into little pieces and thrown—preferably with me attached—off the Arnablower Rocks.’

  ‘He didn’t really say that?’ Fern stared up at Quinn and, despite her anger, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch.

  ‘He did,’ Quinn assured her. ‘And any man who can tell me all that while still clutching a kidney bowl and occasionally retching, deserves to be admitted—or at least deserves to pay the exorbitant charges I’ll no doubt put to his account. Now—would you like to see your aunt, Dr Rycroft?’

  Her aunt…

  Fern’s anger faded. ‘Yes…Oh, yes, please.’

  This man had saved her aunt’s life. No matter what else he’d done…

  She managed a smile at this strange, unknown doctor. ‘Dr Gallagher, I really am very sorry…and very grateful…’

  ‘There’s no need for that.’ Like Fern’s anger, Quinn’s laughter seemed also to have gone. He stared down at the green-eyed girl before him for a long, long moment and the magnetism Fern had felt in church flooded back in force.

  Quinn’s eyes widened—as though he felt the force as strongly as Fern but he wasn’t sure whether it was a force for good or evil. A force to be reckoned with—somehow.

  ‘I would have done the same for anyone’s fiancé,’ he said slowly, his eyes still holding hers. ‘If he had a law degree and a threatening manner…’

  ‘I mean…I mean what you’ve done for my aunt.’

  The smile slowly returned, still wary.

  ‘Well, I would have especially done the same for your aunt,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just grateful we were able to get her back. Your aunt and uncle are two very special people, Dr Rycroft.’

  ‘I…I know.’

  ‘So why don’t you visit them?’

  ‘I do.’ Fern’s voice tightened at the old accusations. ‘I’m here now.’

  ‘But it’s been twelve months since you were here last. You’re all they’ve got, Dr Rycroft. The whole island tells me how wonderful you are but you’re intent on putting as much distance between you and the island as possible.’

  ‘That’s my business, Dr Gallagher. Not yours.’

  ‘But your aunt’s health is my concern,’ Quinn said harshly. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and turned to stride down the corridor, leaving Fern to follow as best she might. He kept talking, assuming that she’d scuttle along behind and to her fury Fern found herself doing just that. Scuttling.

  ‘My aunt’s health…’

  ‘Is suffering because she’s missing you.’

  ‘I can’t come home just because…’ Fern walked after the white-coated doctor but his strides were so long that she was forced to a run.

  ‘Just because people need you?’ Quinn shrugged. ‘Of course you can’t. How stupid of me to suggest such a crazy idea. Now let’s see how Maud’s been getting on without you—again.’

  Maud was asleep. Her tiny body seemed immensely vulnerable on the large hospital bed. Fern’s aunt was robed in a hospital gown and Fern made a silent vow to go straight home and bring back a pretty nightie. One of her own honeymoon nighties, she decided. In the hospital gown her aunt looked fragile—almost…

  Almost dead.

  Not the Aunt Maud Fern knew and loved. She couldn’t die. Not Maud, too…

  How could she have stayed away for so long? she thought harshly. She should have come back before this.

  And by marrying Sam…By marrying Sam she’d exposed her aunt to Lizzy’s vindictiveness and this dreadful hurt.

 
; There was a pale-faced slip of a girl sitting on a chair beside Aunt Maud—maybe a little younger than Fern, painfully thin with soft, mousy brown hair and brown eyes that were too large for her face. A nurse, Fern thought, but the girl was dressed casually in clean jeans and T-shirt. She rose as Quinn ushered Fern in and smiled at them both.

  ‘She’s fine,’ the girl said quickly, noting the anxiety in Fern’s eyes. ‘Her obs are steady and she seems to be sleeping soundly.’

  ‘Thanks, Jess.’ Quinn motioned to Fern. ‘Jess, this is Maud’s niece, the island’s wonderful Dr Fern Rycroft we’ve heard so much about. Fern, this is Jessie. Jess is the island vet but I called her in to help with my humans tonight. She hauls me out of bed often enough to help with her four-legged patients.’

  Fern stared. ‘I didn’t know the island had a vet.’

  Like human medicine, animal medicine was underserviced to the point of non-existence on the island.

  ‘I’ve been here for six months.’ Jessie smiled shyly. ‘It was a pleasure helping tonight. Your aunt’s a lovely lady, Fern. Do you want me to stay, Quinn?’

  ‘I think we’ll be right now, thanks, Jess. I’ll connect the monitors through to the office and I’ll do hourly obs.’

  ‘Fine.’ The vet crossed to the door. ‘Then, if you’ll excuse me…I have three babies to feed.’

  Three babies…Fern shook her head in bewilderment but Jess was already gone.

  The island medical service had changed indeed since Fern had last been here. With a qualified vet and doctor it was almost overserviced.

  Well, at least the island no longer needed her.

  Funny how that thought was starting to give her no pleasure at all.

  ‘Your uncle’s gone home to sleep,’ Quinn was saying softly. He was watching Fern over the bed dividing them. ‘You can, too, if you like. I’ll take good care of her, Dr Rycroft.’

  Fern swallowed. She was sure that he would. If any man could do it, Quinn Gallagher was the man to keep her aunt alive.

  She looked down at the bed again and her heart lurched. Sure, Quinn Gallagher would connect the monitors through to his office and check every so often but…

  But if her aunt was in a city hospital she’d be in Intensive Care with a nurse awake and watchful at every moment.

  After all Maud had done for her; it was the least Fern could do.

  ‘I’ll go home and see my uncle and come back,’ she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. ‘The spare bed here is empty. If it’s OK with you…’

  He didn’t try to dissuade her.

  ‘That’s fine. But I’ll keep the monitors going just the same. If you sleep…’

  ‘I won’t sleep,’ Fern said rigidly. ‘After the events of today, even if my aunt was fine, I still wouldn’t sleep.’

  She was right there.

  It took Fern less than half an hour to drive home, reassure her worried uncle and be back at Quinn Gallagher’s transformed mansion-cum-hospital. Quinn greeted her briefly when she returned but in the next ward Frank Reid had started vomiting again and he had his hands full.

  He didn’t need her.

  ‘Frank’s blood sugars are settling,’ he told her. ‘Once I can stop the retching he should be OK. I’ve given him another dose of metoclopramide and it should take effect soon. If you watch your aunt so I don’t have to check the monitors…’

  It had been the right thing to do to return, Fern thought thankfully, as she pushed the room’s second bed close to her aunt’s and crept under the covers. It was a warm enough night but the events of the day were taking their toll. She felt shivery and in need of the comfort of the blankets.

  She didn’t undress. It seemed wrong to don nightclothes when she wasn’t ill—or even very tired. She was just shaken and she was here to work.

  Fern put her hand out from the bedclothes and placed her fingers round her aunt’s wrist. This was better than any monitor Quinn Gallagher could devise—and she was a darned sight closer if Maud’s breathing faltered.

  She was so close…

  In her long years of training Fern had never felt so close to a patient.

  Even with her aunt and uncle, Fern strove for distance. There was no distance here—not now.

  Just soul-destroying grief if this heartbeat didn’t continue. Maud had to live…

  The long hours of the night dragged on.

  She should be sleepy, Fern thought, but she wasn’t anything of the kind. Her mind was whirling in a million different directions.

  Muffled through the heavy walls she could hear intermittent sounds from the men’s ward. She heard Frank moan once or twice and grimaced. Let the metoclopramide work, she breathed silently. If Lizzy’s stunt caused permanent damage…

  Fern was starting to feel horribly responsible herself. By agreeing to marry on the island she’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. Frank had to be OK.

  Then she heard Sam’s voice raised in protest and Fern’s grimace deepened. If Sam was making a fuss…

  Maybe she should go to him…

  Sam had no priority at all.

  Fern’s fingers tightened on Maud’s wrist. Maud’s pulse was strong and steady but it didn’t make Fern one bit more willing to go to Sam. Her place was here. If Quinn Gallagher was taken up with Frank then he couldn’t watch the monitors and Maud had to be monitored by machine or in person.

  So Fern lay still, realising that she needed this time alone almost as much as Maud needed her. The darkened hospital was close to silent and the turmoil of the day seemed a bad dream.

  The only thing of importance was the beat under Fern’s fingers—the steady throb of her aunt’s heart.

  The monitors were linked to her aunt’s breast and they led to another room. Quinn’s office…Fern knew he’d still be checking from time to time. A conscientious doctor wouldn’t believe Fern’s assurance that she’d stay awake.

  And Quinn was a conscientious doctor.

  The thought was a vague but solid comfort. Maud was safe. With Fern beside her and Quinn in the next room nothing could happen.

  Nothing could happen with Quinn Gallagher there.

  That was crazy. What a stupid thing to think when she had known the man less than a day. What was it about the man that was so solid…so powerful…?

  It was her emotional state, Fern told herself firmly. Nothing more. She’d been emotionally wrought for days in the build-up to the wedding, asking herself over and over whether she was doing the right thing. And, then, as she’d made the decision and the final preparations and made it almost to the altar—to have this happen…

  Drat Lizzy, she thought miserably, but in her heart Fern knew her real emotion was one of relief.

  ‘So, maybe it was the wrong decision,’ she whispered into the dark, and winced again at the sound of Sam’s angry voice from the next room. Her beloved…

  He was nothing of the sort!

  There were footsteps down the corridor and another voice, softer but firm for all that. Quinn’s voice…

  Then the footsteps returned, but not as far as they’d come. The steps stopped outside Fern’s door. The door opened a crack and then wider, allowing a slit of light to fall over Maud’s bed.

  Quinn stepped silently into the room. Unlike the corridor where the floor was of polished wooden boards, the wards were carpeted—so Quinn’s feet made no sound. His body blocked the slit of light but as he came further into the room the slit widened and Fern could watch him as he approached.

  He checked Maud with deft precision. Fern nodded silently to herself. This man didn’t leave anything to chance—or to the monitors. He felt Maud’s pulse and took her blood pressure, then checked each monitor lead. Then, almost as an afterthought, Quinn turned the pencil light torch he’d been holding to shine down at Fern.

  ‘I’m not asleep,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not completely untrustworthy.’

  He smiled, then, his smile almost tender in the soft light of the torch.

  ‘I never thought you were
, Dr Rycroft,’ he said gently. ‘But your aunt is my patient. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’d love one,’ Fern smiled. She pushed back the bedcovers and Quinn’s eyes widened as he saw her blouse and jeans.

  ‘What, no nightie, Dr Rycroft? Dressed for escape, then, are we?’

  ‘If you like.’ Fern’s voice tightened.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about indecent advances by the night staff.’ Quinn smiled. ‘Your beloved’s only a scream away. In fact, I would have thought you’d know that. Has he been keeping you awake?’

  ‘He’s not my beloved,’ Fern said crossly. ‘I…Is he all right?’

  ‘No.’ Quinn shook his head. ‘He’s not all right. Mr Reid has been ill again and rude enough to disturb Mr Hubert’s sleep. Mr Hubert seems to think he’d like a private room—or at least have Mr Reid shifted out into the corridor. Very tetchy he’s been when I’ve suggested he take himself off to his own bed if he didn’t like it here.’

  ‘He’s…he’s upset,’ Fern said miserably. ‘Sam’s not always so unreasonable.’

  ‘I’d assumed that,’ Quinn nodded. ‘If he’s half as bad as I think he is then you’ve been granted a last-minute reprieve from death by boredom. Still, I have to assume you know what you’re doing, Dr Rycroft.’

  ‘Good.’ Fern gritted her teeth. ‘Look, forget the cup of tea…’ This wasn’t a big hospital with kitchen staff on call.

  ‘It’s already made,’ he smiled. ‘If you’re as awake as I think you are, come out on the verandah and drink it.’

  ‘But…’ Fern looked doubtfully down at her sleeping aunt.

  ‘Maud’s growing stronger by the minute,’ Quinn assured her. ‘You must be able to feel it yourself.’ He flicked a switch above the bed and a soft, dim light shone across Maud’s face. It wasn’t enough to disturb Maud’s deep sleep but it showed them both her improving colour. ‘Now, through those French windows is the verandah and it’s a lovely night. I’ll bring tea round there and we’ll leave the windows open and be able to watch Maud while we drink it.’

  ‘But…won’t we disturb S…Mr Reid?’

  ‘You mean, won’t your Sam hear us and demand to know what the heck’s going on?’ Quinn’s teeth flashed with laughter as he shook his head. ‘Their window’s round the corner and your Sam insisted it be closed because he’s allergic to draughts or some such nonsense. Which leaves us alone. An assignation with an engaged woman in the wee small hours…What could be better? What a pity I didn’t put the champagne on ice…’