Christmas in the Outback

by Leah Martyn

  The sob hiccuped its way out, and she turned into the pillow, smothering the agonised sound as it squeezed from her throat. Oh, Lord, what if Liam had heard?

  She finally slept, rising early next morning and realising she felt better, more in control.

  And under the needling heat of the shower, even a three-minute one, she felt her body revive.

  Dressed for work, she made her way along to the kitchen, surprised that Liam hadn’t surfaced yet. She gave an inward shrug. She’d get on with making breakfast. He was bound to turn up sooner or later.

  Her gaze ranged around the homely room, lighting on the worn pine table on which sat a fruit bowl full of oranges and several stacks of medical journals.

  Methodically, she set places for them both and then unearthed a black and white butcher’s apron from a hook behind the door. An impish smile lit her mouth as she wound the apron around her and tied the strings.

  ‘Well, look at you, Dr Barrett…’

  Nikki spun round from the cook-top and shot her former husband a haughty little look. ‘Good morning. I thought I’d get breakfast started.’

  ‘I’m gobsmacked.’ Arms folded, Liam lent indolently against the doorframe, watching her. ‘I can’t believe what I’m seeing.’ His eyes held laughing disbelief. ‘You cooking anything!’

  Nikki did her best to ignore his banter. ‘There’s some freshly squeezed orange juice and I found some English-type muffins in the freezer. I’m toasting them under the grill. Would you like scrambled eggs to go with them?’

  ‘Sounds terrific.’ He’d pushed himself away from the door and moved across the kitchen to look over her shoulder. ‘Like me to crack the eggs?’ His voice was gruff, his hand of its own accord coming up to rest absently at the nape of her neck.

  Nikki felt her adrenalin levels surge with alarm and turned her head a fraction. He was there, hovering on the edge of her vision. Her nostrils thinned and she breathed in his maleness. His nearness. ‘Ah…yes, please,’ she said hastily. ‘Do you still prefer tea in the morning?’

  ‘I never drink coffee.’ He dropped his hand and moved away. ‘You should remember that, Nikki.’

  ‘Well, I’ve changed in lots of ways,’ she justified airily, rescuing the toasted muffins and placing them on a warming tray. ‘I thought perhaps you had as well.’

  His chuckle was a bit rusty. ‘Perhaps I have. We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?’

  Nikki felt a curious swirl of pleasure watching Liam obviously enjoy the simple meal she’d prepared. Busying herself pouring the tea, she asked, ‘So, what kinds of cases can I expect in my surgery today?’

  ‘What kinds of cases?’ Over the rim of his teamug, Liam sneaked a glance at her clear, olive complexion, untouched by make-up. She still looked not much older than the twenty-year-old he’d met for the first time in the medical library at the university all those years ago. Very deliberately, he took a mouthful of his tea. ‘How are your counselling skills?’

  She smiled, activating the tiny dimple in her cheek. ‘Pretty good, even if I say so myself.’ And then she sobered. ‘I expect you’re seeing patients who have come in with an unexplained pain somewhere but in reality they really need to talk.’

  ‘Exactly.’ He gave a brief nod of approval at her grasp of things. ‘You’ll have patients coming in with physical ailments like muscular spasms, often neck and shoulder pains, that are purely manifestations of stress. Because many of them feel their livelihoods are in jeopardy, they’re quite unable to wind down and relax.’

  ‘So, blood-pressure problems presenting as a result?’ Nikki surmised.

  ‘Mmm.’ Liam set his mug down with exaggerated care, and wrapped his hands around it. ‘And not just BP problems. I have several patients who need referral but they don’t want to be away from their farms just now.’

  Nikki’s mouth pulled down. ‘In other words, they’re just soldiering on.’ She shook her head. ‘They must feel as though their lives have been turned inside out.’

  Watching her, Liam felt a thread of unease. She’d always had such a tender heart about her patients. Had he been the biggest fool to have let her come here in these troubled times? ‘You can’t wear their stress, Nikki,’ he warned. ‘You prescribe where necessary and listen only.’

  She sent him an old-fashioned look. ‘Do you mean to sit there, Liam Donovan, and try to tell me you don’t get involved with your patients’ problems?’

  ‘All right.’ He held up a hand in mock surrender. ‘Here and there, I suppose.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ she said softly, and felt her heart lurch painfully. The way he practised medicine, his caring, was one of the many things she’d loved about him.

  Promptly, at eight o’clock, Nikki presented herself at the surgery.

  Grace was already in attendance and busily sorting through the patient files for the morning clinic when Nikki pushed her way in through the glass front door. They swapped a smile.

  ‘My, don’t you look smart!’ Grace eyed Nikki’s tailored long shorts and crisp lemon and white striped shirt with approval.

  Nikki’s hand went to the sweep of bare skin revealed by the turn-back collar. ‘It’s not too…?’

  ‘Informal?’

  Nikki chuckled. ‘I was going to say revealing.’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ Grace flapped a hand. ‘You look…’ She put her head on one side. ‘Laid-back is the expression, I think. But businesslike as well.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ Nikki laughed a bit uneasily. ‘I didn’t want to come across as done up to the nines and unapproachable.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think you could ever be like that, Nikki,’ Grace said kindly. ‘You look perfectly groomed for Wirilda.’

  Nikki rested her medical case on the counter top. ‘Just don’t ask me to wear a white coat.’

  ‘As if!’ Grace dismissed scornfully. ‘They’ve long disappeared out of use in general practice. But Liam keeps a supply of theatre scrubs if you need to carry out any treatments.’

  ‘Speaking of Liam.’ Nikki glanced at the round-faced clock on the wall behind Grace. ‘He’s doing a hospital round and then he’s on what he called his “outlying patient run”. Round trip of two hundred K’s—is that right?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Grace nodded. ‘That’s why it’s such a godsend to have another doctor, Nikki. Even in the short time you’ve been here, you can see the kind of workload he’s been carrying.’

  Nikki could indeed. ‘So, how is my list for this morning looking?’ She pulled the desk diary towards her.

  ‘Pretty full. But the first one isn’t due until eight-thirty. You’ve a few minutes to go over things. And there are a couple of X-rays that I’ve put with the relevant patients’ files.’

  Nikki nodded gratefully. ‘Thanks, Grace. And I prefer to come out and call each patient in when it’s their turn, if that’s OK?’

  Grace beamed. ‘Liam likes to do that, too. I can see you working splendidly together.’

  Well, they had—once. Nikki gave a trapped smile, before turning and making her way along the short corridor to the consulting room Liam had set aside for her.

  Her first patient, Bernard Hardy, was right on time. ‘Have a seat, Mr Hardy.’ Nikki smiled. ‘I’m Nicola Barrett.’

  ‘Heard you’d arrived.’ The middle-aged man sank onto the upright chair at right angles to Nikki’s desk. ‘And it’s Bernie, Doc.’ He gave the glimmer of a smile. ‘Nobody around here would know who Mr Hardy was.’

  ‘Bernie it is, then.’ Nikki referred to the file on her desk. ‘You’ve been to see Liam about long-term pain in your heel.’

  ‘Had to have it X-rayed.’ His throat rippled as he swallowed uncomfortably. ‘Liam said to come in today for the result.’

  Nikki tapped the large white envelope on her desk. ‘I’ve had a look at your X-rays, Bernie. It’s quite clear you’ve developed what’s called a spur.’

  ‘Thought there was something.’ Bernie raised a hand to stroke his short dark beard
. ‘You don’t get sharp pain like that for no reason. Could you explain what’s caused it, Doc? So I can tell Meg—the wife,’ he clarified with a lopsided grin.

  ‘Well, it’s a fairly common condition,’ Nikki said, swinging to her feet. ‘About one in five people develop a bony spur on the heel. Take a look at the X-ray with me.’ Anticipating her patient would possibly want confirmation of the diagnosis, Nikki had already clipped the film onto the screen.

  ‘Hang on a minute, Doc.’ Bernie fumbled his spectacles out of his shirt pocket and put them on.

  Nikki showed him the outline of the spur. ‘Now, what it does is press into the surrounding soft tissue, here and here. And that’s the source of your pain.’

  ‘Nasty-looking beggar,’ he said consideringly, surveying the skeletal framework of his right foot. ‘So, what do you now, Doc? Cut it out?’

  ‘Nothing like that.’ Nikki gave a quick smile. ‘There are a couple of things we can try for starters, like alternating hot and cold foot soaks for ten minutes twice a day, then rolling the sore spot over a golf ball for about five minutes every hour.’

  ‘’Struth!’ Bernie removed his glasses and placed them back in their case. ‘That all sounds a bit weird—if you don’t mind me saying so. How’s rolling me foot over a golf ball goanna help exactly?’

  ‘It will help to soften the tissue and break the painful spasm of the muscles and tendons on the foot.’ Nikki flicked off the light on the screen. ‘I’ll give you a script for some painkillers as well. But be prepared, Bernie, it may not be a quick fix.’ Nikki resumed her seat and pulled her prescription pad towards her. ‘What kind of work do you do?’

  Her patient folded his arms across his chest, as if settling in for a chat. ‘I used to have a spraying and weed-control business. Had it for fifteen years. But now, with the drought…’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘Once upon a time I was flat out keeping up with the work the farmers wanted done. This winter I didn’t get one spray job.’

  Nikki’s heart went out to her patient but recalling Liam’s very definite advice, she merely sat and listened.

  ‘Meg managed to get some cleaning work at the hotel so at least we can eat.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘I feel so bloody useless…’

  Nikki felt quite choked. Blinking quickly, she wrote the date across the top of the pad. ‘Do you have children, Bernie?’

  ‘Two boys.’ He looked bleak for a second. ‘Peter, the eldest, finishes high school this year. Looks like he’ll have to go to the city for work. There’s nothing here for him.’

  ‘Well, perhaps not just at the moment.’ Nikki tried to sound encouraging. ‘But when we get rain, things will pick up.’ She handed him the prescription. ‘And look on the positive side. You need this time off work to get your foot working properly again, don’t you?’

  ‘Can’t help feeling scared for the future, though.’

  Nikki felt her throat dry. ‘Well, that happens to most of us, Bernie—some time or another.’ She got to her feet to see her patient to the door. ‘Let me know how you get on with your treatment. No need to come in—just phone. I’ll be here most days. Unless, of course, you’d like to stay as Liam’s patient?’

  ‘You’ll do fine, Doc.’ Bernie rubbed a hand across his cheekbones and looked faintly embarrassed. ‘And, uh, thanks for listening, like…’

  Nikki nodded. ‘Any time.’

  Blindly, she went back to her desk and sat there, gathering her thoughts. And coming to the unhappy conclusion that, without doubt, as the town’s medical officers, she and Liam were going to see more and more patients suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome for many months to come.

  That’s if she was still here, of course.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘WHAT are you doing?’

  Nikki spun her head round, feeling her heart bounce off her ribs. Liam was parked against the outdoor lattice screen, arms folded, watching her. ‘I’m building a herb spiral.’ Her voice was so small she could hardly hear it herself.

  ‘A what?’ His mouth twisted sardonically as he came towards her, hunkering down beside her, his face almost at her level.

  Nikki felt suddenly self-conscious. She’d been in Wirilda nearly two weeks now and already his place felt like home. And if it was, then there were things she needed to be doing around it. But on the other hand, she didn’t want to be seen as taking liberties.

  She took a deep breath, catching the familiar scent of his aftershave. ‘I got the plants and stuff from the nursery,’ she explained hurriedly. ‘You have so much under-utilised space around this courtyard, Liam. It seems a shame not to make the most of it.’

  His mouth tucked in at the corners. ‘There happens to be a water shortage as well. How do you propose keeping your plants alive?’

  ‘Give me some credit.’ She sent him a brief exasperated look. Did he think she’d just rushed out and bought things willy-nilly? ‘For starters, we should be using grey water.’

  ‘Recycled water?’

  ‘That’s another name for it, yes. One simple action like taking a plastic bucket into the shower with us would catch enough water to keep quite a large veg patch thriving.’

  ‘On the other hand,’ he said softly, ‘if we showered together, that could in itself be quite a saving measure.’

  Nikki’s pulse thudded. He was jesting, of course, but she was in no mood to laugh. Instead, she pulled out all her mental reserves to halt the swarm of vivid memories his words had reignited. ‘We lost those kinds of privileges when we divorced,’ she snapped.

  His eyes glinted and there was a brief, taut silence before he said mockingly, ‘So, enlighten me.’ He waved a hand over the little plants she’d assembled on the ground. ‘How does this thing work?’

  ‘Well, essentially, I’m planting my herbs into a cartwheel shape.’ Nikki caught her lower lip between her teeth, concentrating on the simple practicalities. ‘As the plants grow, they’ll move towards its centre and climb around and up, forming a mound.’

  His quizzical look told her he understood the basics of what she was saying. ‘So, in reality, you’re creating different micro-climates, is that it?’

  She searched his face and then nodded. ‘And I’ll be able to suit each herb to the environment. The herbs that prefer moist conditions will go near the bottom of the spiral so they’ll catch and retain the last dribble of water, and the hardy ones—’

  ‘Will go on top of the spiral,’ Liam finished for her. ‘So, may I help, then? That way I’ll feel as if I’m doing my bit towards saving the planet.’

  Nikki’s throat dried at the look of youthful enthusiasm on his face. ‘Yes…I suppose.’ She gave a stilted laugh, pulling her gaze away in an attempt to stifle the sudden drench of vulnerability.

  They spent a companionable amount of time setting up the planting system. ‘These will be best for the top,’ Nikki said, separating the little pots to one side.

  ‘So, what are we planting?’ Liam’s eyes narrowed over the labels. ‘Garlic chives, oregano, rosemary and thyme.’

  ‘And they’re just for starters,’ Nikki looked at him, her smile faintly wary. ‘I’ve asked Pam at the garden centre to order in several more varieties. I want to try lavender as well.’

  ‘No doubt she’ll be glad of the extra business.’ Liam picked up the trowel. ‘So, we should start at the base and work up?’

  Almost an hour later Nikki sat back on her heels and looked at their handiwork with a feeling of achievement. ‘That was quite a big job.’

  ‘And the most fun I’ve had in ages.’

  Nikki raised an expressive eyebrow but refrained from comment. The fun, she realised, had been in doing the job together. She wondered if Liam recognised the fact.

  There’d been something nostalgic and homely about the afternoon, Liam thought, watching Nikki trail her fingertips almost lovingly across the tiny just-planted seedlings, then turn to begin tidying the work space. Her dark head was at a pert angle, her movements neat and quick, so achi
ngly familiar as she tossed the empty pots into a nearby carton.

  ‘I’ll get rid of that,’ he offered in a curiously gruff voice, hefting the carton and making his way towards the rubbish bin at the end of the yard.

  ‘Don’t throw the carton away,’ she called after him.

  ‘It’ll break down on the compost heap.’

  Liam half turned and saluted. He felt his gut tighten. She’d slipped back into his life almost seamlessly. And the fact was, it felt utterly right. And just where do you think you’re going with that conclusion, Donovan? His jaw worked and almost savagely he began to tear the cardboard into large, unwieldy chunks.

  Nikki watched him for a moment, a strange excitement filtering through her. Suddenly she turned away in an almost defiant gesture, stripping off her gardening gloves and snatching up the straw broom.

  ‘What is this, Nikki?’ Liam came up behind her, intercepting her almost manic sweeping with a firm grip on the handle of the broom. ‘For heaven’s sake!’ He tossed the offending implement viciously aside. ‘I don’t expect you to work like a navvy while you’re here!’

  ‘I’m just finishing the job I started.’ Nikki set her mouth, determinedly telling herself she wasn’t feeling what she was faintly ashamed of feeling. That her former husband’s closeness was making her sick with nerves. Vulnerable all over again. Exposed. She licked her lips and tried to ease her shoulders. Automatically, they tightened again as his gaze narrowed, and he lifted a hand to gently stroke her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

  ‘You’ve managed a nice old smudge here…’ The huskiness in his voice ran all over her bones, the trail of his fingers over her skin like live wires. She could hardly drag air into her lungs. Dizzily, she saw the misty sheen of sweat in the hollow of his throat and felt the controlled urgency in his every muscle. ‘Nikki…?’ He dropped his hand abruptly and caught her about the waist.

  Her eyes dilated and she shivered beneath his touch. She swallowed thickly. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Just this,’ he husked, gathering her in and cradling her against the solidness of his chest.