Читать книгу Letting Go With Dr Rodriguez - Fiona Lowe, Fiona Lowe - Страница 7

‘LUCE, wait.’

Dr Lucy Patterson heard the call and with a smile, she thrust her hand against the fast-closing elevator doors at Perth City Hospital. They bounced open.

A moment later, Daniel Edgerton, radiographer and her boyfriend, strode over the silver threshold. ‘Thanks.’ His smile for her wasn’t quite as broad as it had been in the past, but if he was as weary as she was, she totally understood.

He slapped the large ‘G’ button with the heel of his hand. ‘You finishing up for the day?’

She bit her lip, knowing he wasn’t going to be thrilled with her reply. ‘Not quite. I have to admit a late addition to the prof’s surgical list and re-site an IV.’

His sigh reverberated around the boxed space, settling over her with cloying disapproval. He worked a roster with a definite start and end time, and he didn’t always understand that her day finished when the work was finally complete. With forced brightness and a wide smile, she quickly added, ‘But then I’ll be done and yours for the night.’

Daniel opened his mouth but an ominous grinding sound drowned out his reply and the smooth descent of the elevator suddenly jerked, throwing Lucy sideways.

She gripped the support rail and righted herself. ‘Please, no, not again. I got stuck here last week for twenty minutes.’

‘It’s not a total disaster.’ Daniel reached his arm around her waist, pulling her in close and nuzzling her neck as he ran his hand up her back, his fingers reaching for her bra strap. ‘We can do a lot with twenty minutes.’

She laughed, but splayed her fingers against his chest, leaning back and putting some distance between them. ‘True, but I’m not risking my senior registrar’s application by being caught “in flagrante” in an elevator.’

His blue eyes hardened as he dropped his arms to his sides. ‘Jess didn’t have a problem with it.’

She blinked at him in surprise. Jess was her house-mate of four years and they got along well, sharing not only a house but gossip, clothes and after a tough day, a glass of wine. ‘There’s no way Jess would have sex in an elevator.’

He shrugged—the action a total disregard of her reply. ‘There’s every way and she did.’

A jab of indignation caught Lucy under the ribs and she crossed her arms. ‘If Jess had sex in an elevator she’d have told me.’

Daniel’s brows rose as his mouth flattened. ‘She doesn’t have to tell you everything, Luce, and let’s face it, just lately you’ve hardly been around.’

Lucy stifled a flicker of unease that Jess may have confided in Dan rather than her. ‘Why are you so certain she did?’

This time Daniel crossed his arms. ‘Because I was there.’

‘You were there?’ Confusion drove the words across her lips and for the briefest moment she thought Daniel meant he’d walked in on Jess and her lover when the elevator doors had opened. Suddenly, her sluggish brain decoded his body language—stiff and defiant—and a chill raced through her so hard and fast that she trembled. ‘You had sex with Jess?’ Her voice rose and cracked. ‘Here?’

He met her shocked gaze with a combative glare. ‘Yeah.’

Her friend. Her hand flew to her mouth as nausea spun her stomach and threatened to return the chocolate muffin she’d just eaten. Stepping back, she flattened herself against the wall and tried to put as much distance between them as possible. ‘When?’

Dan sucked in his lips and finally said, ‘Last week.’

She thought back to the sex they’d had last Wednesday after she’d cooked his favourite dinner—the night she’d been the one making all the moves. At the time it had surprised her because usually Dan initiated sex, but it hadn’t taken long before he’d got on board. Her stomach pitched again. Desperately trying to keep her composure, she spoke softly but with an edge of steel. ‘When last week?’

For the first time, he dropped his gaze. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

She gripped the support rail as her knees turned to jelly. ‘Yes, it bloody matters.’

He ran his hand over his short-cropped hair. ‘Look, Luce, there’s no point—’

‘Tell me!’ She heard her tears in the shout as she lost the battle to hold herself together.

‘Wednesday afternoon.’

It was as if the cable of the elevator snapped right there and then, releasing the silver box into free-fall. Only it was her life that was tumbling and crashing down around her, and taking all the supporting pillars with it. Pillars she’d barely shored up after they’d spectacularly collapsed in on her six months ago, making her question everything she’d ever believed in.

Every part of her was numb—her lungs refused to move and tears blurred her eyes. How could this be happening? Why now when everything else in her life, including her career, was so unsettled? A shot of righteous anger suddenly pierced through the numbness giving rise to blessed pain. ‘You bastard.’

His head snapped up. ‘Oh, that’s rich. I’m the bastard, but you’ve been the one who’s been closed off for months. You might be standing next to me, but you’re never really here. Jess at least understands me. Jess gives me something. You’ve given me nothing for way too long, Lucy.’

Her anger swelled, propelled by a hammering heart and utter devastation. ‘You’re not just a bastard, Dan, you’re a selfish bastard. You know what’s been going on with me and Da—’ She stopped herself, not able to finish that particular word. She swallowed and pushed on. ‘With William. You know what I’ve been going through, but that doesn’t count for anything, does it? Nothing matters if it’s not all about you.’

His mouth tightened giving his boyish face a hard edge. ‘It’s been all about you for months, Luce, and I’ve had enough.’

She’d known in her heart things weren’t good between them, but she’d never expected such a bitter betrayal. ‘Then why didn’t you just leave? Why take my friend with you?’

A light came into his eyes. ‘I think I love her.’

The simple words plunged into her heart making her double up in pain. Words he’d never voiced to her in all their time together. Her chest rose and fell way too fast and she put her hands around her mouth so she didn’t hyperventilate.

Daniel slammed his hands against the ‘door open’ button. ‘Come on.’ He hit every other button too, wanting out of this box of torrid emotions as much as she did.

Lucy dug deep and found her voice. ‘You say you love Jess and yet you still had sex with me? Oh, that’s classy, Dan, really classy.’ The combined infidelity of her friends burned through her soul. ‘You both deserve each other.’

A trace of contrition played across his cheeks. ‘Look, Luce, I’m sorry it ended this way, but it’s not all my fault.’

Utter wretchedness dragged at her and she nodded mutely, not because she agreed with him, but because she couldn’t voice even a tenth of her feelings at the utter disloyalty of the two people she’d drawn on for support over most of the year.

A whirring noise sounded, followed by the elevator moving slowly down. Finally the doors opened with a ping and Daniel muttered, ‘Thank God,’ before stepping out and walking away without a backwards glance.

The doors slid shut and Lucy sank to the floor, closing her eyes. Even in her darkest moments she’d never imagined she would have been part of the conversation that had just taken place. She lurched from one memory to another, searching for clues, hints—anything at all that might have prepared her for Daniel’s bombshell. Things had been strained, but there’d been no hint of him and Jess.

None that you noticed. But then again, you haven’t noticed much lately, have you?

Her head pounded and resentment burned through her. She felt her smart-phone vibrate and she pulled it out of the deep pocket in her white coat, expecting a message from the ward asking where she was and how much longer she’d be, because her patient was overdue for IV antibiotics. The message wasn’t from the ward, but an email from an unfamiliar name.

She squinted through her headache to make the words come into focus.

Ms Patterson,

As you know, your father, Dr William Patterson, has fractured his tibia. He is not a man to ask for help so I, as his doctor and the second medical practitioner in Bulla Creek, am asking for you to visit at your earliest convenience. Marco Rodriguez (Dr)

She stared at the email, reading it three times before the words finally sank in. Fractured tibia? She bit her lip as guilt spun around worry. Of course she hadn’t known about William’s leg. She hadn’t communicated with him in months and the emails he’d sent had dealt only with the information she’d requested. None had mentioned his health. Neither had he mentioned a doctor with a Spanish name and a formal writing style, which indicated that English wasn’t his native language. What was a Spaniard doing in outback Bulla Creek?

At your earliest convenience. She instinctively shook her head and then, from the tangled mess that was currently her life, she stared up at the ceiling of the elevator absolutely certain about one thing. No way was she going back to Bulla Creek.

You mean home.

‘No, I mean Bulla Creek.’ Her emphatic voice sounded strident in the confines of the otherwise empty elevator.

Right, so you’re ignoring duty, staying in Perth where your boyfriend’s just dumped you, and your housemate has utterly betrayed you. That’s gonna be cosy. Kinda makes Bulla Creek almost attractive, doesn’t it?

Lucy dropped her head in her hands and wished she could wind back the clock one year—back to a time when she knew who she was, knew where she belonged and where she was headed. Instead she now faced a road that stretched way out in front of her that was filled with a pea-soup fog.

Every part of her railed against the idea of going back to Bulla Creek, but the news about William tore at the box she’d shoved all her feelings about him into—feelings she didn’t want to revisit. They came back anyway in unsettling waves. No matter what had happened between them and no matter how much she didn’t want to see him, she couldn’t just ignore the fact he’d broken his leg. Not at his age. The doctor in her knew that only too well. Acknowledging it smoothed out her tangled thoughts.

‘I’ll take some annual leave, fly up to Bulla Creek for a quick visit and check that William’s receiving the correct medical care. Then I’ll come back here, find a new place to live and sort out the rest of my life, which won’t include disloyal friends and cheating, bastard men.’

You do realise there isn’t anyone here listening except me and I don’t need to hear you talk to know exactly what you’re thinking.

‘Shut-up.’ The yell propelled Lucy to her feet and she brushed down her white coat. Her life was in tatters, but at least she had a plan. One she was clinging to like a floating log in a choppy sea.

The red dust of Bulla Creek was covered in a layer of green, courtesy of a record-setting wet winter followed by a sunny spring. The sheep wore thick fleeces, lambs gambolled on fat legs and the farmers smiled, which was almost as uncommon as the weather. Dr Marco Rodriguez returned a farmer’s hat tip and grin as he strode down the main street toward the Bulla Creek Medical Centre. It wasn’t the first time he’d reflected on the fact that, in general, farmers in Western Australia shared a taciturn approach to life that was very similar to that of the farmers of his homeland of Argentina. Life on the land was tough and a good season was cause for celebration.

He turned left at the rust-and-sand-coloured church, which stood diagonally opposite the pub. Both buildings had been built over a hundred years ago from local rocks quarried when veins of lead in the nearby hills had guaranteed prosperity. Bulla Creek today was not as affluent as it had been back then, but the legacy of heritage buildings not only reminded residents of its wealthy past, but more importantly it brought in tourists with money to spend. People paid a lot to step back in time and spend a weekend or longer imagining simpler times.

Marco knew it was just an illusion. There’d been nothing simple about living without running water and basic hygiene in a time when a broken leg had often resulted in amputation, when the birth of a child could easily take the life of a mother and a secondary infection after a common cold could kill. Even today, childbirth had its risks and he was far too intimate with the dangers.

Pulling open the door of the modern medical clinic, which also fronted a small hospital annexe of five acute-care beds and ten nursing-home beds, he walked into a packed waiting room. Just as he’d done every day for the last few weeks since his medical partner had fallen ill. He was worried about William who’d been adamant he didn’t want his daughter told about his accident, although when he spoke of her his eyes lit up before sadness filled them.

William was not his usual, upbeat self and he was taking longer to return to work than expected. With the death of his wife earlier in the year and now the fracture, Marco believed he needed cheering up.

He pressed down on the ripple of unease that had been trickling through him ever since he’d overridden the other doctor’s request and written to William’s daughter. He’d needed to do something because he really believed William needed time with family so he could re-find his spark. With one doctor down, Marco’s days ran together in a long blur of work with snatches of fatherhood wedged in between. This wasn’t what he’d envisaged when he’d made the decision to come to Bulla Creek. It was supposed to have meant more time for Ignacio, not less. He needed William back at work yesterday.

He swallowed a sigh and mustered up a smile for his waiting patients because his problems were not theirs and they deserved his complete attention. ‘Buenos días. Good morning, everyone. I am at your service in just a few moments.’

‘We have an empty waiting room and I’m off home. You should go too while you can.’

Marco looked up from reading pathology reports to see Sue Hogarth, practice nurse, farmer’s wife and soon-to-be grandmother, standing in the doorway of his office. ‘Ten minutes more.’

She nodded slowly. ‘I’ll lock up the front doors then and all you have to do is go out the back and make sure it’s locked behind you.’

‘Sure. Thank you for your help today.’

‘Ah, Marco, that all Australian men could be so polite. See you tomorrow when we get to do it all again.’ She grinned and pushed off the architrave preparing to leave, but turned back suddenly. ‘Oh, Ignacio’s appointment’s been changed to Tuesday. I’ve put it directly into your electronic calendar. Night.’

‘Goodnight.’ He heard her fading footsteps and the door slam shut. He waited a moment and then smiled as he soaked up the peace of a closed clinic—silent phones, still rooms and the blissful quiet of absolutely no interruptions. He finished reading the reports, methodically listing the names of the patients that Sue needed to call tomorrow to schedule review appointments, and as he reached the last one he let out a breath. Thankfully there were no sinister results in this batch and he was spared the need to make the hard phone call and give someone seriously bad news. He hated doing that as it reminded him of the time he’d received it and the powerlessness that came with it.

He texted Heather—his housekeeper and Ignacio’s afterschool caregiver—telling her he’d be home in ten minutes and then he packed up his desk. Grabbing his bag, he entered the corridor and headed toward the back door, flicking off the hall lights as he reached the switch. The expected darkness didn’t come. With a sigh, he realised that Sue had left the office light on and he spun on his heel, walking the length of the corridor to turn it off.

As he slid his hand up the doorway to reach the switch, something made him glance into the room. A round and pert, jeans-clad bottom stared straight at him. ‘Querido Dios.’ Shocked surprise sent his English scurrying and it took a moment for him to find the correct words. ‘What are you doing?’

A young woman turned abruptly from the computer, her chin-length, chestnut-red hair swinging wildly around her guilt-streaked face. Round eyes, the colour of an Argentine summer sky just before the descent of a storm, stared at him, brimming with a thousand emotions. A heartbeat later they cleared as if she was practised in forcing her feelings to retreat until only defiance remained. She stood less than tall despite the boost of high wedge heels and then her chin tilted up, her shoulders rolled back and her breasts rose, straining against the free-flowing pink halter top that draped itself around her curves and ended by softly caressing her hips.

A jolt of heat whipped him—heat that hadn’t flared in his veins for a long time—and for the briefest of moments his eyes followed the tantalising fall of the soft material as if they hoped to glimpse what nestled behind it. Thankfully, common sense shot in to rescue him and he quickly hauled his gaze back to her face.

At that precise moment he knew the words he should have spoken were ‘Who are you?’

As if reading his mind she stepped forward, extending her hand. ‘You must be Marco Rodriguez. I’m Lucy.’

The overly wide smile gave her away. From the age of fourteen girls had flirted with him, and it had taken him almost as long to learn that the flirting wasn’t always about wanting him. Often it was about wanting something else entirely—a bitter lesson that Bianca had taught him too well. Now at thirty-three, his radar was pretty well tuned. She spoke as if he should recognise her, using his name as a bridge to connect them with a familiarity that didn’t exist. He had an excellent memory and he knew they’d not met before.

You would have remembered those breasts.

He shrugged away the inconvenient awakening of his libido and focused on the facts. He might not know her but he did know that whoever she was, she shouldn’t be here in an office that didn’t belong to her. Neither should she be viewing a computer that contained the confidential files of all of the patients of Bulla Creek and the surrounding district.

A fizz of anger shook him and for the first time in a long, long time his inherent good manners deserted him. He didn’t greet her and instead left her extended hand hovering between them.

Damn it. Lucy’s plan of coming unobserved into the clinic after hours was unravelling faster than a skein of wool in the claws of a cat. It had taken all day to drive from Perth and she’d only arrived half an hour ago. During that time she’d been parked outside in her new car with a cap pulled low on her head so she wouldn’t be recognised. She didn’t want to talk to anyone in town before she’d seen William and she wanted to read his medical file before she spoke to him.

When Sue had finished her methodical locking-up routine and had double checked everything, Lucy had been certain the clinic was empty and that she was good to go. Even then, she’d held back, checking the immediate area for other cars parked in the clinic car park or nearby. Only then had she been convinced the building was empty.

You got that wrong.

She had to fight hard not to bite her lip. That the man in front of her could grace the runway of a fashion show and make every woman in the crowd swoon was a given, but considering an average-looking guy had just tossed her aside, treating fidelity as if it was completely expendable, she was now giving all men a wide berth. No matter how handsome or how thick, dark and wavy was the hair which fell over the top of tanned ears and teased fingers to brush it back, she would not be tempted. She was especially impervious to square, broad shoulders that despite her being in her highest heels were at perfect head-resting height. She’d been fooled by the promise of a safe haven more than once.

No, the effort required not to bite her lip came from the derisive look that scoured his high cheek bones and burned from his rich-cocoa-coloured eyes. The look that said, I wouldn’t touch your hand if you were the last woman on earth.

He crossed his toned arms with their dark hairs almost standing on end over his wide chest and completely ignored her hand. ‘I do not know you.’ His accent thickened. ‘You should not be here.’

You know he’s correct.

She gritted her teeth against her conscience and told herself she had the right to be here. Mustering up a smile, the winning one she’d used a lot as a child to get her own way, she forced her hand to stay hovering between them despite wanting to whip it back by her side and dry the sweat on her jeans. All she needed to do was explain who she was and her plan would be safe. ‘I’m Lucy Patterson. You emailed me about William.’

‘You’re William’s daughter?’ Chocolate brows shot halfway up an intelligent forehead and his gaze raked her from head to toe as disbelief momentarily pushed his anger aside.

She was used to this reaction, having experienced it often from the age of sixteen when it had become obvious she was never going to grow any taller. Once it had made her laugh and she’d had a steady stream of jokes at the ready about her and William’s excessive height differences. Only that had been before everything had changed and a lifetime lie had been exposed. ‘Like I said, I’m Lucy Patterson.’ She tilted her extended hand slightly.

He slowly uncrossed his folded arms and slid his right palm against hers, his long fingers curving around her hand like a splash of dark paint against a white canvas. The heat burned her, shooting up her arm before diving deep and leaving behind a trail of addictive tingles and shivers.

Oh, no. Not now and not here. Shocked at her body’s reaction, she abruptly pulled her hand away to the safety of her side. After the debacle that had been her relationship with Daniel, she didn’t want or need any type of attraction to any man. Especially one in Bulla Creek where she wouldn’t live again even if they paid her.

Marco didn’t seem to have noticed her hasty end to their handshake. ‘Lucy Patterson, why are you here?’

Lucy wondered if perhaps his English wasn’t as good as she’d assumed. She smiled again. ‘You wrote to me and asked me to come, so here I am.’

Two deep lines etched into the bridge of his nose. ‘I asked you to come and visit your father, not the computer in this office.’

The muscles in her cheeks ached from the continual bright smile. A smile that didn’t seem to be having any effect on its intended target. She went for chatty. ‘I’m not sure what doctors are like where you come from, but in Australia the combination of being male and a doctor makes the worst type of patient.’

Marco tilted his head in thought and a curl fell forward. ‘This may be.’

Yes, she was getting somewhere. ‘So it makes sense for me to read his medical history before I see him.’

So now you’re lying to other people and not just yourself.

Again, she silenced her conscience. Let me do things my way.

Marco continued to stare at her with a questioning look. ‘But you are not William’s doctor.’

‘No, but I am a doctor.’

Again his gaze censored her. ‘Then you should know better.’

She tossed her head, overriding the sliver of guilt that pierced her and instead converted it into righteous indignation. ‘William hasn’t mentioned to me that he broke his leg and at his age a fall can be a sign of other things so it makes sense for me to read his file.’

‘Your father is not so ill that he can’t speak. William is very capable of telling you the information.’ A look of realisation suddenly shone brightly in his enigmatic eyes. ‘Have you spoken to him?’

She shrugged so as not to squirm and held onto her bravado. ‘Thank you for emailing me, but I’ve got it all under control.’ She moved back toward the computer.

In two long strides he was by her side with his hands on her upper arms and suddenly her feet left the floor.

Abject offence roared through her. ‘Hey! Put me down.’

A moment later, she was back on terra firma with Marco, feet wide apart, standing solidly between her and the computer and blocking her path.

His glare matched hers—incensed and scowling. ‘As William’s doctor and partner in this practice, I will not allow you to read his file without his permission.’

She held onto her dignity by a thread. ‘I’m his next of kin.’

‘Sí, so you know that does not give you the right to read his file.’ His hand shot out. ‘You have a key to the clinic?’

Her arms shot over her chest as guilt and anger hammered her. ‘I’m not giving it to you.’

‘You do not work here and I do not trust you.’

‘I grew up here.’ Words spluttered in her throat, chained by a rush of conflicting emotions that made her sway. ‘God, I spent so many Saturday mornings playing in the waiting room that it was my second home. You’re the stranger here, buddy, not me.’

He didn’t even flinch. If anything he seemed more implacable than ever and the quietness of his voice didn’t hide for a moment his firm intent. ‘Go and talk with your father.’

The prospect of talking to William had anxiety and heartache making her feet twitch in readiness to run far from Bulla Creek. ‘I will read that file.’

He shook his head. ‘Not without William’s permission.’

‘Fine, I’ll ask Sue.’

His jaw stiffened. ‘I think that Sue is disappointed that you have not been to see your father in a long time. She will side with me.’

She swallowed hard, hating that the town might have turned on her without knowing the full story. Her hands shot out in bitter aggravation. ‘This isn’t how we do things in the country.’

This time one brow rose sardonically. ‘So, you would let anyone read your patients’ files where you work? If this is so, I would not want to be under your care.’

The shot against her professionalism jolted her hard.

You know he’s right. From before he caught you trying to read the file you’ve known he was right.

My situation is different. She harnessed all her frustration, using it to push away the other emotions that threatened to swamp her the way they had on and off over the last six months. She fisted her hands by her sides. ‘You know nothing about me, Dr Rodriguez, and therefore not enough to judge me.’

Before he could reply, she pushed past him, stalking out into the fading light and back to her car, homeless in a town she’d once called home. Only then did she allow herself to cry.