Читать книгу Wedding in Darling Downs - Leah Martyn, Leah Martyn - Страница 5

IT WAS winter. Early morning. And cold.

Emma burrowed her chin more deeply into the roll-collar of her fleece as she jogged the last of the way home across the park.

The cawing of a crow disturbed the peace. Emma slowed her step and looked about her. She loved this time before sunup. The moist atmosphere never failed to lift her spirits. And heaven knew she could do with a bit of that. Mist was everywhere, as translucent and filmy as a bridal veil. It seemed to have a life of its own, breathing up from the earth, softening the stark winter outlines of the trees.

Emma clicked back into the present, regaining her momentum. She hadn’t time to be indulging in fanciful thoughts. Another long day at the surgery loomed. But time for Kingsholme to keep functioning as a viable medical practice was running out. Her father’s sudden death almost three months ago had left Emma in disarray. Both personally and professionally. If she didn’t line up another partner quickly, the medical practice that had been founded by her grandfather would have to close. One lone doctor, namely her, couldn’t hope to generate enough income to keep the place functioning.

The end result would be for the practice and the beautiful old home that encompassed it to go under the auctioneer’s hammer.

The new owner, perhaps someone with an eye to the tourist potential of the district, would probably turn it into a bed and breakfast. And their little town would be left without a resident medical officer.

Emma’s spirits plummeted to a new low. The nerves in her stomach began knotting up again.

I should be able to get a doctor interested enough to work here, she berated herself. Even a decent locum who could fill the gap until a suitable partner came along. Perhaps her interviewing technique was all wrong. The few people who had actually showed, had taken one look at the set-up and promptly, if a bit awkwardly, fled.

Lifting the latch on the back gate, she made her way along the path and ran quickly up the steps to the verandah. She had time for a shower and marginally less time for breakfast. And then she’d better open the surgery and start seeing patients.

In her consulting room later, Emma threw her pen aside and lifted her arms in a long stretch. It had been another crazy morning. She couldn’t go on like this. She just couldn’t…

A soft tap sounded on her door before it opened. ‘Moira—’ Emma managed a passable smile for the practice manager ‘—come to tell me it’s lunch time already?’

Moira Connelly, who’d been with the practice for at least twenty years, came into the room and closed the door. She looked pointedly at Emma’s untouched cup of tea and the half-eaten muffin and clucked a motherly concern. ‘You don’t eat enough, Emma.’

Emma lifted a shoulder in a resigned shrug. ‘I’ll be out in a tick. Perhaps we could open a can of soup for lunch.’

‘I’ll manage something.’ Moira flapped a hand in dismissal. ‘Actually, I came to tell you there’s a Dr Declan O’Malley here to see you.’

A sudden light leapt into Emma’s green eyes. ‘Has he come about the job?’

Moira shook her head. ‘Apparently, he knew your dad.’

‘Oh—’ Emma bit her lips together, the grief she felt still raw and unchannelled.

Moira paused, pulling the edges of her cardigan more closely together, as if warding off a sudden chill. ‘I expect he wants to offer his condolences.’

‘I guess so…’ Emma’s short ray of hope faded into a heavy sigh. ‘Give me a minute, please, Moira and then ask Dr O’Malley to come through.’

Emma watched the door close behind Moira and then swung off her chair and went to stand at the picture window, looking out. She imagined this Dr O’Malley was a contemporary of her father’s from Melbourne. In earlier times Andrew Armitage had forged a rather distinguished medical career before the call of home had brought him back here to the town of Bendemere on the picturesque Darling Downs in Queensland.

Emma had spent holidays here, been happy here. So it had seemed only natural to come flying home when her world had fallen apart. Her return had coincided with the resignation of her father’s practice partner. Emma had stepped in, proud to work alongside her father. In the past year she’d begun to pull the shattered bits of her life together until it was almost making a whole picture again.

Then her father had suffered a massive heart attack, leaving her to cope alone.

Declan O’Malley prowled the reception area. In a few seconds he’d know whether Emma Armitage would welcome his visit or tell him to go to hell. God, he hoped she’d be reasonable. The situation demanded she be reasonable.

‘Oh, Dr O’Malley—’ Moira fluttered back into reception. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. Emma was just finishing up.’ She waved towards an inner corridor. ‘Second door on your left.’

‘Thanks.’ Declan acknowledged the information with a slight lifting of his hand. He paused outside what was obviously Emma’s consulting room, took a deep breath, gave a courtesy knock to warn of his imminent entry, and then moved in with every intention of being at his diplomatic best.

Emma turned from the window. Her throat dried. Every molecule in her body felt as though it had been swiftly rearranged. She’d been expecting a man in her father’s age group, a man in his sixties. But Declan O’Malley in no way fitted that description. He looked in the prime of his life, all six feet of him. Mentally roping off the very mixed emotions she felt, she went forward and offered her hand. ‘Dr O’Malley.’

‘Emma.’ Declan ditched formality, enfolding her hand easily within his own. ‘Your father told me such a lot about you.’

Well, it’s more than he told me about you, Emma thought, blinking several times in quick succession, long lashes swooping against her pale cheeks.

‘I can imagine what a difficult time this must be for you.’ Declan’s words filled an uncomfortable gap. ‘I would have been in touch before this but I’ve been out of the country. I’ve just caught up with things in general.’

She nodded. His voice was deep and resonant. Smooth like red wine. Emma could feel its impact like a thump to her chest, momentarily disarming her. ‘Please…have a seat.’ She indicated a conversation area in front of the big bay window.

As they settled, Emma took several quick, all-encompassing peeks at him, recording short finger-combed dark hair, a lean face, strong features, olive complexion. And blue eyes reflecting a vivid intensity that could see things she didn’t want seen…

Declan looked at the woman he had to deal with here. Emma Armitage was strikingly lovely. She had amazing facial bones and her hair looked cornsilk-soft, blonde and straight, just brushing her shoulders. But it was her eyes that drew him. They were green like the deepest part of the forest, framed within thick tawny lashes. And they were accessing him warily. He had to step carefully here. He didn’t want to embarrass her, hurt her. But he’d come on a mission and, somehow, he had to accomplish it.

But how to begin?

‘So, how come you knew my father?’ In a lightning strike, Emma took the initiative.

Declan refused to be put on the back foot; instead he cut to the chase. ‘When I was an intern at St John Bosco’s in Melbourne, your father was my boss. I’m where I am today in medicine because of Andrew. In the early days of my training, I was ready to chuck it. Oh, boy was I ready! But your dad talked me out of it. He was an amazing man.’

A new loneliness stabbed through Emma’s heart. ‘Yes, he was…’

A pause. Awkward. Until Declan resumed gently, ‘Over the years I kept in touch with your dad. Any career-change I considered, I ran it past him first. He was my mentor and I considered him my friend. And I don’t use the word lightly.’

Emma nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. ‘I appreciate your taking the time to come here.’ Her mouth compressed as if shutting off the flow of emotion. ‘You must be very busy in your own practice.’

‘I’m between jobs, actually. That’s another reason why I’m here.’

Emma straightened in her chair, the oddest feeling of unease slithering up her backbone. ‘I don’t understand.’

Declan’s perceptions whipped into high awareness. Something in her eyes and the defensive little tilt of her chin held him back from explaining further. The last thing he needed was for her to start resenting him before they could speak properly. So, softly-softly. ‘Uh…this could take a while.’ He glanced briefly at his watch. ‘Could we perhaps have a spot of lunch somewhere and talk?’

Emma held back a harsh laugh. He just had no idea. ‘I don’t have time to go out to lunch, Dr O’Malley. Patients will be arriving soon for the afternoon surgery.’

‘You’re the sole practitioner?’

‘Yes,’ she said, thinking that was another story in itself.

He’d assumed she’d have engaged a locum, but obviously not. Declan thought quickly. Emma Armitage had a brittleness about her—she was obviously worked to death. He cursed his lack of foresight and sought to remedy it swiftly. ‘Understood.’ He gave a brief shrug. ‘I’m here and available. Put me to work.’

So, what was he saying? That he’d share her patient list? Emma’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to be blunt but she had only this man’s word he was a competent doctor. First and foremost, she had a duty of care to her patients…She turned her head slightly, raising a hand to sweep her loose fair hair away from her neck. ‘Is that a good idea, do you think?’

Declan sat riveted. Her little restive movement had briefly exposed her nape, with skin as tender and sweet as a baby’s. He tried without success to dismiss the unexpected zip of awareness through his gut. What was the question again? Idiot. Got it. ‘Sorry.’ He gave an apologetic twist of his hand. ‘You’ll need some ID.’ Reaching back, he took out his wallet and spun it open in front of her. ‘Driver’s licence.’

Emma nodded, registering that the photo on the licence matched the face of the man sitting opposite her. So he was who he claimed he was.

‘My card as well.’ He held out the buff-coloured business card towards her.

Frowning a bit, Emma took it, almost dazzled by the impressive array of letters after his name. ‘You completed your orthopaedic speciality in Edinburgh, Scotland?’

His hesitation was palpable. Then he said, ‘Yes. It was always the discipline I felt drawn to.’

She handed the licence back with the ghost of a smile but retained his card. ‘Should I be addressing you as Professor O’Malley, then?’

‘I wouldn’t think so.’ In a second his eyes were filled with unfathomable depth and shadows. ‘Declan will do just fine. So—’ he slid his wallet back into his pocket ‘—going to let me loose on your patients, then?’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Emma felt a curious lightening of her spirits. To be able to share her workload, even for a few hours, would be wonderful. ‘I’ll give you the ones who like a good chat.’

‘I guess I asked for that.’ Declan’s look was rueful and he uncurled to his feet. ‘I’ll grab a burger somewhere and my bag and be back in—’ he checked his watch ‘—twenty minutes?’

Swept along by his enthusiasm, Emma stood hastily. ‘Take whatever time you need.’ She began to usher him out. ‘You can use Dad’s consulting room.’

Declan stopped, looked down at her, his expression closed. ‘If you’re sure?’

Emma nodded, leading him down the corridor to the room next to her own. She opened the door and went in.

Declan followed hesitantly. Soft early afternoon light streamed in through the windows, leaving a dappled pattern across the large desk and the big leather chair behind it. A big chair for a big man, Declan thought. A man with a big heart that had in the end let him down far earlier than it should have.

‘It’s been cleaned but basically everything is as Dad left it.’ Emma moved across to touch the tips of her fingers to the rosewood patina of the desktop.

Declan felt emotion drench him. Yet he knew what he felt at the man’s loss was only a fraction of what his daughter must be feeling. He spun to face her, questioning softly, ‘Are you sure about this, Emma?’

‘Quite sure. It will be good to see the place being used again.’ The words were husky, as though she was pushing them through a very tight throat.

Declan wanted to reach out to her. Hold her close. Feel the press of her body against his. Take her grief into himself…Oh, for crying out loud! He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll see you back here, then, in a half-hour or so.’

‘Feel free to come straight through and get yourself set up,’ Emma said as they left the consulting room and she pulled the door closed. ‘I’ll just need to make a call and verify your registration before you take surgery.’

Declan inclined his head, acknowledging her eyes were clearly weighing the effect of her statement on him. He gave a mental shrug. As far as his accreditation went, he had nothing to hide. ‘Good,’ he agreed. ‘You should do that.’

‘And I’ll brief Moira,’ Emma added. ‘She’ll make sure the patients find you.’

‘Moira.’ Declan lifted a dark brow. ‘The lady I spoke to in reception, right?’

Emma nodded. ‘She’s been with us for years. I sometimes think she could treat most of the patients herself.’ Her eyes lit impishly, her full mouth hooking into a half smile.

The impact of that curve of her lips hit him like a sandbag to the solar-plexus. He flicked back the edges of his jacket, jamming his hands low on his hips. ‘Let’s try to push through early, then.’ He paused, his blue gaze roaming over her in an almost physical caress. ‘We do need to talk, Emma.’

For a second Emma felt as though she could hardly breathe, his proximity sending a warm rush of want to every part of her body. Feminine places she’d almost forgotten existed. She pulled back, regaining her space. ‘We’ll arrange something…’

Even though the circumstances weren’t ideal, it was good to be back in a consulting room with his feet under a desk again, Declan thought. At least he was doing something useful and if it lasted no more than the rest of the day, he’d give it his best shot.

He was amazed how the time flew. He saw a steady stream of patients, each without exception with a comment about his presence in the practice. He’d answered as honestly as he could, ‘I’m helping out Dr Armitage for the moment.’ And whether that situation became permanent still depended on so many things. So many.

He called in his final patient for the day, Carolyn Jones. She looked anxiously at Declan. ‘I was expecting to see Emma—Dr Armitage.’

‘Emma’s passed some of her patients over to me today, Mrs Jones,’ Declan offloaded with a cheerful smile. ‘I’ll do my best to help.’

Carolyn gripped her handbag more tightly. ‘I…really just wanted a chat…’

‘That’s fine,’ Declan encouraged, leaning back in his chair, his look expectant. ‘I’m here to listen.’

‘I want to go back on my sleeping pills. I’ve tried to do without them for a couple of months now but I just can’t manage—’ Carolyn stopped and swallowed heavily.

For a second Declan considered a quick consult with Emma. But she had enough on her plate. He could handle this. He leaned forward, speed-reading the patient notes.

The lady was sixty-one but there was nothing leaping out at him to warrant extra caution. He raised his gaze, asking, ‘Is there a reason why you can’t sleep, Carolyn?’

‘I’ve a difficult family life. Emma knows about it—’

‘I see. Suppose you tell me about it as well and see how we go?’

Carolyn lifted her shoulders in a long sigh. ‘My husband, Nev, and I are bringing up our three grandchildren. Their ages range from seven to ten.’

‘Hard going, then,’ Declan surmised gently. ‘What circumstances caused this to come about?’

Carolyn gave a weary shrug. ‘The whole town knows about it. Our son was a soldier serving overseas. He was killed by a roadside mine. Our daughter-in-law, Tracey, took off and then got in with the wrong crowd. Started seeing someone else. She was always a bit flighty.’

Declan raised his eyebrows at the old-fashioned word.

‘She’s with this new boyfriend now. We’ve heard they’re into drugs. I don’t understand how she could just dump her children…’

Declan’s caring instincts went out to his patient. But, on the other hand, there were strategies she could try that might induce natural sleep—

‘The children are still unsettled, especially at night,’ Carolyn said, interrupting his train of thought. ‘I just can’t get off to sleep and then I’m useless the next day.’ She paused and blinked. ‘I’ve really had enough…’

So, crisis time then. Declan thought quickly. As a general rule, sleeping pills were prescribed in small doses and only for a limited time-span. But his patient sounded desperate—desperate enough to…He got to his feet. ‘Carolyn, excuse me a moment. I’ve been out of the country for a while. I’ll just need to recheck on dosage and so on.’

Declan came out of his office the same time as Emma emerged from hers. Her brows flicked in question. ‘Finished for the day?’

‘Not quite.’ He accompanied her along to reception. ‘Actually, I wanted a word about a patient, Carolyn Jones.’

‘The family have ongoing problems,’ Emma said quietly.

‘I gathered that.’ Declan backed himself against the counter and folded his arms. ‘Carolyn wants to go back on her sleeping pills. I wondered about her stability.’

‘You’re asking me whether she’s liable to overdose on them?’

‘Just double-checking.’

‘She cares too much about those children to do anything silly,’ Emma said.

‘Quite. But still—’

‘The sleepers Carolyn takes are quite mild,’ Emma cut in. ‘They don’t produce a hangover effect next day.’

A beat of silence until Declan broke it. ‘You realize more than two weeks on those things and she’s hooked?’

Oh, for heaven’s sake! Emma almost ground her teeth. Declan O’Malley needed to stand outside the rarefied air of his theatre suite and realize family practice was about people not protocol. ‘If you’re so concerned, make it a stopgap solution. In the meantime, I’ll try to figure out some other way to help her. But if Carolyn can’t get sleep, she’ll go dotty. Then where will the family be?’ she pointed out.

‘OK…’ Declan raised a two-fingered salute in a peace sign. This obviously wasn’t the time to start a heated discussion with the lady doctor. ‘I’ll go ahead and write her script.’ He took a couple of steps forward and then wheeled back. ‘Are you around for a while?’

Emma felt the nerves in her stomach tighten. What was on his mind now? ‘My last patient just left so I’ll be here.’

‘Good.’ Declan’s eyes glinted briefly. ‘I’m sorry to push it, but we do need to talk.’

Emma twitched her shoulders into a barely perceptible shrug and watched him go back to his consulting room. Then she went into the work space behind reception and began slotting files back into place.

Moira joined her. With the information Emma had discreetly passed on to her about the new doctor, Moira’s eyes were rife with speculation. ‘Do you think he’ll stay?’

At the thought, Emma managed a dry smile. ‘I haven’t offered him a job yet. And, even if I did, I expect Dr O’Malley has far more exciting challenges than working in a run-down practice in a country town.’

‘You never know.’ Moira’s voice held a bracing optimism.

No, you never did. Thinking of her father’s untimely death, Emma could only silently agree. ‘Moira, it’s way past your home time. I’ll lock up.’

‘If you’re sure?’ Moira looked uncertain.

‘I’ll be fine. Go.’ Emma flapped a hand. ‘And have a nice evening.’

There was still no sign of Declan some ten minutes later. Carolyn was obviously still with him. Perhaps it would help her to talk to a different practitioner, Emma thought philosophically. Heaven knew, she herself had no extra time to allot to her needy patients. Well, even if Declan helped only one of her patients in the short time he was here, it was a plus. Deciding there was no use hanging round in reception, she went through to the staffroom.

Declan found her there. He gave a rat-a-tat on the door with the back of his hand to alert her.

Emma’s head came up, her eyes blinking against his sudden appearance. ‘Hi…’

‘Hi, yourself.’ One side of his mouth inched upward and a crease formed in his cheek as he smiled. ‘I smelled coffee.’

Emma averted her gaze to blot out the all-male physical imprint.

In a couple of long strides, he’d crossed the room to her.

Emma lifted the percolator, her fingers as unsteady as her heartbeat. ‘Milk and sugar’s there on the tray.’

‘Thanks.’ He took the coffee, added a dollop of milk and lifted the cup to his mouth. ‘Could we sit for a minute?’

Emma indicated the old kitchen table that been in the staff room for as long as she could remember. ‘You were a long time with Carolyn. Everything OK?’ she asked as they took their places on opposite sides of the table.

‘I hope so.’ Declan’s long fingers spanned his coffee mug and he said thoughtfully, ‘We talked a bit and I suggested a few things. Some tai chi, a good solid walk in the early evening could help her relax enough to induce a natural sleep. Even a leisurely swim would be beneficial.’

‘The school has a pool but it’s not open to the public.’

‘Pity. She’s obviously quite tense.’

‘And it’s a situation that’s happening more and more,’ Emma agreed. ‘Grandparents taking on the caring role for their grandchildren. Even here in this small community, there are families in similar circumstances as the Joneses.’

Declan took a long mouthful of his coffee. ‘Does Bendemere have anything like a support group for them? Somewhere they can air their fears and worries in a safe environment?’

Emma resisted the urge to shriek. ‘This isn’t the city, Dr O’Malley. We’re a bit short of facilitators and psychologists who could lead a group.’

‘But a doctor could.’

Was he serious? ‘Don’t you think I would if I could?’ she flashed. ‘I’m so stretched now, I—’

‘No, Emma, you’re misunderstanding me.’ His look was guarded and cool. ‘I meant me—I could help.’

‘You?’ Emma huffed her disbelief. She wasn’t understanding any of this. ‘Are you saying you want to stay on here?’

‘You need a practice partner, don’t you?’

‘But you know nothing about the place!’ Emma’s thoughts were spinning. ‘Nothing about the viability of the practice. Nothing about me.’

He stared at her for a long moment. ‘I know you’re Andrew’s daughter.’

‘And you’d make a life-changing decision on the basis of that?’ Emma’s voice had a husky edge of disquiet.

Oh, hell. He was doing this all wrong. No wonder she was confused. He’d meant to lead up to things gently and objectively, explain himself, choose his words carefully. But just getting his head around Emma’s crippling workload, the plight of Carolyn Jones and others like her had spurred him on to get matters sorted and quickly.

‘Emma—’ He paused significantly. ‘I didn’t just come here to offer my condolences. There’s another reason why I’m here in Bendemere.’

Emma tried to grasp the significance of his words. ‘Perhaps you’d better explain.’

Declan watched as she drew herself up stiffly, almost as if she were gathering invisible armour around her. He knew what he was about to tell her would come as a shock, maybe even wound her deeply. But he had to do it. ‘Your father contacted me shortly before his death. He offered to sell me his share of the practice. I’m here to arrange payment and finalise the details of our partnership.’

Emma’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut. She clutched the edge of the table for support, becoming aware of her heart thrashing to a sickening rhythm inside her chest. ‘I don’t believe Dad would have done something like that.’

‘I have a letter of confirmation from your father and the legal documents.’

‘Dad wouldn’t have just thrust someone on me. Someone I didn’t even know!’ She felt the pitch of her anger and emotion rising and didn’t care. ‘And I don’t have to accept your money, Dr O’Malley, nor do I have to take you on as my practice partner.’

Declan’s gaze narrowed on her flushed face, the angry tilt of her small chin. Damn! He hadn’t reckoned on any of this. ‘It was what your father wanted, Emma.’

Emma gave a hard little laugh. ‘Emotional blackmail will get you absolutely nowhere, Dr O’Malley.’

‘Please!’ With a reflex action Declan’s head shot up, his vivid blue gaze striking an arc across the space between them. ‘Give me a little credit. I realize this has come as a shock to you. And I’m sorry. I’d hoped Andrew might have given you some idea of what he wanted, paved the way a bit, but obviously time ran out on him. But we can’t leave things here, Emma. We really can’t.’ His mouth compressed briefly. ‘I suggest we take a break and let things settle a bit. I’m staying at the Heritage Hotel. We could link up there later this evening and talk further. Dinner around seven. Does that suit you?’

‘Fine,’ Emma responded bluntly. It seemed she had no choice in the matter.

‘Let’s meet at the bar, then.’ Declan grabbed at the grudging acceptance.