declare herself bankrupt, get rid of her debts and then find another doctor to take over at least half her workload. And Ryan could walk away with a clear conscience.
Not yet he couldn’t. Not for a month…
But at the end of the month? When his father was recovered from his surgery? Ryan wanted to be able to walk away from here, knowing that his friend’s security was assured. And how could he do that if she was going to be obstinate and proud and stubborn as a mule?
But he didn’t want her any other way.
‘Tell me who else you saw in clinic,’ Abbey insisted, and Ryan blinked. He wasn’t used to this. He was accustomed to being in charge. To people coming to him when they were in trouble and demanding his help. Well, Abbey had accepted his help-albeit grudgingly-for a week, but not after that. And he found himself thinking how impossible it would be to live with himself, knowing he’d left her like this. Burdened with work. Burdened with debt and responsibility.
‘As I said, most cases I found I could handle,’ he told her, forcing his mind back to the patients he’d seen. ‘I had old Angus Harvey with an infection on his penis. Walked in and said-straight-faced, “Doc, there’s a ring round me old bloke and it ain’t lipstick”! That was the hardest part of my day, trying to keep a straight face and treat his infection at the same time…’
‘You sound like you enjoyed it,’ Abbey said wonderingly, and Ryan grinned.
‘To tell you the truth, I did. Oh, and I saw Mrs Miller. She came in to get her ulcer dressed again.’ He shook his head. ‘She must just like doctors, Abbey. The ulcer didn’t need dressing.’
‘Did you ask her what was worrying her?’ Abbey asked anxiously, and Ryan frowned.
‘I told you. She wanted her ulcer dressed.’
‘And I told you, there’s something else troubling Marg Miller.’ Abbey shook her head. ‘Men! You have no intuition at all. It’s not her ulcer she’s worried about. It’s her son. There’s something wrong with Ian. I’m sure of it. Mrs Miller wouldn’t worry like this for herself. He must be in some sort of trouble.’
‘Her son…’ Ryan frowned. ‘Ian Miller. I think I remember him. He’s my age-a bit older.’
‘That’s right. He’s living in Sydney.’
‘And you think he might be ill?’
‘I have no idea,’ Abbey said with asperity. ‘If you’d asked, you might have found out.’
‘Ian’s not my patient.’
‘He’s not mine either. I haven’t seen him for years. But his well-being is affecting my patient and therefore I worry. That’s what a good general practitioner does.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Ryan said dryly. ‘I’m an orthopaedic surgeon, remember.’ He paused, waiting for comment. Waiting for Abbey to apologise.
No apology was forthcoming.
The silence stretched out to an embarrassing length. Clearly Abbey’s opinion of orthopaedic surgeons-or one orthopedic surgeon in particular-was less than flattering.
‘I’ll telephone her,’ Abbey said at last.
‘No.’ Ryan shook his head. ‘If you really think there’s something happening that’s serious then I’ll telephone and talk to her again.’
‘You wouldn’t consider going out there and talking to her face to face?’
‘Abbey!’ Ryan said explosively. ‘Don’t push me…’
‘I can only try.’ She ventured a teasing grin. ‘And you can only say no.’
‘I’ll go if I have time, but I will telephone,’ Ryan promised, a man driven against the ropes. He sighed. ‘And you might like to know Janet’s agreed for me to replace her hip next Monday. I can organise it by then.’
‘Next…’ Abbey stared. ‘You mean you
‘I said I’d do it. Why should you doubt me?’
‘But next Monday…’ Abbey frowned. ‘Ryan, it’s only Monday now. That’s a whole week away. I’ll be back working by then.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Ryan said roughly. ‘There’s been a change in plan. Janet will need at least three weeks before she can think of looking after Jack again. So… you stay home full time and look after Jack for two weeks and I organise help. We need help for me for the next two weeks and then for you when Sam comes home from hospital.’
‘Help?’ Abbey shook her head, dazed.
‘There’s a locum arriving tomorrow. Steve Pryor. I’ve rung a few contacts in Brisbane and they tell me he’s good. We’re lucky he’s free at short notice.’
Disregarding her aching bones, Abbey sat up in bed with a jolt. ‘Ryan Henry, you can’t do this. I can’t afford-’
‘No, but I can.’
‘But I
‘Abbey, it’s my job I’m sharing for a bit here,’ Ryan reminded her, ‘not yours.’
‘You agreed to work the week.’
‘Yes,’ Ryan agreed, his voice gentling. ‘And I’m not going back on that promise. ‘I promised to look after your practice for a week. But Dad’s surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow and I want to be in Cairns during his operation. And maybe for twenty-four hours afterwards.’
‘Oh, Ryan…’ Abbey’s face creased in distress. ‘Of course. I didn’t think of that. But I can look after things. By the day after tomorrow-’
‘I’ve organised tomorrow, too,’ Ryan said blandly. ‘About my honeymoon… ’
‘Ryan-’
‘Just shut up and listen,’ he told her in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘Abbey, there is no need for you to get your knickers in a knot about my arrangements. Tomorrow I’m taking you out of here and driving you to your honeymoon destination.’
‘Honeymoon…’ Abbey stared. She was starting to feel as if her world was tilting sideways on its axis. And any minute now she’d fall right off.
‘Well, Felicity and I weren’t intending to stay with Dad for our honeymoon,’ Ryan told her. ‘Felicity organised us a place on the beach ten minutes’ drive from here. That’s where you’re going. Tomorrow.’
‘But, Ryan, even if I could, I don’t want to,’ Abbey wailed. ‘I want my little Jack. I want Janet.’
‘Now, how did I know you’d say that?’ Ryan grinned. ‘That’s all organised. I agree with you that Janet could use a rest as well as you and I’d like her fit to face surgery. So I rang the owners of the place we booked and they’ve swapped the booking from a one-bedroom to a two-bedroom unit. So… I’ve given the same ultimatum to Janet as I give to you. Pack and be ready for your honeymoon by tomorrow morning or I’ll pick you up and take you in what you’re wearing at the time.’ His grin deepened. ‘And I mean that, Abbey Wittner.’
Then his grin faded at the look of dazed incredulity on Abbey’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’ To Ryan’s astonishment, Abbey’s eyes were filling with tears. ‘Abbey, for heaven’s sake…’
‘A holiday… You really mean a holiday?’ Abbey choked. ‘Ryan, I haven’t had a holiday for years. You can’t really mean… I don’t deserve this.’
‘I think you do, Abbey,’ Ryan said quietly. He stooped and kissed her on the cheek. His hand came down and cupped the curve of her grazed and bandaged cheek, wiping away an errant tear. ‘If anyone deserves a honeymoon you do-and it’s all my pleasure to be able to give you one.’
And what Felicity would say when she realised he’d given away the magic honeymoon destination she’d spent days researching, he hated to think.
Felicity, however, seemed a very long way away.
Felicity was for tomorrow.
CHAPTER SIX
RYAN appeared at about nine the next morning with a youngish, scholarly man in tow. It didn’t take a genius to work out this was Ryan’s new locum. There was a stethoscope around the young man’s neck and an owlish look of
