To the Doctor: A Daughter

wants to offload his baby.

‘Well, he’s not offloading her onto me. No way.’

She slammed down the hairbrush and shoved her feet into her sneakers-and then took off to breakfast. To find the mysterious ‘us’.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘US’ DIDN’T include Donna. Us was Nate, a white-haired gentleman who looked like he was nearing eighty and one pink crib complete with baby.

Gemma walked in the kitchen door and stopped short. She wasn’t sure what shocked her most-the sight of Nate with his baby by his side or the sight of the kitchen.

It was an amazing kitchen.

It matched her bedroom, she thought, stunned by its size alone. It was the kitchen of a great house.

The fireplace took up almost a whole wall and looked as if once it had been an open fire complete with spits. The irons were still set in the wall, but now a vast old Aga took up a quarter of the fireplace, and a modern range stood beside it.

The elderly man was making toast. Tall, thin and weathered with age, his white hair held just a trace of the same burnt red as Nate’s. He was casually dressed in a soft cashmere pullover and worn carpet slippers. The fire door of the stove was open and he was holding a toasting fork to the flames.

He looked a lot like Nate…

She was trying hard not to look at Nate until she had her bearings.

What else? The table was in proportion to the kitchen-huge. It was scrubbed oak and big enough to seat a dozen with room to spare. There were four squashy armchairs and a settee to match. A faded rug was thrown over a worn, cobbled floor. On the edge of the rug an ancient collie was dozing in front of the fire. Past them all were big doors with inset windows, leading to a wide veranda. From there a path meandered through the garden to the river beyond.

It looked…wonderful.

And Nate? Finally she let herself focus on Nate. He was slicing bread, supervising everything. The crib was beside him, and Mia was fast asleep.

The sight was so unexpected that it rendered her speechless. The whole scene was unbelievably good.

As she paused in the doorway all eyes swung to her-well, the old man’s, Nate’s and the dog’s anyhow. As far as Gemma could see, Mia wasn’t the least bit interested, but she was the only one who wasn’t inspecting her from the toes up, making her blush with their blatant assessment.

Nate was the first to speak.

‘Good morning, sleepyhead. Toast?’ Inspection over, he greeted her with his devastating smile-and she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Compared to the spartan hospital apartment she was used to, this was heaven.

Then the old man spoke, in a voice that was a husky echo of Nate’s. ‘I’d accept if I were you,’ he advised her. His smile matched Nate’s, intensifying her impression that these two were related. ‘It’s good.’ He flipped two pieces of golden toast onto the plate beside him. ‘Toasting is the skill I’m most proud of. After fishing and medicine.’ He smiled again and the likeness to Nate was even greater. They had to be kin. ‘You must be Gemma. Dr Campbell. Pardon me if I don’t get up but this toasting is a very serious business.’

It hurt him to rise. Gemma could see that. There were two walking sticks propped against the old man’s chair which told their own story.

‘Don’t let me disturb you,’ she said quickly. ‘And, yes, I’d love some toast.’ She cast an uncertain glance at Nate and then she let herself look at the baby. Nate’s baby. ‘You’ve brought Mia in here.’

‘Very observant.’ Nate smiled again, a smile that had the capacity to knock her sideways. His smile was teasing-enticing-heart-warming. ‘There were rumours of Golden Staph finding its way quick smart from Sydney so we whisked her out of harm’s way.’

He was laughing at her. The rat. ‘You didn’t need to.’

‘No.’ His smile faded. ‘I didn’t need to.’ He looked at her for a long minute, taking in the stained clothes and the weariness still on her face. ‘I shouldn’t have woken you. You should have slept longer.’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘No.’ He hesitated, as if wanting to say more, but finally decided against it. ‘Gemma, this is Graham Ethan-my Uncle Graham. Graham, meet Gemma. Dr Campbell. Oh, and this is Rufus, the dog, but he won’t rise for an introduction. Not unless there’s toast involved.’

Graham would have risen then but Gemma was next to him, taking the old man’s hand before he could move. ‘I’m really pleased to meet you.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, too.’ Graham’s old eyes examined her face and found what he was searching for. ‘You’re not like your sister.’ It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact.

‘No.’ Gemma’s chin tilted a little at that. She wasn’t. ‘My sister was beautiful.’

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ he said ambiguously. ‘But you are a doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve landed a daughter on our Nathan.’

‘I didn’t land a baby on your Nathan,’ she said dryly. ‘Dr Ethan landed a baby on himself. I had absolutely nothing to do with it.’

‘And you don’t want anything to do with her now?’

‘No.’ But she cast an uncertain glance at the crib and the old doctor’s eyes caught her glance and understood. He nodded but had the sense to move on.

‘Nate says you want to work here.’

Her glance was to Nate this time. ‘I don’t see that Nate’s giving me a choice but I need to think about it first.’

‘You’re an anaesthetist?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why are you an anaesthetist?’ Nate asked her. He pulled a chair out for her and waited until she sat. The feeling of being railroaded intensified. She was being seated and breakfasted whether she wanted it or not.

That was ridiculous. Of course she wanted breakfast.

‘Um…’

‘Get yourself around this toast first,’ the old doctor said. ‘Nate, leave the girl alone. Make her some eggs and bacon. She looks like she hasn’t had a decent meal for months.’

‘After Tony’s effort last night…’

‘One meal does not a banquet make.’ Graham snorted. ‘Bacon, Nate. Now.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Nate grinned and started cooking.

But the question returned. Why are you an anaesthetist?

She let herself think about it while she ate, aware that they were courteously letting her be to enjoy her breakfast. Yet the question still hung.

Why was she an anaesthetist?

Because of Alan?

The pressure from Alan was something she couldn’t explain in a million years, she thought, and it wasn’t something they’d want to know. They were simply checking her out-making sure of her. They really wanted another doctor, but not if she’d turn out to be a disaster like Fiona.

At least she could reassure them about that.

‘If you’re asking whether I’m dependable, I am,’ she told them, and they nodded in unison. They really were very alike.

‘Nate told me that,’ Graham said, and Gemma cast Nate a startled glance. What else had he told Graham?

‘Whatever he’s said, I don’t want to stay here.’ But her tone was unsure.