CHAPTER ELEVEN
NATE rose before dawn. Well, he couldn’t sleep so he decided he might as well work.
First there was a letter to write. A letter that was short and to the point and entirely satisfactory. He hoped.
Then he did some random medico-legal paperwork while he waited for his patients to wake, then spent much longer than usual visiting each of them. He was killing time. He wasn’t facing Gemma with what he’d found out. Or what he planned. Who knew how she’d react? And this was too important for her to have scruples.
This wasn’t pistols at dawn but it was just as unethical.
Nine o’clock seemed a long way off.
His last patient was the farmer they’d pulled from under the plane, and Ian wasn’t impressed by the dark shadows under his eyes.
‘Hell, Doc, you look as bad as me.’ Ian was recovering beautifully. He was tackling his breakfast bacon and eggs with all the trimmings which, considering the condition he’d been in the night before, was little short of a miracle. ‘Did you have trouble during the night?’
‘Um…yes.’ It seemed safer to agree.
‘Not as dramatic as our accident, I hope.’ Ian’s face became closed and he winced as he shifted against the pillows. He wasn’t quite as great as he made out. ‘Of all the stupid accidents. I’ve been thinking and thinking. I should have let him have his four feet of land. It was a strip four feet wide and fifty feet long. That’s the strip we were fighting over. And he died for it.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Maybe we just had to fight.’ Ian shook his head. ‘Maybe we even enjoyed the drama of the thing. Seems we’ve been shouting over the fence at each other since we were lads.’ His weathered face puckered in distress. ‘Hell. The whole thing seems so damned pointless now. How’s Olive?’
‘Terrible.’ There was no point in dissembling.
‘Tell her I’ll milk her cows. I’m mostly running beef cattle now and I’ve only got forty milkers. I can easily run her herd with ours. We’ll split the milk income and it won’t cost her a thing.’
And why couldn’t he have been as accommodating as this before Hector killed himself? Nate wondered. Why on earth did people fight?
Why had Fiona wanted to hurt Gemma so badly?
Maybe she’d sensed that it hadn’t only been in health that Gemma had surpassed her, he thought. She’d been jealous of Gemma long before she’d been diagnosed with diabetes.
Maybe it was because Gemma was just…good.
What would Gemma say if she knew what he was about to do?
He wouldn’t tell her. He’d stay away from her until it was time.
‘What the mind doesn’t know the heart doesn’t grieve over,’ he said to himself-and then he thought, Heck, the medical board could come down on him like a ton of bricks…if Alan called his bluff… He who dares wins.
‘And if I mouth one more platitude I’m going to go out of my mind,’ he told himself grimly. ‘Bring on nine o’clock.’
At nine Gemma was packed and ready to go. Cady had his own little suitcase packed. He was tearful, clinging to Mrs McCurdle as if he was being torn apart.
Gemma wasn’t tearful. She was just…blank.
‘You don’t need to say goodbye,’ she told Nate when he finally left his patients and came to find her. She was standing on the veranda, waiting. Alan had told her that he was driving Cady back to Sydney and she was to follow in her own car.
With Cady on board he was sure she’d follow.
‘I’m staying,’ Nate told her. He was standing on the veranda with his daughter cradled in his arms. Mia was fast asleep but for some reason Nate had fetched her from her cot. It was as if he wanted Mia to say her own goodbye.
Graham had said goodbye briefly-harshly. There’d been raw emotion in the old man’s voice as he’d escaped to the surgery, leaving Nate to see them off.
So the scene was set. Nate looked across at Cady and he hesitated. The little boy was too dark. Too like his mother.
He’d be better off away from the veranda where Alan couldn’t see him.
‘You haven’t said goodbye to Rufus,’ he told the boy, touching him lightly on his shoulder and sending an urgent message to Mrs McCurdle with his eyes. ‘Helen, what about taking Cady into the kitchen and bringing him back out when Alan gets here?’
‘I don’t like my daddy,’ Cady sobbed, and Mrs McCurdle hiccuped on her own sob and took him back into the house.
Which left Nate and Gemma. And Mia.
‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Gemma started, but he shook his head and looked down at the sleeping Mia.
‘There’s no need. You’ve given me my daughter. It’s me who owes you. But there’s something I want you to do for me.’
‘What?’
‘When Alan comes…I want you to shut up and listen.’
She frowned in incomprehension. ‘Why?’
‘Just… Whatever I say, you’re not to contradict me. Do you hear?’
‘I…’ She still didn’t understand but his eyes were compelling. She shrugged. ‘OK. I guess.’
‘Then let’s just put these suitcases back inside in the hall,’ he suggested, heaving them back inside the door and out of the way. ‘Just in case they’re not wanted.’
Alan arrived just when he’d said he would. He was driving a Porsche, and Nate looked from the gleaming car to Gemma’s battered old Datsun and any last qualms he had about what he was doing faded to nothing. By the time Alan climbed from his car Nate was ready-with words if not with pistols.
And a letter…
‘Is the boy ready?’ Alan didn’t bother with greetings. He was focused on Gemma and his dislike was obvious. Whatever pretence he’d ever made of loving this woman was long gone. She was now only a tool.
Gemma’s face was pure misery. So much so that Nate felt like going in boots and all.
Which would have been stupid.
‘He’s…he’s in the kitchen, saying goodbye to the dog,’ Gemma faltered, trying not to look at Nate. ‘I’ll go and fetch him.’
‘Don’t fetch him yet, Gem.’ Nate’s voice was soft and dangerous. He was calmly watchful and his eyes didn’t leave Alan’s face. ‘There’s a few things I want to have out with Alan first.’
‘Like what?’ Alan already had his hand on the screen door. ‘I don’t have time to mess around. I’ve wasted enough time already.’
Nate chose his words with care.
‘Then I’ll be blunt. If you’re thinking of taking
‘
The words spun around them. Alan stopped dead and stared.
Nate stood calmly unconcerned, cradling his daughter as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. He’d let the blanket fall away so Mia’s red hair-Nate’s red hair-was clearly visible.
‘I don’t want your kid,’ Alan said at last, regaining his composure after what he obviously thought was a mistake. ‘I want mine.’
‘But I’m not talking about my daughter.’ Nate’s tone was still steady. Alan clearly hadn’t taken it on board that Mia was a girl. ‘I’m talking about my son.’
