City Surgeon, Small Town Miracle

Plus, we’re going to be working together and-’

‘So you’ll be making these cosy calls on the other staff members as well, will you?’ She looked at him then, one eyebrow raised, challenging.

‘And I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Dad with his MI,’ he continued smoothly, ignoring her interruption. ‘You saved his life.’

Her shoulders moved in a tiny shrug. ‘I was just doing my job.’

‘I know, but in this case the job was my father so thank you. He was lucky you were at the barbecue when it happened. Mum told me how stubborn he was about his indigestion.’

‘It’s hard for some people to face physical vulnerability. Especially someone as vital as your dad.’ She studied the liquid in her mug.

Was she speaking from experience? He couldn’t ask, not tonight. He’d already asked too much, definitely worn out his welcome. His heart squeezed and he felt the same frustrating helplessness as when Allie shut him out. The same…but different. This feeling was mixed with a potent attraction. More than anything, he wanted to scoop her into his arms, to comfort and reassure.

Bad idea. They had to work together. For a year. The sexual chemistry between them made it impossible for him to judge where altruism ended and lust began.

He had to keep reminding himself she was a colleague. Keep striving for that day when he’d know her so well this fizz of awareness would be a thing of the past.

The silence was broken by the catarrhal cough of a possum outside.

‘I’d better go. Thanks for the coffee.’ He placed his mug on the low table and waited a beat. ‘I’ll let myself out, shall I?’

At the door, he looked back at her. She hadn’t moved.

‘Goodnight, Terri.’ That air of fragility about her tonight was probably entirely in his over-protective imagination.

‘’Night.’

Terri sat for a long time after Luke left, waiting for her equilibrium to return. Inviting him into this room had been a disaster. Why hadn’t she thought of the photographs, realised he might be curious? But at the time she’d only thought of sitting somewhere other than the tiny kitchen table, where their knees would have touched every time they moved. Her eyes touched on the picture of Peter, her hand automatically sliding to her belly.

Protecting where there was nothing left to protect. Tears stung her eyes, pushing to escape. She thought she’d finished with crying…

She’d been wrong.

CHAPTER FIVE

TERRI stared at the now-silent CB receiver in her hand, noting the tremor in her fingers with an odd detachment. The radio unit clattered slightly as she returned it to the base cradle.

A baby. Eight months. Fever of one hundred and two degrees for several hours. Part of her knew she should have suggested continuing with fluids and waiting another couple of hours before coming in. But the rest of her couldn’t bear to take the risk.

Not today.

Babies were special, the small lives so precious.

Of their own volition, the fingers of one hand splayed across her abdomen. Her own baby would have been eighteen months old if she hadn’t miscarried.

Eyes closed, she bowed her head. Abruptly, her sensory memory delivered a staggering tableau. The pungent stench of cordite clogging her nostrils, Peter’s cries ringing in her ears. The cramping pain in her stomach as she’d crawled to try to help him. So much damage, so much blood. The very air had coated the back of her tongue thickly with the metallic taste.

She could still feel the puff of Peter’s breath on her ear as he struggled to talk, to apologise, to ask her to look after their child. In his final moments, a connection between them, one that had all but vanished after they’d married.

A spasm low in her abdomen reminded her how she’d failed them all: Peter, her baby, herself.

In the aftermath of the trauma, her body had rejected its precious cargo.

Today was the second anniversary.

‘Terri?’

‘Luke!’ Her eyes flew open and she spun round to face him. ‘Luke.’

The room seemed to rock for a second and she put a hand on the bench to steady herself.

He stepped forward, his hand wrapping around her arm above the elbow. The warmth of his fingers a tiny comfort against the chill she felt. Concern filled the blue eyes drilling into hers. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she managed, faintly. Even to her own ears she sounded less than convincing. But she was all right…or she would be. He’d just caught her at a vulnerable moment.

‘Come and sit down before…Sit down and tell me what the problem is.’ His compassionate bedside manner flowed over her, making her want to believe he cared.

She swallowed and stood firm. ‘Really, I’m fine.’

In a way, her turmoil was his fault. Talking to him the other night had left her more vulnerable than usual, that was all. His kindness, his offer to help had left her raw. She’d coped so well with the first anniversary. This second one was ambushing her, ruthlessly exposing the cracks in her defences. The skills she had used to keep herself functioning for the past two years felt fragile and unreliable. Twenty-four months. Would any amount of time be long enough to blunt the pain?

Perhaps she’d have taken today in her stride if Luke’s visit hadn’t unlocked her vault of painful memories, pitching her back into the emotional maelstrom of the tragedy.

But she would get past it, she had to.

‘Terri?’

Luke’s voice snapped her back to the present and she barely suppressed a start. If she didn’t pull herself together, he’d be afraid to have her working in the department tonight. And she needed to work-she couldn’t go home and sit alone with her thoughts. She had one constant, her ability to focus on her work. She was good at her job and that wasn’t going to stop now. She couldn’t let it-work was all she had left.

She took a deep steadying breath. With her eyes on the notes she’d made, she concentrated on the details.

‘We’ve got two patients on the way in. A thirty-year-old male involved in a quad bike accident. Required resuscitation at the scene. He has head, chest and leg injuries.’ Her voice was level and calm. No sign of the turmoil so close to the surface.

‘Right. And the other patient?’

Her fingers tightened and the paper she held crackled a protest. She swallowed.

‘The other patient is a febrile eight-month-old. Some vomiting and diarrhoea with a temperature of a hundred and two for several hours. There’s no indication that his case is anything more serious than a childhood fever but I’ve suggested bringing him in for examination. Mum’s extra-anxious because her niece had meningicoccal disease last year. The family live out of town and Dad’s away on business so…’ She clamped her lips to stop the flow of words. Her reasoning was feeble, the product of personal anxiety rather than professional concern. She needed to marshal a better argument.

‘So you didn’t want to leave Mum isolated in case things deteriorate during the night?’ Luke shrugged. ‘That’s part of the reason we’re here, isn’t it? Better to have a patient come in and prove to be a minor case than to have us miss something major.’

Terri opened her mouth to defend her case for having the child brought in and then his words sank in. He wasn’t questioning her decision, as she’d expected…as she deserved.

‘Um, yes.’ Grateful as she was for his attitude, the quick acceptance of her position made her feel like an