Hijacked Honeymoon Page 4

  ‘Is there anything wrong with him?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t you know how his health is?’ Abbey demanded. ‘He tells me you write to each other’

  ‘Of course we write.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Abbey compressed her lips and Ryan could see judgement, standing out a mile. And condemnation. ‘So,’ she asked, changing the subject, ‘where’s your bride, then, Dr Henry?’

  ‘In Hawaii.’

  ‘Oh.’ Abbey thought this through and then nodded wisely. A doctor-of-the-world nod. ‘I see. Separate honeymoons. That’s very… very modern.’

  ‘Abbey!’

  Abbey hadn’t changed one bit, Ryan thought bitterly. Abbey had always said exactly what she’d thought. She’d always told him. And he’d loved her for it.

  ‘Did you get together for the wedding?’ Abbey continued, in a voice that was dispassionately interested. Nothing more. ‘Or can you do a wedding via teleconferencing these days? Or maybe via the Internet?’

  Despite his darkening humour, Ryan couldn’t suppress a smile. A teleconferenced wedding! That would be just Felicity’s style. Now why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Abbey’s bright eyes were watching him, gently mocking. His smile faded. He went into defence mode. With Abbey, defence had always been a good idea.

  ‘We haven’t married yet. We’ve organised to be married in Sapphire Cove when Felicity gets here.’

  ‘Oh.’ To Ryan’s surprise, Abbey’s face softened. ‘Oh, Ryan, your father will like that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t imagine he’d care very much.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll care,’ Abbey said grimly, almost to herself. ‘You can’t imagine how much.’ Then she leaned forward and pointed to a turn-off. ‘Here, Ryan. Turn here. This is where I live.’

  Ryan stared.

  Where Abbey was pointing was to a farmhouse, but it wasn’t what you’d call the home of the landed gentry. The farmhouse was a simple cottage, set back among encroaching tropical wilderness. It looked as if it had been built a hundred years ago and nothing much had been done to it since.

  There’d been a sugar plantation here once, but not now. Straggling lantana grew wild almost right to the door. There were a few cows in the paddocks around the house. As Ryan turned up the drive poultry scattered in all directions, and a red-headed toddler was pedalling a tricycle along the verandah, scattering hens and feathers in the process.

  As the car drew to a halt the toddler stared openmouthed, bolted inside and reappeared, clutching the hand of someone who had to be his grandma.

  The lady he’d produced was in her seventies, still with traces of the child’s red hair but bent and weathered with age and Queensland’s fierce sun. The woman came down the verandah steps slowly, hobbling with the aid of a walking stick and clutching the small boy to her side in the manner of someone expecting disaster.

  This woman had seen disaster, Ryan thought fleetingly as he watched her face. The suffering he saw there was a deeper version of what he saw behind Abbey’s eyes. Who was she? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anyone living on this place when he was young.

  The expression on the woman’s face had given way now to open fear. Ryan turned off the engine, but Abbey had the door of the car open before Ryan could move.

  ‘It’s OK, Janet,’ she called urgently. ‘I’m OK. I dislocated my knee but it’s fine now.’

  Ryan was right. The woman had been expecting trouble. The elderly woman’s face cleared, as though she’d just won a reprieve, and she limped the last few steps to the car with a tread that was as close to a bounce as someone who obviously had a damaged hip could manage.

  ‘You’ve what?’

  ‘I dislocated my knee.’ Abbey grinned up at both the woman and the little boy at her side, and only Ryan-who knew how much pain Abbey must still be in-could know what that grin was costing her. ‘Hi, Jack. Look what Mummy’s done.’ Abbey pointed to the bulky bandage which made her leg look three times its size. And then she turned back to the woman. ‘Janet, you must remember Ryan Henry. He just knocked me off my bicycle.’

  ‘Ryan Henry…’ Janet stared and then her elderly face creased into a smile. ‘Of course. Sam’s son, Ryan. I remember you as a youngster. You were a bit older than my John. Welcome home. Though…’ She looked doubtfully down at Abbey’s leg. ‘Did you say Ryan knocked you off your bicycle, Abbey?’

  ‘I did.’

  Janet frowned. ‘Then I’m not sure whether we should welcome you or tar and feather you and drive you back out of town.’

  ‘There’ll be no driving him anywhere,’ Abbey said firmly, hauling herself backwards to the edge of the seat ‘Ryan’s offered us his honeymoon. Can you give me a hand inside?’

  ‘He’s what?’ Janet Wittner took a step back. Ryan promptly moved forward and lifted Abbey effortlessly out of the car.

  She really was ridiculously slight.

  He straightened, holding Abbey in his arms, the hot sun blazing down on them. At their feet the chooks cautiously returned, squawking and fussing in the dust.

  ‘I can’t work until this blasted swelling’s gone down,’ Abbey told Janet from the safety of Ryan’s arms. ‘Ryan’s offered to work for me instead of taking a honeymoon.’ She grinned up into Ryan’s face and then her smile slipped a little. It felt very strange to be carried against this man’s chest. This man whom she’d once known so well. This man whom she’d wept over for months when he’d left her.

  ‘Well, that’s very kind of you, Ryan,’ Janet told him. ‘But won’t your wife have something to say about that?’

  ‘He hasn’t got a wife yet,’ Abbey told her. ‘He’s left his bride in Hawaii. Ryan, put me down. I can hop.’

  ‘You can’t hop anywhere. Except over very flat ground when you can use your crutches, you’re to be carried everywhere you need to go for the next few days. Where’s your husband?’

  Silence.

  And Ryan knew that Abbey’s husband wasn’t in Hawaii. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

  Abbey’s next words confirmed he’d just put his foot, right in it.

  ‘John’s dead,’ Abbey said wearily, her brave front suddenly disappearing entirely. ‘Thank you, Ryan. If you could just carry me inside then we’ll be right now. Thank you for your help.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  JOHN WITTNER…

  Ryan carried Abbey into a house which was as shabby inside as it was out and, as he did, he forced his mind through lists of kids he remembered from his school days. There’d been a few Wittners.

  In the end, it was the toddler’s red hair that helped. Ryan remembered a boy two years his junior-a big, goodnatured youth who’d been great at football and cricket. He’d had brilliant red hair. That was all he remembered of Abbey’s husband, but it was enough.

  ‘John Wittner?’ he said slowly, as he laid Abbey on her bed. The old lady had stopped out in the living room. Her face had shown her distress as Abbey had said the word ‘dead’ and she was clearly working at getting her composure back. The toddler, shy of Ryan, had stayed with her. ‘Big guy. Six feet three or so. Great at sport.’

  ‘You remember him?’ Abbey’s eyes showed pleasure as she settled down on the bedcovers. Bed felt just wonderful. And, with luck, she could stay here for half an hour before she needed to start milking.

  ‘Only a little,’ Ryan confessed. He sat down on the bed beside her and looked down at his friend. She was so thin! Her short, dark curls were matted with dust and her finely boned face was stretched thin with exhaustion.

  But her clear blue eyes looked up at him and she was still the same Abbey.

  Abbey… Seventeen years of absence and she was still his friend. It distressed him unutterably to know she’d been in trouble and he hadn’t known. Abbey lay there, dirty, bruised and way too thin, and he remembered just how he’d felt about her all those years ago.

  He’d loved her.

  ‘Tell me about John,’ he said quietly. ‘When were you married?’

  ‘After I
graduated.’ Abbey shrugged. ‘John… well, John had the biggest heart. After you left…’ She caught herself remembering how she’d felt when Ryan had left, and she couldn’t stop the pain washing over her face. Let Ryan think it was just her leg…

  ‘Well, I needed a friend,’ she managed. ‘And John… well, he sort of became it. Then my mum died…’

  ‘Your mother died?’

  ‘She died of cancer when I was twelve. And the Wittners took me in. Janet treated me like her own, and John and I… well, we just drifted from friendship into marriage. It was like it was meant. Only…’

  ‘Only?’

  Abbey took a deep breath and closed her eyes. ‘While I was away at medical school John’s dad died. Janet didn’t cope very well. She’d depended heavily on John’s dad and she lost interest in everything. John kept on farming but suddenly every decision was his. The transition was too sudden.’

  ‘He got into financial trouble?’ Ryan’s voice was intent. He was watching the pain wash over Abbey’s face, and part of him didn’t want to hear the end of the story.

  ‘The Wittners had a lovely farm. They grew sugar cane and ran cattle,’ Abbey said bleakly, as if telling a story that still had the power to hurt. ‘The farm was prosperous, but John didn’t have much of a head for figures. He made a few investments that weren’t very wise and he gave loans to people he shouldn’t have trusted. By the time I finished medical school and came back here to marry him he was in real trouble.’

  ‘So you sold up and moved here.’

  ‘It wasn’t quite as simple as that,’ Abbey confessed. ‘John… Well, he was proud and he wouldn’t let on to either Janet or me just how much trouble he was in. I galvanised the community into building the hospital, my medical practice started paying and then I found myself pregnant. I was delighted and I thought John was, too. With the farm and my medicine, there seemed to be heaps of money. But…’ Her voice faltered and Ryan found himself covering her hand on the bedclothes.

  ‘Tell me, Abbey.’

  ‘When John ran into trouble he started gambling,’ Abbey said painfully. ‘No one knew. He just… I was busy and he’d go away-to farming conferences, he said, and we believed him. And then he ran so deeply into debt it was a nightmare and he still couldn’t tell us.’ Her voice faltered. ‘And then he shot himself.’

  ‘Oh, Abbey… ’

  ‘He didn’t even make a good job of that,’ Abbey said wearily. ‘He was in a coma for months before he died. The place was a financial disaster, there wasn’t any insurance and I was pregnant. Jack was born two months after John died.’ She shrugged, putting aside a nightmare.

  ‘So the bank foreclosed and Janet and I sold up. Janet couldn’t bear to live in town. She thinks everyone is still talking about her and she can’t bear to face people or talk about John. The only person she’ll still see is your father.’

  ‘So… we bought this place, which was all we could afford-and here we are. Apart from a pile of debts which I’m slowly paying off, then we’re fine. We’re doing fine.’ She spread her hands. ‘I’m sorry. It’s the end of a rotten story.’

  Only it wasn’t Ryan looked down at those work-weary hands and knew that it wasn’t.

  ‘Are you making ends meet now?’ he asked gently, and Abbey grimaced.

  ‘We will. Apart from my medical income, we’re supplying a local cheesemaker with unpasteurised milk and…’

  ‘How many cows are you milking?’

  ‘Fifteen. That’s all the milk he wants and it’s not enough for one of the bigger dairies to adjust their collection procedures.’

  ‘Fifteen cows?’ Ryan frowned, thinking this through. ‘But that’s hardly enough to justify milking machines.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that lucky?’ Abbey managed a smile. ‘We milk by hand.’

  ‘You have to be kidding!’

  ‘No.’ Abbey sighed again. ‘Look, if we get rid of the farm entirely I think Janet will just curl up and die. She loves Jack and she loves the farm.’

  ‘Abbey, Janet’s hands… her hip…’

  ‘Yes?’ Abbey’s voice was disinterested and weary. Twenty more minutes until she had to face the cows…

  ‘Abbey, Janet’s hands are crippled with arthritis. Her hip seems even worse than her hands.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘She can’t possibly milk.’

  ‘No. I do that.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Ryan exploded. ‘You can’t milk twice a day and run a medical practice and care for a-’

  ‘What’s the choice here, Ryan?’

  Silence.

  ‘There has to be a choice,’ Ryan said at last He thought of Felicity-of what she’d say, presented with this nightmare. It didn’t bear thinking of. ‘You’ll have to buy a small house in town… ’

  ‘I told you-we can’t live in town. Janet can’t bear it. And this place was cheaper than anything within the town boundaries.’ Abbey cast a rueful glance around at the rising damp on the walls and the cracks in the plaster. ‘Much cheaper. This way-well, the cows bring in an income. Janet thinks she’s making a contribution-as indeed she is. She cares for the poultry and sells the eggs and she cares for Jack when I’m away…’

  ‘And you do all your house calls by bicycle!’

  ‘I have a car,’ Abbey said defensively. ‘I just don’t use it when I can use the bike.’

  ‘You can’t tell me you wouldn’t make more and have an easier life living in an apartment in town.’

  ‘I might,’ Abbey said evenly. ‘Jack and I could live in a flat at the back of the hospital. But where would that leave Janet?’

  ‘She’s old enough for a nursing home.’ That’s what Felicity would do, Ryan knew. Get the hell out of the mess. Abandon the old lady and leave the whole catastrophe behind her so fast you wouldn’t see her for dust.

  Silence again.

  Then Abbey shook her head, nestled her head back down on the pillows. And closed her eyes.

  ‘Go away, Ryan Henry,’ she said wearily. ‘I’d appreciate it if you would care for the medical needs of the town for the next week. I’d appreciate it very much. But that doesn’t mean I have to spend any time with you.’

  ‘Why the hell-?’

  ‘Ryan, for a minute there then you sounded just like your mother,’ Abbey told him flatly. ‘And if there’s one person in this world I could never stand it’s your mother.’

  Ryan rose, anger flooding into his face. ‘If it comes to that-’

  ‘Yeah, my mother was a slut,’ Abbey said in the same disinterested tone. ‘Your mother told me she was so you don’t need to repeat it Go away, Ryan.’

  ‘Abbey…’

  ‘Oh, leave it.’ Abbey was bone-tired and she wanted done with it The sight of this man beside her bed was doing strange things to her insides. She wanted to weep. Her leg throbbed and the world just seemed too darned hard.

  ‘Who’s milking tonight?’ Ryan’s face had closed and his tone was clipped. There was anger in his voice but also resignation. He wasn’t enjoying this one bit-but, damn, he’d do the right thing by this girl. And then he’d leave.

  ‘Who do you think?’ Abbey demanded dully. ‘Me? Me? Or maybe you think it’s me. Now go away so I can have fifteen minutes to pull myself together before I have to start.’

  ‘You can’t milk tonight.’

  ‘Well, that leaves Janet and Jack to do it for me. You choose!’

  ‘There must be someone else…’

  ‘There isn’t. Go away.’ And Abbey humped herself over and faced the wall. Good grief, she thought bleakly. She was behaving like a petulant child-but that was how Ryan made her feel. Like her life was way out of control, and her problems were exposed for all the world to see. For Ryan to see.

  She didn’t like this.

  Abbey blinked back a stupid tear. And then another.

  ‘Can Janet show me what to do?’ Ryan asked, and his voice sounded like it came from a long way off.

  Abbey sniffed and tried to focus on w
hat he’d said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I assume Janet can give me directions on how to get your cows in, and I vaguely remember milking the house cow as a boy. It’s like riding a bicycle, isn’t it? Once learned, never forgotten.’

  Ryan wasn’t a long way away at all. His hand came down and touched Abbey’s cheek, wiping tears from her long lashes. There was resignation in his voice, but also tenderness. ‘Abbey, go to sleep. I’ll go and milk your damned cows for you. And then… after that we’ll sit down and try to make some sense out of this mess!’

  ‘You don’t… You can’t…’ Abbey twisted around on the bed but Ryan’s hands held her firm.

  ‘Abbey, shut up and go to sleep,’ he said kindly. ‘I’m the senior doctor here-remember? What I say goes. Now just cut out the protests and go to sleep.’

  It was all Abbey wanted to do. It was all her body was screaming at her to do.

  She looked up into Ryan’s concerned face and for the life of her she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Or do. The morphine was blurring her edges. Muting her protests. She blinked and tried, but all that would come out was what she most wanted to say.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  And the morphine took its toll. She slept.

  Abbey woke to laughter.

  She stirred and winced and checked herself out from the toes up.

  Her leg was hurting. So was her face. Nothing too drastic, though. The dressing Ryan had put on her face was stretched-the swelling must have pulled the cover tight. She winced and adjusted it, loosening it and reapplying the sticky edges. Then she tried moving her leg.

  It didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected. The huge dressing was holding everything firm.

  She was covered by a thick quilt. It hadn’t been there when she’d gone to sleep. Janet must have come in…

  Or Ryan had put it over her.

  Abbey found herself flushing at the thought of Ryan, being beside her when she was asleep. No. It had to be Janet.

  Ryan Henry…

  He’d slammed back into her life with the force of a bulldozer and it wasn’t the knock on her head this afternoon that was making her dizzy. Ryan…