To the Doctor: A Daughter Page 6

  ‘I’ll take steps…’

  ‘What steps? You’ll marry Donna?’

  ‘I haven’t made up my mind about that,’ he said with a wounded dignity that still contained a trace of lurking laughter. ‘I’m working on it.’

  ‘By asking me to stay?’

  ‘No.’ And he was serious then. ‘No. I spent a large part of last night awake…’

  ‘As you would when you’ve just found out you’re a father.’

  He ignored her. ‘And I thought about you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You need to look after yourself.’

  ‘And I’ll do it by becoming a country doctor?’

  ‘There are worse fates. It’d give Cady the childhood he’s missing out on now.’

  ‘He’s not missing out…’

  ‘Gemma, face facts. He’s a little boy with special needs. More special now that he’s a diabetic. He’s lost his mum, as far as I know he doesn’t have a dad-all he has is you and you’re spending your life making enough money to support him. But if you moved here… Gemma, you could cut back your hours. Cady would be just through the door while you worked. Every time you stopped for a cup of coffee he’d be here. Mrs McCurdle would love him to bits-and he wouldn’t need to be separated from his baby sister.’

  She glared even harder at that, latching onto his last point like a terrier to a bone. ‘I might have known we’d get back to Mia.’

  ‘She is Cady’s half-sister,’ he said gently. ‘You need to face it.’

  ‘But…’ She shook her head, trying to clear the gathering fog. ‘I don’t want to be a country doctor.’

  ‘Don’t you? Have you ever thought about it?’

  ‘No. I-’

  ‘You know, it’s not such a bad life. I came down for a few weeks to help Graham out-that was six years ago and I’m still here.’

  ‘I don’t-’

  ‘You don’t know.’ Nate smiled, his all-enveloping smile that had her heart doing things it had no business doing. ‘Tell you what. Why don’t you get yourself dressed, come out and join us for breakfast and then I’ll take you on a tour? We’ll go from there. One step at a time, Dr Campbell. What about it?’

  And he smiled again and walked out of the room.

  Join us for breakfast…

  Join who?

  Gemma had a long shower and tried to make her muddled mind process her overload of problems.

  She’d lost her job. But, facing facts, with Margot’s attitude that had been inevitable, and if Nate’s lawyer friend could win her compensation that would be nothing but relief for the time being.

  She’d have to work somewhere.

  Alan?

  Leave Alan out of it, she told herself harshly. He hadn’t been near since Fiona’s death and, please, God, he’d stay away.

  He’d know by now that she’d quit. He knew everything…

  Ignore Alan!

  She’d have to move. So why not move here?

  Cady would love it.

  Her heart twisted when she thought of her little boy. He’d had it so tough. He’d had a couple of years of living with Fiona-and Alan-where he’d had nothing but neglect. And then he’d come to live with her and…

  Damn, she should have noticed the diabetes. Had medicine taught her nothing?

  She closed her eyes, going over and over the last few weeks. In hindsight the diagnosis was so obvious.

  He’d love it here. This was a great place for him to regain his health.

  Could she work here?

  Join us for breakfast. Nate’s throw-away line played in her head. Again and again.

  Join who? Nate and Donna?

  She couldn’t live here with the pair of them. The idea was ridiculous. And how would it fit with Mia?

  She’d be an unpaid nanny, she thought, because if Nate and his precious Donna didn’t love Mia to bits then she’d be forced to step in and take her back. She knew she would.

  She’d tried hard not to admit it to herself but she knew the truth. Despite her resentment at the hand fate had played her, she loved the baby already.

  Damn. Damn, damn and damn. She towel-dried her hair with a viciousness that brought tears to her eyes. How dared they put her in this situation? Fiona and Nate and Donna. How could they ask the impossible?

  She tugged on her jeans and T-shirt. Heck, they were already travel-stained but she had nothing else to wear. She pulled back her curls into the same frayed ribbon and turned to face the mirror.

  Her reflection stared back. She was big-eyed and her eyes were still shadowed with fatigue. And grief. Still there from Fiona’s death. There’d been so little time for grieving. She was waif-thin. Her jeans were at least a size too big and her T-shirt could be any size at all.

  ‘Why on earth is he offering you a job?’ she asked her reflection. ‘You’re hardly desirable.

  ‘He doesn’t want anyone desirable. He wants a medical degree and a mothercraft nurse. You’re perfect. He 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.

  ‘Why are you an anaesthetist?’ Nate asked again, and she paused, bit into her toast and forced herself to stop panicking-stop feeling like she was being unduly pressured-and think.

  ‘I’m good at it.’

  ‘Is that the only reason?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well?’

  Leaving Alan out of it-why else? Why?

  ‘I…I run a pain clinic,’ she said hesitantly. ‘At Sydney Central. It seemed an important thing to do.’ And it was true. The pain clinic gave her an enormous amount of satisfaction. Maybe not as much as family medicine could, but it kept Alan happy. Or…maybe happy was too strong a word. It kept him off her back.

  And it was a response that pleased the two men questioning her. ‘I knew it.’ Nate’s voice rose on a note of triumph. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he demanded of Graham. He turned back to Gemma. ‘So you didn’t go into anaesthetics to make money?’

  Anger surged-because his question had just enough truth in it to sting. But she wasn’t admitting that. ‘Why should you think I’m in it for the money? I’m good at what I do-and I enjoy it.’

  ‘I’ll bet you are.’

  ‘And I’ve always been interested in pain relief.’ She hesitated but then continued. ‘My grandpa… He died of bone metastases and his pain control was less than perfect. I thought…well, after he died I had to make a choice about specialising and I thought maybe I could make a difference.’ And as soon as she’d decided on anaesthetics there had been Alan-and no possibility of backing out.

  But Nate had moved on. ‘We could set up a pain clinic here.’ His tone was triumphant. ‘Gemma, this district…we feed to Blairglen but the district itself is huge. If you were to set up a pain clinic here you’d have half a practice without even advertising. If you’re prepared to do home visits the local hospice nurses would fall on your neck.’

  ‘But I don’t want-’

  ‘Don’t want what? Do you really like living in the city?’ he demanded, and his question almost took her breath away.

  Did she like the city? She’d never thought about it.

  She’d been raised in Sydney’s inner suburbs. By the time she’d had a choice about leaving, her grandfather had been ill and depending on her. And then there had been Fiona… And Alan. And Cady.

  ‘You’ve never given it a shot.’ Nate’s tone was still exultant. ‘Hell, Gemma, you can do as much good here as in the city. More. A competent anaesthetist who’s interested in pain relief… You can’t leave. You can’t.’

  ‘She can,’ Graham said dryly without raising his voice. ‘Leave the girl be, Nate. You’re pushing too hard.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are. Make Gemma some coffee.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘Slow down, Nate.’ The doctor’s old eyes were warm and understanding. ‘Gemma, don’t look like that. Like we’re holding you prisoner and throwing away the key. We’re not.’

  ‘But-’

  ‘But we’re asking you to give us a chance.’ His smile was exactly the same as his nephew’s. Magnetic in its warmth. ‘Give this place a try. Nate says you’re without a job and your little nephew needs a chance to recover.’

  ‘He needs the city,’ she said, distressed. ‘A paediatrician…’

  ‘If you’ll trust us then we can help there,’ the old doctor said gently, and she frowned.

  ‘You?’

  ‘I may be seventy-six but I’m not useless and neither is Nate.’ He saw her uncertainty and went on without giving her a chance to voice her doubts. ‘I’m a diabetic myself and I have been for fifty years. There’s nothing like suffering a complaint yourself for focusing the mind on current research-and as my health has deteriorated Nate’s knowledge has grown. There’s not a lot about current diabetic practice that Nate doesn’t know, and we hav
e friends who specialise in paediatric diabetes who are on the end of the phone. We know enough to call them when we need them.’

  Gemma didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to hurt their feelings but…

  ‘We’ll have Jacob Burt call you,’ Nate told her.

  ‘Jacob…’ She knew Jacob. He was one of Sydney Central’s leading paediatricians and she knew he was an internationally acknowledged leader in paediatric diabetic management. It was Jacob she’d been thinking of when she’d said she had to get Cady back to Sydney.

  ‘Graham’s travelled up to Sydney once a fortnight for thirty years and now I’ve taken over,’ Nate told her, seeing her doubts. ‘We’ve been part of Jacob’s research team. It’s been damnably difficult with Graham ill-finding the time-but it’s the one link with the outside medical world we’ve fought to retain. But you don’t need to take our word for it. I rang Jacob last night to check that I was doing the right thing, and if you like I’ll have Jacob call you to confirm it.’

  This was the truth. She met Nate’s look and she knew without a doubt that Jacob would confirm every word that she’d just heard.

  There were diabetic experts right here. That meant that for a short while-just while she got her bearings, or at least until Alan interfered-she could stay here.

  She could be a part of this.

  She looked around her-at the two men watching her with grave courtesy. At the baby sleeping steadily in her crib. At the flickering firelight and the snoozing dog.

  They were asking her to be part of it.

  As Fiona had been.

  Fiona had been a fool.

  ‘Stay for a couple of weeks,’ Nate said softly. ‘Give us a trial.’

  Damn, he was smiling that smile again. The smile that had had Fiona deciding she wanted his baby. The smile that could break a woman’s heart just by-

  No! She wasn’t going down that road. She had more sense.

  She could try it out. Just for two weeks. Alan would surely grant her that. And then she could walk away.

  They were both watching her. Waiting.

  And suddenly it was easy.

  ‘For a couple of weeks? Yes, please,’ she said, and as she smiled back at the pair of them she thought, What on earth have I done?