Hijacked Honeymoon Read online

  That was pretty much the opinion of the entire older population of the hospital. Ryan found he was recognised with real pleasure, and he also discovered that he liked the sensation. Very much.

  The best greeting, though, was from his father. Ryan only had to walk into his father’s room for the old man’s eyes to light up with delight.

  Double delight when he saw Abbey.

  ‘How’s the leg?’ Sam demanded, reaching out and gripping Ryan’s hand between his attached tubes. Abbey saw the gesture with resignation. Did Ryan really not realise how much his father loved him? Did he really not realise that Sam needed a lot more than duty letters from his beloved son?

  ‘Better than your heart. Sam, you have to get this by-pass,’ Abbey said bluntly.

  ‘So Ryan says. But there’s no have to about it. It’s my heart. I can do what I like with it.’

  ‘Like let it stop?’

  ‘Abbey…’

  Abbey took a deep breath. She glanced uncertainly up at Ryan and then turned her attention solely to Ryan’s father. And took a chance…

  ‘Sam, would it help if Ryan told you he’ll look after your farm while you have the operation, and that he‘ll stay until you’re on the mend again?’

  Silence.

  Ryan said nothing.

  That didn’t mean Ryan’s mind wasn’t working, though. Good grief. What was Abbey saying? Abbey was just committing him here. Committing him to stay here for a month or more.

  ‘But… Abbey, I can’t…’ he said blankly.

  ‘Of course you can’t.’ Sam’s voice was tired, and bleak, and absolutely final. ‘That’s stupid, Abbey. Ryan has his career back in the USA. He just can’t dump it to look after me. And he has this lady-Felicity isn’t it, son? Felicity won’t want to stick around here with a sick old man.’

  Felicity wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t. Felicity was an oncologist-a cancer specialist-as expert in her field as Ryan was in his. She’d had trouble slotting a honeymoon into her busy schedule anyway. To extend the honeymoon for a few weeks…

  Impossible. Impossible for both of them. Felicity was needed back at work as much as Ryan.

  But Sam was fading back into the pillows and his grip on Ryan’s hand had eased. It was as if, for a brief moment, Sam had allowed himself to show his need for his son, and now he was schooling himself to let go.

  And Abbey’s face was absolutely expressionless.

  Ryan’s gut tightened. Hell, there was only so much of this a man could take. It was an impossible thing to ask. It was impossible to stay. But… With Sam’s hand in his and Abbey looking at him like that… It was impossible for him to go.

  ‘I meant I can’t see why not,’ Ryan said strongly-roughly-and his hand tightened on his father’s, re-establishing the link. Re-establishing the need. ‘I can keep up with my research work over here. There’s articles I need to write up and I have my lap-top computer with me. I have everything I need.’

  Of course he had his lap-top with him. To go on a honeymoon without work was unthinkable.

  To stay away from work for more than two weeks was unthinkable. The reorganisation that would have to be done was unbelievable. And there was Richard Crogin to worry about. Richard was after Ryan’s job, and if Ryan was away…

  But suddenly all that mattered was the link between his father’s hand and his-and the luminous glow that was beaming straight up at him from Abbey.

  ‘You mean it?’ Abbey asked breathlessly. ‘Oh, Ryan… ’

  Ryan’s resolution firmed.

  ‘Of course I mean it.’ He looked down at his father. ‘If you agree to the surgery then I’ll stay for at least a month.’

  Sam blinked. He looked up at his son in bewilderment, and Abbey felt her delight fade. Maybe it wasn’t enough. Abbey’s own heart sank. For Ryan to promise a month… There was nothing promised for the end of that month. There was no commitment to a future for the old man in that. One month, a couple of weeks of which Sam would spend in hospital in Cairns…

  Maybe Sam still wouldn’t agree.

  But Sam was looking from Ryan to Abbey with eyes that were lightening by the minute. There was a spark of interest glowing in their depths that Abbey hadn’t seen for years.

  ‘What about your Felicity?’ Sam asked his son.

  ‘I’ll talk to Felicity,’ Ryan said heavily. ‘We might have to reorganise things.’

  ‘Put the wedding off?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Was Ryan imagining it or was there a tiny hopeful note behind Sam’s words? ‘I’ll have to talk to her. Maybe she’ll come out, we’ll get married and she’ll go back before me.’ That might be the best plan. Then, again, Felicity might decide she wanted a real honeymoon and put everything off until they could take more time away together. Which would be a year or more from now.

  It didn’t matter.

  The thought of a delay to their wedding-and its seeming irrelevance-made Ryan frown. It didn’t matter if their wedding was put off? Why?

  Never mind. He could think of Felicity later. For now there was his father’s agreement to gain. His father’s health. That was the important thing. That was why he didn’t have room to worry about Felicity.

  There couldn’t be any other reason.

  ‘You need to agree, Dad,’ he said, and met his father’s eyes directly. ‘I want you to have this surgery. The way your heart is now-well, you could have a full-blown heart attack at any minute and you could die. And I badly don’t want that to happen.’

  ‘You meant that?’

  ‘Of course I mean it.’ And he did. For twenty years Ryan had been carrying the look of his father as he and his mother had boarded the plane away from here. His father’s look had been blank, expressionless, and-Ryan had thought-uncaring.

  Abbey had told him that he was wrong to believe his father uncaring. And suddenly he believed Abbey.

  His father loved him and it was a damned good feeling. He didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose Sam now, when he had just discovered that he had a father after all. A real father. Not a pen at the end of a series of duty letters.

  And Sam was looking from Abbey to Ryan and back again.

  And smiling.

  ‘Well, I guess I’d better have that surgery after all,’ he whispered. ‘You say you’ll stay a month?’

  ‘A month.’

  ‘Well, anything can happen in a month,’ Sam said ambiguously. ‘It’s worth taking a risk on.’

  Abbey didn’t see Ryan again for another few hours. He settled her back into bed-once more refusing her request for clothes-and gave instructions for the nursing staff not to let her out of bed. Then he took himself off to do her clinic. Ryan came back into the hospital at eleven when the ambulance arrived to transport his father to Cairns, but by then Abbey was dead to the world.

  It was as if Abbey’s exhaustion of the last few months-or maybe the last few years-had finally caught up with her. That, and the shock of the accident the day before, let her sleep the sleep of the dead. Janet and Jack and her cows and farm were in safe hands. Her clinic was in Ryan’s hands. Sam was having his by-pass.

  For once all was right with her world. She slept.

  She woke briefly at lunch to find Eileen hovering over her with orders to see she ate every mouthful, and then she slept again. When she woke once more Ryan was standing over her bed, smiling down at her with satisfaction.

  ‘If you don’t wake up soon you’ll miss bedtime,’ he warned, and Abbey managed a sleepy smile.

  ‘It can’t be bedtime. No one’s bullied me into dinner yet’

  Ryan looked at his watch. ‘You’re right. It’s five-thirty. Dinner at six and bedtime at seven.’

  Abbey nodded. The idea had immediate appeal. ‘I don’t know why I’m doing this,’ she murmured. ‘It’s not like I was really hurt yesterday.’

  ‘No? You’re telling me you’re not aching in every bone in your body? Truly, Abbey?’

  Abbey stirred and checked herself out. Every b
one? Well, maybe. Every bone certainly complained.

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s only bruising.’

  ‘I know.’ Ryan touched her lightly on the cheek-a touch that sent Abbey’s senses screaming. ‘Plus the fact that you’re exhausted.’ He hauled a chair over and sat down. ‘Abbey, you can’t keep going like this,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve seen your medical workload now. This community needs two doctors-or at least one and a half. And, with Jack to care for and the farm to run, you should be the half.’

  ‘No.’ Abbey shook her head with decision. ‘No way.’

  ‘Because someone else would take over some of the limelight? Because you like being the town’s only doctor?’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ Abbey said firmly. ‘Ryan, I’d let go if I could, but finding another doctor to move to a rural area… ’

  ‘Even an area as beautiful as Sapphire Cove?’

  ‘Doctors want big hospitals and specialists on call and private schools and universities on tap for their children,’ Abbey told him. ‘I thought your mother would have drilled into you what an unsuitable place Sapphire Cove is to live. I shouldn’t have to.’

  She had. Ryan flinched.

  ‘But even so, Abbey…’

  ‘Even so, I can’t afford to work less. I have debts.’

  ‘John’s debts?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘Maybe, but I had a talk to one of your patients this afternoon,’ Ryan told her. ‘Mr Ellis. The local bank manager. He came in with shingles.’

  ‘Shingles…’ Abbey screwed up her nose, her attention diverted. ‘Oh, no. The poor man. Shingles is so painful. Did you start him on acyclovir?’ She pushed herself up on her pillows. ‘Ryan, it’ll be a new treatment since you trained. You must start him on that in the first twenty-four hours. It really does stop shingles in its tracks-quarters the time of discomfort. If you haven’t been around as a general practitioner for-’

  ‘I know all about acyclovir,’ Ryan told her, and then smiled at her look of disbelief. ‘Don’t worry. I know I’m out of touch with general practice but I’ve figured a really efficient way of sounding as if I know what I’m talking about while I’m seeing your patients. I’ve hooked up to the Internet. On the Internet I can play doctor-patient in a virtual hospital. All I have to do is type ‘shingles’ and out comes all the latest treatments and references to all the current literature. Excerpts and précis included.’

  ‘You mean you leave the patient-’

  ‘I have my lap-top computer on my desk,’ he told her smugly. ‘I tell the patient I’m recording details of their case as I go, and all the time I’m asking what the heck the latest treatment for shingles is. Then I do a fast search of Mims-on compact disc-and I find the drug dosages and brand names and everything I need to make myself sound intelligent.

  ‘Oh, and by the way.’ He smiled. ‘In case you were worrying, I rang the medical board and they’ve given me emergency registration as an interim measure.’

  ‘Oh, Ryan… ’ Abbey’s hand flew up to her mouth. ‘I forgot.’

  ‘Understandable.’ He smiled again, his lazy, caring smile that ran right through her. ‘You’re not well, Abbey. And not just because of the accident. You’ve run yourself into the ground. And Mr Ellis says-’

  ‘You shouldn’t have been discussing me with my bank manager,’ Abbey said fretfully, and Ryan shook his head.

  ‘I haven’t been discussing you with anyone. I’ve simply been listening while one patient after another has come in, berated me for knocking you off your bicycle and then told me how worried they are about you. And Mr Ellis has done more than that. He tells me the debts you’re paying off are gambling debts incurred when John was under such pressure he didn’t know what he was doing. He says he’s advised you strongly to declare yourself bankrupt, wipe the slate clean and start again.’

  ‘How can I do that?’

  ‘Simple. Find yourself a lawyer and do it. He also said you can’t lose the farm. Your home’s exempt and, with Janet and Jack living there, too, it’s doubly insured. He said you could have stayed living where you were.’

  ‘And have Jack growing up with people knowing his father owed them money he never repaid,’ Abbey said simply. ‘No, thank you. This is my problem, Ryan, and I’ll thank you to butt out of it.’ She swallowed but the expression on her face of grim determination didn’t waver. ‘Who… who else did you see in clinic?’

  And Ryan stared down, baffled. It had seemed so simple when Brian Ellis had explained it to him. Abbey should declare herself bankrupt, get rid of her debts and then find another doctor to take over at least half her workload. And Ryan could walk away with a clear conscience.

  Not yet he couldn’t. Not for a month…

  But at the end of the month? When his father was recovered from his surgery? Ryan wanted to be able to walk away from here, knowing that his friend’s security was assured. And how could he do that if she was going to be obstinate and proud and stubborn as a mule?

  But he didn’t want her any other way.

  ‘Tell me who else you saw in clinic,’ Abbey insisted, and Ryan blinked. He wasn’t used to this. He was accustomed to being in charge. To people coming to him when they were in trouble and demanding his help. Well, Abbey had accepted his help-albeit grudgingly-for a week, but not after that. And he found himself thinking how impossible it would be to live with himself, knowing he’d left her like this. Burdened with work. Burdened with debt and responsibility.

  ‘As I said, most cases I found I could handle,’ he told her, forcing his mind back to the patients he’d seen. ‘I had old Angus Harvey with an infection on his penis. Walked in and said-straight-faced, “Doc, there’s a ring round me old bloke and it ain’t lipstick”! That was the hardest part of my day, trying to keep a straight face and treat his infection at the same time…’

  ‘You sound like you enjoyed it,’ Abbey said wonderingly, and Ryan grinned.

  ‘To tell you the truth, I did. Oh, and I saw Mrs Miller. She came in to get her ulcer dressed again.’ He shook his head. ‘She must just like doctors, Abbey. The ulcer didn’t need dressing.’

  ‘Did you ask her what was worrying her?’ Abbey asked anxiously, and Ryan frowned.

  ‘I told you. She wanted her ulcer dressed.’

  ‘And I told you, there’s something else troubling Marg Miller.’ Abbey shook her head. ‘Men! You have no intuition at all. It’s not her ulcer she’s worried about. It’s her son. There’s something wrong with Ian. I’m sure of it. Mrs Miller wouldn’t worry like this for herself. He must be in some sort of trouble.’

  ‘Her son…’ Ryan frowned. ‘Ian Miller. I think I remember him. He’s my age-a bit older.’

  ‘That’s right. He’s living in Sydney.’

  ‘And you think he might be ill?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Abbey said with asperity. ‘If you’d asked, you might have found out.’

  ‘Ian’s not my patient.’

  ‘He’s not mine either. I haven’t seen him for years. But his well-being is affecting my patient and therefore I worry. That’s what a good general practitioner does.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Ryan said dryly. ‘I’m an orthopaedic surgeon, remember.’ He paused, waiting for comment. Waiting for Abbey to apologise.

  No apology was forthcoming.

  The silence stretched out to an embarrassing length. Clearly Abbey’s opinion of orthopaedic surgeons-or one orthopedic surgeon in particular-was less than flattering.

  ‘I’ll telephone her,’ Abbey said at last.

  ‘No.’ Ryan shook his head. ‘If you really think there’s something happening that’s serious then I’ll telephone and talk to her again.’

  ‘You wouldn’t consider going out there and talking to her face to face?’

  ‘Abbey!’ Ryan said explosively. ‘Don’t push me…’

  ‘I can only try.’ She ventured a teasing grin. ‘And you can only say no.’

  ‘I’ll go if I have time, but I
will telephone,’ Ryan promised, a man driven against the ropes. He sighed. ‘And you might like to know Janet’s agreed for me to replace her hip next Monday. I can organise it by then.’

  ‘Next…’ Abbey stared. ‘You mean you will do it?’

  ‘I said I’d do it. Why should you doubt me?’

  ‘But next Monday…’ Abbey frowned. ‘Ryan, it’s only Monday now. That’s a whole week away. I’ll be back working by then.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Ryan said roughly. ‘There’s been a change in plan. Janet will need at least three weeks before she can think of looking after Jack again. So… you stay home full time and look after Jack for two weeks and I organise help. We need help for me for the next two weeks and then for you when Sam comes home from hospital.’

  ‘Help?’ Abbey shook her head, dazed.

  ‘There’s a locum arriving tomorrow. Steve Pryor. I’ve rung a few contacts in Brisbane and they tell me he’s good. We’re lucky he’s free at short notice.’

  Disregarding her aching bones, Abbey sat up in bed with a jolt. ‘Ryan Henry, you can’t do this. I can’t afford-’

  ‘No, but I can.’

  ‘But I can’t!’

  ‘Abbey, it’s my job I’m sharing for a bit here,’ Ryan reminded her, ‘not yours.’

  ‘You agreed to work the week.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ryan agreed, his voice gentling. ‘And I’m not going back on that promise. ‘I promised to look after your practice for a week. But Dad’s surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow and I want to be in Cairns during his operation. And maybe for twenty-four hours afterwards.’

  ‘Oh, Ryan…’ Abbey’s face creased in distress. ‘Of course. I didn’t think of that. But I can look after things. By the day after tomorrow-’

  ‘I’ve organised tomorrow, too,’ Ryan said blandly. ‘About my honeymoon… ’

  ‘Ryan-’

  ‘Just shut up and listen,’ he told her in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘Abbey, there is no need for you to get your knickers in a knot about my arrangements. Tomorrow I’m taking you out of here and driving you to your honeymoon destination.’