Rescued By The Single Dad Doc / The Midwife's Secret Child. Fiona McArthur
things done.’
An hour later he was sitting in the rear of the evac chopper, wondering what on earth had happened.
How had it come to this?
Kit was asleep, courtesy of the strong painkillers he’d been given. The two paramedics on board were more than capable of taking care of Kit medically. Tom’s role was that of parent.
Parent.
The word still hung heavy.
He remembered the night Claire had asked him. ‘Please, Tom, will you marry me? I can’t think what else to do.’
What followed had been one marriage, three adoptions and Claire’s death, and his life had changed for ever. He sat in the helicopter looking down at one injured child, thinking he’d just dumped two others on a woman he hardly knew. This was a nightmare. And if Claire’s parents found out…
He raked his fingers through his hair, struggling to get his head around the logistics of this mess, and the paramedic next to him glanced at him in sympathy.
‘You’ve had a shock too, mate. We can set you up on the other stretcher if you like, give you a chance to close your eyes and regroup.’
It needed only this, to be treated as a patient.
But that was what he felt like at the moment, as if he’d been punched in the guts. He was so out of his depth.
Who was the woman in charge of his children? A fiery newcomer who’d judged him and found him wanting. A woman he’d met only hours before.
He had Roscoe in the background, he reminded himself, and he had Rose. They’d keep an eye on her.
But her anger stayed with him.
He looked down at Kit’s white face, at his limp little body. These kids had been through so much. And his lack of care had caused more pain… She’d been right to look at him with fury.
‘Lie down,’ the paramedic said again, gently, and he thought maybe he needed to.
He looked sick because that was how he felt.
What had she done, offering to mind two boys for days?
She didn’t get involved. Ever. What crazy impulse had led her to say she’d help out?
Medicine was what Rachel used to settle her and it was medicine she focused on now. She sat in Tom’s office and read through histories of the patients in the hospital. Five were elderly, recuperating from falls or waiting for home care arrangements. Three were here for rehab, transferred back from city hospitals, preparing to go home. One was a thirty-seven-weeks-pregnant mum with five kids at home. Tom had written in heavy letters—‘Bed rest until her sister arrives from Canada!’
The final history was that of a farmer with an infected leg after being kicked by a cow. According to the history, he was responding to antibiotics. There seemed nothing she couldn’t handle.
She did a round and introduced herself. Without exception, the patients were full of questions but she backed away fast. That was something else she’d been warned of with country medicine. ‘Everyone will know everything about you in two minutes.’
Tom Lavery already knew more about her than she was comfortable with. At least she could back away from patients before they got personal.
Roscoe found her as she saw the last one. ‘Everything’s arranged,’ he told her. ‘Christine’s feeling bad about what’s happened. Big of her, but she’s decided to be helpful. She’s moving her Aunt Rose in now. Rose will give everyone the hugs they need. The boys love her. If you can…your job is just to be there at the edges. Make sure Rose doesn’t start washing or scrubbing. She has osteoarthritis and her hip’s probably more painful than she’s letting on, but she loves the boys.’
‘That’s great,’ Rachel said, feeling relieved. ‘I can do whatever else needs to be done but the hugging is her department.’
She didn’t do hugging. Almost unconsciously, her fingers drifted to one of the bands of scar tissue she could still feel around her upper arms. After twenty-eight years she didn’t know how to hug. She didn’t know how to love, and she had no intention of trying.
So now what?
‘Roy Matheson’s outside, checking the damage to your car,’ Roscoe told her. ‘Tom must have phoned him. All he needs is your keys and he reckons he’ll have her good as new in no time. Here are Doc’s keys for Moby Dick. We’ll call you back if we need you. Meanwhile, you go and do what you have to do.’ He hesitated. ‘You know how grateful we all are that you’re doing this? It’s really generous.’
‘I hardly had a choice.’ She couldn’t help it; her voice sounded waspish.
‘You could have refused. We’d have found a way. This is a tight community. If you hadn’t offered we’d have muddled through somehow. No one’s left in the lurch here. We care.’
And why did that make her feel weird?
Her childhood. The loneliness.
No one’s left in the lurch here.
Enough. She gave herself a mental shake and took the proffered car keys. She needed to find… Moby Dick? She also needed to figure out the boundaries of the next few days.
For boundaries had to be set, she told herself. Boundaries were what she lived within.
She could do this.
But at the back of her mind a question was niggling. She’d wanted to ask Roscoe but her boundaries had stopped her.
These were Tom’s stepsons—what on earth was a man doing with three kids who weren’t his own?
Hadn’t he heard of boundaries?
THREE DAYS LATER the medevac chopper deposited Tom and a recuperating Kit back home, on the landing pad three hundred metres from Shallow Bay Hospital.
They’d arrived earlier than Tom had expected. Air transfer was available only in emergencies. Transfer home to Shallow Bay wasn’t classified as an emergency. That meant Tom had been trying to decide whether to hire a car or wait for road ambulance transfer. However, on Monday morning a scuba diver had come up too fast after a dive south of Shallow Bay. Worse, he’d gone diving alone. He was in extremis when his friends found him and he’d died before they’d found somewhere with enough mobile coverage to ring emergency services.
The coroner needed the body and the coroner was in Sydney. Thus the chopper was on its way, but there was no rush. The crew who’d taken Tom and Kit to Sydney had kept tabs on where Kit’s treatment was up to. Kit’s hand was stable, with no more need for specialist intervention. They’d been offered a ride back.
Thus they rode back in style, arriving at Shallow Bay mid-morning. Tom emerged from the chopper and lifted Kit down after him. A still shaky Kit stood by his side until Roscoe drove up to meet them.
‘Hey!’ he boomed in greeting, and Tom was aware of a wash of relief at the sight of his friend’s broad smile, at the hug Roscoe was giving Kit. ‘It’s great to see you, mate,’ he told Kit and then he straightened and grinned at Tom. ‘And you too.’ Tom’s hand was enveloped; the hold was tantamount to a hug, and Tom felt better for it. ‘It’s great to have you back.’
‘The place hasn’t fallen apart without us?’ Tom took Kit’s good hand and held on because the little boy was still shaky. His