Книга - A Mother for His Baby

A Mother for His Baby
Leah Martyn






‘Jo will look after you now,’ she heard Angelo say, and then Brady had taken a step inside.

Jo turned to face him, her arms linked defensively across her midriff. She blinked, and something shifted inside her as she took in the tender picture of Brady and his infant son.

He held him close, tucked into the crook of his arm, one large, masculine hand cradling his son’s tiny feet. And they looked so right together. Already a family. Jo felt a wash of emotion she couldn’t explain.

‘Jo.’ Brady’s mouth made a brief twist of acknowledgment.

‘Hello, Brady.’


BACHELOR DADS

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At work they are skilled medical professionals, but at home, as soon as they walk in the door, these eligible bachelors are on full-time fatherhood duty!

These devoted dads still find room in their lives for love…

It takes very special women to win the hearts of these dedicated doctors, and a very special kind of caring to make these single fathers full-time husbands!




A Mother for His Baby


Leah Martyn




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


Chapter One (#ua51e4e79-481f-5d80-bf5d-ffa01b3dadd7)

Chapter Two (#ucf26804c-d47b-5925-9c38-015690d24b73)

Chapter Three (#u87a912b0-0127-5dfa-91df-b01a71a55007)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)


Leah Martyn loves to create warm, believable characters for the Medical Romance™ series. She is grounded firmly in rural Australia, and the special qualities of the bush are reflected in her stories. For plots and possibilities, she bounces ideas off her husband on their early-morning walks. Browsing in bookshops and buying an armful of new releases is high on her list of enjoyable things to do.

Recent titles by the same author:

DR CHRISTIE’S BRIDE

THE BUSH DOCTOR’S RESCUE

CHRISTMAS IN THE OUTBACK

THE DOCTOR’S MARRIAGE


For Marina


CHAPTER ONE

‘I FORGOT to ask.’ Jo stopped abruptly and caught Fliss’s arm. ‘Who’s the best man?’

‘Brady McNeal. Friend of the groom. He’s a doctor.’

‘At least half the wedding guests are,’ Jo said with pithy humour. ‘Is he local?’

‘McNeal? Don’t think so. Someone said he’s just arrived back from overseas. If you’d been at Sophie’s hen party you’d have heard all about him.’

‘Well, if I hadn’t been on holidays I would have been there.’

‘Our little gang of three is breaking up, isn’t it?’ Fliss sounded a note of regret. ‘Seems only last week when we graduated. And now Soph and Ben are relocating to Sydney, you’re stuck in your rural practice at Mt Pryde and I’m the only one left here.’

‘Hey, you, don’t get maudlin.’ Jo gave Fliss’s shoulder a little squeeze. ‘We’ll have to organise a regular get-together or something.’

Fliss’s face lit up. ‘We could do that, couldn’t we? Either in Sydney or here in Brisbane.’

‘Or you could both come to me.’

Fliss rolled her eyes.

‘For heaven’s sake!’ Jo remonstrated laughingly. ‘Mt Pryde is barely a two-hour drive from the city’.

‘Honey, two minutes from the city and I get withdrawal symptoms. The sticks aren’t for me. But I know you love it there,’ Fliss placated her friend quickly. ‘I just don’t know what on earth you find to do. And how could you possibly meet any men!’

Jo shook her head, giving the silk wrap over her bare shoulders a little straightening twitch. They’d been down this road a dozen times. Fliss loved the buzz of working in a state-of-the-art city clinic where they specialised in sports medicine, while she herself relished the grass-roots nature of medicine in a country practice where everyone knew the doctors and the doctors knew one another’s patients almost as well as their own families.

‘Oh, look!’ Fliss gave a muted squeal. ‘Here’s the bride now. Oh, bless…Doesn’t she look gorgeous?’

‘Yes.’ Jo’s reply was soft but heartfelt as she watched Sophie, on the arm of her father, moving slowly towards them along the paved walkway for her wedding to her soul-mate, Ben Landers.

Would she ever be so lucky? Jo wondered. At thirty-two she’d had several relationships but they hadn’t lasted and she certainly hadn’t met a man she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life with, laugh with, have babies with. But Sophie and Ben had it all.

‘Let’s get a bit closer.’ Fliss hooked her arm through Jo’s and manoeuvred them to within smiling distance of the groom and his best man, who were standing with the marriage celebrant against the backdrop of rainforest in the Brisbane botanic gardens.

Seeing them, Ben grinned and mock-swiped his brow in a thank heavens she’s here kind of gesture.

‘As if,’ Fliss mouthed, and made a small face back at the bridegroom.

Jo caught none of the interplay between the two. Her eyes were riveted on the best man. Brady McNeal was all male. Impressive height with broad shoulders delineated by the superbly cut charcoal suit. And not bad-looking either.

There was a moment when he turned his dark head towards Jo and smiled. A smile that was wry, slightly lopsided, and was gone in a blink.

The fact that it sent slivers of warmth to every corner of her body was immaterial. Jo dipped her head, convinced her cheeks were on fire and thanking heaven no one had noticed. Instead, all eyes were on the bride as she took her place beside her groom and slipped her hand into his.

* * *

‘Wasn’t it a lovely ceremony?’ Fliss sighed. ‘I think I’d like something just like that.’

‘Someone in mind?’ Jo said jokingly, as they trotted along on their higher than high heels up the street towards the restaurant where the reception was to be held.

‘Mind your own, Josephine.’

‘So there is!’ Jo dug her friend in the ribs. ‘You drama queen. Who is he?’

‘Daniel,’ Fliss said airily. ‘He’s a pilot.’

‘Well that makes a change. Why isn’t he with you?’

‘He’s overnighting to Perth or he would have been.’

‘Oh, well, that just leaves me unattached,’ Jo said philosophically.

Fliss sent her an arch look. ‘Plenty of eye candy amongst the guest list, babe. What about Brady McNeal?’

Jo felt heat scorch her cheeks. ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘According to the goss, he’s single.’ Fliss waggled well-shaped brows suggestively.

‘And I’ll be miles away from here by this time tomorrow,’ Jo pointed out in exasperation. ‘Get real.’

‘She who hesitates…’ Fliss trilled.

‘Oh, ha,’ Jo said in a bored voice. ‘Look, here we are.’ Grabbing Fliss by the elbow, she steered them off the street into the up-market restaurant.

* * *

Brady McNeal looked around him. The reception was in full swing, the hum of conversation filling the small, intimate restaurant. It had been a nice wedding and he’d enjoyed himself more than he’d expected to.

He hadn’t really known anyone except Ben. And Sophie he’d met only recently. But they’d managed to sort him out and he’d met most of their friends—except the cool-looking blonde he’d made eye contact with in the gardens.

When Sophie had dragged him over to their table to ‘meet the guys’ as she’d termed it, the blonde had been at another table, in a huddle with Sophie’s parents and with her back to him.

Well, what did it matter anyway? He was miles away from pursuing a new relationship. That possibility had gone out the window months ago. When Tanya had simply walked away from him.

Leaving him to pick up the pieces of the life they could have had together.

In his more fanciful moments, Brady likened the hurt she’d left behind to a thorn embedded so deeply it could never be removed. He could only hope that one day enough scar tissue would have formed over the hurt so that he barely felt it any more.

And maybe someday he’d find someone special to share his life with. And maybe not. Oh, hell, it was all too difficult, he thought, pulling back the sleeve of his white shirt to glance at his watch.

His mouth compressed slightly. Another couple of hours should see his official duties here ended and he could decently make his exit.

And next week he would begin a new phase of his life. The small rural town with its ring of blue mountains was calling him. He just hoped and prayed he’d made the right decision.

* * *

The newlyweds had left the reception and the farewells were still echoing in Jo’s head as she made her way swiftly along the city block to the parking station.

Some of the guests were going on to a nightclub and Fliss had tried to coax her along, but Jo had declined. She had to drive back to Mt Pryde early the next day to be ready for surgery on Monday.

Saturday night revellers spilled out of a pub, jostling each other, and Jo sidestepped quickly out of the way. After only a couple of nights in the city, she was longing for the relative tranquillity of her country lifestyle.

Crossing the street to where the deserted high-rise buildings lent a somewhat eerie feel to the atmosphere, Jo shivered slightly, taking a tighter grip on the strap of her little beaded shoulder-bag. It was then she became aware someone was following closely behind.

She quickened her steps, relieved to see the neon sign of the parking station up ahead. I don’t need this, she said silently, increasing her pace until she was almost running.

‘Hey!’ A deep voice rang out behind her. ‘It’s OK. I’m from Ben and Sophie’s wedding party—Brady McNeal.’

Spinning round Jo put her hand to her heart. ‘Oh—it is you.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ Brady’s dark gaze homed in on her sudden pallor. ‘You OK?’

Jo managed a weak smile, feeling slightly foolish. ‘I will be now I know I’m not about to be mugged. We didn’t get to meet at the wedding,’ she added breathlessly, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Jo.’

‘Hi.’ Brady took her hand. ‘You’re the third doctor.’

Jo blinked. ‘Sorry?’

He grinned. ‘Sophie mentioned the gang of three. You, she and Fliss. You all trained together, didn’t you?’

‘Ah…yes. We’ve been friends for ages. And you’re a friend of Ben’s, I take it?’

He nodded. ‘We trained together, too.’

Jo gave a little laugh. ‘This is all a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?’

Brady’s smile was slow and a bit lopsided. ‘Perhaps we were destined to meet.’

Jo took a small step backwards, clasping the silk of her wrap more tightly across her chest. Was this a chat-up line? ‘Are you parked nearby?’ she countered awkwardly.

Well, he’d stuffed that up nicely. Brady had seen the sudden defensiveness hazing her green eyes. ‘I’m collecting my car from the parking station,’ he said briskly. ‘I imagine you’re on the same errand?’

‘Yes.’ Jo licked her lips, her heart thumping and pattering. They began walking again. ‘Are you just in town for the wedding?’ she asked conversationally.

‘My movements are a bit fluid at the moment.’

Well, that seemed to be that. Jo scrabbled in her purse for her parking receipt. ‘I’m on the third floor,’ she said, assuming they would say their goodbyes.

‘Me, too.’ Brady summoned the lift and waited for her to get in.

In the few seconds while the lift groaned its way upwards, the silence was awkward. Keeping her gaze carefully averted, Jo took a sneaky look at Brady McNeal as he hooked his suit jacket over his shoulder and slouched against the opposite wall of the lift. Nice eyes, she thought, and cheekbones to die for, and the snug fit of his suit trousers indicated a pair of long, muscular legs. She was still fanatisising when the lift jerked to a stop.

‘I’ll walk with you to your car.’ He took her elbow firmly as they vacated the lift. ‘These places are spooky at the best of times.’

And she was parked at the very end of a long, long row of vehicles. ‘Perhaps we should have both taken cabs in the first place,’ she suggested on a laugh made brittle by a flood of nerves when his guiding hand on her elbow slid down to entwine her fingers in his.

It was the lightest contact, casual and probably without meaning, yet Jo was suddenly, vividly aware of Brady’s masculinity. For an instant some maverick part of her longed for him to stop and whirl her into his arms. Hold her close. Kiss her…

‘Nah.’ Brady vetoed the idea of taxis with a huff of amusement. ‘I prefer to have my own wheels handy. You can never find a cab when you need one.’

‘And there always seem to be twenty people in line before you,’ she agreed, in a voice that was too high and too bright. ‘It was a nice wedding, wasn’t it?’ Determined to keep up the innocuous chatter, Jo changed conversation channels quickly.

‘Uh, yes, it was. Let’s hope they can stay the distance.’

‘Of course they will. They’re dotty about each other.’

The corners of Brady’s mouth tucked in on a small grimace. ‘There are valid reasons to go into marriage other than being dotty about each other, Jo.’

‘Reasons like money or position?’ Jo couldn’t keep the faint note of censure out of her voice.

Brady was taken aback. They weren’t his reasons at all. Would never be. His reasons were entirely personal. Way too personal to share with someone he’d just met. Even someone as delectable as the lady by his side.A slow, fence-mending smile edged his mouth. ‘No. Speaking personally, I’d never want to marry someone for those reasons.’

It was said with obvious sincerity and Jo felt her heart warm again. She managed a fleeting smile. ‘I wouldn’t either. Ah…’ She pointed ahead. ‘That’s my car at the end, the white hatchback.’

Brady looked at the gleaming paintwork and grinned. ‘Been through the carwash for the occasion, has it?’

‘Something like that. But by this time tomorrow it’s bound to be nice and dusty again,’ she predicted ruefully.

Brady’s dark brows peaked. ‘You don’t work here in the city, then?’

‘Haven’t for ages. I love my relatively quiet existence in a country practice. What about you?’

Brady released her hand abruptly as they came to a halt beside her car. ‘For the moment I’m staying with my parents at Bardon. Taking off to a new job shortly.’

‘Well, good luck, then.’ Hurriedly, Jo delved into her bag again for her keys. Unlocking the door of the car, she stood back for a second. ‘It was…nice meeting you, Brady,’ she said, a bit stiltedly.

‘You, too.’ He stretched in front of her to open the door of the car. His shoulder nudged her arm and the side of her breast before she could step out of the way.

‘Thanks.’ Jo’s thoughts were in wild disarray as she slid into the driver’s seat. Suddenly, everything that was male about Brady had assailed her. Everything from the clean crisp smell of apple-scented laundry softener on his shirt to the subtle male aftershave on his jaw as he’d swooped across her to open the door. ‘Take care, then,’ she said from behind the safe haven of her wound-down window.

‘And you.’ Brady sketched a casual salute, before turning away.

Jo watched as Brady loped back along the row of parked cars and then dodged through the line, obviously to collect his own vehicle.

What was it all about? She gnawed her lip thoughtfully. Perhaps they’d meet up again one day. After all, they had friends in common. The thought wasn’t too far-fetched. Jo shivered involuntarily and admitted she would have liked the chance to get to know Brady McNeal better. A whole lot better.

* * *

He should have asked for her phone number. Brady started the engine of his car and shot towards the exit sign. He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. Hell, he didn’t even know her surname. But Sophie would. His heart somersaulted.

Was he ready for even the most tenuous kind of relationship, though? But in terms of area, Queensland was a vast state. For all he knew, Jo’s country practice could be at the opposite end of the state from where he was going. But they could always email. Relationships had been sustained by much less personal contact. His hopes rose briefly and then flagged. Best forget it. Forget Jo with the tiny freckles across her nose and the very sweet way she smiled.

Get real, he admonished himself silently. What woman in her right mind would want you and your baggage, McNeal?

* * *

The morning at Mt Pryde Medical Centre began to unfold like a typical Monday. Even before Jo had time to stow her case and switch on her computer, Angelo Kouras, one of the partners, poked his head in.

‘Welcome back, stranger. Nice holiday?’

‘The best.’ Jo’s parents ran a bed and breakfast in North Queensland and it was her idea of the perfect holiday; with her mother’s fabulous cooking, her dad’s extensive wine cellar and nothing to do but swim and snorkel, day in and day out.

‘Good trip back?’

‘No dramas. What about here?’

‘A few, but we handled them.’ Angelo tilted a wry smile. ‘Ah, staff meeting at one o’clock, Jo. I’ve asked Monica to cater lunch. We’ve serious business to discuss.’

Jo frowned. Was a patient about to sue? Or were they simply running out of funding? ‘What’s up?’

Angelo came in and closed the door. ‘Ralph’s decided to retire.’

‘What—just like that?’

‘Said he’s been thinking about it for a while. And Lilian’s keen to relocate to Brisbane to be near the grandchildren apparently.’

Jo’s mind began racing. She hated these kinds of changes. They’d have to advertise for a new partner, cull the applicants, make a short-list, interview…She clicked her tongue. ‘I’ve only been out of the place for a month and all this happens.’

Angelo parked himself on the corner of her desk. ‘Ralph dropped his bombshell on Tom and me the day after you’d left on holidays. So at least we’ve had a bit of time to get cracking. Got some ads in pronto.’

‘Any luck?’

‘Six replies. We knocked it down to a short-list of three and selected someone. Sorry, you weren’t here for the interviews but I think you’ll be happy with our choice. He’s been working in rural medicine in Canada for the past couple of years. Seemed to latch on pretty quickly to what we wanted here. And he wants to put down roots.’ Angelo grinned. ‘And the best part is he’s had experience in anaesthetics, which will no doubt please Pen.’

Jo nodded. Angelo’s wife, Penny, was the sole fully qualified anaesthetist at the local hospital and was constantly on call. Still, Jo felt slightly miffed that they’d gone ahead and made the selection without her. Her chin came up in query. ‘Does this paragon have a name?’

‘Brady McNeal. He trained at the Prince Alfred in Melbourne. Excellent CV.’

Jo felt the wind knocked out of her, dropping into her chair as though her strings had been cut. ‘Brady McNeal’s coming to work here?’

Angelo’s dark eyes blinked a bit behind his steel-framed spectacles. ‘Well…yes. Is there a problem?’

Make it a thousand. Jo’s thoughts were spinning. ‘It’s just odd, that’s all.’ She gave a jagged laugh. ‘I actually met Dr McNeal at my friend’s wedding on Saturday. He was the best man.’

‘You’re kidding!’ Angelo’s head rocked back in disbelief. ‘And he didn’t mention his appointment to Mt Pryde at all?’

Jo made a gesture with the palm of her hand. ‘I spoke to him only briefly after the wedding. We’d left our cars at the same parking station and walked along together.’

‘Odd he didn’t make the connection, though. I mean, he was made aware Josephine Rutherford was our female member of the practice.’

Except she’d introduced herself merely as Jo.

‘And we certainly made a point of telling him you’d have been at his interview, except you were on leave,’ Angelo went on.

Jo switched her gaze from Angelo’s puzzled face to her framed medical certificate on the wall behind him. ‘I don’t think I used my surname.’

‘Ah, that would explain it.’ Angelo looked relieved.

‘So, when is Dr McNeal joining us?’

‘Officially next Monday. But he’ll be here today to sign a contract with us and I believe he wants to organise a child-minder for his son.’ Angelo slid to his feet. ‘I know you have an interest in paeds and you’re up to date with the child-care facilities in the town, so I told him you’d be the best person to help him with that,’ he added ingenuously.

So the man was obviously married. Jo pushed back a sick kind of resentment. He certainly hadn’t acted married—giving her all that attention in the car park. Holding her hand, for heaven’s sake! Yet she wouldn’t have put him down as a sleaze either.

It was puzzling and disappointing. She’d hoped…well, what had she hoped? She felt her throat close and swallowed. ‘Is…his wife coming along with him today?’

Angelo’s mouth compressed for a second. ‘There’s no wife, Jo. Brady is a single father. Not unheard of in this day and age—even in Mt Pryde.’

Jo gathered herself, feeling she’d just fallen down a cliff and now had to scramble back up. ‘When am I to have this meeting with him, then?’

‘Three o’clock this afternoon. Vicki will reschedule your list as much as possible. Anything else, I’ll cover for you, OK?’

Well, it had to be, didn’t it? Jo got to her feet and walked Angelo to the door. ‘I’d like to, um, glance through Dr McNeal’s CV, acquaint myself with his background a bit before we meet, if that’s all right?’

‘Of course. See Monica. We can have your input, then, at the meeting. The sooner we get things sorted, the better.’

With Angelo gone, Jo sank onto the edge of her desk, aware of the faint trembling in her fingers as she picked up her mail. She couldn’t help but wonder what Dr Brady McNeal’s reaction would be when they came face to face again.


CHAPTER TWO

ALMOST in a daze, Jo sorted haphazardly through her mail, finding countless brochures from various drug companies and several postcards from friends who were holidaying overseas. Anything connected with her patients would have already been dealt with by one of the other partners.

She consigned the junk mail to the bin and then, resolving to make her first day back as normal as possible, she made her way along the corridor to the staffroom. Vicki, their receptionist, was busily making coffee, humming cheerily to herself, when Jo walked in.

‘One of those for me?’

‘Oh—hi, Jo! You’re back!’ Vicki clattered mugs on to the benchtop and spun round. ‘How was the Barrier Reef?’

‘Fabulous as always. You’ll have to treat yourself and go some time.’

Vicki looked coy. ‘Actually, I might just do that—and sooner rather than later. Ta-da!’ She held out her left hand. ‘Jared and I got engaged. Getting married at Easter.’

‘Oh, my stars! Congratulations!’ Jo admired the three beautiful little diamonds set on their band of white gold and then wrapped Vicki in a hug. ‘Are we all invited?’

‘Of course, silly.’

‘Just everything’s happened since I’ve been away,’ Jo grumbled, pouring her coffee and adding a dollop of milk.

‘I know…’ Vicki said seriously. ‘Ralph’s leaving. I wonder how the new doctor will fit in?’

Jo shrugged. ‘Time will tell, I guess. Thanks for the coffee, Vic.’

‘Welcome.’

Jo took herself along to Reception. ‘Good morning, Monica,’ she said, greeting their practice manager with a smile.

‘Jo. Good to have you back.’ Monica looked slightly harassed. ‘I take it you’ve heard the news about Ralph?’

Jo nodded. ‘Angelo filled me in. I wanted to look over the new doctor’s CV before my meeting with him. Do you have it handy?’

Monica picked up some paperwork from the in-tray. ‘Yes, I do. Come through. It’s good they found a suitable replacement so quickly,’ she said, unlocking her cabinet and handing Jo the file. ‘The place couldn’t function indefinitely with one doctor down. The workload would be difficult to say the least.’

‘It certainly would,’ Jo agreed. ‘Talking about workloads, I’d better check on my patient list.’

Jo’s first patient for the day was Nora Burows. The elderly lady had an extremely fair complexion and years of working outdoors on the family farm had resulted in severe sun damage to her face and arms. Nora was listed for an excision of a scaly lesion on the side of her throat.

With the rate of skin cancer in Australia the highest in the world, Jo wasn’t about to take any chances. She’d need to send a sample of the damaged skin to the lab. A biopsy would be carried out and hopefully, for her patient’s sake, would return a benign result.

But the depletion of the ozone layers around the world was a real concern. Jo guessed in the not-too-distant future medical officers would be seeing a dramatic increase in the incidence of melanomas.

She buzzed through to their practice nurse in the treatment room. ‘Marika, has Mrs Burows arrived yet?’

‘I have her settled and we’re ready to go when you are.’

‘Right. I’m on my way.’

Jo pushed back the pale blue curtain and greeted her patient, who was lying on the treatment couch. ‘Good morning, Nora. Ready for your op?’

‘As I’ll ever be, Doctor.’ Nora’s lashes around her pale blue eyes fluttered briefly.

‘Now, you haven’t got yourself all worked up, have you? We’ve been through a few of these together.’

Nora’s throat convulsed as she swallowed. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier, though, Dr Rutherford.’

‘I know.’ Jo patted her shoulder. ‘So, we’ll get rid of this nasty little number for you and you can be on your way.’

Jo double-checked her patient’s notes. Nora’s blood pressure was a touch low but otherwise she enjoyed reasonable health.

‘Right, let’s get started. Would you drape, please, Marika?’

Gowned and gloved, Jo expertly drew up lignocaine and slowly began infiltrating the skin around the lesion. ‘This will pack quite a strong effect, Nora,’ she warned. ‘You’ll feel some numbing around your ear and lower jaw.’ While she waited for the local to take effect, Jo became aware of Nora’s sudden rapid breathing and felt a tinge of alarm. ‘Are you OK under there, Nora?’

‘I don’t think I am, Doctor. My tummy’s all queasy…’

‘Marika, get her feet up, please,’ Jo directed sharply.

In a second Marika had slid several pillows under Nora’s lower legs and begun to sponge her face.

‘Your body is reacting to the anaesthetic, Nora,’ Jo said gently. ‘Did you eat breakfast?’

‘Just a cup of tea.’

‘Perhaps your blood sugar’s a bit low. Just take some deep breaths and try to relax. That’s good, sweetheart. There’s no hurry. We’ll wait until you’re feeling OK again.’

Nora was still shaky when the procedure was finished. ‘Lie there for a while,’ Jo instructed, ‘and then Marika will help you sit up. But very slowly, mind. And dangle your legs over the side for a while until you’re feeling stronger. Now, is someone with you?’

Nora clasped her thin hands across her chest. ‘My daughter’s outside in the waiting room.’

‘Good. I think we’ll get her to come in and sit with you while you recover.’ Jo looked keenly down at her patient. She was still pale. ‘I’m sorry this one took a bit longer than usual, Nora.’ Jo stripped off her gloves. ‘It had spread further than I thought.’

Nora moistened dry lips. ‘I…will be all right, though, won’t I?’

‘I’ll have the result of the biopsy in a few days.’ Jo avoided answering directly. There was no point in alarming her patient unnecessarily. ‘And I’ll see you in a week to have the stitches out.’

Jo was already running behind time. ‘Same old, same old,’ she murmured, going out to Reception to call in her next patient.

She worked slowly through her list and by twelve-thirty she’d begun to wonder how on earth she was going to make the staff meeting on time.

Then the fates looked kindly on her. Vicki popped her head in. ‘Toni Morris just cancelled, Jo. Said her little one’s feeling much better. Thinks it was just a twenty-four-hour bug. He’s had a light meal, kept it down and is looking brighter.’

Jo pushed her chair back and stretched. ‘Excellent. Thanks, Vic.’

Vicki departed with a fluttered wave and Jo swung to her feet and walked to the window. Her consulting room was at the rear of the sprawling low-set building and she loved the view. It was the first week of September and spring had come with a burst of colour. Jo noticed even the old mango tree was drooping with blossoms, ensuring a bumper feast of the tropical fruit for the long hot summer ahead.

How I love this place, she thought, her gaze stretching across to the paddocks already knee-deep in summer crops of baby corn, melons and tomatoes. She shook her head. Why did she have the feeling that everything was about to change?

She turned as her phone rang. It was Angelo, straight to the point.

‘Had time to look over Brady’s CV yet, Jo?’

Jo stole a guilty look at her watch. ‘Just about to. I’ve been flat to the boards.’

‘Me, too. See you in a bit, then.’

‘Yes.’ So much for holidays, she thought dryly, clipping the receiver back on its rest. She was beginning to feel she’d never been away.

Collecting the file Monica had given her, she dropped back into the chair. ‘OK, Brady McNeal,’ she murmured, ‘let’s see what you have to offer.’

With the file on the desk in front of her, Jo leaned forward. In a reflex action she shielded her eyes. It felt odd to be reading the man’s very personal background information. Odd and strangely intrusive.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it, she rationalised.

And the further she read, the more she realised Brady McNeal seemed a very good choice for their particular needs. Or was her judgment being clouded by the fact she’d already interacted with the man?

And been attracted.

She took a deep breath, feeling the swirl of mixed emotions well up like a balloon inside her chest.

* * *

Jo ran a brush through her hair and added a dash of lipstick, before joining the others in the staffroom for their working lunch.

With quiet efficiency, Monica had set out sandwiches and a fruit platter and topped up the coffee-maker in readiness. ‘There’s hot water in the vacuum jug if anyone wants to make tea,’ she said.

‘Oh, yes, please, Monica.’ Jo got down a mug and broke open a new packet of teabags.

‘One for me too, please, Jo, while you’re there.’

Jo heard Ralph Mitchell’s voice rumble from the doorway, and smiled. ‘Coming up. Angelo?’

‘Coffee for me, thanks. I’ll get it. Anyone seen Tom?’

‘Someone taking my name in vain?’ Tom Yardley, the fourth doctor in the practice, catapulted in, dumped several files on the table and whooped, ‘Jo! Nice to have you back with us, babe.’

Jo made a face at the fair-haired young man and then grinned. ‘Nice to be back.’ She liked Tom. He was young, only twenty-nine, but already he was shaping up as an excellent GP. He’d been reared in the district and his parents were still teaching at the local high school. He loved being home again but, of course, these days he had his own place.

‘I want to thank you all for being so proactive about this situation,’ Ralph said quietly, a bit later, as the doctors sat around the table. ‘I hadn’t mentioned it before because I didn’t want to put more pressure on you to find a new partner, but one of our grandsons has been diagnosed with leukaemia.’

There was a hush around the table. Then Jo said softly, ‘I’m so sorry, Ralph.’

‘That goes for all of us, mate.’ Angelo looked shaken.

Tom had reined in his usual hearty manner to convey earnestly, ‘If they’ve managed to zap it early, the prognosis for childhood leukaemia is very positive these days.’

‘We’re hanging onto that.’ Ralph’s face worked for a second. ‘And Michael is a stoic little chap. Came through his first lot of chemo pretty well. And the staff at the Mater Children’s are nothing short of brilliant.’

‘So, I imagine you and Lilian will want to get away as soon as possible…’ Jo felt a hard lump in her chest and gripped her tea-mug tightly.

Ralph nodded. ‘We’d like to be some support for the parents, of course. There are two younger kiddies. And Karen and Steve naturally want to spend as much time at the hospital with Michael as they can.’

‘In that case, don’t feel you have to stick around to mentor Brady,’ Angelo said decisively. ‘I’m sure between the lot of us, plus Monica, we can get him up to speed and feeling a part of the practice in no time.’

‘Not than we won’t miss you greatly, Ralph.’ Jo bit the inside of her bottom lip. In reality, she hated the thought of Ralph leaving. He’d been the anchor at the Mt Pryde medical centre for ages. And whether the staff realised it or not, they all in some way depended on his quiet wisdom and the gentle way he handled matters.

The thought of Brady McNeal, with all his unknown quantities, replacing him was suddenly leaving Jo feeling very unsettled.

As if he’d gauged her thoughts, Ralph linked the medical team with his kind blue gaze. ‘I’d like to think the Mt Pryde practice will go on providing quality care for its patients and I know you’ll all do your utmost to help Brady settle in. I understand you’re giving him a hand to find some suitable care for his son, Jo?’

Jo’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Until I know exactly what kind of hours and so on he’ll need, I can’t really organise anything. But I will ring around this afternoon and at least get a feel for what’s available.’

‘A family day care mother might be his best shot,’ Tom offered.

‘Maybe.’ Jo took a steadying breath. ‘Dr McNeal may have some ideas of his own.’ Well, she hoped he would. ‘We’ll see later this afternoon, when he gets here.’

Angelo’s dark brows peaked. ‘And having read his CV, Jo, do you have any reservations about Brady’s appointment?’

‘He seems well rounded,’ Jo said carefully. ‘Obviously his experience in rural medicine will stand him in good stead here. And if you all think personality-wise he’ll fit in…?’

‘I had a long chat to him.’ Ralph sought to put Jo’s uncertainties to rest. ‘I think he’ll be very co-operative and he wants to make a home here. That should make all the difference to our acceptance of him and he of us—if that makes sense.’ The senior doctor sent a wry smile around the table.

‘All the sense in the world,’ Angelo concurred heartily. ‘And now, Ralph, I know the circumstances of your leaving aren’t ideal but you can’t slope off without a farewell of some kind.’

‘There’s really no need—’ Ralph’s mild protest was howled down immediately. ‘Well, all right, then. Thank you all very much. I know Lilian will appreciate it.’

‘Good, that’s settled, then.’ Angelo drained his coffee. ‘We’ll fit in with you and Lilian. When do you think?’

‘We should have our packing finalised by the end of next week,’ Ralph said.

‘Let’s say Saturday evening of next week, then? At our place. Pen and I will barbecue. It might be a good chance for Brady to mingle socially as well.’

* * *

With her usual care, Jo worked through her patient list after lunch. But as three o’clock approached, she found her heart was all but leapfrogging in her chest.

She was being ridiculous, she berated herself, especially when she recalled that after she’d read Brady’s CV, she’d actually considered calling him on his mobile number and sorting out the fact they’d already met.

And then she’d reminded herself that they were to be colleagues, nothing more, and there was no reason for her to get out there and personal about the man.

Yet, minutes later, when Vicki tapped on her door, popped her head in and said, ‘Dr McNeal’s here,’ Jo sprang to her feet as if a fire-cracker had gone off in her consulting room.

‘He apologises for being a bit early,’ Vicki said. ‘And guess what?’ The receptionist’s voice rose to an excited squeak.

Jo blinked. ‘What?’

‘He’s got his baby with him!’

A baby. A baby! Brady McNeal had a baby, when all the time she’d thought of his son in terms of kindergarten age, a little boy of three or four. But a baby.

‘Come on.’ Vicki was beckoning enthusiastically. ‘He’s adorable.’

Almost dazedly, Jo followed Vicki along the corridor to Reception, only to find Marika and Monica and even several of the female patients from the waiting room gathered in a fluttering little huddle to admire baby McNeal, who was gazing up, wide-eyed, from his carry-capsule.

Oh, lord. Jo swallowed. They’d all gone mad. She felt like clapping her hands like the nuns from her school days to restore some order to the surgery.

But she didn’t. Instead, she found a tiny gap in the circle and looked down at the baby boy.

And fell instantly in love.

Oh, my…Jo clenched a hand over her heart, marvelling at the completeness of him, the utter perfection of tiny fingers, cute little ears and button nose. A rush of very mixed emotions engulfed her and words she wasn’t even aware of saying tumbled out. ‘Aren’t you beautiful?’

‘Ooh…’ Collective female sighs went round the circle. ‘He’s smiling.’

‘He likes you, Jo.’ Vicki squeezed her arm, her expression all soft and mushy. ‘Just look at him, the pet…’

Jo looked. And looked again. And then got a grip on herself. She tugged Monica aside. ‘Where’s Dr McNeal now?’

‘Tying up the paperwork with Angelo,’ Monica said absently, her gaze winging back to the baby as if drawn by an invisible thread. She sighed reminiscently. ‘We haven’t had a baby in the practice since Jane and Riley left with their little Kiara Rose.’

All that had been before her time. Jo looked distractedly around. The baby was lovely but this was supposed to be a medical practice, not a crèche. Someone had to break up the party.

‘Right, let’s get back to work, everyone.’ Surprisingly, it was Vicki, taking over and sounding quite professional about it. ‘Dr Rutherford, I have you all set up in the staff-room. So let’s get this little guy back to his dad, shall we?’ So saying, she gathered up the capsule by its handles and wafted ahead of Jo along the corridor.

Feeling pulled every which way, Jo turned, following a pace behind. She felt in shock. Almost. And nothing was going to plan. Nothing. Who could she get to look after a baby full time? A baby.

She didn’t have much time to think about it. From his consulting room at the other end of the corridor, Angelo emerged with Brady. Their heads were turned towards each other and they were obviously deep in conversation.

And they hadn’t seen her. Thanking all the saints in heaven, Jo darted ahead of Vicki into the staffroom, holding the door open for her to angle the capsule through. And berating herself for her loony behaviour. She should have waited beside the door and greeted Brady politely and professionally. Instead, she went to the window and looked out—at nothing.

‘Come on, now, pumpkin.’ Expertly, Vicki lifted the baby from his capsule. ‘Let’s go meet your daddy, shall we? Just buzz me if you need anything, Jo.’

‘Thanks…I will,’ Jo croaked.

It was only a few seconds then until Angelo and Brady McNeal stopped at the open doorway. Seconds when Jo felt every nerve-end stretched tightly.

‘Jo will look after you now,’ she heard Angelo say, and then Brady had taken a step inside and Jo turned to face him, her arms linked defensively across her midriff. She blinked and something shifted inside her as she took in the tender picture of Brady and his infant son.

He held him close, tucked into the crook of his arm, one large, masculine hand cradling his son’s tiny feet. And they looked so right together. Already a family. Jo felt a wash of emotion she couldn’t explain.

‘Jo.’ Brady’s mouth made a brief twist of acknowledgement.

‘Hello, Brady.’ She gave a stilted laugh. ‘This is all a bit odd, isn’t it? I mean, the way we met and neither of us knowing we were about to become work colleagues.’

‘Maybe it was kismet, then?’

Fate? Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. She gave him a taut smile.

Brady’s gaze sharpened. ‘Angelo put me right about everything. So, no surprises and no harm done. And it is good to see you again. I’m sure we’ll work well together, aren’t you?’

Jo nodded. ‘Of course.’ It would have been entirely unprofessional to have said otherwise. ‘Shall we get settled, then? I believe you’re going to need some child care.’

‘Ah…yes.’ Brady shifted his weight slightly as he turned and placed his son back in his capsule. ‘What are my chances, do you think?’

‘Not sure, really,’ Jo said. They pulled out chairs and made themselves comfortable at one end of the long table. ‘For some reason, I expected an older child.’

Brady frowned and she guessed he was puzzled by her assumption. ‘I don’t recall I gave that impression at the interview.’

‘No…well…’ Jo lifted a shoulder dismissively. ‘It’s immaterial now. Let’s get a few details, shall we? How old is the baby?’

‘AJ is six months.’

‘AJ?’ Jo’s eyes widened in query.

‘Andrew James,’ Brady enlightened. ‘I named him after my father and grandfather. But we shortened it to save confusion. I wouldn’t have brought him with me today, except for a few unforeseen circumstances. Normally my mother would have been able to take care of him, but unfortunately she had other commitments today.’

Jo absorbed the information with a nod. ‘Do you need to give Andrew a bottle or anything?’

‘No…’ Brady’s look softened. ‘He’s not due for a while.’

Jo looked thoughtful. He seemed at ease in his role of sole parent, but surely there would have been times, like now, for instance, when he must feel the strain of it. Something propelled her to say, ‘It must have been a bit hair-raising, embarking on the long flight from Canada with such a young child.’

His eyes glinted and a quick frown marked his forehead. ‘Your point being?’

Jo was taken aback. He was almost bristling with defensiveness. Obviously he thought she was questioning his capability as a parent. Well, if he chose to take things the wrong way, that was his problem. She hadn’t wanted to be put in this position of trying to organise his child care.

She pinned his gaze, her own firing green sparks. ‘I’m not making any particular point. The only concern I have is for Andrew’s care to go smoothly. Can I take it you’re the one making the decisions?’

He huffed a bitter laugh. ‘If you’re worried his mother will turn up and cause a ruckus with the arrangements, don’t. Tanya is out of the picture. I have legal custody of my son.’

Jo was shocked at the sudden locked-down expression on his face, and her own anger vanished like leaves in the wind. The man was obviously toting a massive load of emotional baggage.

In a split second she wondered why on earth she felt the insane desire to help him carry it.

But before she could form any words, Brady dropped back in his chair with a muted ‘Oh, hell.’ Stabbing a hand through his hair, he met her eyes with a crooked and repentant smile. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you, Jo. Can we start again?’

She hesitated a moment, her even white teeth rolling over the corner of her bottom lip, unable to believe the sudden crazy need she felt to make things right for him and his son. ‘Fine with me.’

His ‘Thank you’ was heartfelt, and as Jo looked at him across the desk, their eyes met and held and she felt the instant shock of it shimmer right up her spine.

Sweet God. Brady blinked and blinked again. It was like being struck by lightning. Silver-green lightning, lancing through him and anchoring him to the chair. With a little grimace he dragged his eyes away and gave himself a mental kick in the backside. This was no time to be indulging in fantasies. For now his priorities had to be elsewhere, with his baby…

‘So,’ Jo was asking, ‘are you expecting any separation trauma when you have to leave your son?’

He slammed back to reality. ‘For my part, certainly. I’ll miss him like crazy. But AJ should be fine. He’s been in and out of child care practically since day one. If all else fails and I can’t get a carer, my mother will come down in a temporary capacity until I get things sorted. My work won’t suffer,’ he added tersely.

Did it appear as though she’d thought otherwise? He’d wrong-footed her again but she ploughed on. ‘I don’t imagine you’d have taken the job without considering all the implications. And there may be someone suitable…’

He lifted a hand, his fingers scraping roughly over his chin. ‘Sorry if I appear abrasive about this. I don’t mean to be.’

With a twitch of her shoulder, Jo shrugged off his apology. ‘Let’s just concentrate on getting a successful outcome for Andrew, shall we?’

He leaned forward earnestly. ‘I really want to make this work. The practice seems just what I’ve been looking for in terms of location and workload, and the town itself is a real gem.’

Jo got right on her hobby-horse. ‘I love it here,’ she confessed. ‘Have you had a good look around?’

‘Mmm.’ More relaxed now, Brady settled back in his chair. ‘The day I came for the interview. I was amazed to find that old-world department store in the main street.’

‘Geraldo’s. Incredible, isn’t it? Been there since the early nineteen hundreds apparently.’

‘And I was intrigued by their motto above the front door…’ Brady’s eyes narrowed as he tried to remember it.

‘“We sell everything from wagon wheels to watermelons”,’ Jo supplied with a soft laugh. ‘But I doubt if they sell watermelons these days. There’s an excellent co-op fruit mart here now.’

‘And a library and art gallery as well.’ Brady added to the list. ‘The hospital isn’t half bad either.’

Jo smiled wryly at that. ‘It has its ups and downs, staff-wise. If you’ve any expertise in any particular discipline, they’ll rope you in.’

‘I’ve done some anaesthetics,’ Brady said modestly.

‘You didn’t want to specialise?’

‘Not really. I much prefer my patients awake and talking. What about you? What do they rope you in for?’

‘I’ve some experience in paeds.’

He nodded. ‘So, would you be prepared to take AJ onto your list?’

She should have seen that coming. Jo gave a half-smile. ‘Seeing you’re a colleague…I take it he’s up to date with his shots and so on?’

‘Yes, Doctor.’

Jo made a face at him. ‘Dads are notorious for forgetting those small details,’ she said lightly.

‘But, then, I think we’ve established I’m no ordinary dad, am I?’

No. She guessed Brady McNeal wasn’t. He appeared to have taken on the Herculean task of being both mother and father to his baby boy. But she didn’t want to go there. There had to be some deep emotional issues swirling around in his past. Very deep. She guessed time would tell whether he would ever be prepared to share them.

‘The lady I have in mind for Andrew is Thea Williams.’ Jo dragged the interview back on track. ‘She normally does fostering or emergency care for kids who for some reason can’t be with their parents. But I know she was the carer for my predecessor’s baby when she wanted to return to work part time. And according to the staff here, Dr Rossiter was very pleased with her.’

Brady’s eyes lit with interest. ‘Your Thea Williams sounds ideal. But I would prefer to keep AJ in his own surroundings, if possible. Would she come to my home each day?’

‘That shouldn’t be a problem. From Thea’s point of view, it would be more practical anyway.’

‘And save me a mad dash in the mornings, I dare say,’ he said with a rueful grin. ‘So, I guess the sixty-four-thousand dollar question is would Mrs Williams be prepared to work overtime when I’m on call? I understand from Angelo we do weekend cover at the after-hours clinic on a rotational basis.’

Jo nodded. ‘It’s a fairly recent adjunct to the district, partly funded by the local council. There are several MOs who come in from surrounding areas as well. So, we’re really committed only every four weeks or so.’

‘Sounds pretty reasonable.’

‘As for whether Thea will agree to work occasional longer hours, I’ll ring her now and put that to her,’ Jo said. ‘If she’s happy about the arrangements in general, you’d probably be best to go round to her place so she can meet you and the baby.’

‘I’ll pay over the going rate,’ Brady put forward hopefully, as if that might secure Thea’s services.

‘Well, let’s just see first, shall we? You mightn’t take to one another at all,’ Jo reminded him.

He smiled then, a little half-smile that seemed to flicker on one side of his lips before settling into place. ‘I trust you, Dr Rutherford, to steer me right.’ And with that he got to his feet. ‘I’ll hang about in Reception while you make your call. OK if I leave AJ here with you?’

Jo nodded and rose from her chair as well and they both stood looking down at Andrew James McNeal. A long exquisite sigh passed from the baby’s rosebud mouth as he slept, causing Jo to murmur involuntarily, ‘He’s a beautiful child, isn’t he?’

‘I think so…’ Brady leaned over and with protective male tenderness gently stroked his son’s cheek with the tip of his middle finger.

‘Oh, I forgot to ask.’ Jo’s hand went to the silver chain at her throat. ‘Have you found somewhere to live?’

‘I have.’ His voice was deep and almost detached. ‘It’s a cottage, already furnished—just what I was looking for.’


CHAPTER THREE

MONDAY morning.

Brady came quietly into the staffroom to begin his first day as a family practitioner at Mt Pryde Medical Centre. His ‘Good morning’ was met with an answering chorus from the other staff members.

He helped himself to a coffee from the filter machine. Then, mug in hand, he stood with his back against the wall and almost bemusedly watched his colleagues as they eased themselves into their working day.

Tom, who had obviously missed breakfast, was making himself toast and Marmite at the benchtop. Angelo was looking through his mail and grumbling to anyone who would listen that it was about time specialists got off their collective tails and came to rural hospitals to conduct clinics.

While Jo…And there Brady stopped, his gaze skimming her slender figure, lingering on the pristine little top that showed off her tan from her recent holiday and then dropping to run the length of her legs in their soft cotton trousers. Then back to her silver-blonde head, bent over a journal of some kind while she almost absently took a mouthful of coffee from the mug in her left hand.

Brady’s heart thumped against his ribs. He should really ask her round for a meal. She’d done so much to help him settle in. And matching him up with Thea was proving a godsend. He could come to the surgery each day knowing his son was in the best of hands.

Guilt and need in equal measure gnawed at him. He could ask Jo round tonight—knock together a pasta of some description. Then he stopped his train of thought abruptly. He couldn’t involve her in his life outside the practice. He’d chosen to walk this path alone. And that’s the way it had to stay.

Vicki breezed in. ‘Hi, everyone.’

‘Hi, Vic,’ was the chorused reply.

Vicki made her way across to the bench and with no attempt at subtlety elbowed Tom out of way. ‘I hope you’re intending to clean up after yourself, young Dr Yardley?’

Tom stuffed a corner of toast into his mouth. ‘I thought you might, Vic…’

‘In your dreams, sunshine. I’ve my own work to do. Brady.’ She dimpled a smile back over her shoulder. ‘Ready for your first day?’

‘Just about.’ Brady took another mouthful of his coffee. ‘Can anyone tell me why people assume that doctors in general survive on casseroles?’

‘Come again?’ Angelo’s dark head came up and he blinked.

Brady gave a twitch of his shoulders. ‘I’ve already had three given to me, one from my elderly neighbour and two from a nice lady who called yesterday and said she was from the church.’

‘No one gave me casseroles when I moved into my place,’ Tom grumbled.

‘You only eat pizzas,’ Vicki scolded. ‘You’d have chucked them out.’

‘Would not. I’d have given them to the poor of the parish.’

‘Oh, for Pete’s sake, children!’ Angelo shook his head and got to his feet. He scooped up the rest of his mail. ‘Folk here are friendly, Brady. News of your arrival will have travelled fast. And the fact you have a baby, well…’

Brady’s mouth turned up in a wry grin. ‘You mean I can expect gifts of nappies and formula as well?’

That remark brought laughter. Then a general exodus began.

Jo had been conscious of Brady from the second he’d walked into the staffroom. She just hoped things worked out for him in Mt Pryde and he’d want to stay.

She didn’t ask herself why she wanted that. Didn’t dare. Instead, she realised she’d have to keep reminding herself she had to work with him, had to treat him as a colleague and not allow her senses to zoom to full alert every time he came within her orbit.

She hung back purposely, waiting for everyone to clear the room. But Brady was still there, washing his mug at the sink. She glanced at her watch. She had to get on. Slipping off the high stool where she’d been perched, she asked, ‘How was Andrew this morning?’

Brady upended his mug on the drainer and began to dry his hands on a paper towel. ‘Good. Thea has great plans for them today.’

‘You could slip home at lunchtime and make sure he’s all right.’

Brady’s mouth twitched briefly. ‘I’m tempted—but, no, I don’t want to start being distracted from my job. That’s not fair to the rest of the team.’

‘Just till you and AJ settle in.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s kind of you to suggest it, Jo, but let me do this my way—OK?’

Jo’s mouth flattened in an apologetic smile. ‘It was just a thought.’

‘I know.’ His own smile was teasing and very direct. ‘It’s probably your mothering instincts at play.’

Jo felt her face warm. Now, there was a thought. ‘Uh, has Ralph handed over to you yet?’

‘Mmm. I spent the entire day here with him yesterday.’

Sunday? Jo frowned. ‘That was a bit above the call of duty, wasn’t it?’

He shrugged. ‘I didn’t mind. Especially in the circumstances.’

So Ralph had obviously told him about his grandson. ‘It’s a real blow for the family.’

‘I’d be completely gutted if anything like that happened to AJ,’ Brady replied soberly. Then in a beat his mood lightened and he moved to the door and held it open for her. ‘Come on, Dr Rutherford, or Vicki will be after our hides.’

Jo made a face. ‘Mondays are always nuts, aren’t they?’

‘Yep. But I’m really looking forward to meeting my patients and getting stuck in.’

‘Just yell if you need to consult about anything,’ Jo offered.

‘Thanks, Jo—for everything.’ For what seemed like aeons they held each other’s gaze and Brady felt his throat constrict. Her eyes were like emerald-green pools, inviting him to dive in.

Oh, damn. If only he dared.

He cleared his throat. ‘Uh, probably see you at lunchtime, then.’

She nodded and they turned, each heading in opposite directions to their consulting rooms.

* * *

With a feeling of optimism Brady picked up the card for his first patient from Vicki, then stuck his head into the waiting room and called, ‘Samara? Come through, please.’

A young woman in jeans and skinny-rib top rose to her feet. ‘You’re new, aren’t you?’ she said, click-clacking along in her sandals behind him and then taking the chair beside his desk.

‘Brady McNeal. I’m taking over Dr Mitchell’s patients.’

Samara, who was nineteen, pressed her hands together prayer-like, locking them between her jeans-clad knees. ‘I’ve had some tests done. Dr Mitchell said he’d have the results if I came back today.’

‘That’s right.’ Brady had gone carefully over the young woman’s notes with Ralph.

Originally, she’d presented with chronic fatigue and lethargy, and after several attempts to get at the cause of her problems with no worthwhile results, Ralph had sent her for a small bowel gastroscopy—a biopsy of the small intestine. The results were back and, bingo!

Brady brought up her file on the computer. ‘The results of your biopsy are pretty conclusive, Samara,’ he told his patient gently. ‘It appears you have what is known as coeliac disease.’ He spelled it out for her and said, ‘It’s pronounced, seal-e-ack.’

Samara shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. What does it mean exactly?’

‘In simple terms,’ Brady said, ‘it means you have an intolerance to gluten.’

‘That’s wheat and stuff, isn’t it?’

Brady nodded. ‘Especially wheat, but we can’t dismiss other grains like rye, barley and possibly oats.’

Samara chewed her bottom lip, digesting the information. ‘So what will I eat, then? I mean, there are additives in everything these days. Will I have to start reading every label on every bit of food I buy? That’ll be a real pain. I live away from home,’ she expanded, ‘so it’s not like I can get my mum to prepare my food.’

‘It will be a bit of a minefield,’ Brady agreed. ‘But don’t lose heart before you start. Just think that if it’s going to make the difference between you feeling well or not well, it’ll be worth doing, won’t it?’

‘I guess…’

He smiled reassuringly and pulled a couple of pamphlets from his drawer. ‘You won’t have to do it all on your own. There’s quite an active support group in the town. But read these for a start and I’ll give you a letter of referral to the dietitian at the hospital. Make an appointment as soon as you can. She’ll have a fund of information you’ll be able to tap into.’

Samara took the pamphlets and looked down at them. ‘Looks like I’ll have to be really picky about what I eat,’ she said glumly.

‘If it’s to be of benefit to you, the diet has to be strict,’ Brady pointed out practically. ‘But don’t imagine you’ll have to go on army rations. There will be a vast range of foods you’ll be able to eat. And enjoy. You’ll just have a different eating pattern from most of us, that’s all.’

Samara swept a hand through her white-blonde fringe, leaving it in little tufts. ‘So when I get going with this new diet, I should start to feel better, shouldn’t I?’

‘You should.’ Brady was cautious. ‘But it may be slow and gradual. You’ll begin to notice your energy picking up. That’ll be a good sign. Give your new diet a month or so and then come back and we’ll test your iron levels. That will be an indicator that you’re on the right track.’

Samara’s pretty mouth flattened in resignation. ‘Bang go my ham and pineapple pizzas, then. The bases are all made from wheat flour for sure. And toast! I love my toast!’

‘Hang on.’ Brady raised a hand in a halting motion. ‘Maybe not…’ He picked up his phone and depressed the number he’d memorised. ‘Ah, Jo, sorry to bother you.’ He explained why he was calling and listened for a moment. ‘Thanks for that,’ he said, before clipping the receiver back on its cradle. ‘Samara, you’re in luck.’ His head came up and he smiled. ‘Apparently the baker in the arcade makes a gluten-free bread for special customers, but you’ll need to order it in advance.’

A tiny dimple flickered in Samara’s cheek. ‘So I can have my toast?’

‘Probably.’ Brady handed the referral letter to his patient and got to his feet to see her out. ‘But to be on the safe side, perhaps run it past the dietitian when you see her, OK?’

Brady ploughed on through his patient list, pleased he’d got through by one o’clock when the surgery officially closed for lunch.

He was feeling reasonably upbeat about his morning. He’d managed pretty well, he decided, and had coped without bugging his colleagues too much. Except for his query to Jo, he’d only had to double-check the name of a drug with Angelo before he’d prescribed it. In Canada the drug in question had been dispensed under another brand name entirely. Much better to make sure.

Tom and Jo were already in the staffroom when Brady made his way in. ‘Still in one piece, mate?’ Tom quipped, his nose buried in the sports section of the local paper.

‘And intending to stay that way,’ Brady quipped back. ‘Thanks for your help earlier, by the way.’ He turned towards Jo, who was trying to find the beginning of a new roll of clingfilm.

‘That’s OK. Oh!’ With a yelp of frustration she thrust the lot at Brady. ‘See if you can get it started. It hates me!’

He chuckled and took the offending box of cling film. ‘About lunch,’ he said, painstakingly setting about unravelling the mangled film. ‘Do we bring our own or what?’

‘We do a communal thing,’ Jo said. ‘Vicki collects money from us each week and then shops for fresh bread and various sandwich fillings. Just help yourself to anything in the fridge.’

Intent on his task, Brady continued, ‘So I pay Vicki, then?’

Tom sniggered. ‘She’ll hunt you down, mate. Never fear. Jo, are you doing me a sandwich?’

‘I wouldn’t think so.’

Tom got up and peered over her shoulder at the cutting board. ‘So, who’re the extra slices for, then?’

‘Brady—because he’s new.’

‘I’m still new,’ Tom protested.

‘Rats,’ Jo said mildly. ‘You’ve been here for over a year.’ Still smiling, she swung a look back over her shoulder. ‘Brady, turkey, avocado and cos lettuce OK?’

‘Sounds very healthy.’ Brady had the clingfilm running smoothly and placed it back on the worktop.

‘The tomatoes in the basket are from Monica’s garden.’ Jo said conversationally. ‘Her husband, Terry, grows acid-free beauties. She supplies us with heaps.’ With quick, neat movements Jo made his sandwich, slipped it onto a plate and handed it across to him. ‘Enjoy.’

‘Thanks.’ He eyed her levelly. ‘I’ll make yours tomorrow.’

Jo managed to hold his gaze more or less steadily. ‘Don’t make rash promises,’ she warned lightly. ‘There’s bound to be an emergency or three around the corner.’

Jo’s last patient for the day was Leisa Cooper. She worked at the local library and was pregnant with her first child.

‘How are you feeling?’ Jo asked, when Leisa sank gratefully into the chair.

‘Awful,’ Leisa confessed. ‘I feel so darned tired already and I have weeks to go. And I’m thirsty all the time and having to pee twice as much.’

Jo’s medical instincts sharpened. ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Not long. It just feels long.’ She made a small face. ‘Couple of weeks, I suppose. Is that significant?’

‘Could be.’ Jo wound the blood-pressure cuff around her patient’s arm and took a reading. And made a swift decision. ‘I’m going to send you along for a glucose tolerance test, Leisa. I’d like you go first thing tomorrow, if possible.’

Leisa’s head came up, her eyes wide in alarm. ‘Is something wrong with me?’

‘Nothing drastically,’ Jo reassured her patient gently. ‘But you may be developing something called gestational diabetes. And before you get too worried, the condition is quite common in pregnancy.’

‘Is it something I’ve done wrong?’

‘Nothing like that. While you’re pregnant, the placenta is busily secreting hormones but in some women the uptake of hormones increases the body’s resistance to insulin. When this happens, you need more insulin to help the body’s cells and muscles take up glucose from the bloodstream.’

Leisa touched a hand to her tummy. ‘So, what happens?’

‘Simply, the glucose stays around in the bloodstream. That’s why we need the test done, to see what’s going on with you.’ Jo took up her pen to write out the request for the path lab. ‘It would be helpful if you could have the morning off to have this GTT done, Leisa.’

‘I could probably arrange that.’ Leisa looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘So, how involved is this glucose tolerance test, then?’

‘Not terribly,’ Jo said. ‘It just takes a while. First off, you’ll be asked to drink a quantity of Lucosade.’

‘My poor bladder,’ Leisa groaned. ‘I won’t have to drink gallons of the stuff, will I?’

Jo chuckled. ‘No. From memory, the amount is around three hundred mils. After that, your blood will be tested at one hourly intervals, three in all. If your blood glucose levels indicate you’re not within the normal range, we’ll begin treatment.’

‘Oh, lord…’ Leisa sighed. ‘Is the rest of my pregnancy going to be awful?’

Jo shook her head. ‘Don’t think like that, Leisa. I’d hope diet and exercise will get things right for you. If the diagnosis in confirmed, we’ll begin liaising with Vanessa Rowntree, the dietitian at the hospital. She’ll do an intensive medical history with you and then get you started on an appropriate health regime.’





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