Dr. Finlay's Courageous Bride, page 13
And superimposed were words from years ago. Harvey’s voice, imprinted into her brain from so long ago.
‘She’s mine and I keep my own, no matter what it takes.’
They were completely different, she told herself, but she was staring around the room now and she was feeling as if she was staring into an abyss.
How could she have forgotten?
Rab’s phone buzzed into life. It was lying on the bedside table. He was still at the front door, talking to the lawyers, no doubt. Telling them more strongly just how ‘married’ they were. How much she was ‘his’.
It was after nine. Time enough for medical calls to come through. Neither of them was on duty, but this was a small place and in an emergency...
She lifted the phone, still staring at the knickers. Still feeling sick.
‘Dr Finlay’s phone.’
‘Mia? Is that you? Did you have a great night?’ It was Ewan. The whole hospital had been egging them on last night. The whole hospital would have been cheering if they could see those knickers.
‘Yes,’ she said, and she knew her voice sounded flat. ‘Thank you.’
There was a moment’s silence. He knew her well, the old doctor. Then, ‘Is everything okay?’
‘I...’ She struggled to pull herself together. ‘Yes. Sorry. We’ve just had a visit from lawyers wanting to prove we’re properly married.’ She might as well tell him, she thought. The whole valley would have noticed a sleek black car heading for their place at this hour on a Sunday.
‘That’s why you sound strained,’ Ewan said, sounding relieved. ‘I imagine you reassured them.’
‘We sure did.’ And she struggled to put a smile behind her words. ‘I guess...they’re just leaving now.’
‘That’s great,’ he told her. ‘But, Mia...’
Here we go, she thought. Medicine.
‘John and Miranda Hutchins celebrated their fortieth wedding anniversary last night,’ Ewan told her. ‘Half the valley was there, and their daughters catered. Apparently they’ve been making casseroles for weeks. Put ’em in hired bain-maries, kept them warm all day. We had John come in at four this morning with food poisoning, and a steady stream of locals have been phoning for advice or arriving since. Most are minor but a couple of the oldies have been hit hard. You reckon you and Rab could stop playing married for a bit and come in and help?’
Playing married... The words had been said almost as a joke. Ewan thought of them as truly married.
Playing married...
She stared at the knickers again and thought of how out of control she’d been last night. She thought of every vow she’d ever made since...well, since Harvey.
‘She’s mine.’
She wasn’t. The façade had to continue for another six months, but that was all it was. A façade.
‘We’ll be there as soon as possible,’ she said tersely and disconnected. Then she took a deep breath, gathered her scattered clothes and headed for her room.
By the time Rab returned from seeing the lawyers off she was in the bathroom, in the shower, with the door locked behind her.
‘Mia?’ he called from outside the door and she heard concern. ‘Are you okay?’
‘We’re wanted at the hospital,’ she called back. ‘Food poisoning, multiple presentations. Bathroom’s yours in two minutes.’
The door was locked. The way she’d been feeling last night, she would have left it open. They could have showered together.
She’s mine.
She wasn’t. The door was staying locked until she was safely back in her part of the house.
Back in control.
Back being Mia.
* * *
Somehow he’d messed it up and there didn’t seem a thing he could do about it. He knew from the moment he’d heard her voice from the bathroom that the barriers had been put in place again.
In the car on the way to the hospital he tried to raise it. ‘Mia, I’m so sorry they upset you.’
‘They didn’t upset me,’ she said tightly. ‘It was lucky that last night happened when it did.’
‘It was lucky,’ he said. And then, more cautiously, ‘It was wonderful.’
‘Yep.’ But her voice was tight.
‘Not for you?’
‘Yes.’ Then, more tightly still, ‘No. I forgot my rules. This is a pretend marriage, Rab. Six more months and we’re done.’
‘Does it have to be a pretend marriage?’ He was driving, needing to focus on the road. Maybe this conversation should have waited until tonight, but she seemed wound so tight, as if she’d...betrayed herself.
‘Mia,’ he said, gently now, ‘you sound horrified. I’m not Harvey, Mia. You know I’d never hurt you. You know I’d protect you with everything I possess and more.’
‘I don’t want to be protected.’
‘You don’t want to be loved?’
‘I...no.’
‘I didn’t think I did either,’ he said, almost conversationally, although he was struggling to get the words out. ‘But, Mia, you’ve been so battered, you’re so vulnerable. I know the façade you wear, how hard it must have been to build that, but I can see past it. Couldn’t you learn to let yourself love?’
‘You mean, let myself need?’
‘Maybe,’ he said softly. ‘Would it be so hard to lean on me? Would it be so hard to let me in?’
‘I can’t.’ She said it harshly.
‘You mean you can’t trust me?’
‘I do trust you. I just can’t let myself need you. I want control, Rab.’
‘You have control.’
‘I don’t. I lost it last night. I’ve got it back now and I’m not letting it go.’
‘So you and me...’
‘You might want me,’ she said, softly now, staring straight ahead at the winding river as they approached the hospital. ‘But you’re still as independent as you always were. But me... Rab, if I went further down the road we went last night then I’d lose myself. I would need you and that’d make me so vulnerable I couldn’t bear it. You said to those people, “She’s mine”. I’m not, Rab, I never was and I never will be. You’re special and I know you’d care for me, but that’s not what I want. I just...’
She bit back her words and closed her eyes. He was slowing to turn into the hospital car park. Medicine was waiting, a way for both of them to switch off personal emotion, to immerse themselves in a world where there was no room for personal reflection. He knew, suddenly, that this was his last chance. She’d climb out of the car, head back into her world and the emotional door would be closed behind him.
‘Mia, I think I love you.’ He said it a bit too loudly.
‘You said that during the night,’ she said flatly, her hand on the door. ‘It’s what people say during...’
‘Did Harvey say it to you?’
‘Probably. I can’t remember. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Mia...’
‘Leave it, Rab,’ she said wearily. ‘Last night was an aberration. It was fortunate it happened at the right time to convince the lawyers, but that’s all we should remember it as. A one-night stand with lucky repercussions for the valley, but nothing else. Now...’. She pushed the door wide and climbed out. ‘Let’s get back to work. Food poisoning, here we come.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
HARVEY WAS OUT of prison.
It was three months on from ‘the night of the lawyers’. That was how she’d labelled the restaurant meal and everything that had happened that night, categorising it in her mind as a lucky incident that had cemented the valley’s safety for ever. She even somehow tried to rewrite it in her head as a strategic move, something they might have staged.
She couldn’t quite get there, but if she blanked out the time from when they’d left the restaurant to the time the lawyers had knocked on the door then she managed to keep it in some sort of perspective. The time in between she left locked away, a memory so vivid she couldn’t let it out of the bomb-proof compartment she’d formed in her head.
She had many such compartments. One of them was Harvey, and now, staring at the letter in her hand, she felt it being wedged open.
The parole board had accepted his application, the letter told her. As the victim of his crime, this was a courtesy letter. The letter had been sent via a redirecting service she’d set up when she’d changed her name. This letter was two weeks old.
He’d never find her anyway, she thought, fighting a wash of panic that he’d been out without her knowing. Part of his parole conditions was not to go anywhere near her, but even if he tried, she’d moved to this valley then changed her name again when she’d married Rab. Mia Finlay had nothing to do with the terrified Maira of ten years ago.
She was no longer a victim. Harvey was nothing to do with her. This letter was nothing to do with her.
‘Mia? Is something wrong?’
They were eating breakfast, seated on opposite sides of the table, getting ready for work. Reading their respective news feeds and mail. Keeping separate.
She’d headed out early for a walk with Boris and had collected the mail from the post box at the end of the drive on the way back. It was her routine.
Routine was everything now. Since...the night of the lawyers...they’d maintained a formality not usually even seen between housemates. It was as if each of them knew that the chasm was there waiting, one chink and they’d fall.
Into lust?
Cut it out, she told herself savagely, and she made it savage because the concern in Rab’s voice was enough to threaten the fragile barriers she fought so hard to defend.
‘Nothing,’ she said briefly, and laid down the letter. And then, because it wasn’t enough to just set it aside, she rose, took it over to the fire stove and set it to burn. ‘Just...my ex-husband’s out of jail.’
His face stilled. ‘Mia...’
‘It’s okay. He’s nothing to do with me now. Nothing at all.’ But her voice trembled. Dammit, why? He was no threat. She was not that girl any more. Not that woman.
‘Do you think he’ll try to find you?’
And for some reason that calmed her, his steady voice cutting across her panic. It was a reasonable question and it forced her into logic.
‘There’s no reason why he should. It’s ten years ago now.’
‘Was the assault on you the only thing that put him in jail?’
Once again, she was steadied by the matter-of-factness in his tone.
‘Drug charges as well,’ she managed. ‘And firearms. When the police came...after the assault...they found a lot of them.’
‘So there’s no reason he’ll have been sitting in jail all this time thinking his sentence is your fault?’
Her eyes flashed to his. There it was—the unspoken fear. He got it, she thought. He understood.
And suddenly Harvey’s voice was echoing in her head, as it had echoed for years. They’d set up a screen in the rehab department so she could watch the trial. It was something she should do, the psychologists had told her. ‘You need to hear the judge saying what a scumbag he really is. This should help you acknowledge, once and for all, that nothing about this is your fault.’
And maybe they were right, but what she was left with was an image, Harvey screaming up at the camera as if he could see her behind the lens.
‘I’ll come for you... No matter where you are, no matter how long it takes. You’re mine.’
She shuddered and all at once Rab was standing, taking her hands, pulling her up and against his chest. And just for a moment she let herself be pulled. She let herself sink against his sweater, feel the scratch of thick wool, feel the strength of him, the safety...
‘You’re safe, Mia,’ he said firmly, surely. ‘I won’t let him hurt you.’
And there were the echoes again. He’d protect her?
You’re mine.
Whoa. She was being stupid, she knew she was, but she didn’t need this man’s protection. She couldn’t. She’d carefully constructed her life so she depended on no one, and there was no way she’d sink back into that helplessness. She pulled back and took a couple of deep breaths.
‘Thanks, but I don’t need it,’ she told him.
‘You don’t need me?’
‘I can’t need you.’ She tilted her chin and met his look square-on. ‘I can’t need anyone. Can’t you see that?’
‘I guess... I can’t.’
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t explain it any better than that,’ she said, and dammit, her voice was bleak. ‘And I know you’d protect me, as I know this whole valley’d protect me, and Boris too, for that matter. So I’m safe, but you know what? I’m safe because of my choices, because of my strengths. So thank you for the hug, Rab. It helped and I’ll add it to my arsenal, but now...moving on, I have antenatal classes in the school hall in half an hour and I need to move. We both need to move. The letter’s burned and forgotten. Let’s go.’
* * *
She left, driving in her little Mini, leaving him to follow. He watched her go and felt...bad. He couldn’t define it any better than that.
Was he afraid for her? Maybe, but her assurance had been firm.
Did he want her to need him? Maybe.
He raked his fingers through his hair and swore and then turned to Boris. ‘Come on. I don’t have patients until ten and I’m sure you need another walk.’
Boris looked at him as if he was nuts. He’d obviously done a few kilometres with Mia. He was getting on in dog years. The fire was warm.
‘Come on,’ Rab told him. ‘I need company.’
And then he heard what he’d said.
I need...
Mia didn’t need him.
That long-ago line was suddenly playing in his head. ‘I need this woman so much—I’m just so lucky she needs me right back.’
Mia didn’t need him, but hell, the way he was feeling...
Was it possible that the tables had turned?
* * *
The day turned out busy, more than busy. Some days there was just one thing after another. At five, just as Mia was due to knock off, she heard the dreaded screech of tyres, a car speeding up to the entrance, a car door slamming, a female voice yelling for assistance.
‘Help! Help me, please! My husband...’
An accident? Ewan had gone home early. Night staff were about to take over, but both Rab and Mia were there. They headed out together, bracing as they always did.
Donald Myers, a big, beefy farmer from up in the hill country, was sprawled in the passenger seat, gasping for air. His face was puffy, the hand he held to his chest was swollen. He was red-faced, sweating, and his eyes were wide with terror.
‘He’s just... Half an hour ago... He just started to swell.’ Kath Myers was a sensible woman, a stalwart in the Country Women’s Association, maker of the best scones in the valley. When fires had threatened the town three years ago she’d been the calmest of them all, but there was nothing calm about her now.
‘He can’t breathe,’ she managed. ‘He can’t even talk any more. Mia, help...’
‘Intubation,’ Rab snapped, crouching to the level of the guy in the car. ‘Don, hey, this looks like an allergic reaction. Scary, but we have you.’ Then back to Mia. ‘Epinephrine, methyl prednisolone and prepare to intubate. Don, we’re going to get you out of trouble, we’ll get the swelling down, but first things first, we need to help you breathe.’
He was tearing Don’s shirt. Mia was already moving, grabbing the crash cart from just inside the doorway, motioning Issy to bring the trolley. For the first few moments there was no time for questions, no time to do anything but get him out of the car, get the epinephrine aboard, then get him sedated enough to intubate. This was a procedure so drilled into all of them that there was no need to speak, no need for anything but to use what was almost muscle memory to keep the man alive.
But Mia’s mind was racing as she worked. This was no normal allergic reaction. She’d known Don for years now, a no-nonsense farmer who pretty much spent all his time on his land. At this time of the evening, on a weekday, he’d hardly have been out at a restaurant, and Kath was known for good, plain cooking. So what?
He kept bees on his property. ‘Has he been near the hives?’ she asked over her shoulder. Kath was standing in the background, looking terrified. By rights they should have had a social worker or at least a junior who’d accompany her to the waiting room, who’d sit with her, but right now there were only Mia, Rab and Issy on duty, and they were all needed.
‘I’m staying with him,’ Kath had declared as they’d wheeled him inside and there’d been no time to argue. In truth, it was probably kinder to let her stay rather than make her sit alone.
‘Not since last week,’ Kath stammered. ‘And he doesn’t react to bee stings. He’s been bitten so many times in the past, it doesn’t worry him.’
‘So today, anything out of the ordinary?’
‘The dentist?’ The woman took a deep breath. She also had obviously been fighting to make sense of what was happening. ‘He’s had toothache. We went across to Colambool this morning. The dentist there said he has an abscess. She didn’t have time to work on it today, she said come back on Wednesday. She gave him antibiotics.’
‘What sort?’ Rab snapped, suddenly focused on Kath.
‘I don’t know,’ the woman faltered. ‘A green...a green bottle. White pills.’
‘Has he had an allergic reaction in the past?’
‘No. He never gets sick. He never...’
‘It’s okay. We’ll get through this.’ Mia was handing Rab equipment. The anaesthetic he’d administered—mostly tranquilliser to stop the gag reflex—was taking effect and Rab had the intubation tube ready. ‘Issy—’ she talked over her shoulder ‘—ring the dental clinic at Colambool. If it’s closed, if no one’s answering, then ring the police station. They’ll be able to track down someone who can access the dentist’s records. Tell them it’s an emergency. We need to know what was prescribed and we need to know now. Fast!’
