There was a statement to take her breath away. This was starting to feel like a punch to the stomach. Or serial punches.

  ‘Cut it out,’ she managed. ‘Enough of marriage.’

  ‘You mean you won’t consider it?’

  ‘No!’ And then she paused and finally she said...slowly, almost fearfully, ‘You say...you don’t have time for marriage. Have you even thought how this could work?’

  And she saw a light in his eyes. She held out her hands instinctively, a gesture that might be seen as warding him off, but he didn’t move.

  ‘It might,’ he told her, suddenly careful and obviously neutral. ‘Believe it or not, I have thought this through. It’s important enough to consider.’

  ‘So tell me.’

  He nodded, took a deep breath and appeared to dive in. Talking a bit too fast. ‘It’d have to look real,’ he told her. ‘We’d need a decent apartment, or a house where we could have our own space, but we’d need...my lawyers tell me...something like a bathroom set up for two, a bedroom that looks like it’s shared. No one’s going to break in in the middle of the night to check, but we could be given less than a day’s notice. And that might happen. The suits currently controlling the company, the minor shareholders, have a lot to lose. The façade of our marriage would have to continue for a couple of years. But we could be independent. I’m so damned busy and you could keep on with your surfing, your part-time medicine, whatever. I imagine that could happen anywhere. But children...’ He hesitated and then forged on. ‘I... There was a letter included in the will. My uncle said you’re hungry for babies.’

  It was like a slap. She stood silently, feeling the colour drain from her face, feeling almost dizzy. Hungry for babies, she thought. No.

  Hungry for a baby.

  For her fifteen-year-old daughter.

  ‘Jodie?’ He must have seen her instinctive flinch. She backed away, her hands coming up again.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Jodie, did I...?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she managed. ‘Leave it. The last thing I want is babies.’

  He was still watching her intently, obviously seeing—well, he couldn’t see it, she told herself—a pain that she’d hidden for so long. But obviously he decided to keep going.

  ‘Well, that’s a relief, because neither do I,’ he said, but he still sounded...puzzled. ‘As far as I’m concerned, this would be a business arrangement only, although it’d have to look more from the outside. Maybe we’d need to attend a few fundraisers as a couple, that sort of thing. But Jodie...’

  ‘No buts.’ She was starting to feel panic. ‘Leave it,’ she told him and closed her eyes for a moment, desperately trying to assemble her thoughts. This was a lunatic scheme, not to be thought of, not to be even imagined.

  But...

  There were buts. She knew it. There was a voice in the back of her head, scrambling to be heard through the panic, that said, Jodie, honestly, if you calm down then maybe, just maybe, you could do some good here. Without being involved?

  All her life, well, all her life since Hali, she’d fought to stay apart. The pain of that time, the loss of her daughter, her parents’ absolute rejection, had scarred her bone-deep, and the fear of letting anyone close had ruled everything she’d done since.

  She’d learned to live with it. She’d also managed to put pain aside and have a fun life. She’d made good friends—okay, superficially, but people who were fun to be with. She’d enjoyed her medical training and that was useful and satisfying. She taught surfing now, and that was fun and useful. Her life was pretty much how she liked it.

  But the voice in the back of her head was now starting to insist.

  If this guy is really serious...if what he says is true...maybe my actions could make a difference to so many people. Maybe I could do some real good.

  And at little cost to herself.

  She could still hold herself apart—in fact, that was what he seemed to be asking. There were technicalities that’d have to be ironed out—lots of technicalities. Some sort of contract, she thought, a document known to exist only by the two of them.

  She’d have to trust.

  There was a biggie. She met his gaze and he looked back at her. He was silent, maybe seeing that this was the moment where everything hung in the balance.

  Did she believe him? Was this a real thing? It seemed preposterous and yet, looking at him, she was seeing trouble in his eyes, seeing need...

  But she was also seeing concern. He was worried about her?

  Well, that was crazy. To him, she’d only be a means to an end. If they were to continue down this crazy path, he’d have to be that to her.

  And yet...

  All her life she’d held back. There’d been dates in the past, flings, fun forays into the world of romance.

  Or not really romance because she was only ever in it for a good time, and she’d always made that clear. So...could she do it again? Could she do it for this?

  ‘We would be separate,’ he told her, and it was as if he was reading her mind.

  ‘Two years...’

  ‘That’s what my lawyers say. Jodie, you could consider it a job offer, and a good one. There’re not many jobs that come with a million-dollar bonus paid upfront.’

  ‘I don’t care about your money.’

  But did she? There were things she could do...

  ‘But will you think about it?’ His voice was gentle now, as if sensing she was wavering.

  Oh, this was nuts. She was feeling dizzy, as if she was in the middle of some twisted dream and needed to wake up.

  But Seb’s voice said this was no dream. His gaze said this was deadly serious, and so much was at stake.

  ‘I need facts,’ she said, a trifle desperately. ‘All the facts. And I need time. I want everything you can throw at me about the foundation, facts from inside and out. I want facts about Cantrell Holdings and I want facts about you. Leave nothing out, and I mean nothing. I need time to gain an independent view.’

  ‘We have a month,’ he said cautiously. ‘And I’d need to know about you as well.’

  ‘What you see is what you get,’ she said bluntly. ‘But you probably won’t get. Give me two weeks, Seb, and then we’ll talk about this again.’

  ‘You mean you will consider it?’

  ‘I... Maybe.’

  ‘There’s no one else?’ he asked cautiously. ‘No partner? No...’

  ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’ And then she couldn’t help herself. ‘You?’

  ‘I’ve never had time for dating.’

  ‘You’re kidding. Are you as obsessed as your uncle?’

  ‘I care about what I do,’ he said neutrally. ‘Jodie, the million dollars...’

  ‘Will you shut up about the money?’

  ‘It’s all about the money.’

  ‘If it was then I’d say leave now,’ she snapped. ‘But if my research says this might well change people’s lives... Well, you implied that a gun was being held to your head. Maybe this is a gun being held to mine.’

  ‘That’s nonsensical.’ He paused and then said seriously, ‘Okay. Jodie, I know this is crazy but the gun isn’t being pointed at either of us. It’s being pointed at the eyesight of so many of the most vulnerable people in the world.’

  ‘That has to be an overstatement.’

  ‘I’ll send you the facts,’ he told her. ‘All I ask is that you consider them with an open mind.’

  * * *

  He left soon after, catching the ferry back to Brisbane. He’d brought work to do on the boat, but in the end he didn’t open his satchel. Instead, he let his mind drift over what had just happened.

  In the two weeks since he’d read the will, he’d had time to investigate. What he’d learned was that Jodie Tavish was bright, exceedingly well qualified and out for a good time.

  Her university record spoke of brilliance—it seemed she could have gone into any specialty she’d wanted. But instead of more lucrative career paths, she’d gone down the route of family medicine, committing herself to train with some of the best doctors in the field. Her reports from that time were impeccable.

  Most doctors though, after that intense training, would have devoted themselves to their career. Family medicine was usually the specialty of those who liked personal involvement, who valued getting to know patients for the long term, treating everyday illnesses but also being there for the birth-to-death dramas that eventually encompassed all.

  But not Jodie. From the time she’d finished training she’d moved from job to job, working as a locum, a fill-in for doctors wanting a break, for communities that were temporarily short-staffed. She’d pretty much made a career of it. The only constant in her career choice seemed to be the need to be close to the surf.

  His mind had pretty much closed against her when he’d realised that. A doctor who put surfing first.

  This last job though, the first time she seemed to have put down roots, was the position on Kirra Island. She’d been there for over two years so maybe she was starting to get involved. He’d been impressed by her actions when Arthur had been injured, and a careful phone call to a colleague he knew on the medical board had confirmed that impression.

  ‘Jodie Tavish? Kirra Island? There’s a great medical set-up—I wish we could have that sort of arrangement in all our remote communities. They’re three excellent doctors giving an excellent service. Misty’s been there long-term—I gather it was her family home. She was overloaded for years until finally she married Angus and they split the load. Then they persuaded Jodie to work there as well. On the surface they look like they treat their careers as a holiday job, but every one of them puts intense effort into keeping their skills current. You know the point system we have each year to make sure our people are up-to-date? The points those three accrue would just about cover every medical practice south of Brisbane. If Jodie’s treating your uncle... Well, to answer your question, our only beef is that we could use her full-time in so many other places, but in our view there’s no finer doctor.’

  So there was no quibble about her skills. It was only her personality.

  Her desire to surf when she should be working?

  And then he thought...was the word should appropriate?

  What was there in his head that made him think what she was doing was a cop-out?

  He sat on the front deck of the ferry and let his thoughts drift. There were a couple of dolphins surfing on the bow wave of the ferry, enjoying themselves.

  ‘Shouldn’t you guys be fishing?’ he said, almost to himself, and realised that was exactly what he was thinking about Jodie. What was she doing, wasting her time, when she could be committing...?

  She’d made it very clear that she didn’t commit. But he wasn’t asking her to commit, he told himself. She could continue playing and working as she was doing now. She could spend a couple of years sharing a house with him. She’d have a million dollars in the bank for herself while she lived off the Cantrell profits. Maybe she could cut back on medicine, surf even more?

  That was what he’d thought when he’d had time to consider his uncle’s preposterous will. It was why he’d decided to try and argue his case today. Jodie was a part-time doctor to whom surfing seemed paramount. She could marry him and keep surfing. If she wanted, she could get another part-time job in Brisbane but there’d be no need. She could live entirely at his expense for two years and her life wouldn’t need to change at all.

  So, what was there in today’s meeting that told him it wouldn’t be that easy?

  The dolphins surfed on, but as they neared the mainland they veered off—finally to pay attention to their dinner? And Seb’s attention was caught by a group of kids on the shoreline, dressed in some sort of scouting uniform, sweeping the shore for litter.

  ‘Yeah, that’s reality,’ he told himself. ‘Some of us need to work to help the world. Surely Jodie will see...’

  But then he let himself think of Jodie as he’d last seen her, standing confused in the sunlight, looking at him with a gaze that saw...more than he wanted her to see?

  He’d thought this proposition might be simple, but now...

  There were depths he couldn’t see, he conceded. Things his background check couldn’t reveal.

  What was in her head? What was driving her?

  It couldn’t matter. All he knew was that it was imperative she marry him, that she lived with him for two years as his wife.

  His wife.

  She was beautiful.

  Why was he thinking that?

  And it wasn’t true, he told himself, or not...not beautiful in what was maybe the world’s view of what a gorgeous woman should look like.

  She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and he was six feet. She wasn’t thin like the world of fashion seemed to decree was desirable. Her body looked lithe, fit and muscled. Today she’d been wearing scuffed sandals and he’d noticed sand between her toes—sand after a day doing clinical work? It was almost as if the sand was part of who she was. And her hair was...gorgeous?

  But then he thought...no, not gorgeous. It was long, blonde and tangled, as if a comb had been pulled through in a hurry but the tangles had been left as too much to bother with. She had freckles under her wide blue eyes, and the lips on her generous mouth seemed permanently twitched upward—as if her permanent state was laughter.

  Okay, he conceded. She was beautiful.

  How would he feel being married to such a woman?

  No. Not married, he told himself. Marriage had never been on his agenda.

  He had thought about it, though—of course he had—but he’d deliberately thought no. If he ever married it would need to be to someone as passionate about his work as he was, who wouldn’t demand that he back off from the forces that drove him. It’d need to be a marriage such as his parents had, where work was everything.

  And the thought of his parents’ marriage...where work was everything...where their only child had felt himself an outsider, someone to fit around the edges of their shared passion...it left him cold.

  But he’d just proposed to Jodie. If they lived together for two years...if Arthur was right and she did indeed want children...

  She’d shrugged off the idea as laughable and that was just as well, he thought. Children...

  A wife...

  Not a wife, he told himself harshly. He’d be house sharing and he’d be acting, nothing more. And with so much at stake, maybe he could do it. Maybe it wouldn’t mess with his life. It wasn’t as if he’d have free time to spend sharing.

  Sharing Jodie’s life.

  What was she thinking now?

  They were pulling up at the dock. As he headed for the gangplank, he thought he’d done all he could.

  He’d asked a woman to marry him. He’d asked Jodie to save lives. He could only hope that the indecision, the concern he’d seen flash through those deep blue eyes meant that she cared.

  But part of him was already thinking...if she cared...

  For him?

  Yeah, right. Shove that thought right out of your mind, he told himself. It was only if she didn’t care, if neither of them cared, that this thing could possibly work.

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE WAS WHO he said he was.

  In the hours and days after Seb left, her online searches seemed to spit out information almost faster than she could take it in. There were links to videos of field hospitals in Al Delebe, to online tutorials run by Seb, to fundraising events, to discussion and assessment of his charity in reputable broadsheets and so much more.

  It seemed this whole proposal was genuine.

  The older online tutorials, those aimed at staff on the ground, were the most illuminating. She approached them with a certain amount of distrust, but soon she felt astounded. She was watching Seb at work in Al Delebe.

  She saw a training video following a little girl, surely not more than six, born with congenital cataracts, almost blind from birth. She saw Seb’s initial consultation and examination, the reasons for surgery being carefully outlined. Then, in what looked like a field hospital, in a makeshift operating theatre, she saw the child being comforted by her parents until the anaesthetic took effect. She saw Seb’s reassurance, both to the child and to her parents, and to her astonishment Seb was speaking seamlessly in their own language. The video was dubbed in English, but even if it wasn’t she could see the trust the family had in him.

  She watched on as the little girl slipped into sedation, as the well-trained medical team took over. Led by Seb.

  The procedure was complex—this was surely something that needed to be done in a major teaching hospital, but there was no doubting his skill. As he worked, he spoke out loud for the camera’s sake, or maybe for the sake of a cluster of trainees in the background. He was explaining what he was doing every step of the way.

  When he asked for anything, from the senior nurse, from the anaesthetist, even from the elderly man who stood in the background, seemingly as a gofer—he explained what he was asking for, directing whoever was behind the camera to pan to illustrate. And all this time his focus was absolutely on what he was doing.

  Finally, as the little girl was wheeled out of the theatre, she saw him turn to the trainees and talk them through what he’d done. He also talked of amblyopia—the problems associated with the child’s vision having been restricted from birth—and suggestions as to follow-up advice.

  And then she saw the final consultation, a little girl awed and her parents unbelieving—their little girl could see.

  This video alone left her feeling winded, humbled by the depth of his skills. She checked the stats online and saw this one clip had been watched so many times it made her head spin. Who by? Surely not just those in Al Delebe. Even though it was in the local language, the subtitles meant this could be a teaching tool the world over.

 

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