A Proposal Worth Waiting For. Lilian Darcy

last time she’d flown?

      It was so stupid. She really wanted to say to him, So why did you never phone me, when you promised that you would? After ten years, you just didn’t ask that. After ten years, you already knew.

      There were basically only two possibilities.

      Either he had only wanted to get her into bed, and hadn’t minded lying to her for the sake of that goal. ‘I love you, Miranda.’

      Or in the cold light of day, he hadn’t found her nearly as captivating as the party in the moonlight had led him to think.

      At the time, she’d believed his sincerity absolutely, hadn’t even thought to take his phone number as insurance. He had said he would phone, he had said he loved her, which meant he would and did, so she hadn’t needed his number. When a day went by, then two, then a week, the pain and questions started to slow-burn inside her and lasted for months.

      Had she completely misread that sense of rightness and promise? Why had she trusted him so easily?

      Because, despite her stellar performance in her studies, she had been as dumb as a rock in some areas, and one of those areas was men. There was a causal link to the apparent contradiction. She had been clueless when it had come to men because she’d done so well in her studies.

      Success in medicine took hard work. Hard work left little time for other activities. Other activities included hanging out with female friends, meeting men and talking about the men in great detail with the female friends.

      She’d been the beloved only child of older parents. She’d grown up too sheltered and too eager to give her heart. She honestly hadn’t known that some men were love rats, and that you couldn’t always tell who the love rats were at first—or even second or third—glance. Shutting herself away to study, she hadn’t had enough opportunity to experience the bruising reality of the real world. She’d stayed far too innocent for far too long. Was probably too innocent still. Too innocent and too nice. How did you get tougher? Did she want to? She hadn’t realised that matters of the heart required as much prior study as an anatomy exam.

      Oh, and there was another reason why she’d believed the I love you thing.

      Because she’d said the same words back to him, all night, and had meant them from the bottom of her heart.

      ‘Joshie, we need to put the cars away now, so we can put your tray table up,’ Nick said to his son.

      No reply.

      ‘Josh, are you listening?’

      ‘Is this the kids’ camp?’ He twisted around for a moment, and might have been talking to Miranda, not to his dad. She felt Nick stiffen beside her, and stayed silent, leaving the conversation to unfold between father and son, the way it should. ‘I can see buildings. They’re tiny!’

      ‘No, this isn’t the camp,’ Nick answered, ‘because we have to go on the other plane first, remember? That’s Cairns you can see.’

      ‘And I can see ocean and sand, and shapes in the water.’

      ‘Let me look…’ Nick leaned past Josh. ‘Wow!’

      The aircraft banked to line up its approach and Miranda caught a glimpse of tropical yellow and blue, sun glinting on water, and lush rainforest greenery. The promise of the water, the warmth and the reef washed over her like a delectable scent in the air and for a moment she had absolute faith that they were all going to have a great time.

      She was too adept at faith, though, too nice for her own good.

      Hold back, Miranda. Keep your heart safe. Haven’t you learned that yet?

      Well, if she hadn’t, she had Nick Devlin on hand to remind her.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘RIGHT, that’s everything on file,’ Dr Beth Stuart said to Miranda. ‘Your lot and Benita’s. She’ll be along in a minute, you said.’

      ‘She’s still getting her group settled. I won’t be surprised if it takes a while.’

      ‘Well, we won’t wait for her. I’ll show you our set-up, and you probably have questions, Miranda.’

      ‘At the moment, I’m too impressed to think of them! Speechless, really.’

      ‘I know. It’s pretty fantastic, isn’t it? Charles says it’s an ill wind—’ Beth interrupted herself. ‘That’s Charles Wetherby, Medical Director, I mean. You’ll meet him. Soon, I expect. He said he’d pop in, and if not he’ll be at dinner in the camp dining room.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Only an hour away. Time’s getting on.’

      ‘He lives out here? I thought—’

      ‘He’s based in Crocodile Creek, yes, on the mainland. But this place is his baby, administratively part of the Crocodile Creek Hospital, and he pushed through the rebuilding after the cyclone with amazing speed. That’s what he meant about the ill wind. It took a cyclone to get a state-of-the-art medical centre here, but now it means we can take kids for the camp that we couldn’t have taken in the past because their health was too iffy for us to handle.’

      ‘Were you here when the cyclone hit?’

      ‘No, I’ve only been working here for a few weeks.’