has.’
‘Right.’ The tightness of his throat strangled the word. Think. This wasn’t really a problem. He’d just ask for another nurse.
The booming voice of the regional director sounded in his head. Teamwork is the key. Get your hormones under control and deal with it.
A shadow floated through Kate’s caramel-brown eyes before resignation pushed it aside. She laced her hands in her lap. ‘I’m sorry this change of roster caught you by surprise but I’m sure it won’t take too long for us to get used to each other.’ She gave a throaty laugh. ‘After all, I don’t bite.’
An image of her lush, red lips and her white teeth nibbling his neck slammed into him.
This wasn’t happening. He didn’t react like this to women. He couldn’t. For years he’d seen women as colleagues, employees, sisters, mothers, friends. He packaged women into neat, safe boxes.
And that was exactly what he had to do now. Find a box for Kate. She would go into the workbox. And it would be a very secure, firm box with a lid that would not open.
He could do that. Of course he could do that.
How hard could it be?
KATE twisted open the top of a bottle of ice-cold water and drank half of the contents in one go. After recapping the bottle, she ran it across the back of her neck, savouring the coolness against her hot skin. She glanced out toward the endless burnt brown paddocks and beyond to the horizon which blurred with shimmering heat. Cattle clustered under the few available scrubby trees, seeking shade in the midday heat.
Coming out of a European winter and straight back into a Warragurra summer was like crashing into a brick wall, except the wall was all-encompassing, energy-draining heat. She must be mad. She should have delayed her return and spent two more months in France and Italy. But Warragurra was home. At least it had been, and she planned to make it home again no matter what anyone else thought.
‘Hot one for you today, Kate.’ Barry Sanderson, the taciturn owner of Camoora Station, lifted his hat and ran his forearm across his sweaty brow.
Kate smiled. She’d missed the ironic understatement of the Australian outback. It was always hot in February in western New South Wales. ‘It’s a stinker. Thanks for giving me the shadiest spot on the veranda for my baby clinic.’
‘You know for as long as Mary and I are here, you’re always welcome at Camoora.’ Understanding crossed his weatherworn face before his voice became gruff, as if he’d exposed too much of his feelings. ‘Besides, we can’t have those babies overheated.’
‘Thanks, Barry.’ She continued swiftly, not wanting to embarrass him but grateful for his support. ‘I’d better get back to work. Can’t have the new doc beating me on my first day back.’
Barry put his hat back on his head. ‘You make sure you have some tea and scones with Mary sooner rather than later.’ He strode down the long veranda of the homestead, stopping to talk to Baden.
Kate watched the interchange—the stocky bushman and the tall, athletic doctor. Baden was as dark as Barry was fair. She’d been stunned this morning when he’d turned around and faced her on the plane. Yesterday’s pirate was a doctor.
A disconcerted doctor. He’d looked almost worried when he’d realised the two of them were now Team Four. That had thrown her. She was used to all sorts of expressions from half the town—disdain, hatred and loathing. But work was different. At work she was valued, admired, respected. Or at least she had been.
Teamwork was the basis of the Flying Doctors. The working day meant a lot of time was spent with your team colleague. She’d hoped to resume working with Doug Johnston, but he’d transferred to Muttawindi two months ago covering Bronte Morrison’s maternity leave. He wouldn’t be back in Warragurra for a year.
We must have just missed each other. I started in September last year. Her stomach dropped as she recalled Baden’s words. He and his family would have arrived in Warragurra just as the Kennedys had finally realised they had no legal standing to contest Shane’s will. Just as the vitriol in the local press had reached its zenith. In many circles in the town her name was mud. Perhaps Baden’s wife had heard the rumours and not heard the truth.
Tension tugged at her temples with a vice-like grip. Work was her sanctuary while she found her feet again in the town. She must make this assignment with Baden work. Only her actions could dissolve rumours and innuendo. She had to prove to him she was a professional who could be relied on, a team player. Someone he could depend on as much as he’d obviously depended on Emily.
She watched him walk along the veranda toward her, his moleskins moving against his thighs, outlining hard muscle. ‘Ah, the baby clinic.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘It’s one of my favourites.’ His smile raced across his face, lighting his eyes, making them sparkle with anticipation.
His smile sent her blood racing to her feet, making her feel light-headed. ‘I know what you mean. A roly-poly baby, healthy on breast milk reaffirms that life is good.’
They quickly established a pattern of weighing and measuring babies, reassuring anxious mothers and immunizing babies against childhood illnesses. Kate dealt with any breast-feeding issues and Baden examined the babies with reflux.
With companionable teamwork and a lot of laughter they tested the hearing of all the eight-month-old babies. Baden entertained each mother and baby with his Peter the Penguin puppet, while Kate shook the rattle behind the baby’s ears.
Baden’s experience as a father came through as he managed to relax the mums and the babies with the antics of the hand puppet. Kate imagined he would have read great stories to Sasha, complete with a cast of voices for the characters.
In the distance a child’s scream rent the air as Kate called her next mother and baby.
‘Looks like we might be patching yet another knee and dispensing a lollypop,’ Baden commented as he filled in an immunisation record.
Kate nodded. ‘I think that will be number six for the day. Gravel paths and toddlers don’t really mix.’ She turned and called her next patient. ‘So, Ginny, how’s baby Samantha going?’
Ginny cuddled the baby in close. ‘Pretty well, although I think she’s been having a growth spurt as she’s been feeding a lot.’
Kate checked Samantha’s date of birth. ‘Well, at six weeks you’d expect—’
‘Help me! Will someone help me?’ A woman’s frantic voice carried across the yard, her distress palpable.
‘Sorry, Ginny.’ Kate spun around, reaching for the emergency kit, her hand colliding with Baden’s.
He grasped the handle. ‘I’ve got it. Follow me.’
He ran down the veranda as Mary Sanderson came into view, carrying her four-year-old daughter. Her eldest daughter, Kelly, ran close behind.
Blood covered the little girl’s face as she lay whimpering in her mother’s arms. ‘What happened?’ Baden gently guided the woman into a seat.
‘She was feeding the chooks with her big sister, like she does every afternoon. Kelly said she heard Susie scream and she turned around to find the rooster had knocked her flat. I can’t believe a rooster could knock a child over.’ Incredulity marked her face. ‘I’ve spent all my life on a farm and I’ve never seen that happen.’
Kelly bit her lip. ‘The rooster was on Susie’s chest and pecking her and I ran at it but it wouldn’t let go. I threw the bucket at it but while I was picking her up it flew at her again.’ She gave a quiet sob. ‘It was really scary.’
Kate squeezed Kelly’s shoulder. ‘You did a great job, Kelly.