‘Rory’s widow and her sister.’
‘Rory’s widow,’ he repeated.
‘So it seems.’
‘Kenneth didn’t tell me he was married.’
‘Maybe Kenneth didn’t know.’
Angus thought about that and then nodded, understanding. ‘Aye. Maybe he wouldn’t. Rory learned early to keep things to himself where Kenneth was concerned.’
‘But you’d like to see them?’
‘I’d like to see them,’ Angus agreed.
‘Could you give them a bed for the night?’ Jake asked—diffidently—and held his breath.
The old man considered. He stared through the window down at his garden—his vegetable patch, where Jake knew he was longing to be right now.
Since his illness he’d drawn in on himself. He barely tolerated the housekeeper being here. Could he accept strangers?
How much had he loved Rory?
Jake held his breath some more.
‘Rory’s widow,’ Angus whispered at last. ‘What would she be like?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jake told him. ‘I only met the sister. Kirsty. She seems…temperamental.’
‘What does temperamental mean?’
‘I guess it means she’s cute,’ Jake admitted, and Angus gave a crack of laughter that turned into a cough. But when he recovered there was still the glimmer of a smile remaining.
‘Well, well. Signs of life. Time and enough, too. That wife of yours has been gone too long.’
‘Angus…’
‘I know. It’s none of my business. You’re saying these women are at the gate now?’
‘Yes. I’ll go and let them in if it’s OK with you.’
‘You think they should be staying here?’
‘I think they should stay.’
Angus surveyed his doctor for long moment. ‘She’s cute?’ he demanded, and he seemed almost teasing.
‘Not Rory’s wife,’ Jake said stiffly. ‘I’ve only met—’
‘I know who you’d be talking about,’ Angus said testily. ‘Rory’s wife’s sister. She’s cute?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘And if she’s staying the night…You’ll be back in the morning.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Let’s leave the buts,’ Angus said, and his lined face creased into mischief. ‘I’ll not be flying in the face of providence. Cute, eh? Well, well. Of course they can stay.’
CHAPTER TWO
OK, SO Angus was matchmaking but that was fine by him. Anything to get him to agree to have them stay, Jake decided as he made his way down the magnificently carved staircase.
He walked out the front door and stopped.
He’d left his car blocking the castle entrance, with only just enough room for a pedestrian to squeeze past. The verge on either side was rough, corrugated by recent rains.
He’d expected Kirsty and her sister to walk along the cobblestones.
What had happened was obvious. One of the women hadn’t been able to walk.
Halfway along the walkway was a wheelchair, upturned. A woman was lying in the mud. Kirsty was bending over her.
Jake took one look and started to run.
She was Kirsty’s sister. There was no doubting it. An identical twin? Maybe. The similarities were obvious but there were major differences. The girl lying in the mud was heavily pregnant. Her face was bleached white and a fine hairline scar ran across her forehead. She lay in the mud and her eyes were bleak and hopeless. Jake had seen eyes like this before, in terminally ill patients who were alone and who had nothing left to live for. To see this expression on such a young woman was shocking.
‘Oh, Susie, I’m so sorry,’ Kirsty was saying. She was kneeling in the mud, sliding her hands under Susie’s face to lift her clear. ‘There was a rut. It was filled with water and I didn’t realise how deep it was.’
‘What’s happening?’ Jake knelt and automatically lifted the woman’s wrist. ‘You fell?’
‘You really are smart,’ Kirsty muttered, flashing him a look of fury. ‘I tipped her out of the wheelchair. Susie, what hurts? Have you wrenched your back? Don’t move.’ She sounded terrified. One hand was supporting Susie’s head; the other was holding her sister down.
Jake’s fingers had found the pulse, automatically assessing.
‘Did you hurt yourself in the fall?’ he asked, and the young woman in the mud shook her head in mute misery.
‘I’ll live.’ She put her hands out to push herself up, but Kirsty’s expression of terror had Jake helping her hold her still.
‘What do we have here?’ He held the woman’s shoulders, pressuring her not to move. ‘Can you stay still until I know the facts?’ He spoke gently but with quiet authority. ‘I don’t want you doing any more damage.’
‘She suffered a crush fracture at T7 five months ago,’ Kirsty told him in a voice that faltered with fear. ‘Incomplete paraplegia but sensation’s been returning.’
‘I can walk,’ Susie said, into the mud.
‘On crutches on smooth ground,’ Kirsty told Jake, still holding her twin still. ‘But not for long. There’s still leg weakness and some loss of sensation.’
‘Let me get my bag.’
‘I can get up,’ Susie muttered, and Jake laid a hand on her cheek. A feather touch of reassurance.
‘Humour me. I won’t take long, but I need to be sure you’re not going to do any more damage by moving.’
It took him seconds before he was back, kneeling before her, touching her wrist again. Her pulse was steadying. He glanced again at Kirsty. If he had to say which was the whiter face, his money was on Kirsty’s. Such terror…
‘I’m going to run my fingers along your spine,’ he told Susie. ‘I’d imagine you’d have had so many examinations in the last few months that you know exactly what you should feel and where. I want you to tell me if there’s anything different. Anything at all.’
‘We need help,’ Kirsty snapped. ‘We need immobility until we can get X-rays. I want a stretcher lift and transport to the nearest hospital.’
But Jake met her eyes and held. ‘Your sister’s break was five months ago,’ he said softly. ‘There should be almost complete bone healing by now.’
‘You’re not an orthopaedic surgeon.’
‘No, but I do know what I’m doing. And it’s soft mud.’
‘Hooray for soft mud,’ Susie muttered. ‘And hooray for a doctor with sense. OK, Dr Whatever-Your-Name-Is, run your spinal check so I can get up.’
‘Susie…’ Kirsty said anxiously, but her sister grimaced.
‘Shut up, Kirsty, and let the nice doctor do what he needs to do.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Jake said, and smiled.
So he did what he needed to do, while Kirsty sat back and alternatively glowered and leant forward as if she’d help and then went back to glowering again.
It was like