Secrets (Hope Bay) Page 17
Harriet checked her watch. “I better get back to the reception area. We open in five minutes, people.”
Escaping to the sanctuary of the treatment room, Emma heaved a relieved sigh. The conversation could have gotten a little sticky if it had gone further. She could skirt around the subject of employment and why she’d left to come to Hope Bay, but doing it with Doc present was awkward, she’d feel like she was lying to his son.
She was just avoiding the subject in front of his son.
It was no use. As the day progressed, she had the nagging urge to ask Doc if Shane knew what had happened to make her leave her last job. The urge grew. But as much as she wanted to know, cowardice held her back, and she went home without asking him.
Wednesday morning she entered the clinic to the now growing familiarity of music coming from Shane’s room and the humorous chit-chat he and Doc threw at each other across the hallway, both taking great delight in pulling each other’s leg.
Placing her bag in the staff room, she made a cup of hot tea and wandered to the treatment room, sipping on the hot brew. Entering, she looked at the windowsill, not surprised in the least to find three solar-powered daisies nodding their heads and leaves. Each daisy was a different colour.
She was surprised, however, to find a little note propped up against the newest daisy, again in Shane’s handwriting. I’ve decided you’re right. You don’t owe me. Her breath caught. Stupidly, she felt her stomach drop. So he wasn’t interested or thinking…? Then at the bottom of the note, right in the far corner, was the word Yet.
The drop of her belly changed to butterflies, and she couldn’t stop the goofy grin.
~*~
CK wasn’t impressed.
Donning a skirt and top, Emma was very aware of the ginger cat. She couldn’t help it, not when CK was perched on the end of the bed with her golden eyes burning holes in Emma’s back.
“Look.” She studied CK’s reflection in the big, old dressing table mirror. “I’m not doing this to upset you.”
CK stared. Intensely.
“This is just my usual night out, okay?”
CK’s ears flicked.
“I’m going to Katie’s. Next week she comes here. It’s what we do.”
CK’s tail swished across the bedspread.
“We take turns. This week it’s Katie’s house.”
CK was not mollified.
“I know you like it when Katie comes here because she makes a fuss of you and shares our food with you, but I bought you some real steak and cut it up fine just the way you like it.”
CK’s ears went back.
“Yeah, I know, you’ve already eaten it.” Crossing to the bed, Emma knelt down to place her arms around CK and tug her in close against her chest. “Come on, Mummy’s baby. I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours. You’ll be fine.”
CK resisted for several seconds before flopping limply against Emma and looking up at her out of big eyes.
“Don’t do that.” Emma kissed the top of her head. “Trying to look all innocent and helpless in a bid to make me feel bad and stay here.”
CK’s tail flopped over Emma’s arm.
“You’re spoiled.” Highly entertained by her cat’s shameless acting, she nuzzled CK’s soft, furry belly, rewarded immediately by loud purring.
After giving CK a snuggle, she pushed to her feet, slid into low-heeled sandals and walked out of the bedroom.
Jumping off the bed, CK followed her into the kitchen.
Taking a tin of tuna from the pantry, Emma opened it and tipped the contents into CK’s bowl. “Here. Maybe this will keep you sweet.”
Apparently it was the right bribe, because CK pranced over and started chowing down as if she hadn’t already scoffed a slice of pure steak not an hour before.
Taking the opportunity to sneak out before CK finished, Emma quickly locked the house and jumped into the car. She had only just pulled onto the road when she glanced across to the house to see CK sitting in the lounge room window watching her.
Emma gave her a little wave. Knowing CK, she’d soon go and curl up on Emma’s bed. She had to admit the little furry knew how to make her feel guilty, but she wouldn’t have parted with her for the world. CK was family.
Parking in front of Daz’s café, Emma went inside to collect the order she’d placed earlier.
Steve was lounging against the counter. “Hey, Em.”
Daz held up a finger. “Got your order. Wait right there.”
As he went back into the kitchen, Steve grinned at her. “Corpse watching night?”
“Me and Katie and rotting corpses walking around devouring people, what’s not to like?”
“How about the fact that you apparently eat meat while watching this most disturbing of horror genres?”
“We enjoy every bite, too. Quiet at the hotel?”
“Busy. But I’ve knocked-off.”
“And came straight here. Isn’t your restaurant food good enough?”
Steve sighed. “You look so sweet, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma accepted the bag Daz handed across the counter and gave him the money. “Thanks so much.”
“Enjoy.” Daz put the money in the till.
“Doesn’t she look so sweet and innocent?” Steve asked Daz.
Daz winked at her. “Always.”
“Yet she grills me like a fish.”
“Well done?”
“To the core.”
“All I asked him,” Emma said, “was why he was here at this time of night when he has his own restaurant to eat at.”
“Sometimes I like to slum it,” Steve replied. “I wasn’t going to say it but you pushed me.” He turned to Daz. “Sorry, mate. But she pushed me to admit it.”
Daz shrugged. “Like I give a rat’s arse.”
“Don’t pretend like it doesn’t hurt you deep down.”
“To my core.”
“Just think,” Steve continued, “how much I brighten your dreary little life with my larger-than-life presence.”
“Let’s not forget the larger-than-life ego.”
Laughing, Emma started for the door. “I’ll leave you two to it. Have fun.”
“Say g’day to Katie for us,” Daz replied.
The smell from the bag was delicious. By the time Emma pulled up at Katie’s house, the smell was making her mouth water.
Bag in hand, she climbed the two steps up onto the veranda and knocked on the security screen. “Hurry up! I’m so hungry my stomach is eating my backbone!”
“It’s open!” Katie yelled back.
Emma entered a small hallway. “I could have been anyone.”
“I saw you come up the street.” Her friend’s head popped around the doorframe of the kitchen. “Lock the door behind you and bring the food in here. I’ve got plates and stuff ready.”
It wasn’t long before they had Daz’s fried rice and battered pork pieces on their plates and a tin of Diet Coke each. Flopping down onto Katie’s sagging old sofa, they got comfortable.
“Where are Kiss and Cuddle?” Katie queried, not seeing the cats who usually hogged the sofa.
“They’re asleep somewhere. I gave them a hearty meal of chicken so that they wouldn’t hound us for our pork.” Katie crunched through the batter surrounding a pork piece. “Ohhh, yum! I’ve been eating light all day so that I could enjoy this scrumptious feast.”
“We had scones at work, courtesy of Mrs A.” Emma forked up fried rice.
“I tell you, you could do worse than chase Shane.” Katie winked. “His Mum would coddle you.”
Emma gave her a wry look.
“Hey, I’m just saying.”
“Say no more.”
“Well, Mrs A would impress CK.”
“And just how would she do that?”
“Roast a chook.”
Emma laughed. “Shane’s already done that.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than she took in Katie’s widening eyes and groaned. “Nooo!
”
“No?” Lowering the fork to the plate, Katie swivelled around to face Emma. “Shane roasted a chook for you?”
“I didn’t say - forget I said anything!”
“Was he trying to impress you?”
“No!” Emma grabbed Katie’s upper arms desperately. “Promise me you won’t say a word to anyone! You can’t say anything!”
“Shane cooked a chook for you?”
“No!”
“Yes! You just said so!”
“Katie, you must forget you ever heard me say it!”
Katie grinned. “I knew it. I knew it!”
Throwing up her hands, Emma groaned and fell back against the sofa. “Oh my God!”
“The other day he was at Danny’s getting a lesson on roasting a chook. He denied it was for anyone else but himself.” Katie chortled. “I knew he’d cooked it for you.”
“It wasn’t for me.”
“You just said it was-”
“It was for CK, not me.”
“What?” Katie was startled.
Suddenly realising what she’d revealed, Emma cringed in horror. “Oh, crap!”
Chapter 7
Placing the little solar-powered daisy next to the other six on the treatment windowsill, Shane nodded. Yep, one for every day of the week, all as pretty and sunny as his curvy, cute nurse.
CA. Cute As. She’d never know that was his private nickname for her.
Arms folded, he rubbed his thumb back and forth along his chin. She liked them, her delight when her gaze fell upon them and her smile indicating just how much. He liked making her smile.
But, it was time to take this further. While he enjoyed getting her little things, he wanted more. He wanted to take her out, kiss her, hold her. Spend time with her. Fan those little embers of attraction he’d seen in her eyes. He’d played it careful, stepped lightly, but now it was time to up the heat.
Saturday afternoon was quiet. The Saturday receptionist had already left, locking up behind her. He and his Dad were taking it in turns to man the morning clinic and be on-call for the hospital, and this particular Saturday had been his turn. It had come with the dreaded Harper twins with light summer colds, only this time their father had brought them in and apparently he couldn’t control them anymore than his wife. Shane had eventually been forced to speak to the children rather sternly to make them sit quietly and stop opening the cupboards and grabbing things. Their father had looked impressed that they’d actually listened.
That reminded him… Shane crossed to the Star Chart Emma kept for the children coming in to the treatment room. With one of the green Textas, he wrote his name on the bottom then found her stash of gold stars in the desk drawer and stuck a star next to his name. Contemplating it, he eyed his Dad’s impressive collection of stars that seemed to grow every week despite Emma’s protests, and stuck another star next to his own name. Then another. And another. And decided that he’d earned a lot more so stuck a whole line of gold stars right to the end of the page.
Standing back, he grinned. “Beat that, Dad.”
Laughing, he dropped the box back into the drawer and started out of the treatment room. At the door he glanced back. The room was neat, tidy, everything in its place. The radio sat out of the way on top of some filing cabinets. Emma’s domain.
She didn’t talk much about herself, and he hadn’t really gotten around to finding out much about her background.
Going into the office at the back of the clinic, he opened up the drawer of the filing cabinet that contained all the employee profiles. His dad still preferred to work with paper, so it was easy to pull the file labelled “Emma Jones” and take it into the kitchen where he dropped it onto the table while he made a cuppa. Chocolate biscuit in hand, he sat down and opened it, reading the contents with interest.
It looked fairly normal. She’d worked as a check-out chick in a supermarket, progressed to a nursing assistant in a nursing home, and then trained as a registered nurse. From there she’d worked medical and surgical in two different hospitals before applying for and getting the job in Hope Bay.
He flicked over the front of her resume again. Single. No NOK. Born in Melbourne. Class A drivers licence. He flicked to the back of the resume. Interests were reading, gardening and movies.
Attached to the resume were some older references, written by co-workers and a coupe of employers before it became the norm to simply include names and phone numbers for prospective employers to contact and get a full rundown on a possible employee. There was nothing in writing from the hospitals, just a written acknowledgement of the years worked.
Closing the reference, Shane licked the chocolate from his fingertips. Nothing really out of the ordinary, nothing that stood out. His dad would have rung and got the references from the hospitals. Obviously Emma was a good nurse and came with good references, otherwise he wouldn’t have hired her. Doc had good instincts when it came to people.
But still, Shane had to wonder why a woman would shift right across the country to work in a small town clinic.
Standing up, he drained the tea from the mug and rinsed it out before returning the resume to the employee drawer. Answers could be obtained from only Emma. He’d find out anyway, either from her or Doc, but mostly from her if everything went well, because he intended to go around to her house and ask her out on a date. It was high time to pull his finger out and be pro-active. She was at ease with him now, laughed and joked with him.
But he wanted more. So much more. He’d been patient long enough.
Returning home, he showered and changed into jeans and a button-through shirt, rolling the sleeves up his forearms. Socks and shoes and he was ready to go. His short haircut didn’t need combing.
Sliding his wallet into his back pocket, he picked up the car keys. He could just phone but he wanted to ask her face-to-face. That was manners. It also gave him an edge because she’d be more inclined to agree.
Okay, it was a sneaky move but he wasn’t above a bit of sneakiness if it got him the pretty Emma on his arm for the evening.
He’d just dropped into the car seat and put the key in the ignition when his mobile rang with the hospital ring tone. That could only mean they needed him. “Ah damn.” He flicked it on. “Shane here.”
“Shane, this is Kelly from the hospital.”
“What can I do for you, Kelly?”
“It’s Justine McCarthy. She’s here with her husband. Shane, she’s got PV bleeding and pain, I think she may be losing the baby.”
“Shit.” Compassion surged through him. “I’m coming right over.”
His face-to-face with Emma would have to wait.
~*~
The ocean rolled in, waves frothing gently along the sand before licking back into the deep waters that glistened with the late afternoon sun.
The shoreline was dotted with some walkers, a few dogs happily racing up and down the sand with their tongues hanging out followed by their owners. On the pedestrian path not far behind him several bike riders pedalled past, ringing their bells to warn any pedestrians of their presence. Here and there along the grass were wooden tables and benches, all empty.
Shane sat on one of the tables, his feet resting on the bench seat as he gazed out at the ocean, listening to distant laughter, the bark of a dog, the whistle of an owner, the slap and lap of the ocean. Forearms resting on his spread thighs, he dangled the carton of Choc Milk from one hand as he tracked the path of a seagull riding the breeze, wings outspread.
People and animals and birds enjoying life.
Not everyone, though. Not now. Kelly’s fears had been justified, Justine had lost her baby.
Closing his eyes, he rubbed them tiredly, squeezed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Goddamn it,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
And then, in that moment, he breathed in the soft, sweet scent she wore even before he heard the slap of her thongs on the footpath. He didn’t open his eyes, kept them closed as he breath
ed her in, felt something intangible, felt her even though she hadn’t yet come close enough.
Then she was there, stepping up onto the wooden seat, her hand resting on his shoulder to steady her as she swung up and turned to sit on the wooden surface of the table beside him. Her upper arm brushed against his as she settled, her thigh nudging his.
Silence descended again as she sat waiting, undemanding, simply being with him.
His heart expanded, a little pop of warmth trickling through him. Even though her hand had left his shoulder, the fact that she quite calmly used him for support without hesitation steadied him in turn.
Opening his eyes, he continued to look out at the ocean while reaching out to the side.
Unhesitatingly, her hand slid into his, and Shane squeezed it hand lightly before lacing his fingers through hers and drawing her hand over to rest on his thigh.
Seconds ticked past into minutes, her presence comforting, and he knew she understood. In their line of work sadness was seen and experienced countless times.
Patiently she settled, her hand in his, her elbow on her knee, her other forearm resting on her other thigh, feet braced on the wooden seat.
Without turning his head, he dropped his gaze and glanced to his right, studying her feet. Small, neat little toes with pink-polished nails, bare feet in white thongs. His gaze trailed up bare calves to softly rounded knees covered by a cotton skirt. Tracking upward, he saw the cotton t-shirt hugging all those curves. A little gold necklace with a cross graced her throat. He continued upwards over the gentle curve of her chin, the sweet, plump lips and tip-tilted nose to the beautiful blue eyes that regarded him with such compassion and understanding.
Emma didn’t say anything, just gave his fingers a little squeeze.
Finally, Shane spoke. “She lost the baby.”
“I heard.”
“They wanted that baby.”
“I know.”
“I couldn’t stop it happening.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Even when Justine begged me.” Shane remembered the desperation in her eyes. “I couldn’t stop the baby leaving her.” It hurt so damned much that he couldn’t help Justine and her husband keep their longed-for baby.