Leah Martyn – Wedding in Darling Downs (страница 2)
‘I can imagine what a difficult time this must be for you.’ Declan’s words filled an uncomfortable gap. ‘I would have been in touch before this but I’ve been out of the country. I’ve just caught up with things in general.’
She nodded. His voice was deep and resonant. Smooth like red wine. Emma could feel its impact like a thump to her chest, momentarily disarming her. ‘Please…have a seat.’ She indicated a conversation area in front of the big bay window.
As they settled, Emma took several quick, all-encompassing peeks at him, recording short finger-combed dark hair, a lean face, strong features, olive complexion. And blue eyes reflecting a vivid intensity that could see things she didn’t want seen…
Declan looked at the woman he had to deal with here. Emma Armitage was strikingly lovely. She had amazing facial bones and her hair looked cornsilk-soft, blonde and straight, just brushing her shoulders. But it was her eyes that drew him. They were green like the deepest part of the forest, framed within thick tawny lashes. And they were accessing him warily. He had to step carefully here. He didn’t want to embarrass her, hurt her. But he’d come on a mission and, somehow, he had to accomplish it.
But how to begin?
‘So, how come you knew my father?’ In a lightning strike, Emma took the initiative.
Declan refused to be put on the back foot; instead he cut to the chase. ‘When I was an intern at St John Bosco’s in Melbourne, your father was my boss. I’m where I am today in medicine because of Andrew. In the early days of my training, I was ready to chuck it. Oh, boy was I ready! But your dad talked me out of it. He was an amazing man.’
A new loneliness stabbed through Emma’s heart. ‘Yes, he was…’
A pause. Awkward. Until Declan resumed gently, ‘Over the years I kept in touch with your dad. Any career-change I considered, I ran it past him first. He was my mentor and I considered him my
Emma nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. ‘I appreciate your taking the time to come here.’ Her mouth compressed as if shutting off the flow of emotion. ‘You must be very busy in your own practice.’
‘I’m between jobs, actually. That’s another reason why I’m here.’
Emma straightened in her chair, the oddest feeling of unease slithering up her backbone. ‘I don’t understand.’
Declan’s perceptions whipped into high awareness. Something in her eyes and the defensive little tilt of her chin held him back from explaining further. The last thing he needed was for her to start resenting him before they could speak properly. So, softly-softly. ‘Uh…this could take a while.’ He glanced briefly at his watch. ‘Could we perhaps have a spot of lunch somewhere and talk?’
Emma held back a harsh laugh. He just had no idea. ‘I don’t have time to go out to lunch, Dr O’Malley. Patients will be arriving soon for the afternoon surgery.’
‘You’re the sole practitioner?’
‘Yes,’ she said, thinking that was another story in itself.
He’d assumed she’d have engaged a locum, but obviously not. Declan thought quickly. Emma Armitage had a brittleness about her—she was obviously worked to death. He cursed his lack of foresight and sought to remedy it swiftly. ‘Understood.’ He gave a brief shrug. ‘I’m here and available. Put
So, what was he saying? That he’d share her patient list? Emma’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to be blunt but she had only this man’s word he was a competent doctor. First and foremost, she had a duty of care to her patients…She turned her head slightly, raising a hand to sweep her loose fair hair away from her neck. ‘Is that a good idea, do you think?’
Declan sat riveted. Her little restive movement had briefly exposed her nape, with skin as tender and sweet as a baby’s. He tried without success to dismiss the unexpected zip of awareness through his gut. What was the question again? Idiot. Got it. ‘Sorry.’ He gave an apologetic twist of his hand. ‘You’ll need some ID.’ Reaching back, he took out his wallet and spun it open in front of her. ‘Driver’s licence.’
Emma nodded, registering that the photo on the licence matched the face of the man sitting opposite her. So he was who he claimed he was.
‘My card as well.’ He held out the buff-coloured business card towards her.
Frowning a bit, Emma took it, almost dazzled by the impressive array of letters after his name. ‘You completed your orthopaedic speciality in Edinburgh, Scotland?’
His hesitation was palpable. Then he said, ‘Yes. It was always the discipline I felt drawn to.’
She handed the licence back with the ghost of a smile but retained his card. ‘Should I be addressing you as Professor O’Malley, then?’
‘I wouldn’t think so.’ In a second his eyes were filled with unfathomable depth and shadows. ‘Declan will do just fine. So—’ he slid his wallet back into his pocket ‘—going to let me loose on your patients, then?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Emma felt a curious lightening of her spirits. To be able to share her workload, even for a few hours, would be wonderful. ‘I’ll give you the ones who like a good chat.’
‘I guess I asked for that.’ Declan’s look was rueful and he uncurled to his feet. ‘I’ll grab a burger somewhere and my bag and be back in—’ he checked his watch ‘—twenty minutes?’
Swept along by his enthusiasm, Emma stood hastily. ‘Take whatever time you need.’ She began to usher him out. ‘You can use Dad’s consulting room.’
Declan stopped, looked down at her, his expression closed. ‘If you’re sure?’
Emma nodded, leading him down the corridor to the room next to her own. She opened the door and went in.
Declan followed hesitantly. Soft early afternoon light streamed in through the windows, leaving a dappled pattern across the large desk and the big leather chair behind it. A big chair for a big man, Declan thought. A man with a big heart that had in the end let him down far earlier than it should have.
‘It’s been cleaned but basically everything is as Dad left it.’ Emma moved across to touch the tips of her fingers to the rosewood patina of the desktop.
Declan felt emotion drench him. Yet he knew what he felt at the man’s loss was only a fraction of what his daughter must be feeling. He spun to face her, questioning softly, ‘Are you sure about this, Emma?’
‘Quite sure. It will be good to see the place being used again.’ The words were husky, as though she was pushing them through a very tight throat.
Declan wanted to reach out to her. Hold her close. Feel the press of her body against his. Take her grief into himself…Oh, for crying out loud! He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll see you back here, then, in a half-hour or so.’
‘Feel free to come straight through and get yourself set up,’ Emma said as they left the consulting room and she pulled the door closed. ‘I’ll just need to make a call and verify your registration before you take surgery.’
Declan inclined his head, acknowledging her eyes were clearly weighing the effect of her statement on him. He gave a mental shrug. As far as his accreditation went, he had nothing to hide. ‘Good,’ he agreed. ‘You should do that.’
‘And I’ll brief Moira,’ Emma added. ‘She’ll make sure the patients find you.’
‘Moira.’ Declan lifted a dark brow. ‘The lady I spoke to in reception, right?’
Emma nodded. ‘She’s been with us for years. I sometimes think she could treat most of the patients herself.’ Her eyes lit impishly, her full mouth hooking into a half smile.
The impact of that curve of her lips hit him like a sandbag to the solar-plexus. He flicked back the edges of his jacket, jamming his hands low on his hips. ‘Let’s try to push through early, then.’ He paused, his blue gaze roaming over her in an almost physical caress. ‘We do need to talk, Emma.’
For a second Emma felt as though she could hardly breathe, his proximity sending a warm rush of want to every part of her body. Feminine places she’d almost forgotten existed. She pulled back, regaining her space. ‘We’ll arrange something…’
Even though the circumstances weren’t ideal, it was good to be back in a consulting room with his feet under a desk again, Declan thought. At least he was doing something useful and if it lasted no more than the rest of the day, he’d give it his best shot.
He was amazed how the time flew. He saw a steady stream of patients, each without exception with a comment about his presence in the practice. He’d answered as honestly as he could, ‘I’m helping out Dr Armitage for the moment.’ And whether that situation became permanent still depended on so many things. So many.
He called in his final patient for the day, Carolyn Jones. She looked anxiously at Declan. ‘I was expecting to see Emma—Dr Armitage.’
‘Emma’s passed some of her patients over to me today, Mrs Jones,’ Declan offloaded with a cheerful smile. ‘I’ll do my best to help.’
Carolyn gripped her handbag more tightly. ‘I…really just wanted a chat…’
‘That’s fine,’ Declan encouraged, leaning back in his chair, his look expectant. ‘I’m here to listen.’
‘I want to go back on my sleeping pills. I’ve tried to do without them for a couple of months now but I just can’t manage—’ Carolyn stopped and swallowed heavily.