Leah Martyn – Wedding in Darling Downs (страница 8)

‘Are you aware of the study on asthmatics that’s been carried by the Jarvis Institute in Sydney?’ Declan asked pointedly.

Emma’s gaze was suddenly uncertain. ‘It’s a breathing technique, isn’t it? I think there’s a new physio in Toowoomba who’s a graduate from the Institute. We got some leaflets. I was going to investigate it further just before Dad…died. Do you want to take the child on to your list?’

‘Fine with me,’ he replied calmly. ‘I’ll chase up the physio and get the parents in for a round-table chat. I’ve a few ideas that might help as well.’

Emma defended her corner quietly. ‘I did try to put the parents in touch with the Asthma Foundation. They run camps and things that Ashleigh could attend with other youngsters with the same health problem. They declined.’

Declan’s response was swift. ‘Leave it with me, Emma. I’m new to the place. They’ll take notice, believe me.’

Emma opened her mouth and closed it. She hoped he wouldn’t jump all over the family. It wasn’t the way things worked in rural medicine. If the Maines took offence, that would be the end of the doctors getting access to Ashleigh. Oh, help. Which way should she jump? Forward, if she had any sense. ‘You will tread gently, won’t you, Declan?’

His jaw hardened. ‘I’ll do what I need to do, Emma.’

‘Not with my patients, you won’t,’ she flared. ‘Bendemere is a close-knit community. You can’t go around upsetting people.’

Hell, this was a minefield. She was guarding her territory, whereas he was used to giving orders and having them carried out immediately. OK, then. Back off, he told himself. ‘If we want this partnership to work, Emma, we have to trust each other’s medical skills. You haven’t had any complaints about my patient contact, have you?’

‘No…’ She lifted her hands in appeasement. ‘It’s just—we’re not used to working with each other yet.’

His mouth pulled tight. Was this what he was about to sign on for—bickering over someone who couldn’t grasp that his inability to quit smoking was stuffing up his child’s health? He lifted his gaze to glance meaningfully at her. ‘Just let’s try to keep it professional, then.’

Emma gritted her teeth. That was a low blow. She’d done everything she could under very difficult circumstances to keep their relationship professional. He’d been the one to overstep this morning when he’d touched her cheek! She tried to steady her thoughts. She’d have to swallow her angst with him if she didn’t want everything turned into ashes. New jobs had been promised and already there was an air of expectation about the town. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Rachel heading towards them, a tea tray in her hands. ‘I thought you might need this,’ she said. ‘And Betty’s made us some of her special ginger biscuits,’ she added brightly, sensing an air of tension between the two.

‘Lovely,’ Emma said faintly.

‘I’ll take a rain check, thanks, Rachel.’ Declan spun off his stool. ‘I’ll get on and make myself known to our patients.’

‘Then I’ll accompany you,’ Rachel said.

‘There’s no need.’ He gave an impatient twitch of his shoulder. ‘I’m sure I can manage.’

Rachel’s raised brows spoke volumes, before she swept up the patient charts. ‘My hospital, my call, Dr O’Malley. Besides, I need to strut my stuff occasionally,’ she said cheekily. ‘It’s ages since I walked the wards with a posh doc.’

Emma watched them walk away together, saw Declan turn his head, heard his rumble of laughter as he interacted with Rachel. She made a little sniff of disapproval. Shaking off a disquiet she didn’t understand, she took up one of Betty’s ginger biscuits and dunked it in her tea.

By Sunday afternoon Emma was going stir-crazy. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a million things she could be doing. She just couldn’t settle to anything. Declan had offered to be on call for the weekend so that had left her with more free time than she’d had in months. She’d done a tour of the garden and picked a bunch of winter roses to bring some warmth and friendliness to reception. At least Moira would appreciate her gesture. She doubted Declan would even notice.

She was back to him again. She still had the feeling of things being not quite right between them. He’d erupted into the practice and into her life and she’d hardly had time to take stock. He hadn’t exactly steamrollered over her but he hadn’t wasted any time in putting his plans into action. But then she’d given him tacit permission, hadn’t she? Because the alternative had been too bleak to contemplate.

Oh, help. Emma turned her restless gaze towards the kitchen window. It would be dark soon. Suddenly she was beset with a strange unease. She couldn’t begin the first week of their new partnership with so many of her questions unresolved.

They needed to talk.

Now she’d decided, she wouldn’t hold back, although her heart was slamming at the thought of what she was about to take on. They’d already exchanged mobile phone numbers. She’d find him about the place somewhere.

He answered on the fourth ring. ‘O’Malley.’

‘Hi—it’s me—Emma.’

‘Problem?’

She took a shallow breath. He wasn’t making this easy. ‘Are you busy?’

‘Er—no. I’ve just been for a jog.’

Emma blinked uncertainly. ‘How did it go?’

‘Pretty good,’ he said, sounding pleased with himself. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing, really. I wondered whether we could get together this evening—just sort out a few things before work tomorrow…’

‘OK…’ He seemed to be thinking. ‘Want to grab a bite to eat somewhere, then? Or, better still, come to me. I’ve moved into the log cabin at Foley’s farm. Know where it is?’

‘Yes.’ Emma’s fingers tightened on the phone. The Foleys lived about a kilometre out of town. ‘I thought it was only a holiday let.’

‘I struck a deal with the Foleys. It’s mine for as long as I need it.’

‘I see…well, that’s good. About dinner—I’ve made soup. I could bring some over.’

He curled a low laugh. ‘You’re obviously intent on feeding me. But soup sounds good. I did a shop this morning. I’m sure we’ll find something to go with it.’

Declan felt a new spring in his step as he threw himself under the shower. How odd that Emma must have been thinking about him just at the same moment he’d been thinking about her…

Emma was glad he’d found somewhere to live, and the log cabin was a comfortable option for the time being, she thought, guiding the car carefully over the cattle grid that marked the entrance to the farm. The cabin was barely five minutes drive further on and in seconds she saw the lighted windows come into view. As she pulled to a stop in front of the cabin, her heart began its pattering again, the nerves in her stomach lurching and flailing like a drunken butterfly.

Out of the car, she took a moment to look up at the sky. It was the same night sky she’d been seeing since she was a child, the same stars. But tonight she noticed them in a way she never had before. The Milky Way was its usual wash of grey-white light, peppered with twinkling stars. But tonight, as she watched, one lone star shot across the heavens, leaving a glittering trail of light before it disappeared.

‘Stargazing?’ Declan’s deep voice was husky behind her.

‘Oh—’ Emma spun round, giving a jagged half-laugh. He was standing on the sheltered front porch. ‘I didn’t know you were there.’

‘Saw your headlights. Coming in?’

‘Mmm.’ Suddenly, for no reason at all, anticipation was a sweet ache in her chest, a flutter in her breathing. She held her vacuum jug of soup tightly and followed him inside.

The cabin was open-plan and modern with the lounge area and kitchen melded into one living space. ‘Oh, good,’ Emma said lightly. ‘You’ve got the fire going.’

‘Glass of wine?’ Declan offered as they moved across the timber floor to the kitchen. ‘I have a nice local red.’

‘OK, thanks.’ Emma placed her soup on the counter top. ‘You should be comfortable here.’

Declan didn’t comment. Instead, he took up the wine he’d left breathing and poured two glasses. He handed one to Emma, unable to stop himself gazing at her with an intensity that made his heart stall for a second and then pick up speed. She was wearing jeans that clung to her legs and outlined a pert little backside. Her top was a frilly button-up shirt, the neckline open just enough to expose a hint of cleavage. Her hair had a just-washed, just-brushed shine about it and when their gazes met and she smiled at him he felt a jolt to every one of his senses. Hell. How was he going to get through the evening without wanting to…?

‘What?’ Emma raised a quick brow.

He shrugged, breaking eye contact quickly. ‘I guess we should drink to the future of our partnership.’

Emma’s mind went blank. They seemed to have travelled half a lifetime in a few days. Even this morning, she’d woken with a start, wondering whether she’d dreamed it all—that she actually had a partner for the practice, someone to rely on, to confer with—to trust. ‘I guess we should.’ She gave a tinny laugh to disguise the sudden attack of nerves. Lifting her glass to his, she echoed, ‘To our partnership.’

‘What kind of soup did you bring?’ Declan cringed at the banality of his conversation. But his brain felt like shredded cheese.