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But she could fix this. Rachel’s splinter skill was internet shopping. Or, to be truthful, internet window-shopping—years of dreaming of what other kids could buy.
There’d been a great library in her neighbourhood and the librarian had been kind. She hadn’t seemed to notice just how much time Rachel spent there—or that when her books got too much for her she’d just sort of sidled to one of the computers. Patrons were supposed to pay for fifteen-minute slots, but when the library was quiet…well, Maureen was a librarian with a kind heart and she didn’t seem to notice. Sometimes Rachel had been asleep in a cubicle. Sometimes she’d been at the computer, dreaming of stuff she could never buy.
But she could buy stuff now, and memories of a weird search came back to her at just the right moment.
‘Hey, I have a solution,’ she told Kit. She was almost done. There’d still be tiny slivers in the wound but it would be up to the plastic surgeon in Sydney to retrieve them. The shards that could have done more damage were gone, and if she foraged more she risked making that damage worse.
‘A solution?’ Tom said.
‘A meerkat superhero.’
‘There’s no such thing.’
‘Of course there is. Kit, you tell him.’
‘I haven’t seen…’ Kit said doubtfully.
‘You haven’t? You’re obviously looking in the wrong places.’
Meerkats had been a bit of a thing for her during her teens; they had fascinated her, taken her out of her bleak world for a while. She still had a sneaky affection for them, and even now her internet browser seemed to find them almost by itself.
‘You must know there are online comics,’ she said. ‘I bet there are even online movies and I definitely know there are meerkat superhero T-shirts. I could order you one this very night, if you want. It’ll need to come from overseas so you might need to wait for a few weeks, but something like that would be worth waiting for, don’t you think?’
‘A meerkat superhero…?’
‘Marvel the Meerkat?’ she mused. ‘I’m thinking that’s who I saw. Maybe I have the name wrong. We’ll have to wait and see.’
‘But I broke your window,’ Kit quavered, sounding astounded.
‘So you did. So you’ll have to pay.’ She was closing, with steristrips because stitching a hand that needed further surgery was pointless. She glanced at Tom and saw the look of strain on his face. More than strain. She’d seen this reaction before, during her internship in an emergency department in Sydney. It was the reaction of parents whose foundations had been shaken after injury to their kids.
The look set back her prejudices a little. He cared?
So what was with the neglect? If he was a stepdad, where was Mum?
It wasn’t her business. Focus on Kit. She’d just told him he’d have to pay.
‘Can you fish?’ she asked the little boy, guessing what the answer would be. She’d already noticed fishing rods stacked outside the next-door garage.
‘Tom showed us how,’ Kit said, confused.
‘There you are then,’ she said decisively. ‘I can’t catch fish but I love eating them. When your hand’s better I demand three fish for payment. What’s your favourite fish to catch?’
‘Whiting,’ Kit said and then looked doubtfully at Tom. ‘Tom would have to help me.’
‘I don’t mind who helps,’ she said. ‘But I’m charging three fresh fish for my damaged window. Not all at once because I can only eat one at a time and I like them fresh. Then I’ll charge two more for the new meerkat T-shirt I’ll order tonight. Is that a deal?’
‘D-deal,’ Kit said and even managed a watery smile.
‘That’s that, then,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack a few more boxes before I’m needed again.’
And she smiled at Kit, at Roscoe, but not at Tom, and then she headed out of the door.
He caught her just as she reached her car.
Her car… He saw her stop in dismay as she saw the mess, as she realised just what damage had been done. He saw her face go blank, almost as if she’d been slapped.
Back in his office he had a file on this woman. The file was in his possession not because she was a future colleague; he had it because Rachel Tilding was the recipient of the scholarship his grandfather had endowed, and as Roger Lavery’s grandson he was one of the trustees of that endowment. Every two years a scholarship was awarded to a student who wouldn’t otherwise be able to attend medical school but had shown determination and rigour to get where they were.
Rachel had won the scholarship eight years ago, when Tom’s father still headed the trustees, but his parents were now living overseas and the file was in Tom’s possession. When it was time for Rachel to take up her appointment, Tom had hauled it out and read it.
It didn’t make pretty reading. Poverty, foster homes, eventual homelessness but, throughout it all, a grinding determination to be a doctor. She hadn’t had the highest marks of the applicants but her sheer grit had made the award a no-brainer.
Now she was looking at her car as if this was a catastrophe. He watched her face crumple, her hand go to her eyes.
‘Rachel?’
She gasped and swivelled, swiping her face fiercely with the back of her hand. Her long-sleeved shirt was still blood-stained where Kit had leaned on her shoulder in the car. Her soft brown curls were tangled back behind her ears, there was a smudge of blood on her cheek and her brown eyes looked too big in her too-pale face. She looked younger than the twenty-eight years she was, he thought. Defenceless? It was a strange adjective to describe her but that was how he saw her.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she said, struggling to find control. ‘Go back to Kit.’
‘We’re not really at the end of the earth,’ he said gently, because something told him what was before her was more important than a messy car. ‘We might not have plastic surgeons but we do have a car dealership. Roy’s talent—aside from selling people cars they haven’t realised they need—is detailing. He can take a farm bomb that’s been lived in by farmers, pigs, dogs, whatever, and turn it into a gleaming bargain of the century. And this…’
He looked at the gorgeous scarlet lacquer, the sheer beauty of the little roadster. ‘This would be his absolute pleasure to clean. The only thing you need to fear is him putting it into his showroom window when he’s done.’
‘Really?’ She sniffed and eyed him with distrust. ‘But it’s blood. Don’t people have rules about contamination?’
‘He might charge more,’ Tom agreed. ‘But this was an accident, Rachel, caused by my stepson. My insurance will more than cover it.’ He wasn’t actually sure that it would, but there was no way he was saying that now. The responsibility was his. He’d pay a king’s ransom to get her a clean car if necessary. ‘Meanwhile, I’m heading to Sydney, thanks to you, so you can use my car.’ He motioned to the car park, to a large serviceable SUV. ‘You might even think about buying such a car for here. It’s much more sensible.’
She had herself under control again now. He saw her regroup, and then gaze at his battered SUV with dislike.
‘I might need to be a country doctor for two years,’ she said. ‘But there is nothing on earth that’d persuade me to swap my Petal for that…that…’
‘Don’t say it,’ he said urgently, and smiled. ‘That’s Moby Dick, christened by the boys, and Moby’s sensitive.’
‘Moby doesn’t look like he has a sensitive nerve in his body.’
‘Looks are deceptive.’ He hesitated. ‘But…you will drive it? Just until I get back? Rachel, I can’t tell you…’
‘I don’t want you to tell me,’ she said, the anger he’d sensed from the start resurfacing. ‘We all do what we have to do, Dr Lavery, and if that involves me driving Moby Dick…’
‘And taking responsibility for two small boys. And starting work three days early. It’s a huge ask.’
‘It’s not an ask. It’s just what is,’ she said. ‘Whatever what is needs to be faced, and there’s no use arguing. And for you… What is includes doing what you need to do for your stepsons. You’ve failed in that department already today so it’s time to do better.’
Her anger was right there, in his face. Her brown eyes were flashing. Challenging.
‘You’re judging me?’ he demanded.
‘Of course I am. You really think Christine is a reliable childminder?’
‘I had no choice.’
‘Isn’t keeping kids safe the most important choice of all?’ She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to collect herself. ‘That’s your business, however. I don’t know your circumstances. It’s not serious enough to report to the authorities…’
‘The authorities,’ he said, gobsmacked. ‘You’d go there?’
‘If I think children are seriously neglected, of course,’ she snapped. ‘Stepfather or not.’
‘Is this your background speaking?’
That silenced her. She stared at him blankly for a moment before responding. ‘What…what do you know of my background?’
‘I’m the grandson of Roger Lavery. I’m a trustee for his scholarship fund. I read your application.’
‘Then forget it,’ she snapped, the picture of outrage. ‘As my colleague, it smacks of prying, and it has no bearing on what’s happening now. Dr Lavery, I have to organise myself if I’m to stay with your boys and so do you. The evac chopper should be here soon. You have packing to do, plus explaining to Henry and Marcus what’s happening. They’re confused and upset and they’re still with the appalling Christine. So that’s your what is. They need to be reassured, Christine needs to be sacked and you need to get packed. Go do it, Dr Lavery. Ring Rose if you can, and tell her I’ll be there with my toothbrush in an hour.’
‘Rachel, I can’t tell you…’
‘Then don’t tell me,’ she said angrily. ‘And don’t you dare pry into my private business again. Just get things done.’
An hour later he was sitting in the rear of the evac chopper, wondering what on earth had happened.
How had it come to this?
Kit was asleep, courtesy of the strong painkillers he’d been given. The two paramedics on board were more than capable of taking care of Kit medically. Tom’s role was that of parent.
Parent.
The word still hung heavy.
He remembered the night Claire had asked him. ‘Please, Tom, will you marry me? I can’t think what else to do.’
What followed had been one marriage, three adoptions and Claire’s death, and his life had changed for ever. He sat in the helicopter looking down at one injured child, thinking he’d just dumped two others on a woman he hardly knew. This was a nightmare. And if Claire’s parents found out…
He raked his fingers through his hair, struggling to get his head around the logistics of this mess, and the paramedic next to him glanced at him in sympathy.
‘You’ve had a shock too, mate. We can set you up on the other stretcher if you like, give you a chance to close your eyes and regroup.’
It needed only this, to be treated as a patient.
But that was what he felt like at the moment, as if he’d been punched in the guts. He was so out of his depth.
Who was the woman in charge of his children? A fiery newcomer who’d judged him and found him wanting. A woman he’d met only hours before.
He had Roscoe in the background, he reminded himself, and he had Rose. They’d keep an eye on her.
But her anger stayed with him.
He looked down at Kit’s white face, at his limp little body. These kids had been through so much. And his lack of care had caused more pain… She’d been right to look at him with fury.
‘Lie down,’ the paramedic said again, gently, and he thought maybe he needed to.
He looked sick because that was how he felt.
What had she done, offering to mind two boys for days?
She didn’t get involved. Ever. What crazy impulse had led her to say she’d help out?
Medicine was what Rachel used to settle her and it was medicine she focused on now. She sat in Tom’s office and read through histories of the patients in the hospital. Five were elderly, recuperating from falls or waiting for home care arrangements. Three were here for rehab, transferred back from city hospitals, preparing to go home. One was a thirty-seven-weeks-pregnant mum with five kids at home. Tom had written in heavy letters—‘Bed rest until her sister arrives from Canada!’
The final history was that of a farmer with an infected leg after being kicked by a cow. According to the history, he was responding to antibiotics. There seemed nothing she couldn’t handle.
She did a round and introduced herself. Without exception, the patients were full of questions but she backed away fast. That was something else she’d been warned of with country medicine. ‘Everyone will know everything about you in two minutes.’
Tom Lavery already knew more about her than she was comfortable with. At least she could back away from patients before they got personal.
Roscoe found her as she saw the last one. ‘Everything’s arranged,’ he told her. ‘Christine’s feeling bad about what’s happened. Big of her, but she’s decided to be helpful. She’s moving her Aunt Rose in now. Rose will give everyone the hugs they need. The boys love her. If you can…your job is just to be there at the edges. Make sure Rose doesn’t start washing or scrubbing. She has osteoarthritis and her hip’s probably more painful than she’s letting on, but she loves the boys.’
‘That’s great,’ Rachel said, feeling relieved. ‘I can do whatever else needs to be done but the hugging is her department.’
She didn’t do hugging. Almost unconsciously, her fingers drifted to one of the bands of scar tissue she could still feel around her upper arms. After twenty-eight years she didn’t know how to hug. She didn’t know how to love, and she had no intention of trying.
So now what?
‘Roy Matheson’s outside, checking the damage to your car,’ Roscoe told her. ‘Tom must have phoned him. All he needs is your keys and he reckons he’ll have her good as new in no time. Here are Doc’s keys for Moby Dick. We’ll call you back if we need you. Meanwhile, you go and do what you have to do.’ He hesitated. ‘You know how grateful we all are that you’re doing this? It’s really generous.’
‘I hardly had a choice.’ She couldn’t help it; her voice sounded waspish.
‘You could have refused. We’d have found a way. This is a tight community. If you hadn’t offered we’d have muddled through somehow. No one’s left in the lurch here. We care.’
And why did that make her feel weird?
Her childhood. The loneliness.
No one’s left in the lurch here.
Enough. She gave herself a mental shake and took the proffered car keys. She needed to find… Moby Dick? She also needed to figure out the boundaries of the next few days.
For boundaries had to be set, she told herself. Boundaries were what she lived within.
She could do this.
But at the back of her mind a question was niggling. She’d wanted to ask Roscoe but her boundaries had stopped her.
These were Tom’s stepsons—what on earth was a man doing with three kids who weren’t his own?
Hadn’t he heard of boundaries?
