Letting Go With Dr Rodriguez

No, the effort required not to bite her lip came from the derisive look that scoured his high cheek bones and burned from his rich-cocoa-coloured eyes. The look that said, I wouldn’t touch your hand if you were the last woman on earth.

He crossed his toned arms with their dark hairs almost standing on end over his wide chest and completely ignored her hand. ‘I do not know you.’ His accent thickened. ‘You should not be here.’

You know he’s correct.

She gritted her teeth against her conscience and told herself she had the right to be here. Mustering up a smile, the winning one she’d used a lot as a child to get her own way, she forced her hand to stay hovering between them despite wanting to whip it back by her side and dry the sweat on her jeans. All she needed to do was explain who she was and her plan would be safe. ‘I’m Lucy Patterson. You emailed me about William.’

‘You’re William’s daughter?’ Chocolate brows shot halfway up an intelligent forehead and his gaze raked her from head to toe as disbelief momentarily pushed his anger aside.

She was used to this reaction, having experienced it often from the age of sixteen when it had become obvious she was never going to grow any taller. Once it had made her laugh and she’d had a steady stream of jokes at the ready about her and William’s excessive height differences. Only that had been before everything had changed and a lifetime lie had been exposed. ‘Like I said, I’m Lucy Patterson.’ She tilted her extended hand slightly.

He slowly uncrossed his folded arms and slid his right palm against hers, his long fingers curving around her hand like a splash of dark paint against a white canvas. The heat burned her, shooting up her arm before diving deep and leaving behind a trail of addictive tingles and shivers.

Oh, no. Not now and not here. Shocked at her body’s reaction, she abruptly pulled her hand away to the safety of her side. After the debacle that had been her relationship with Daniel, she didn’t want or need any type of attraction to any man. Especially one in Bulla Creek where she wouldn’t live again even if they paid her.

Marco didn’t seem to have noticed her hasty end to their handshake. ‘Lucy Patterson, why are you here?’

Lucy wondered if perhaps his English wasn’t as good as she’d assumed. She smiled again. ‘You wrote to me and asked me to come, so here I am.’

Two deep lines etched into the bridge of his nose. ‘I asked you to come and visit your father, not the computer in this office.’

The muscles in her cheeks ached from the continual bright smile. A smile that didn’t seem to be having any effect on its intended target. She went for chatty. ‘I’m not sure what doctors are like where you come from, but in Australia the combination of being male and a doctor makes the worst type of patient.’

Marco tilted his head in thought and a curl fell forward. ‘This may be.’

Yes, she was getting somewhere. ‘So it makes sense for me to read his medical history before I see him.’

So now you’re lying to other people and not just yourself.

Again, she silenced her conscience. Let me do things my way.

Marco continued to stare at her with a questioning look. ‘But you are not William’s doctor.’

‘No, but I am a doctor.’

Again his gaze censored her. ‘Then you should know better.’

She tossed her head, overriding the sliver of guilt that pierced her and instead converted it into righteous indignation. ‘William hasn’t mentioned to me that he broke his leg and at his age a fall can be a sign of other things so it makes sense for me to read his file.’

‘Your father is not so ill that he can’t speak. William is very capable of telling you the information.’ A look of realisation suddenly shone brightly in his enigmatic eyes. ‘Have you spoken to him?’

She shrugged so as not to squirm and held onto her bravado. ‘Thank you for emailing me, but I’ve got it all under control.’ She moved back toward the computer.

In two long strides he was by her side with his hands on her upper arms and suddenly her feet left the floor.

Abject offence roared through her. ‘Hey! Put me down.’

A moment later, she was back on terra firma with Marco, feet wide apart, standing solidly between her and the computer and blocking her path.

His glare matched hers—incensed and scowling. ‘As William’s doctor and partner in this practice, I will not allow you to read his file without his permission.’

She held onto her dignity by a thread. ‘I’m his next of kin.’

‘Sí, so you know that does not give you the right to read his file.’ His hand shot out. ‘You have a key to the clinic?’

Her arms shot over her chest as guilt and anger hammered her. ‘I’m not giving it to you.’

‘You do not work here and I do not trust you.’

‘I grew up here.’ Words spluttered in her throat, chained by a rush of conflicting emotions that made her sway. ‘God, I spent so many Saturday mornings playing in the waiting room that it was my second home. You’re the stranger here, buddy, not me.’

He didn’t even flinch. If anything he seemed more implacable than ever and the quietness of his voice didn’t hide for a moment his firm intent. ‘Go and talk with your father.’

The prospect of talking to William had anxiety and heartache making her feet twitch in readiness to run far from Bulla Creek. ‘I will read that file.’

He shook his head. ‘Not without William’s permission.’

‘Fine, I’ll ask Sue.’

His jaw stiffened. ‘I think that Sue is disappointed that you have not been to see your father in a long time. She will side with me.’

She swallowed hard, hating that the town might have turned on her without knowing the full story. Her hands shot out in bitter aggravation. ‘This isn’t how we do things in the country.’

This time one brow rose sardonically. ‘So, you would let anyone read your patients’ files where you work? If this is so, I would not want to be under your care.’

The shot against her professionalism jolted her hard.

You know he’s right. From before he caught you trying to read the file you’ve known he was right.

My situation is different. She harnessed all her frustration, using it to push away the other emotions that threatened to swamp her the way they had on and off over the last six months. She fisted her hands by her sides. ‘You know nothing about me, Dr Rodriguez, and therefore not enough to judge me.’

Before he could reply, she pushed past him, stalking out into the fading light and back to her car, homeless in a town she’d once called home. Only then did she allow herself to cry.

CHAPTER TWO

‘PAPÁ?’

Marco lay on his son’s bed as part of their ‘goodnight’ ritual. ‘Yes.’

‘No boys …” Ignacio spoke slowly, each word an effort to form perfectly. He breathed in ‘… have crutches.’

Marco tried to keep the tension out of his voice. ‘Lots of boys use crutches.’

‘Not at school. Not in town. I looked.’

Marco swallowed a familiar sigh. ‘You are right. No other boys in Bulla Creek use crutches, but you’re special.’

‘No. I’m not.’ Ignacio’s voice rose and his small body spasmed, making it even more rigid than its usual state. ‘I’m different. I don’t like it.’

Each word pierced Marco’s heart. A part of him knew that one day his wonderful son would make the connection that he didn’t have the same free and easy control of his body as most other boys his age. Marco had hoped however that the realisation would come much later than at a mere five years of age. The irony of it all was that inside a body that failed Ignacio daily on so many levels was a mind that was sharp and fiercely intelligent.

‘Querido, your crutches are your friend when your legs are tired. Now you must sleep so your legs are rested in the morning.’

He slid the soft-toy koala, the one Ignacio had chosen on their arrival at Sydney airport, into his arms and then tucked in the sheet and light blanket around him. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, he whispered, ‘I love you. Sleep well.’

‘I love you, too, Papá.’

Marco closed the door behind him and walked directly to the kitchen. Heather had prepared a plate of cold chicken and salad for him and as he poured himself a glass of wine to accompany the food, he wished he was eating a thick steak straight off the barbecue instead of yet another cold meal. Of course, he could fire up the grill and cook one, but he lacked the energy. Bulla Creek, the place he’d come to as a sanctuary and for a new start, was wearing him out.

As he ate, he glanced at the calendar, mentally calculating how long William had been out of action. It felt disloyal to wish his colleague and mentor back at his desk when he clearly didn’t feel up to it and yet if William could give just two hours a day to see the straightforward cases it would ease Marco’s load considerably.

Lucy Patterson is a doctor. You could ask her to help.

No. He pushed his plate away and took a long gulp of his wine as the combined image of wild, grey eyes and pale cheeks stained with pink hit him. It was instantly followed up with the backhander of a lush-red, pouting and highly kissable mouth. His blood pounded more than a fraction faster.

He quickly stood up and stowed his plate in the dishwasher as if movement would empty his mind of her. It galled him that his body had decided to come alive in the presence of a woman who looked like a fragile porcelain doll, but in personality was the exact opposite. Plus, she came with questionable professional ethics. A lesser man would have melted under the incensed fire blazing from those eyes, which had flared when he’d denied her access to the computer.

His palms suddenly glowed hot, reliving the soft warmth of her skin where he’d touched her arms. Skin that covered surprisingly taut muscles that had hinted at some weight-work. That he’d lifted her out of the way still shocked him, but he’d acted out of loyalty to William. William was his patient and he knew nothing of Lucy.

William didn’t speak of her and Sue had sighed when she’d reluctantly handed over the email address saying, ‘He won’t be happy about this and she should know better.’ At the time, he’d been intent on getting some help for William and by default for himself so Marco hadn’t given Sue’s statement much thought. However, now he’d met Lucy Patterson, he wondered if it was her conduct as a doctor that was the issue that lay between her and her father. William was one of the most principled and professional doctors Marco had ever worked with and he couldn’t imagine him condoning any behaviour that went against his code of practice.

No, it was enough that William would resent his intrusion in summoning his daughter without Marco adding to it by asking her to work in the clinic. He couldn’t in all conscience have someone in the practice who ignored protocol. No, Lucy Patterson wasn’t the answer to his problems.

Decision made, he took his wine out onto the back deck which overlooked the surrounding rocky hills and breathed in the sweet, cool evening air that slid in over the fading heat. Out here, he could usually shed some of the pressures that plagued him, but not tonight. As he watched the night star rise in the darkening sky, his thoughts spun out to Argentina and to his parents who were anxious to join him in Bulla Creek the moment he was granted permanent residency and he could legally sponsor them. They missed their grandson. His thoughts bounced back to Ignacio’s heartbreak. He let his head fall back on that grief, feeling it moving through him again, just like it had years before, and then suddenly, without any bidding, an image of Lucy Patterson’s curvaceous behind swooped in sending all other thoughts scattering.

Swearing in Spanish, he stood up and walked inside.

Lucy repaired her makeup in the car using the tiny mirror on the visor and then ran a brush through her hair. The yellow light gave her a jaundiced look and she pinched her cheeks trying to infuse some colour. She should have checked into the motel, but she really didn’t want to meet anyone she knew until she’d spoken to William. She stared at her pale face. ‘Lucy Jane whoever-you-are, it’s time.’

Stepping out onto the sweeping, circular driveway outside Haven, the gravel crunched under her feet and she stared up at the house. The stone and iron cottage with its whitewashed window sills and decorative wooden veranda rails stood as it had for the last one hundred and thirty years. It had been her home from the age of one when her parents had moved with her to Bulla Creek, and right up until she’d left for university. After that it had been her haven when life in Perth pressed in on her, and she’d run home for some rest, relaxation and general cosseting.

All that had changed and now it was a house associated with heartache. Part of her wanted to knock on the front door to emphasise her visitor status, but it was a long walk from the back of the house and no matter how furious she was with William, he would be on crutches. She didn’t want him to walk further than necessary so she walked around the side of the house, opened the squeaky gate and entered the cottage garden. The scent of lavender hit her nostrils and she breathed in deeply, trying to use its calming properties. To her left, an enormous grapevine grew over a frame, providing shade to what William had always called ‘their outdoor living room’.

Her gaze extended beyond the deck, through the large, glass doors and into the kitchen. She saw William sitting at the long, Baltic pine table, with crutches resting on one end as well as a cane. A book lay in front of him, and he held a glass in his hand. Her heart rolled over despite itself. When had he got old? The last time she’d seen him his hair had had flecks of silver streaking through the black. Now all his hair was silver grey.

Go in, talk to him, and make sure he’s okay.

She tossed her head as she grumbled quietly to herself. ‘Yes, I’m going inside but after that, I’m checking into the motel.’

Blowing out a breath, she tried to capture a semblance of composure because everything to do with William always generated a mass of contradictory feelings. She rolled her shoulders back, raised her hand, knocked and walked in.

‘Hello, William.’

The man she’d called her father for twenty-six years looked up from his book, shock draining his face of colour. ‘Lucy.’ He stared at her and blinked, as if he didn’t believe his eyes, and then slowly his mouth curved up into a wide and familiar smile. ‘What a wonderful surprise.’

She bit her lip, not knowing what to say because ‘Just passing through, thought I’d drop in’ didn’t allow for the seven hundred kilometre journey from Perth. She tilted her head toward the crutches. ‘You’ve been in the wars.’

He raised his leg, the cast white against the dark material of his trousers, and gave a self-deprecating grimace. ‘Came off my bike dodging a kangaroo. Big red hopped away and now I’m hopping too.’

His humour circled her like it always had—warm and loving—but she refused to give in to it because being a doctor was so much easier than the minefield of being his daughter. ‘So I see. Any other damage besides a fractured tibia?’

His smile faded slightly. ‘How do you know I have a fractured tibia? I haven’t mentioned what bones I broke.’

Busted. But she had no qualms telling him the truth because she had no need to protect the source, especially given what had happened. ‘Your Spanish doctor emailed me.’

For some reason her face felt suddenly hot, which was crazy because she hadn’t even said the man’s name. However, since she’d stormed out of the clinic, each time she’d thought about the raven-haired, accented doctor, this heat-fest flared inside her. She wanted it to stop.

‘He’s not Spanish. He’s from Argentina.’ William’s face sagged, making him look more haggard than ever. ‘So, the only reason you’re in Bulla Creek is because Marco asked you to come?’

She shrugged trying not to let his palpable hurt touch her. She was hurting too, only her reason was much bigger and more life-altering than his. ‘I’m here to make sure you’re getting the right medical care.’

This time William shrugged and when he spoke his voice held the well-modulated tone of a country GP giving a report to a colleague. ‘You can set your mind at ease immediately. Marco is more than competent and the break wasn’t complicated, but even so he insisted on me going to Geraldton to see Jeremy Lucas, the orthopod. As you can see, I’m doing well and I’ve graduated to a walking stick.’

She wanted to believe him, but evidence to the contrary was in front of them. ‘So why the crutches?’

‘I was tired tonight after more walking more than usual so I’ve been using crutches. If you don’t believe me about the break, you can look at the X-rays if you wish.’

‘Dr Rodriguez wouldn’t let me look at anything.’

He frowned again. ‘You’ve been to the clinic?’

She shifted on her feet realising there was absolutely nothing wrong with her father’s lightning-quick brain. It was a good thing except when it pertained to her. ‘I had to drive past the clinic to get here so it made sense to call in first.’

You’re big on self-delusion today.

She kept talking to silence her conscience. ‘But like I said, he wouldn’t give me any information and he told me in no uncertain terms …” she found herself gently stroking the tops of her arms and dropped her hands away fast ‘… that I had to talk to you.’

‘As it should be.’ His lips twitched. ‘Still, I imagine that would have been very frustrating for you.’ The words held the type of understanding that only came from knowing someone for a very long time, and they held a slight hint of censure.

‘It was.’ She braced herself, expecting him to say something about the fact she hadn’t spoken to him in months.

He cleared his throat. ‘As you can see I’m doing fine and the cast comes off in a few days. Sharon comes in each day to cook and clean just as she has all year, and Sue calls in as well. There’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about.’

William rose to his feet and ignoring the crutches used his cane to rest against. ‘Cup of tea?’

She hesitated, rationalising that he sounded fine and he seemed to have everything organised without her help so she didn’t have to stay.

He doesn’t look fine. He looks tired, old and sad.

She didn’t want to think about that because it tempted her to question the decision she’d made months ago. ‘Um … thanks, but it’s been a long day and … um … I still need to check into the motel.’

‘The motel?’ William’s movement stalled and his face paled. ‘Lucy, you know you always have a room here if you want or need it.’ He stared at her silently, not asking her to stay in words but with his hazel eyes which filled with quiet hope.

She swallowed, trying to hold herself together as the long drive, her horrible last two days and the fracas in the clinic slammed into the comforting scent of bergamot, fresh mint and leather-bound books—some of the many fragrances that defined her childhood. Despite the catastrophic disclosure that had changed everything, despite her anger and confusion regarding William and Bulla Creek, the aromas of yesteryear pulled at her strongly, upending her plan of a quick, clinical visit.

Fatigue clawed at her like sticky mud on boots and the thought of having to deal with the questioning looks of Loretta, the gossipy motel owner, was more than she could bear. She was a grown-up, not a child, and surely she could get through one night in this house with all its ghosts. One night of duty to really make sure William was doing as well as he said.

She sank into the comforting depths of the chesterfield before she could talk herself out of it and said, ‘Tea would be lovely, thank you.’

Lucy squinted against the bright sunlight which poured into her bedroom through the now thin and faded pink curtains. She flipped onto her side, pulling the pillow over her head, but then the raucous screech of the white cockatoos greeting the dawn shocked her fully awake. As her heart rate slowed, she remembered she was lying in her childhood bed in Haven, back at Bulla Creek.

This time her heart rate stayed normal, but her stomach squirted acid. At this rate, her stress levels were going to seriously injure her. She threw back the covers. Shower first and then food.

Twenty minutes later she padded into the kitchen, totally starving and on the search for breakfast.

She found a note on the pantry door scrawled in William’s trademark black ink and squinted, trying to decipher it. No nib, however fine, had ever improved his doctor’s handwriting. Seeing it drew her back in time to when she’d been a fourteen-year-old girl watching the man she hero-worshipped writing at the old oak desk in the study and telling her that the fountain pen, which had been his father’s, would belong to her one day.

Just think, Lucy, there could be three generations of doctors in the family writing prescriptions with the same pen. Wouldn’t that be special?

At the time she’d thought it would be amazingly special because it meant the need to care and heal ran so strongly in the Pattersons’ veins it couldn’t be denied, and she was part of that destiny.

Lucy gave herself a shake and centred her thoughts on the prosaic present. William no longer wrote prescriptions with the fountain pen because they were computer generated and printed, and she wasn’t certain the pen represented anything any more other than being part of the elaborate fake facade of her life.

She read the note.

I hope you’ll stay for lunch. My treat at the Shearer’s Arms at noon? Either way, please don’t go without a goodbye. Dad x

Last time she’d left Haven she’d run through a veil of tears propelled by anger and the devastating cost of a lifelong lie. Ironically, she was back here not only to check up on William, but because of another lie. Only the loss of Daniel didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as the loss of Jess.

She ran her hands through her hair, missing her friend who she’d always turned to for advice, especially after the death of Ruth when everything had gone so pear-shaped. Now she had no one to talk to.

I give good advice. Not that you listen much.

She ignored her own unsolicited advice and glanced at the huge station-style clock in the kitchen, its black hands showing that it wasn’t even seven. Five long hours until lunch.

Facing William alone over lunch.

She knew he would have booked the alcove table, the one tucked away from prying eyes and flapping ears so they could ‘talk’. She pressed her temples with her fingers. She didn’t want to do that, but then again she really didn’t want to leave abruptly again either. Putting the invitation into the ‘too hard basket’, she filled the kettle and set it to boil before opening the pantry door. She stepped inside its cool walls. The usually groaning shelves were understocked and as she reached for a box of breakfast cereal, her gaze landed on a blister pack of tablets that were slid in next to the breakfast condiments. She picked them up, turned them over and read the name. Anti-hypertensive tablets. She frowned. How long had William been taking blood pressure medication?

The doctor in her wanted to ask him right now, but waking him up to do that wasn’t the best idea. She picked up the cereal and noticed the box was almost empty. She checked the fridge, which had no yoghurt and only a small amount of milk. She pulled open the freezer and apart from a sports pack and a bag of peas and one casserole, it was predominantly filled with ice. Grabbing a pen, she wrote a shopping list, and then she pulled six grocery bags from the pantry and picked up her keys. Before she left Bulla Creek, she’d make sure William had a full pantry and a few more frozen meals.