Wedding in Darling Downs

‘Thanks.’ He took the coffee, added a dollop of milk and lifted the cup to his mouth. ‘Could we sit for a minute?’

Emma indicated the old kitchen table that been in the staff room for as long as she could remember. ‘You were a long time with Carolyn. Everything OK?’ she asked as they took their places on opposite sides of the table.

‘I hope so.’ Declan’s long fingers spanned his coffee mug and he said thoughtfully, ‘We talked a bit and I suggested a few things. Some tai chi, a good solid walk in the early evening could help her relax enough to induce a natural sleep. Even a leisurely swim would be beneficial.’

‘The school has a pool but it’s not open to the public.’

‘Pity. She’s obviously quite tense.’

‘And it’s a situation that’s happening more and more,’ Emma agreed. ‘Grandparents taking on the caring role for their grandchildren. Even here in this small community, there are families in similar circumstances as the Joneses.’

Declan took a long mouthful of his coffee. ‘Does Bendemere have anything like a support group for them? Somewhere they can air their fears and worries in a safe environment?’

Emma resisted the urge to shriek. ‘This isn’t the city, Dr O’Malley. We’re a bit short of facilitators and psychologists who could lead a group.’

‘But a doctor could.’

Was he serious? ‘Don’t you think I would if I could?’ she flashed. ‘I’m so stretched now, I—’

‘No, Emma, you’re misunderstanding me.’ His look was guarded and cool. ‘I meant me—I could help.’

‘You?’ Emma huffed her disbelief. She wasn’t understanding any of this. ‘Are you saying you want to stay on here?’

‘You need a practice partner, don’t you?’

‘But you know nothing about the place!’ Emma’s thoughts were spinning. ‘Nothing about the viability of the practice. Nothing about me.’

He stared at her for a long moment. ‘I know you’re Andrew’s daughter.’

‘And you’d make a life-changing decision on the basis of that?’ Emma’s voice had a husky edge of disquiet.

Oh, hell. He was doing this all wrong. No wonder she was confused. He’d meant to lead up to things gently and objectively, explain himself, choose his words carefully. But just getting his head around Emma’s crippling workload, the plight of Carolyn Jones and others like her had spurred him on to get matters sorted and quickly.

‘Emma—’ He paused significantly. ‘I didn’t just come here to offer my condolences. There’s another reason why I’m here in Bendemere.’

Emma tried to grasp the significance of his words. ‘Perhaps you’d better explain.’

Declan watched as she drew herself up stiffly, almost as if she were gathering invisible armour around her. He knew what he was about to tell her would come as a shock, maybe even wound her deeply. But he had to do it. ‘Your father contacted me shortly before his death. He offered to sell me his share of the practice. I’m here to arrange payment and finalise the details of our partnership.’

Emma’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut. She clutched the edge of the table for support, becoming aware of her heart thrashing to a sickening rhythm inside her chest. ‘I don’t believe Dad would have done something like that.’

‘I have a letter of confirmation from your father and the legal documents.’

‘Dad wouldn’t have just thrust someone on me. Someone I didn’t even know!’ She felt the pitch of her anger and emotion rising and didn’t care. ‘And I don’t have to accept your money, Dr O’Malley, nor do I have to take you on as my practice partner.’

Declan’s gaze narrowed on her flushed face, the angry tilt of her small chin. Damn! He hadn’t reckoned on any of this. ‘It was what your father wanted, Emma.’

Emma gave a hard little laugh. ‘Emotional blackmail will get you absolutely nowhere, Dr O’Malley.’

‘Please!’ With a reflex action Declan’s head shot up, his vivid blue gaze striking an arc across the space between them. ‘Give me a little credit. I realize this has come as a shock to you. And I’m sorry. I’d hoped Andrew might have given you some idea of what he wanted, paved the way a bit, but obviously time ran out on him. But we can’t leave things here, Emma. We really can’t.’ His mouth compressed briefly. ‘I suggest we take a break and let things settle a bit. I’m staying at the Heritage Hotel. We could link up there later this evening and talk further. Dinner around seven. Does that suit you?’

‘Fine,’ Emma responded bluntly. It seemed she had no choice in the matter.

‘Let’s meet at the bar, then.’ Declan grabbed at the grudging acceptance.

Chapter Two

EMMA hitched up her little shoulder bag and determinedly pushed open the heavy plate glass door of the restaurant. She loved this place. As it was winter, the lovely old fireplace was lit, sending out warmth and flickering patterns to the wood-panelled walls. The atmosphere was charming and tonight was the first time she’d come here since…Her teeth caught on her lower lip. She and Dad had come here often. The Sunday lunch at the Heritage was legendary.

But this evening her dinner companion was someone far different than her father.

Heart thrumming, Emma made her way along the parquet flooring towards the bar. Declan was there already. She saw him at once, his distinctive dark head turning automatically, almost as if he’d sensed her approach. A shower of tingles began at the base of her backbone, spiralling upwards and engulfing her. She swallowed. He was wearing dark jeans and an oatmeal-coloured sweater that looked soft and cuddly. Oh, get real, Emma! Cuddles and Declan O’Malley were about as compatible as oil and water.

‘Hello again.’ Declan nodded almost formally. And blinked. Wow! Gone was the harassed-looking medico. Emma Armitage could have sauntered in from the catwalk. She was wearing black leggings and a long-sleeved, long-line silver-grey T-shirt, a huge silky scarf in a swirl of multicolour around her throat. And knee-high boots. ‘You look amazing.’

‘Thanks.’ Her shrug was so slight he hardly saw it. ‘I love your outfit too.’

So, the lady did have a sense of humour after all. A quirky one at that. Declan’s grin unfolded lazily, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘We seem to have that sorted, so let’s try to enjoy our evening, shall we? Would you like something to drink?’

In a leggy, graceful movement, Emma hitched herself up on to one of the high bar stools. ‘A glass of the house red would be nice, thanks.’

For a while they talked generalities and then Declan glanced at his watch. ‘I reserved us a table. Shall we go through?’

‘It’s rather crowded for a week night,’ Emma said stiltedly as they took their places in the restaurant adjoining the bar.

‘I’ve been quite taken with the town,’ Declan rejoined. ‘Tell me a bit about its history.’

Emma did her best to comply and it wasn’t until they’d come to the end of their meal and were sitting over coffee she said pointedly, ‘It’s been a long day, could we wind things up so we can both get on about our business?’

‘OK, then.’ Declan’s moody blue eyes were fixed unflinchingly on hers. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. About six months ago I received a letter from your father telling me about his deterioration in health.’

For a few seconds Emma stared at him in numb disbelief. ‘Dad told you and he didn’t tell me? Why? I was his daughter, for heaven’s sake.’

Declan could hardly bear to watch her grief. ‘I know it sounds an old chestnut, Emma,’ he said gently, ‘but perhaps he didn’t want to upset you any further than you had been. You had other things going on in your life, didn’t you?’

Emma’s face was tightly controlled. ‘What did Dad tell you about that?’

‘Almost nothing—just that you’d had a few personal problems.’

Like mopping up the emotional fallout after her rat of a fiancé had dumped her for her best friend…

‘And that you’d come back to work in the practice,’ Declan finished diplomatically.

Emma curled her hands into a tight knot on her lap. ‘What did he tell you about his health? That he had only a short time to live?’

Declan’s frown deepened. ‘Nothing like that. But, from what he told me, I drew my own conclusions. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I, myself, was in somewhat of a personal crisis at the time, I’d have come back to Australia to see Andrew immediately. Instead, I called him. He was concerned for you, for the future of the practice if the worst happened. We talked at length. It was then he offered to sell me his half of the practice.’

‘I see.’ Emma swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. But she understood now why her father hadn’t told her anything about his plans. He would have had to reveal the uncertain state of his health. So instead he’d trusted Declan O’Malley to set things right. But did that mean she had to accept him as her partner? She didn’t think so. ‘I’m sure Dad wouldn’t have wanted you interfering in my life.’

‘That’s not what Andrew had in mind, Emma.’

‘So, you’re here as some kind of…white knight?’ she grated bitterly.

‘I’m here because I want to be here,’ Declan said simply. ‘Because it seems like a worthwhile thing to do. You need a partner. I need a job. Isn’t that the truth of it?’

She looked at him warily. ‘Why do you need a job? You obviously have medical qualifications beyond the norm. Career-wise, the world should be your playground. Why aren’t you working in your chosen discipline somewhere?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘There’s plenty of coffee in the pot,’ Emma countered. ‘And we’re quite private here.’

Declan felt the familiar grind in his guts at the thought of rehashing everything.

At his continued silence, something like resentment stirred in Emma and she couldn’t let go of it. ‘Dr O’Malley, if you’ve ideas of entering into partnership with me, then I need to know what I’m getting. That’s only fair, isn’t it?’

He took a long breath and let it go. ‘My surgical career is, to all intents and purposes, finished. I can’t operate any longer.’

Faint shock widened Emma’s eyes. How awful. She knew only too well what it was like to have your world collapse with no redress possible. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Thank you.’ The words escaped mechanically from his lips.

And that was it? Emma took in the sudden tight set of his neck and shoulders. He had to know she needed more information. Much more than the bald statement he’d offered. She felt about for the right words to help him. But in the end it was a simple, softly spoken, ‘What happened?’

Declan rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘After I’d completed my general surgery training, I decided to go ahead and specialize in orthopaedics.’ His blue eyes shone for a moment. ‘On a good day when everything in the OR goes right and you know it’s your skill that’s enabling a patient to regain their mobility, their normal life, and in some instances their whole livelihood…it’s empowering and humbling all rolled into one.’

‘Yes, I imagine it is,’ Emma said, but she had the feeling he had hardly heard.

‘I was fortunate enough to be accepted at St Mary’s in Edinburgh.’

Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Their training programme is legendary. I believe they take only the brightest and best.’

‘I was lucky,’ he said modestly.

Hardly. Obviously, he was seriously gifted. Which fact made Declan O’Malley’s reasons for opting to come in as her partner in a country practice odd indeed, she thought, noticing he’d hadn’t touched his coffee. Instead, he’d spanned his fingers around the cup, holding on to it like some kind of lifeline.

‘After a long stint in Scotland, I’d decided to head back home. I was still finalizing dates when I had a call from an Aussie mate. He was coming over for a holiday in the UK, beginning in Scotland. I postponed my plans and Jack and I bought a couple of motorbikes.’

‘Fuel-wise cheaper than cars, I guess,’ was Emma’s only comment.

‘Jack and I found a couple of high-powered beauties for sale locally. Those bikes took us everywhere. Life was sweet—until we had the accident.’

Emma winced and she automatically put her hand to her heart. ‘How?’

He gave a grim smile. ‘A foggy afternoon, an unfamiliar road. A bit too much speed. And a truck that came out of nowhere. Jack received a broken leg. I was somewhat more compromised. I ended up with lumbar injuries.’ He expanded on the statement with technical language, ending with, ‘The outcome was partial paralysis in my left leg.’ He grimaced as if the memory was still fresh.

Emma gripped her hands tightly. He must have been sick with worry and conjecture. And fear. Her antagonism faded and her heart went out to him. ‘What was the result? I mean, you don’t appear to have any deficit in your movement.’

His eyes took on a dull bleakness. ‘I’ve regained most of it but my muscles are unpredictable, my toes still get numb from time to time. Added to that, I can’t stand for excessively long periods. And that’s what orthopaedic surgeons have to do. You need to have muscle strength, be in control. I can’t risk a patient’s life by breaking down in the middle of a long operation. So, career-wise, I’m stuffed.’

‘But you could do other kinds of surgery,’ Emma said hopefully.

‘I don’t even want to think about that. I want to do what I was trained to do—what I do—did best.’

But sometimes you had to compromise. Emma knew that better than most. ‘You could lecture, Declan.’

He made a disgusted sound. ‘Take up a chair in a hallowed hall somewhere? That’s not me. I’m a doer. I’d rather change direction entirely.’

‘In other words, come in as my partner—’ She broke off. ‘You might hate it.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Blue eyes challenged her although his mouth moved in the ghost of a wry smile. When she remained silent, he went on, ‘Emma, don’t you think it’s just possible Andrew considered he was acting in the best interests of both of us? He knew the extent of my injuries, the uncertain state of my career in medicine and he knew, without him, you were going to need a partner—someone you could trust. And you can trust me, Emma,’ he assured her sincerely.

Emma felt almost sick with vulnerability. Heaven knew there was no one else beating the door down to come and work with her. But this man? On the other hand, what choice did she have? He had all the power on his side and, she suspected, the determination that her father’s wishes would be carried out. There was really no get-out clause here. None at all. ‘How do we go about setting things in motion, then?’ Her voice was small and formal.

Declan breathed the greatest sigh of relief. They’d got to the trickiest hurdle and jumped it. ‘You’re overworked and under-capitalised. If we tackle the problems together, Kingsholme could be brought up to its potential again. Why don’t we give it six months? If we find we can’t work together, I’ll get out.’

‘And where will that leave me?’

‘Hopefully, with a fully functioning practice. You’d have no difficulty attracting a new partner and I’d recoup my investment. It would be a win-win situation for both of us.’

Emma knew the decision had already been made for her. She wanted to—needed to—keep Kingsholme. Declan O’Malley had been Dad’s choice of a suitable practice partner for her. She had to trust his judgement and go along with that. Otherwise, she was back to the mind-numbing uncertainty of the past weeks. ‘Have you come prepared to stay, then?’

‘I’ve brought enough gear to keep me going for a while.’ Declan kept his tone deliberately brisk. ‘If it suits you, I’ll continue at the surgery until Friday and then, on the weekend, we can go over what practical changes need to be made. I’d imagine you’d have a few ideas of your own about that?’

‘It depends on how much money you want to spend,’ Emma shot back with the faintest hint of cynicism.

He answered levelly, ‘There’ll be enough.’

On Friday afternoon, they held a quick consult after surgery. ‘What time do you want to begin tomorrow?’ Emma asked.

Declan lifted his medical case up on the counter. ‘I’m flexible. What suits you?’

‘I need to do an early hospital round. We could meet after that.’

‘Why can’t I come to the hospital with you?’

Emma looked uncertain. ‘It’s all pretty basic medicine we do here.’

‘And nothing I’d be interested in?’ Declan’s gaze clouded. ‘Emma, if we’re partners, we share duties. Right?’

She coloured slightly. ‘I was just pointing out there’ll be none of the drama associated with Theatres.’

‘So, it’ll be a change of pace. I can handle that.’

Could he, though? Emma wished she felt more certain. On the other hand, why not think positively? She’d already capitulated over him becoming her partner. It was time to just get on with things. ‘Hospital at eight o’clock, then? I’ll give you the tour.’

‘That’s what I want to hear,’ he drawled with his slow smile.

For a split second Emma registered a zinging awareness between them. Raw and immediate. Like the white-heat of an electric current. She repressed a gasp. Declan O’Malley exuded sex appeal in spades. He was about to step in as her practice partner. And they were going to be working very closely together for at least the next six months…

Emma had enjoyed her Saturday morning run. Leaning forward, hands on the verandah railings, she breathed deeply and began to warm down.

‘Great morning for it,’ a male voice rumbled behind her and she jumped and spun round, her heart skittering.

Emma straightened, one hand clenched on the railings, her senses on high alert, as Declan O’Malley came up the steps. His sudden appearance had made her flustered and unsure. ‘I run most mornings.’ She felt his eyes track over her and, before she could move or comprehend, he’d lifted a hand and knuckled her cheek ever so gently. Emma felt her breath jam.

‘It’s good to see those shadows gone,’ he said, his voice throaty and low and further tugging on her senses. His eyes beckoned hers until she lifted her gaze. ‘I gather you slept well?’

She nodded, breath rushing into the vacuum of her lungs. She’d slept well for the first time in weeks. She wasn’t about to analyse the reason. But she had a fair idea it was all to do with the fact that at least for the next little while, her future was settled. Her teeth caught on her lower lip. ‘I thought we were to meet at the hospital.’

Hands rammed in his back pockets, Declan shifted his stance slightly as if to relieve tense muscles. ‘I was awake early. Thought I might come over and persuade you to have breakfast with me.’

‘Or you could stay here and have breakfast with me,’ Emma rushed out. ‘I’m sure I could cobble something together.’

‘I didn’t mean to gatecrash—’

‘You’re not.’ She took a thin breath. ‘Give me a minute to have a shower and change.’

He followed her inside to the kitchen. ‘I could knock us up some breakfast—that’s if you don’t mind someone else rattling around in your kitchen?’

‘Not remotely.’ In a reflex action, Emma jerked the zipper closed on her track top right up to her chin. ‘Uh…I did a shop last night. There’s plenty of stuff in the fridge.’ She almost ran from the room.

Sheesh! Declan spun away, thumping the heel of his hand to his forehead. Why on earth had he done that? Touched her. He hadn’t meant it to happen but at that moment his hand had seemed to have a life of its own. Oh, good grief. Surely, the idea had been to reassure her he was trustworthy. Well, that premise was shot. Instead, he’d gone to the other extreme and created a damn great elephant in the room. He hissed out a breath of frustration and tried to take stock of the kitchen. He’d promised her breakfast. He’d better start delivering.

Emma showered in record time, towelled dry and dressed quickly in comfortable cargos and a ruby-red sweater. She wasn’t about to drive herself crazy thinking about earlier. It was hardly a professional thing for Declan to have done. What she couldn’t work out was her instinctive response to his touch…Oh, Lord. Suddenly, her body was stiff with tension. Almost jerkily, she lifted her hands, bunching her hair from her shoulders and letting it spiral away. At least he’d got on with the breakfast. There was a gorgeous smell of grilling bacon coming from the kitchen.

‘How’s it going?’ Emma asked, buzzing back into the kitchen, determined not to start walking on eggshells around him. They were about to become partners in practice. Nothing else. ‘Find everything?’

Declan looked up from the stove. ‘No worries. It’s a great kitchen.’

‘Tottering with age but very user-friendly,’ Emma agreed. Opening the door of the fridge, she peered in and located the orange juice. She poured two glasses and handed one across to Declan.

‘Thanks. I’m doing bacon and scrambled eggs.’

‘Lovely.’

Declan lifted his glass and drained it slowly as he watched the eggs begin to thicken and fluff. He could get used to this. The warmth and the clutter of the old-fashioned kitchen. The comforting aroma of food cooking. The feeling of solidness, of family. The place just breathed it. He could get some idea now of how desperate Emma had been to hang on to her home. ‘Your idea?’ He pointed to the sun-catcher crystal that dangled from the window in front of the sink.

Her tiny smile blossomed to a grin. ‘My alternative period. You about done here?’

‘I hope it’s up to scratch,’ he said, catching the drift of her flowery shampoo as her head topped his shoulder.

‘Mmm, smells good.’ Emma gave him a quick nod of approval. ‘I’ll get the plates.’

‘I used to run a bit,’ Declan said as they settled over breakfast.

‘You can’t now?’

His mouth pulled down. ‘I seem to be stuck with a set of prescribed exercises these days.’

Emma looked up sharply with a frown. Did that mean he didn’t trust his legs on a simple run? ‘I understood you to say it was standing for long periods you had trouble with. Short bursts of running would seem OK, surely? And drawing all that fresh air into your bloodstream works magic.’

Well, he knew that. ‘Maybe it’ll happen. In time.’

So, end of discussion. Emma pursed her mouth into a thoughtful moue, realizing suddenly that her own emotional baggage didn’t seem nearly as weighty as her soon-to-be-partner’s. Determinedly, she pulled out her social skills and managed to create enough general conversation to get them through the rest of the meal. She glanced at her watch, surprised to see the time had gone so quickly. She swung up from the table. ‘If you’ll start clearing away, I’ll just feed the cat.’

Declan gave a rusty chuckle, looking sideways to where the big tabby sprawled indolently on the old-fashioned cane settee. ‘Looks like he wants room service.’

Emma snorted. ‘Lazy creature. I think the mice run rings around him. He belonged to Mum.’

Declan hesitated with a response, a query in his eyes.

‘She moved back to Melbourne about a year ago,’ Emma enlightened him thinly. ‘Dad bought her an art gallery in St Kilda. It had an apartment attached so the whole set-up suited her perfectly and Dad went there as often as he could before he died. She never really felt at home here in rural Queensland. Missed the buzz of the city, her friends.’

Declan was thoughtful as he stood to his feet, processing the information. At least now he knew where the bulk of Andrew’s estate had gone and why the practice was all but running on goodwill. And why Emma’s stress levels must have been immense as a result.

Between them, they put the kitchen to rights in a few minutes. Hanging the tea towel up to dry, Emma felt an odd lightness in her spirits.

‘Emma, I wonder if you could spare a few minutes now? There are a couple of business decisions I’d like to run past you.’

His voice had a firm edge to it and Emma came back to earth with a thud. ‘Let’s go through to Dad’s–your surgery,’ she substituted shortly. ‘I’ll give the hospital a call and let them know we’ll be along a bit later than planned.’