Falling For Dr Dimitriou

Gazing down at the beach, she saw that Alexander, stripped to the waist, his golden skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration, was back working on his boat again. Dragging her gaze away from him, she closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the sound of the waves licking the shore. The sweet smell of oranges from a nearby orchard wafted on the breeze. Being here in Greece was like a balm for her soul.

A sharp curse brought her attention back to the bay.

Alexander had dropped his paint-scraper. He studied his hand for a moment and shook his head. He looked around as if searching for a bandage, but apparently finding only his T-shirt, bent to pick it up, and wound it around his palm.

She could hardly leave him bleeding—especially when, prepared as always, she’d brought a small first-aid kit with her and it was unlikely there would be a doctor available on a Sunday in such a small village.

The blood had pretty much soaked through his temporary bandage by the time she reached him but, undaunted, he had carried on working, keeping his left hand—the damaged one—elevated in some kind of optimistic hope of stemming the bleeding.

‘Kalíméra!’ Katherine called out, not wanting to surprise him. When he looked up, she pointed to his hand and lifted the first-aid kit she carried. ‘Can I help?’

‘It’s okay, I’ll manage,’ he replied. When he smiled, her heart gave a queer little flutter. ‘But thank you.’

‘At least let me look at it. Judging by the amount of blood, you’ve cut it pretty badly.’

His smile grew wider. ‘If you insist,’ he said, holding out his injured hand.

She drew closer to him and began unwrapping his makeshift bandage. As she gently tugged the remaining bit of cloth aside and her fingers encountered the warmth of his work-roughened palm, she felt the same frisson of electricity course through her body as she had the day before. Bloody typical; the first time she could remember meeting someone whom she found instantly attractive he had to be married—and a father to boot.

‘It’s deep,’ she said, examining the wound, ‘and needs stitches. Is there a surgery open today?’

‘Most of them are open for emergencies only on a Sunday. I’m not sure this constitutes one.’

‘I think it does.’ Katherine said, aware that her tone sounded schoolmistress prim. ‘I’m a doctor, so I do know what I’m talking about.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you really? The villagers had you down as a writer. A GP, I take it?’

Katherine shook her head. ‘No. Epidemiology. Research. I’m in public health.’

‘But not on holiday? You seemed pretty immersed in paperwork yesterday.’

‘My thesis. For my PhD.’

‘Brains too.’ He grinned. ‘So can’t you stitch my hand?’

‘Unfortunately, no. I could if I had a suturing kit with me but I don’t. Anyway, you’ll likely need a tetanus shot unless you’ve had one recently. Have you?’

‘No.’

For some reason, the way he was looking at her made her think that he was laughing at her. ‘Then one of the emergency surgeries it will have to be,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll clean and bandage the cut in the meantime. Is there someone who can give you a lift?’

‘No need—it’s within walking distance. Anyway, this little scratch is not going to kill me.’

‘Possibly not but it could make you very sick indeed.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I strongly advise you to find out whether the doctor is willing to see you. I’ll phone him if you like. As one doctor to another, he might be persuaded to see you.’

He was no longer disguising his amusement. ‘Actually, that would be a bit embarrassing seeing as I’m the doctor and it’s my practice—one of them anyway.’

‘You’re a doctor?’ She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. She felt more than slightly foolish, standing before him with her little plastic medical kit. If he was a GP he was probably more qualified than she to assess the damage to his hand. Now she knew the reason for his secret amusement. ‘You might have mentioned this before,’ she continued through gritted teeth.

Alexander shrugged. ‘I was going to, I promise. Eventually.’ That smile again. ‘I suppose I was enjoying the personal attention—it’s nice to be on the receiving end for a change.’

‘You really should have said straight away,’ she reiterated, struggling to control the annoyance that was rapidly replacing her embarrassment. ‘However, you can hardly suture your hand yourself.’ Although right this minute she was half-minded to let him try.

‘I could give it a go,’ he replied, ‘but you’re right, it would be easier and neater if you did it. The practice I have here is really little more than a consulting room I use when the older villagers need to see a doctor and aren’t unwell enough to warrant a trip to my practice. But it’s reasonably well equipped. You could stitch it there.’

‘In that case, lead the way.’

* * *

His consulting room had obviously once been a fisherman’s cottage, with the front door leading directly onto the village square. There were only two rooms leading off the small hall and he opened the door to the one on the left. It was furnished with an examination couch, a stainless-steel trolley, a sink and most of what she’d expect to find in a small rural surgery. The one surprise was a deep armchair covered with a throw. He followed her gaze and grimaced. ‘I know that doesn’t really belong, but my older patients like to feel more at home when they come to see me here.’

Not really the most sanitary of arrangements, but she kept her own counsel. It wasn’t up to her to tell him how to run his practice.

He opened a cupboard and placed some local anaesthetic and a syringe on the desk, along with a disposable suture tray. He perched on the couch and rested his hand, palm up, on his leg.

He definitely has the physique of a gladiator, she thought, her gaze lingering on his chest for a moment too long. She shifted her gaze and found him looking at her, one eyebrow raised and a small smile playing on his lips. As heat rushed to her cheeks she turned away, wishing she’d left him to deal with his hand himself.

She washed her hands and slipped on a pair of disposable gloves, acutely conscious of his teasing appraisal as she filled the syringe with the local anaesthetic. Studiously avoiding looking at his naked chest, she gently lifted up his hand and, after swabbing the skin, injected into the wound. He didn’t even flinch as she did so. ‘I’ll wait a few minutes for it to take effect.’

‘So what brings you here?’ he asked. ‘It isn’t one of the usual tourists spots.’

‘I was kindly offered the use of the Dukases’ villa through a colleague who is a friend of their daughter in exchange for taking care of Hercules and the garden. My mother was from Greece and I’ve always wanted to see the country where she was born.’

‘She was from here?’

‘From Ītylo. This was the closest I could get to there.’

‘It’s your first time in the Peloponnese?’

‘My first time in Greece,’ Katherine admitted.

‘And your mother didn’t come with you?’

‘No. She passed away recently.’ To her dismay, her voice hitched. She swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. ‘She always wanted the two of us to visit Greece together, but her health prevented her from travelling. She had multiple sclerosis.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Two simple words, but the way he said it, she knew he really meant it.

She lightly prodded his palm with her fingertips. ‘How does that feel?’

‘Numb. Go ahead.’

Opening up the suture pack, she picked up the needle. Why did he have to be nice as well as gorgeous?

‘I hope you’re planning to see some of the Peloponnese while you’re here. Olympia? Delphi? Athens and the Acropolis for sure. The city of Mycenae, perhaps?’

Katherine laughed. ‘They’re all on my list. But I want to finish my thesis first.’

He raised his head and frowned slightly. ‘So no holiday for a while, then? That’s not good. Everyone needs to take time out to relax.’

‘I do relax. Often.’ Not that often—but as often as she wanted to. ‘Anyway I find work relaxing.’

‘Mmm,’ he said, as if he didn’t believe her. Or approve. ‘Work can be a way to avoid dealing with the unbearable. Not good for the psyche if it goes on too long. You need to take time to grieve,’ he suggested gently.

She stiffened. Who was he to tell her what was good for her and what she needed? How he chose to live his life was up to him, just as it was up to her how she lived.

‘I must apologise again for yesterday,’ he continued, when she didn’t reply, ‘You were obviously working so I hope we didn’t set you back too much. My daughter’s been dying to meet you since you arrived. I’m afraid her curiosity about you got the better of her.’

Katherine inserted a stitch and tied it off. ‘Your daughter is charming and very pretty.’

‘Yes, she is. She takes after her mother.’

‘I take it the beautiful woman on the beach yesterday is your wife?’ she said, inserting another l stitch.

When she heard his sharp intake of breath she stopped. ‘I’m sorry. Did that hurt? Didn’t I use enough local?’

His expression was taut, but he shook his head. ‘I can’t feel a thing. The woman you saw is Helen, my cousin. My wife died.’

Katherine was appalled. ‘I’m so sorry. How awful for you and your daughter. To lose her mother when so young.’ She winced inwardly at her choice of words.

‘Yes,’ he said abruptly. ‘It was.’

So he knew loss too. She bent her head again and didn’t raise it until she’d added the final stitch and the wound was closed. When had his wife died? Crystal had to be, what? Four? Five? Therefore it had to be within that time frame. Judging by the bleakness in his eyes, the loss was still raw. In which case he might as well be married. And why the hell were her thoughts continuing along this route?

She gave herself a mental shake and placed a small square dressing on top and finished with a bandage, pleased that her work was still as neat as it had been when she’d sutured on a regular basis.

‘What about tetanus?’ she asked. ‘I’m assuming you have some in stock here?’

‘Suppose I’d better let you give me that too. It’s been over five years since I last had one.’ He went to the small drugs fridge and looked inside. ‘Hell,’ he said after examining the contents. ‘I’m out. Never mind, I’ll get it when I go back to my other surgery tomorrow.’

‘It could be too late by then—as I’m sure you know. No, since it seems that you are my patient, at least for the moment, I’m going to have to insist you get one today.’

He eyed her. ‘That would mean a trip to Pýrgos—almost an hour from here. Unfortunately, Helen has taken my car to take Crystal to play with a friend and won’t be back until tonight. Tomorrow it will have to be.’

She hesitated, but only for a moment. ‘In that case, I’ll drive you.’

‘Something tells me you’re not going to back down on this.’

She smiled. ‘And you’d be right.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘You might want to fetch a clean shirt. Why don’t you do that while I get my car keys?’

* * *

But it seemed as if she’d offered him a lift without the means to carry it through. Not wanting to drive down from Athens —she’d heard about the Peloponnese roads, especially the one that ran between here and the Greek capital—she’d taken a circuitous route; first an early morning flight, followed by a ferry and then two buses to the rental company In hindsight it would have been quicker and probably far less stressful to have flown into Athens.

And now she had a puncture. Thankfully the car did have a spare wheel. She jacked it up and found the wrench to loosen the bolts but they wouldn’t budge. No doubt they had rusted.

‘Problems?’

She whirled around to find Alexander standing behind her. He had showered and changed into light-coloured cotton trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt.

‘Puncture. I’m just changing the wheel. As soon as I get a chance, I’m going to exchange this heap for something better.’

The car the company had given her had more dents and bashes in it than a rally car after a crash. She would have insisted on a newer, more pristine model, but the company had said it was the only one they had available.

His lips twitched. He walked around the car, shaking his head. ‘They palmed this off on you?’

‘Yes, well, I was tired.’ She resented the fact that he thought she’d let herself be taken advantage of—even if she had.

‘Which company did you rent this from?’

She told him.

‘In that case, they have a branch in Katákolo, which isn’t too far from where we’re going.’

‘Will it be open on a Sunday?’

‘The cruise ships all offer day trips to Olympia from there. Like most places that cater for tourists, everything will be open. Once I’ve been jagged to your satisfaction I’ll make sure they exchange it for something better.’

‘I’m perfectly able to manage to sort it out myself.’ Did all Greek men think women were helpless?

He drew back a little, holding up his hands. ‘Hey. You’re helping me. And it’s not far from where we’re going.’

She was instantly ashamed of herself. He’d done nothing to warrant her snapping at him. It was hardly his fault that he made her feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m a bit hot.’ She sought a better reason to excuse her behaviour, but apart from telling him that he found his company unsettling she couldn’t think of one. ‘In the meantime, I still have to change the wheel.’ She picked up a rock and hit the wrench. Nothing. No movement. Not even a centimetre.

He crouched down next to her, the muscles of his thighs straining against the material of his trousers. ‘Let me do it.’

‘I can manage. At least I would if the things weren’t stuck.’

He took the wrench from her. ‘It just needs a little strength.’

‘You shouldn’t. Not with your hand recently sutured.’

He ignored her and within moments the nuts were off the wheel. He took the flat tyre off and silently she passed him the spare.

‘I probably loosened them.’ He looked up at her and grinned. ‘I’m sure you did.’ He lifted the new wheel into position and replaced the bolts.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I can take it from here.’

He stood back and watched as she lowered the car to the ground.

‘I’ll just tighten the bolts again,’ he said, ‘then we’ll be good to go. Would you like me to drive?’

‘No, thank you.’

* * *

Despite the open windows the car was hot; unsurprisingly, the air-conditioning didn’t work either. Katherine gripped the steering-wheel, trying not to flinch whenever a car overtook her, the vehicle often swerving back in just in time to avoid being smashed into by another coming in the opposite direction. Perhaps she should have taken Alexander up on his offer to drive? But if he drove the same way as his countrymen did, being a passenger would be ten times worse. She preferred being in control.

Eventually the countryside gave way to denser traffic and by the time Alexander directed her to a parking spot in front of the surgery she was a nervous wreck, her hands were damp and she knew her hair was plastered to her scalp. She was beginning to appreciate why the car the company had given her was badly dented.

He looked relieved as he undid his seat belt. ‘This won’t take long but why don’t you go for a walk while you’re waiting?’

‘If you’re going to be quick I might as well come in with you.’ She was curious to see how the medical services in Greece worked.

While Alexander greeted the receptionist, Katherine took a seat in the small waiting room next to an elderly woman with a bandage on her knee and clutching a walking stick. Alexander turned to her and said something in Greek that made her laugh.

‘Mrs Kalfas is waiting for her husband to collect her,’ he explained to Katherine, ‘so I can go straight in. I won’t be long.’

A few moments after Alexander disappeared from sight, a man in his early to mid-twenties, staggered in and, after saying a few words to the receptionist, almost fell into one of the empty chairs. He was good-looking with dark curly hair, a full mouth and olive skin, but his jeans and checked shirt were stained and crumpled as if he’d picked them up off the bedroom floor, too ill to care. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes, when he managed to open them briefly, glittered with fever. Perhaps she should have gone for that walk. All doctors knew that hospitals and GP waiting rooms were bad news for the healthy.

Mrs Kalfas tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he appeared to have little interest in whatever she was saying. Warning bells started to clamour in Katherine’s head as she studied him covertly from under her eyelids. Now she wondered if his eyes were closed because the light was annoying him—and the way he kept pressing his hand to the back of his neck as if it were sore alarmed her too. He really didn’t look well at all. The receptionist should have let the doctors know that he was here.

Katherine was about to suggest it when he gave a loud moan and slid to the floor. Instantly she was on her feet and, crouching by his side, feeling for his pulse. It was there but weak and rapid. She glanced around but annoyingly there was no sign of the receptionist. Mrs Kalfas was staring, horrified.

‘I need some help here,’ Katherine called out. ‘Alexander!’

The door behind which he’d vanished was flung open and Alexander, followed by a short, balding, overweight man with a stethoscope wrapped around his neck, rushed over and knelt by Katherine’s side.

‘What happened?’ Alexander asked.

‘He came in a few minutes ago. I was just about to suggest he be taken through when he collapsed. He’s been rubbing his neck as if it’s painful or stiff. We should consider meningitis.’

Alexander and his colleague exchanged a few words in rapid Greek and the other doctor hurried away.

The man on the floor groaned softly. The receptionist reappeared and came to stand next to Mrs Kalfas, placing a comforting arm around the older woman. Alexander said something to the younger woman and she hurried back to her desk and picked up the phone.

‘It could be a number of things but to be on the safe side Carlos—Dr Stavrou—is going to get a line so we can start him on IV antibiotics,’ Alexander told Katherine. ‘Diane is phoning for an ambulance.’

Carlos returned and ripped open a pack and handed Alexander a venflon. He quickly inserted it into a vein and, taking the bag of saline from his colleague, attached one end of the tube to the needle. When Katherine held out her hand for the bag of saline, Alexander passed it to her and she held it up so that the fluid could flow unimpeded. In the meantime, Alexander had injected antibiotics straight into one of the stricken patient’s veins.

As Katherine placed an oxygen mask over his face, she was vaguely aware that the receptionist had returned and along with Mrs Kalfas was watching intently. Alexander whirled around and spoke rapidly to the receptionist. He translated her reply for Katherine.

‘Diane says the ambulance will be here shortly. She’s agreed to take Mrs Kalfas home instead of making her wait for her husband. Seeing she’s had a bit of a fright, I think it’s better.’

Katherine was impressed with the way he’d considered the old woman, even in the midst of an emergency. Their patient was still unconscious but apart from keeping an eye on his airway there was little more they could do until the ambulance arrived. They couldn’t risk taking him in a car in case he arrested.

‘You have a defib to hand?’ she asked.

‘Naturally.’

She wondered what had caused the man to collapse. A number of possibilities ran through her head, meningitis being one, but without further tests it was impossible to know. All they could do now was stabilise him until they got him to hospital.

Diane picked up her handbag and helped the old lady out. Soon after, the ambulance arrived and the paramedics took over. They spoke to Alexander before quickly loading the patient into the ambulance.

‘Should one of us go with him?’ Katherine asked.

‘No need. Carlos wants to go. He’s his patient.’

The ambulance doors were slammed shut and it drove away, sirens screaming.

‘Are you all right?’ Alexander asked.

‘Perfectly. Could you make sure they test him for meningitis?’

‘Bit of a leap, isn’t it? Carlos said Stefan—the patient—is not only accident prone but there’s a few bugs doing the rounds. Besides, I didn’t see any signs of a rash.’

‘Trust me. Communicable diseases are my area of expertise and that young man has all the signs—sensitivity to light, fever, neck pain. The rash could appear at any time.’ Alexander studied her for a moment. ‘It couldn’t hurt to do a lumbar puncture. I’ll phone the hospital and make sure they do all the tests. At least he’s been started on IV antibiotics. In the meantime, I’m afraid we’re going to have to wait here until Carlos returns. Is that okay?’

‘Sure.’ She smiled at him. ‘You can show me around while we wait.’

The practice was as well equipped as any Katherine had seen. In addition to four consulting rooms, one for each of the doctors, one for the nurses and one for their physio, there was an X-ray room and a sleek, spotlessly clean treatment room. All the equipment was modern and up to date.

‘You appear to be almost as well set up as a small hospital,’ Katherine said, impressed.

‘We never know what we’re going to get, so we like to be prepared for the worst. We have, as you can imagine, a fair share of road traffic accidents on these roads and sometimes people bring the casualties here as it’s closer than the hospital.’ Not quite the small family practice she’d imagined.

‘We don’t do much more than stabilise them and send them on,’ Alexander continued, ‘but it can make the difference between survival and death.’

‘You have advanced life-support training, then?’

‘Yes. We all do. It also helps that I used to be a surgeon.’ He picked up the phone. ‘Would you excuse me while I phone the hospital?’ he said. ‘I need to tell them to watch out for meningitis, as you suggested, and Carlos was telling me earlier that one of my patients was admitted there last night. I’d like to find out how he’s doing.’

‘Be my guest,’ Katherine replied. As she waited for him to finish the call she studied him covertly from under her lashes. The more she learned about him the more he intrigued her. So he used to be a surgeon. What, then, had brought him to what, despite the expensive and up-to-date equipment, was still essentially a rural family practice? Had he come back here because of his wife? And how had she died? Had she been a road traffic victim?

While he’d been talking on the phone, Alexander’s expression had darkened. He ended the phone call and sat lost in thought for a while. It was almost as if he’d forgotten she was there.

‘Something wrong?’ she asked.

‘The patient Carlos was telling me about has been transferred to a hospital in Athens. The hospital doctor who admitted him yesterday sent him there this morning, but he’s left to go fishing and can’t be reached. None of the staff on duty today can tell me anything.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘I’ll speak to him tomorrow and find out why he felt a transfer was necessary.’ He shook his head as if to clear it. ‘But I have spoken to the doctor on call today about Stéfan. She’s promised to do a lumbar puncture on him.’

‘Good,’ Katherine said.

‘So what is your thesis on?’ Alexander asked.

‘As I said, communicable diseases. Mainly African ones.’

‘What stage of your training are you?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Consultant. Have been for four years. I’m thinking of applying for a professor’s post. Hence the doctorate.’

He whistled between his teeth. ‘You’re a consultant! You don’t look old enough.’

‘I’m thirty-four.’

They chatted for a while about her work and different infectious diseases Alexander had come across in Greece. Caught up in discussing her passion, she was surprised when she heard footsteps and Carlos came in. She’d no idea so much time had passed.