Marion Lennox - Prescription-One Husband

‘She was hardly as ill as me!’

‘Maud had a heart attack, Sam.’ Fern was fighting hard to stay calm.

‘A heart attack!’

‘Yes.’

That silenced Sam for only a second. Then he raised himself on his elbow.

‘Your aunt’s old, though, Fern,’ he said savagely. ‘And your uncle was with her. Surely your place is with your husband.’

Count to ten. Count to ten, Fern…

Behind her, Fern was aware of Quinn Gallagher watching with malicious enjoyment.

‘You’re not my husband yet, Sam,’ Fern finally managed. She took a deep breath. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Dr Gallagher and I need to attend to Mr Reid.’

‘But I’m going to be sick again,’ Sam hissed.

Fern sucked in her breath, fury mounting. How could she possibly have given in to this man’s pressure to marry her? Of all the insensitive oafs…

She looked down at the bedside table and picked up the shiny aluminium kidney dish.

‘Fine,’ she snarled. ‘Have a basin, Sam. Just do what you have to do and leave us alone.’

He wasn’t sick again.

Sam lay back on his pillows and watched with sullen resentment as Fern and Quinn worked on Frank.

‘I’d like your assistance, if you don’t mind,’ Quinn told her. ‘Both my nurses are suffering from the effects of your oysters.’

She would have helped without being made to feel guilty, Fern thought grimly, as she assisted Quinn to move Frank from trolley to bed. While Quinn set up a drip to replace the fluids the old man had lost, Fern gave him a gentle bed bath and helped him change into hospital pyjamas.

It took time to make the frail old man comfortable and by the look on Sam’s face it seemed that he was almost jealous. Fern felt herself growing angrier and angrier, especially as Quinn Gallagher made it clear that he was enjoying the whole situation.

‘I’ll take these blood samples down to the lab,’ Quinn told her finally as he filled a small vial with Frank’s blood. ‘Are you right to finish here?’

‘I’m right,’ Fern said through gritted teeth. She managed a smile down at Frank. ‘As long as you’re happy having me treating you rather than Dr Gallagher?’

‘You can treat me any time you choose, Fern Rycroft,’ the old man smiled back. ‘Eh, you’re a right ministering angel and that’s the truth. One in a million.’ He cast a malicious look across at Sam. ‘And you and Doc Gallagher work a treat together. A real pair you make-unlike some…’

It didn’t help Fern’s anger-or Quinn Gallagher’s irritating sense of humour. Quinn choked on laughter and left, chortling, and Sam choked on fury.

Finally, Frank was settled. Fern checked the drip flow rate, bade Frank a concerned goodnight and Sam a rigid one and walked out to find Dr Gallagher waiting in the corridor.

‘What, a ten-second goodbye to your love?’ Quinn quizzed her as she closed the door behind her. ‘I’d expected a half-hour of passion, at the very least. Don’t you realise you can pull the curtains round the bed? Once Mr Reid’s asleep it could be almost a honeymoon suite in there.’

Quinn was leaning against the wall of the corridor, stethoscope swinging idly from those long, surgeon’s fingers. He was watching the diminutive, red-haired Fern with malicious amusement.

Surgeon’s fingers…Fern didn’t know he was a surgeon. Why had she thought that?

It was just the man’s supreme air of confidence, Fern thought angrily. Confidence? Arrogance. Either way it was something that she usually saw only in doctors who were supremely skilled in their work-and both they and their colleagues knew it.

‘Why did you admit Sam?’ she demanded angrily. ‘You know he doesn’t need to be in hospital.’

‘I thought you’d like to have him well looked after,’ Quinn said blandly and watched her face. He was waiting for a reaction and she knew it.

‘And if someone really ill needs the bed?’

‘Then I guess it’s up to Mr Hubert’s future wife to toss him out into the snow.’ Quinn grinned. ‘Meanwhile he’s argued himself in here with all the aplomb of the legal mind. He’s quite a lawyer, your intended. I get the feeling your Sam could convince a jury black’s white while gargling chilli sauce-or maybe even seventy fathoms under water without air tanks. He’s quite a little persuader, your Sam.’

‘What…what did he say?’ Fern said uneasily.

‘Only that if I didn’t admit him and he happened to die in the night he’d hold me personally responsible. When I pointed out if he died maybe he wouldn’t be in a position to hold anyone responsible, he appointed you surrogate to sue me for the shirt off my back and see my medical degrees torn into little pieces and thrown-preferably with me attached-off the Arnablower Rocks.’

‘He didn’t really say that?’ Fern stared up at Quinn and, despite her anger, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch.

‘He did,’ Quinn assured her. ‘And any man who can tell me all that while still clutching a kidney bowl and occasionally retching, deserves to be admitted-or at least deserves to pay the exorbitant charges I’ll no doubt put to his account. Now-would you like to see your aunt, Dr Rycroft?’

Her aunt…

Fern’s anger faded. ‘Yes…Oh, yes, please.’

This man had saved her aunt’s life. No matter what else he’d done…

She managed a smile at this strange, unknown doctor. ‘Dr Gallagher, I really am very sorry…and very grateful…’

‘There’s no need for that.’ Like Fern’s anger, Quinn’s laughter seemed also to have gone. He stared down at the green-eyed girl before him for a long, long moment and the magnetism Fern had felt in church flooded back in force.

Quinn’s eyes widened-as though he felt the force as strongly as Fern but he wasn’t sure whether it was a force for good or evil. A force to be reckoned with-somehow.

‘I would have done the same for anyone’s fiancé,’ he said slowly, his eyes still holding hers. ‘If he had a law degree and a threatening manner…’

‘I mean…I mean what you’ve done for my aunt.’

The smile slowly returned, still wary.

‘Well, I would have especially done the same for your aunt,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just grateful we were able to get her back. Your aunt and uncle are two very special people, Dr Rycroft.’

‘I…I know.’

‘So why don’t you visit them?’

‘I do.’ Fern’s voice tightened at the old accusations. ‘I’m here now.’

‘But it’s been twelve months since you were here last. You’re all they’ve got, Dr Rycroft. The whole island tells me how wonderful you are but you’re intent on putting as much distance between you and the island as possible.’

‘That’s my business, Dr Gallagher. Not yours.’

‘But your aunt’s health is my concern,’ Quinn said harshly. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and turned to stride down the corridor, leaving Fern to follow as best she might. He kept talking, assuming that she’d scuttle along behind and to her fury Fern found herself doing just that. Scuttling.

‘My aunt’s health…’

‘Is suffering because she’s missing you.’

‘I can’t come home just because…’ Fern walked after the white-coated doctor but his strides were so long that she was forced to a run.

‘Just because people need you?’ Quinn shrugged. ‘Of course you can’t. How stupid of me to suggest such a crazy idea. Now let’s see how Maud’s been getting on without you-again.’

Maud was asleep. Her tiny body seemed immensely vulnerable on the large hospital bed. Fern’s aunt was robed in a hospital gown and Fern made a silent vow to go straight home and bring back a pretty nightie. One of her own honeymoon nighties, she decided. In the hospital gown her aunt looked fragile-almost…