Marion Lennox - Falling For Her Wounded Hero

‘There was no loss of consciousness but by the time the ambulance arrived he couldn’t move his left arm or leg,’ Rhonda told her. She took a deep breath and recited something she must have learned off by heart. ‘His scans showed a skull fracture and infarct in the right lentiform nucleus corona radiata.’

‘That’s in the brain,’ Hilda said helpfully, and Rhonda rolled her eyes. But then she got serious again.

‘Anyway, the air ambulance was there fast and got him to Melbourne. They operated within the hour and they’re saying long-term he should be fine. He spent two weeks in hospital, protesting every minute. Then they wanted him to go to rehab but he wouldn’t. He says he can do the exercises himself. So now he’s back in Cray Point, pretending it’s business as usual.’

‘But it’s not,’ Hilda told her. ‘He has left-sided weakness. He’s not allowed to drive. The doctors only let him come home on the condition he has physio every day but of course he says he’s too busy to do it. He should concentrate on rehab for at least two months but will he?’

‘He doesn’t have time,’ Hilda told her. ‘And I was dusting in his study and he’d requested a copy of the specialist’s letters and I just...happened to read them. Anyway the specialist’s saying there’s a risk of permanent residual damage if he doesn’t follow orders. But Mary and Chris have a new grandbaby in Queensland, their daughter’s ill and they had to go. There’s no other doctor to help.’

‘And of course it’s winter in Australia.’ Rhonda took over seamlessly. ‘No doctor will take on a locum job in Cray Point in winter. We know he advertised—we weren’t supposed to know that either but...’

‘Hilda saw it on his study desk?’ Tasha suggested, and Hilda flushed and then smiled.

‘Well, I did, dear. But of course no one answered, and the oldies in Cray Point are still getting ill and he knows how much they need him. He cares too much to let us look after ourselves. So he’s hobbling around, still working. The night before we left there was a car crash and out he went. It was filthy weather and he was crawling into the wreckage to stop bleeding...’

‘And then we had to leave.’ Up until now Rhonda had sounded resigned, full of the foolishness of men, but suddenly her voice wobbled. ‘You know we’re both English? We married brothers and moved to Cray Point thirty years ago but our parents stayed here. Last week our mam died and our dad’s in a mess so we had to drop everything and come. Including abandoning Tom. We’ll take our dad home with us but first there’s his house to be sorted, immigration, so much to do...’

‘But we’re worrying about Tom all the time,’ Hilda told her. ‘We know he’s not coping. It’ll be weeks before we can get back, and who’s to boss him around? He’ll push himself and push himself. We have one district nurse and no one else. Cray Point’s in real trouble. And then in the middle of last night Rhonda sat up in bed and said, “What about Tasha? She’s family.”’

The word seemed to echo around the counselling room.

Family.

‘I knew nothing about this,’ she said faintly, and Rhonda nodded.

‘Well, of course you wouldn’t. He doesn’t talk to anyone about it, and of course he worries about you. We all do. He’d never bother you. Tasha...dear, it seems really unfair to ask, but Hilda knew your address...’

‘From Tom’s desk?’ She couldn’t help herself but she won a couple of half-hearted smiles.

‘Well, yes, dear,’ Hilda agreed. ‘Though of course I didn’t go looking. I just happened to have seen it on a certificate he left out for me to post to you. So we knew you were living in a hospital apartment and I remembered which hospital. So we thought we’d just come and let you know...’

‘Because he needs someone,’ Rhonda told her. And then she paused and told it like it was. ‘He needs you.’

To say Tasha’s mind was in overdrive was an understatement. She’d just finished a frantic shift. Normally it took hours to debrief herself, to rid herself of the images of the various crises bursting through the ambulance doors, but suddenly all she could think of was Tom.

The sudden end to contact hadn’t been because he thought she should move on. It had been because he was in trouble himself.

‘W-what about Susie?’ she stammered. The thought of Tom needing her was such a switch that it had her unbalanced. ‘Can’t she help?’

And the two women snorted in unison.

‘One thing Dr Tom Blake can’t do and that’s choose a woman who’s any use,’ Rhonda declared. ‘She’s hardly been near him since his accident. And she’s not a doctor or even a nurse. How can she help? You’re a doctor, dear. That’s why we’re here.’

‘You want me to go?’ Even saying it sounded wrong.

But both women were trying to smile. Their smiles were nervous. Their smiles said they didn’t hold out much hope but they were like headlights, catching her and holding her. She couldn’t move.

‘Could you?’ Hilda sounded breathless.

‘Is it possible?’ Rhonda whispered.

She stood and stared at the two rotund little ladies. They stared back, their eyes full of hope. And doubt. And just a touch of guilt as well.

Tom...

He needed her.

She didn’t want to go.

Why not?

She could go. She knew she could. There’d been an intake of brand-new doctors only last week and there was crossover from the last lot. Her shift could be covered.

She could walk out of her barren little apartment within an hour.

But to go to Tom...

She didn’t want to go back to Australia. Australia was full of memories of her little girl, her little fighter who’d lived just seven days. How could she go back to the place of all that pain?

But there was more to this than grief, she acknowledged. Her reaction wasn’t all about not wanting to be where Emily had lived and died, and she had the courage to acknowledge it. She’d never avoided thinking about Emily and, to be fair, Tom had had a hand in that. He’d been with her all that time.

It was Tom who’d made sure she’d shared every precious moment of Emily’s tiny life. It was Tom who’d sat by her, fielding well-meaning professionals, admitting those who could help, firmly turning away those who couldn’t.

There had been so much support. There had been so much love.

For Tom had loved, too. ‘She’s my niece,’ he’d told her when she’d been so exhausted she’d had to sleep but the thought of closing her eyes on her little girl had been unbearable. ‘You sleep and I’ll hold her every single moment. And I promise I won’t sleep while you’ve entrusted her to me.’

He’d just...been there. She could hardly think of Emily without thinking of Tom.

And then, after Emily had died...

Being bundled back to Cray Point. A simple, beautiful ceremony on the headland because she couldn’t think where else was right. Then sleeping and sleeping and sleeping, while Tom picked up the threads of...being Tom.

Which included his women. Alice was there, vaguely resentful of Tasha’s presence. And then Alice was no longer around and Tasha knew it was partly because of her.

She’d said something to him—apologised—and Tom had grinned. ‘Don’t fuss yourself, lassie,’ he’d told her. ‘Alice knows I don’t take my love life seriously. The whole town knows it.’

So he was like Paul. That was the thought that was holding her rigid now.

He was lovely, kind, gentle, caring.

He went from woman to woman.

He’d just suffered a cerebral bleed from a surfing accident. He was yet another man who took crazy risks...

The Blake brothers spelled trouble. She didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but she owed him so much.