Lilian Darcy - The Australian's Desire - Their Lost-and-Found Family / Long-Lost Son - Brand-New Family / A Proposal Worth Waiting For

She gasped. She tried to break away. But he was holding her tight against him. Her treacherous body was moving in time with his, melding to his.

She succumbed to the dance.

She succumbed to Alistair.

And, as if on cue, the lights went out.

Just like that, the room was blanketed in darkness. The sound system died and the last twangs of music from the band sounded tinny and echoing.

‘Is this a hint?’ someone said from the floor. ‘Is it time for the bride and groom to go to bed, then?’

There was laughter but it sounded a bit nervous. For all the assurances they’d had that the cyclone would miss them, the locals were starting to make up their own minds.

Alistair didn’t release her. For some dumb reason she didn’t want him to. She stood in the centre of the room while everyone else grew scared, and she felt … safe.

Within the secure hold of Alistair’s arms she could look out and see what was going on.

‘Harry …’ It was Charles, calling from the doorway, and his tone was urgent.

There was still some dim light—each table had a candle. Some candles had gone out, but people were using the lit ones to relight others. Soon there was enough light to see by.

Cal came through from the veranda, seeking them out specifically.

‘What’s wrong?’ Georgie asked, seeing by his face that there was real trouble.

‘There’s been a bus accident up in the hills behind the town,’ he told them. ‘Martha and Dan Mackers saw the Mt Isa bus go past half an hour ago. Just after it passed they felt what they thought was an earth tremor. Given this weather, it’s a wonder they ventured out at all but they thought they’d take the Jeep down and check. They didn’t get far. The road’s collapsed just south of their place and the bus is on its side down the cliff. That place is a dead spot for mobile coverage so the report’s been brief—Dan had to get back to his place to phone in. So we have no idea what we’re facing. Charles is briefing Harry now. Can you two get back to the hospital?’

‘I’ll come with you up the mountain,’ Georgie said, hauling herself out of Alistair’s arms and stepping forward. ‘Of course I’ll come.’

‘No,’ Cal said. ‘I was with Charles when the call came and we talked it through. Yes, we’ll want medics on the mountain, but we want only the experienced emergency guys. We’ve had an upgrade on the cyclone. It’s veered. We’re right in its path and we’re expecting to be hit by morning. The hospital has to be prepared for multiple casualties and the code black disaster response is activated right now.’

‘Code black?’ Alistair queried.

‘The big one. Major external threat. I’d rather go,’ Georgie said.

‘Not going to happen,’ Cal snapped. ‘Not with that face. Charles wants you here, Georg—apart from him, you’ll be the most senior doctor staying put if I have everyone else I want. Alistair, can we count on your help?’

‘Of course,’ Alistair said, as if it was a no-brainer.

‘Then the reception’s off for now,’ Cal said ruefully. ‘Every able-bodied man, woman and child in this town has a job to do right now. A cyclone with a crashed bus thrown in for good measure …’

‘Oh …’ It was a wail from Sophia Poulos, mother of the bridegroom. She’d been standing open-mouthed as Charles had explained to people at his end of the room what was happening. But Sophia’s wail caught them all. ‘Oh … This is bad.’

But the mother of the groom was nothing if not resolute. She took a deep breath, gazed fondly at the bride and groom and nodded. ‘But of course you need my boy,’ she said. ‘And our Emily. Who else can look after these people? Emily, let me find you something else to wear.’ Another deep breath. ‘All this food,’ she said, and she clucked. ‘All this lamb. I’ll tell the chef to start making sandwiches.’

At least she didn’t have time to think of Max. Or Alistair. Though even that thought meant that she was thinking of them both. Back at the hospital they were in full crisis mode. The back-up generators meant they had power, and they needed it. Every available person was set to work, securing anything that could be an obstacle. Boarding up the windows was the first line of defence, but it was assumed that they might break open and nothing in the wards was to be loose to become a flying threat.

A receiving ward was set up fast. Any patients not on the critical list were sent home if their homes were deemed secure, or moved to a safe haven—the local civic hall—if they weren’t. Of the remaining patients, those in the wards with the largest windows were shifted to the south side, out of the direct blast and hopefully more secure. The storerooms in the centre of the buildings that had no windows at all became the wards for the most seriously ill—the patients who, if the worst came to the worst, couldn’t get out of bed and run for cover.

The theatres were windowless but Charles wasn’t giving them over for ward use.

‘Even if there are no injuries from this bus crash, if this turns into a full-blown cyclone we’ll have trauma enough. I want additional linen, stores and pharmacy supplies in Emergency, Intensive Care and both theatres. Move.’

A big storeroom at the back of the doctors’ house was used for back-up medical supplies. Charles wanted everything brought into the main building. Everything.

‘I don’t want to run out of bandages and not be able to get at more,’ he growled. There were six elderly people in the nursing-home section of the hospital. Charles had them sorting and stacking as if they were forty instead of ninety, promising them they could rest at the civic hall when they’d finished.

Amazingly they rose to the occasion. Everyone did. Including Alistair. Georgie was supervising storage, making sure she knew where everything was so it could be easily reached. Alistair was one of those doing the ferrying of gear from the doctors’ house. He was using a car to travel the short distance but even so he was soaked to the skin. Every time she saw him his clothes were soggier. His beautiful suit would be ruined.

They passed each other without speaking. There was no time for speaking. The threat was rising with every howl of the wind.

She couldn’t locate the oxygen cylinders. Where were they? The normal storeroom was now a ward, housing Lizzie and her four children. Megan’s cot had been wheeled in there as well, and Georgie paused in her search to check on her little patient.

She was still sleeping but she was looking great. A quick check on the notes at the end of the cot indicated she’d woken up and had a drink and smiled at her mother. Fantastic. Thanks to Alistair.

But there were problems. Lizzie was sitting bolt upright in bed, looking terrified. ‘Georgie, is the jail secure?’

‘You’re worried about Smiley?’

‘I don’t want him to be killed,’ Lizzie muttered, and Georgie abandoned her task and crossed to the bed to hug her. She included Davy and Dottie in her hug.

‘Of course you don’t,’ she said, understanding. ‘Smiley’s the kids’ dad. He’s been your husband. Of course you’re worried.’

‘I don’t hate him enough to want him killed.’

‘We checked.’ Help was suddenly there from an unexpected source. Alistair was standing in the doorway, dripping wetly onto the linoleum. ‘Charles has had people contact everyone this side of the creek, letting them know what’s happening, making sure they’re safe. Harry told him the holding cell’s a prefabricated makeshift building and he’s worried about it. So he’s let Smiley out for the duration. Harry has the feeling Smiley thinks he might skip town, but he’s not too worried—there’s no way out of here until this is over.’