Marion Lennox - Wildfire Island Docs - The Man She Could Never Forget / The Nurse Who Stole His Heart / Saving Maddie's Baby / A Sheikh to Capture Her Heart / The Fling That Changed Everything / A Child to Open Their Hearts

‘Caroline Lockhart,’ she said, holding out her hand, while Keanu watched the meeting with some trepidation.

‘Of the hilltop mansion Lockharts?’ Hettie demanded, ignoring the proffered hand.

‘Yes, and proud of it,’ Caro said quietly but firmly. ‘And I’d rather be judged by my work than the house I live in.’

Hettie pushed errant bits of hair off her forehead and sighed.

‘Fair call,’ she said softly, and this time, to Keanu’s relief, she held out her hand. ‘It’s just been too long a day trying to work out how to replace a resident clinic nurse on Raiki Island.’

‘What happened to her?’ Caroline asked, and Keanu knew the answer was going to hurt her.

‘Apparently she went off with your uncle Ian—she and all the drugs.’

‘She what?’ Caroline swung towards Keanu. ‘Does my father know all that’s been going on? Know his brother’s stooped so low as to rob an island of their drugs, not to mention their nurse?’

‘It was only discovered yesterday.’ Hettie answered for him, and her voice was gentle. ‘And as Ian’s gone off in his yacht to who knows where, there’s very little your father or anyone else can do about it.’

Keanu read the pain on Caro’s face as she realised exactly why the Lockhart name was mud. The harm Ian had done reached out across all island life and all the islanders.

Following the little procession up to the hospital, Keanu felt deeply sorry for her, sorry for the pain the slights against her family must be causing her.

But the Caro he’d known would have pushed away any offer of comfort and tossed her head to deny any pain.

He glanced towards her and saw her chin rise.

This Caro wasn’t so different. She’d take them all on and prove all Lockharts weren’t tarred with the same brush.

And seeing that chin tilt—reading it—his heart cramped just a little at the sight of it. The woman she’d become wasn’t so different from his Caro after all.

‘A Buruli ulcer?’

Caroline had caught up with him so the question came from his right shoulder.

He glanced towards her and even in the poor light on the track he could see the remnants of her hurt.

He wanted to put his arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Comfort her as he had when she’d been a child, hurt or lonely or bewildered by her motherless, and usually fatherless, situation.

But with all the new disturbances she’d caused in his body, giving her a comforting hug was no longer an option.

Professional colleagues, that’s all they were.

‘It’s not that common but it’s a nasty thing if left untended, as this one may have been. Often it starts as a small nodule, hardly bigger than a mosquito bite, so the patient just ignores it, but the infection can lead to a bigger ulcer forming, destroying skin and tissue. If it’s left too long there can be bone involvement, even loss of a limb.’

‘Sounds like a similar infection to leprosy.’ She was frowning now, no doubt thinking back to her years of study.

‘Spot on,’ he told her. ‘The bacterium causing it is related to both the leprosy and tuberculosis bacteria.’

‘Can you test for it here or do you have to send swabs to the mainland? Wouldn’t that take days?’

Hettie answered for him.

‘We’re fortunate in that Sam is an avid bacteriologist in whatever spare time he has. Although the research station’s closed at the moment, he still loves poking around in the little lab we have at the hospital and breeding who knows what in Petri dishes. If anyone can test it, he can.’

Caroline realised she’d have to rethink the laid-back, handsome doctor who ran the hospital. He obviously had hidden depths because even the simplest of biological tests was painstaking work.

They’d reached the hospital and, unsure of her part in whatever lay ahead, she followed the troop inside.

The patient was young, maybe just reaching teenage years, from French Island, so called, Caroline knew, because a French square-rigged sailing vessel had once foundered there, the sailors staying on, intermarrying with the locals, until rescued many years later.

Caroline concentrated on the now instead of on the past. The boy, Raoul—French names still being common—had been lifted onto an examination table, and Sam, assisted by one of the nurses’ aides who had been waiting at the hospital, was carefully removing the light dressing Hettie had used to cover the wound.

Caroline swallowed a gasp. This was no small nodule like a mosquito bite but a full-blown leg ulcer, the edges a mess of tattered skin and deeper down, tender, infected flesh.

‘I’m going to take a swab,’ Sam was saying to the patient, ‘but even before I test it, I’m going to start you on antibiotics.’

‘It generally responds well to a combination of rifampicin and streptomycin,’ Keanu explained quietly. ‘If that doesn’t work, there are other combinations of drugs we can use, usually with the rifampicin. The other combinations haven’t been fully tested but the options are there.’

Tension she hadn’t been aware she was feeling eased a little, but she hated the thought of the possibility of this young lad losing a leg.

‘Okay, everyone out except Mina,’ Sam said, using a shooing motion with his hand. ‘She and I can handle it from here. Keanu, you might introduce our newest staff member to Jack. And Hettie, if you’re not too tired, I’ve left Caroline’s details on your desk, but you might want a chat with her yourself.’

Great, Caroline thought. A perfect end to a perfect day—an interview with a woman who obviously hated her entire family.

But Keanu had taken her elbow, and all thoughts but her reactions to his closeness fled from her mind.

‘Come out and meet Jack Richards,’ he said. ‘There’s a staffroom through here—we can have a coffee or a cold drink.’

A bit social for an introduction, Caroline thought, but apparently the pilot called Jack usually made for this staffroom when he returned from a flight. And, yes, he was sitting there, legs outstretched on a tilting lounge chair, draining the last dregs from a can of cola.

With his head tilted back, she could see a jutting jaw, and the breadth of his shoulders suggested muscle rather than fat. Here, in the light, she saw he was tall, but solid rather than rangy. His dark hair was cropped close to his scalp as if he ran an electric razor over it every now and then by way of hairdressing.

He had a strong face, a slightly skewed nose that suggested football in his youth, and smooth olive skin. But by far his most arresting feature was a pair of dark blue eyes, which, Caroline guessed, missed very little.

He set the empty can down on a small side table.

‘God, I needed that,’ he said. ‘The day was a disaster from beginning to end. First the consequences of the disappearance of the drugs and the nurse from Raiki. You can imagine how angry the residents were. Then we headed over to Atangi because there are two nurses there and Hettie hoped one of them would cover Raiki until we got someone.’

‘Did you get someone?’ Caroline asked, intrigued by this idea of a helicopter flitting between the islands as casually as a city commute.

‘Yes, I think so. Hett’s still negotiating. Anyway, who do we find but a mum who’d mistaken clinic days and brought in a toddler for vaccination? A toddler who hated needles. Poor kid, who doesn’t? He screamed like a banshee as Hettie gave him his triple antigen. Of course, the father came in and got stuck into Hettie and the scene developed into something like an old-time TV comedy, only it wasn’t really funny because the poor kid was genuinely terrified.’

‘Then French and the ulcer,’ Keanu said, turning from the urn where he’d been making a coffee—holding out the cup to Caroline, who shook her head.