THIS old house had seen it all.
He should find somewhere else to live, Cal decided as he
sat on the back veranda and gazed out over the moonlit
sea. Living in a house filled with young doctors from
every corner of the world could sometimes be a riot, but
sometimes it was just plain scary.
Like now. Kirsty-the-Intern and Simon-the-Cardiologist had
disappeared into the sunset, protesting personal concerns
so serious they needed to break their contracts. They'd
left a house agog with gossip, two bereft lovers and a
hospital that was desperately understaffed.
Crocodile Creek, Remote Rescue Base, for all of far north
Queensland, was notoriously short of doctors at the best
of times. Two doctors were away on leave, a third had
somersaulted his bike last week and was still in traction,
and a fourth — unbelievably — had chickenpox. The two
doctors who'd left so hastily hadn't considered that when
they'd started their hot little...personal concern.
Dammit, Cal thought. Damn them. Now there was a bereft and
confused Emily, and Mike, whose pride at least would be
dented. Both were wonderful medics and fine friends. In
such a confined household even Cal would be called on for
comfort, and if there was one thing Dr Callum Jamieson
disliked above all else, it was getting involved. All Cal
wanted from life was to practise his medicine and commune
with his beer.
And not think about Gina.
So why was he thinking of Gina now? It had been five years
since he'd seen her. She should be forgotten.
She wasn't.
It was just this emotional stuff that was making him
maudlin, he thought savagely. The old bush-nursing
hospital that now served as Crocodile Creek's doctors'
residence seemed to be a constant scene for some sort of
emotional drama — and dramas made him think of Gina.
Gina walking away and not looking back. He had to stop
thinking of her! Gina had been his one dumb foray into
emotional attachment and he was well out of it.
Maybe he should find Mike and play some pool, he thought.
That'd clear his head of unwanted memories, it'd stop him
swearing at the sea and maybe it'd help Mike.
But there wasn't time. He'd have to take another shift
tonight. There might be no surgery to perform, but with
the current shortage of doctors Cal could be called on to
treat anything from hayfever to snake bite.
That meant he couldn't even have another beer.
Damn Simon. Damn Kirsty, he thought savagely. Their sordid
little affair was messing with his life. His friends had
loved them and he didn't want his friends to be unhappy.
He wanted the Crocodile Creek doctors'house to be as it
had been until today — a fun-filled house full of life and
laughter, a place to base himself without care while he
practised the medicine he loved.
The door opened and Emily, of the now non-existent Simon-
and-Emily partnership, was standing behind him, pale-faced
and tear-stained. Emily was a highly skilled anaesthetist.
He and Emily made a great operating team.
Right now Emily looked about sixteen years old.
He didn't do emotional involvement!
But he moved on the ancient settee to let her sit beside
him, and he put an arm around her and he hugged. OK, he
didn't do emotional involvement but Emily was a sweetheart.
"Simon's a rat," he told her. "He's not." She hiccuped on
a sob. "He'll come back. He and Kirsty aren't really —"
"He and Kirsty are really,'he told her. It wasn't helping
anything if she kept deceiving herself. "He really is a
rat, and you can't love a rat. Think about the life they
lead down there in the sewers. Gross. Come on, Em.You can
do better than that."
"Says you," she whispered. "You lost your lady-rat five
years ago, and have you done better since Gina left? I
don't think so."
"Hey!" He was so startled he almost spilled his beer. How
did Em know about Gina? Then he gave an inward groan. How
could she not? Everyone knew everything in this dratted
house. Sometimes he thought they were even privy to his
dreams.
"We're not talking about me," he said, trying to sound
neutral. "We're talking about you. You're the one who
needs to recover from a broken heart."
"Well, I'm not going to learn from you, then," she
wailed. "Five years, and you're still not over it. Charles
says you're just as much in love with Gina as you were
five years ago, and for me it's just starting. Oh, Cal, I
can't bear it."
Gunyamurra. Three hundred miles south. A birth and
then...a heartbeat?
No. It was her imagination. There was nothing.
Nothing.
Distressed beyond measure, the girl stared down at the
tiny scrap of humanity that should have been her son.
Maybe he could have been her son. Given another life.
How could she have hoped this child would live? She was
little more than a child herself, so how could she have
ever dared to dream? How could she have ever deserved
something so wonderful as a baby?
Now what? Living, this child might well have made her life
explode into meaning. But now...
It would all go on as before, the girl thought drearily.
Somehow.
Her body ached with physical pain and desolate loss. She
was weighed down, sinking already back into the thick,
grey abyss of the last few months' despair.
She put out a tentative finger and traced the contours of
the lifeless face. Her baby.
She had to leave him. There was no use in her staying, and
this quiet place of moss and ferns was as good a place as
any to say goodbye.
"I wish your father could have seen you," she whispered,
and at the thought of what might have been, the tears
finally started to flow.
Tears were useless. She had to get back. The cars were
leaving. She'd slip into the back seat of the family car
and her parents wouldn't even question where she'd been.
They wouldn't notice.
Of course they wouldn't notice. Why would they? Her life
was nothing.
Her baby was dead.
"There's a baby behind my rock."
Gina closed her eyes in frustration and tried hard not to
snap. CJ's need for the toilet was turning into a
marathon. The coach left the rodeo grounds in ten minutes
and if they missed the coach...
They couldn't miss the coach. Being stranded at Gunyamurra
in the heart of Australia's Outback was the stuff of
nightmares. "CJ, just do what you need to do and come on
out," she ordered, trying hard for a voice with inbuilt
authority. It didn't work. Dr Gina Lopez might be a highly
qualified cardiolo-gist who worked in a state-of-the-art
medical unit back home in the US, but controlling one four-
year-old was sometimes beyond her.
CJ was just like his daddy, she thought wearily. Even
though those big brown eyes made her heart melt, he was
fiercely independent, determined to follow his own road,
whatever the cost.
Like now. CJ had taken one look at the portable toilets
and dug in his heels.
"I'm not using them. They're horrible."
They were, too, Gina conceded. The Gunyamurra Rodeo had
come to an end, the portable toilets had accommodated a
couple of hundred beer-swilling patrons and CJ's criticism
was definitely valid.
So she'd directed his small person to where the parking
lot turned into bushland. Even then she had problems. Her
independent four-year-old required privacy.
"Someone will see me." 'Go behind a rock. No one will
see." 'OK, but I'm going behind the rock by
myself." 'Fine."
And now... "There's a baby behind my rock."
Right. She loved his imagination but this was no time for
dreaming.
"CJ, please, hurry," she told him, with another anxious
glance across the parking lot where the coach was almost
ready to leave. She was too far away to call out, and she
hadn't told the driver to wait. If they missed the coach...
Stop panicking, she told herself. It'd come this way. If
the worst came to the worst, she could step down into its
path and stop it. She might irritate the driver but that
was the least of her problems.
She should never have come here, she thought wearily. It
had been stupid.
But it had seemed necessary.
Back in the States she'd thought maybe, just maybe she
could find the courage to face Cal. Maybe she could find
the courage to tell him what he eventually had to know.
But now she was even questioning that need. Was it even
fair to tell him?
She'd started out with the best of intentions. She'd
arrived at Crocodile Creek late last Thursday and she'd
left CJ with her landlady so she could go to find him. The
house she'd been directed to was the doctors' quarters — a
rambling old house on a bluff overlooking the sea. At dusk
it had looked beautiful. The setting should have given her
courage.
It hadn't. By the time she'd reached the house, her heart
had been in her boots. Then, when no one had answered her
knock, things had become even worse.
She'd walked around the side of the house and there he'd
been, on the veranda. Cal. The Cal she remembered from all
those years, with all her heart.
But he wasn't her Cal. Of course he wasn't. Time had moved
on. He hadn't seen her, and then, just as she had been
forcing herself to call his name, a young woman had come
out of the house to join him.
Gina had stilled, sinking back into the shadows, and a
moment later she had been desperately glad she had.
Because Cal had taken the woman into his arms. His face
had been in her hair, he had whispered softly, and as Gina
had stood there, transfixed, the woman's arms had come
around Cal's shoulders to embrace him back.
This wasn't passion, Gina thought as she watched them.
Maybe if it had seemed like passion she could still have
done what she'd intended. But this was more. It was a
coming together of two people who needed each other. There
was something about the way they held each other that said
their relationship was deep and real. The girl's face
looked pinched and wan. Cal cupped her chin in his hand
and he forced her eyes to meet his, and Gina's heart
twisted in a pain so fierce she almost cried out. This
girl had found what she never had.
She'd fled. Of course she'd fled. She'd treated Cal so
appallingly in the past. Now it seemed that he'd found
love. Real love — the sort of love they'd never shared.
What right did she have to interfere with him now?
She'd gone back to her hotel, cuddled CJ and tried to
regroup, but the more she thought about it the more
impossible it seemed. How would Cal's lady react to her
appearing on the scene? How could she jeopardise this
relationship for him?
She couldn't. CJ had been born in wedlock. Paul was his
father and that was the way it had to stay.
But she'd invested so much. She'd come so far. Surely she
couldn't simply take the next plane home, though that was
what she frantically wanted to do.
She'd promised CJ they'd see Australia. She had to make
good that promise.
So she'd made herself wait a few days. She'd booked
herself and her young son onto a crocodile hunt — a search
by moonlight for the great creatures that inhabited the
local estuaries. Thy hadn't found a crocodile but they'd
met a real live crocodile hunter and CJ's wide-eyed
enjoyment of his stories had helped ease the ache in her
heart. They'd taken a tour out to the Great Barrier Reef
and had tried not to be disappointed when the weather had
been wild and the water cloudy.
Then she'd heard about the Gunyamurra Rodeo. CJ's passion
was for horses. There'd been a coach going via the rodeo
to the airport, and the last day of the rodeo was a short
one, so they'd decided to spend their last morning in
Australia here.
CJ had loved it, so maybe it hadn't been a total waste of
time, but now the thought of leaving was overwhelmingly
appealing. Crocodile Creek was three hundred miles away.
She was never going to see Cal again. Their coach was due
to leave to take them back to Cairns Airport, and it was
over.
All she had to do was get her son from behind his
rock. "CJ, hurry." 'I can't do anything here," he told her
with exaggerated patience. "There's a baby."
"There's no baby."
CJ's imagination was wonderful, Gina thought ruefully, and
at any other time she encouraged it. Her son filled his
life with imaginary friends, imaginary animals, rockets,
battleships, babies. He saw them everywhere.
Not now. She couldn't indulge him now. "There's not a
baby,'she snapped again, and, dignity or not, she peered
around CJ's rock.
There was a baby.
For a moment she was too stunned to move. She stood and
stared at the place between two rocks — the place where
her son was gazing.
This was a birth scene. One fast glance told her that.
Someone had lain here and delivered a baby. The grass was
crushed and there was blood...