City Surgeon, Small Town Miracle

CHAPTER SIX

AS FUNERALS went it was a biggie. Betty had lived and worked in Yandilagong all her life, so even though it rained-sleet, in fact-half the population of the district turned out for the service.

But as Betty’s only close family member, Maggie was left alone, regarded with deference and respect. When William had died, her friends and colleagues had surrounded her. No one in this community knew her well enough yet to think they had that right. So the undertaker’s assistant held an umbrella over her while she tossed roses down onto the coffin in the little graveyard overlooking the sea, and she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.

Angus hadn’t come. Of course not. He’d said his goodbyes the night his mother had died and that was that.

He was okay, though, Maggie thought, for now he had two little girls intruding on his solitude. John, the locum Max had miraculously found, had been at the farm for three days now. It had taken John’s children-Sophie, six, and Paula five-about three minutes to find the calves and Bonnie. Angus was attached to them, so they attached themselves to Angus. Angus watched them with the same kind of wariness he used for anything he didn’t understand, but after only a day he decided they were just like the calves, not posing any threat to his personal space.

Neither did their parents. John and Margaret seemed wary about sharing a house with Maggie, cautious of her privacy and carefully respectful. They were lovely people but they let her alone.

But right now she didn’t want respectful isolation. She wanted to be hugged.

It wasn’t going to happen.

The ceremony was over. She turned away from the grave and the undertaker’s assistant left to bring the car close. People moved respectfully back from her. She looked bleakly out toward the road-and Max was coming towards her.

He was dressed for a funeral, in a dark suit and tie, a magnificent, deep grey overcoat-cashmere?-and a vast, black umbrella. He looked absurdly handsome. He was moving toward her as others moved back.

She was still on crutches. He waited until she reached him and then he smiled, that crinkly, tender smile that made her heart do back flips.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked, suddenly breathless.

‘I thought you might like me to be.’ He glanced around at the crowd, backed to a respectful distance. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late. I had an emergency at dawn that took a lot longer to sort than I expected, and I couldn’t leave halfway through. But now I’m here, can I help? Do you want a ride to the wake, or do you need to ride in the hearse?’

‘I don’t…I don’t…’

‘I’ve put my hood up,’ he said enticingly, and he sounded so eager she almost smiled.

She did smile. It was so good to see him.

And then he had his arm around her waist, tugging her against him so she was under the shelter of his umbrella with him. She was wearing a raincoat with a hood. It hadn’t been working. Now she was held hard against him, protected from every quarter.

It was so good to feel him.

‘I came via the farm,’ he told her as he ushered her into his lovely car. ‘John and Margaret told me where to find you.’

He’d had the paintwork fixed, she noticed. She was glad. She really liked this car. Or maybe it was the way she felt about its owner.

Maybe…maybe she should listen to what he was saying.

‘John thinks this place is great,’ he said, sliding in behind the wheel. Taking charge with smooth authority. ‘He can’t believe the medical set-up. I gather Margaret’s already talking about setting up a dental practice. You guys have done a lot of organising in three days.’

He was deliberately making his voice practical. He must know instinctively that emotion was the last thing she needed now.

Of course he knew. He’d been to funerals himself.

‘There’s work for half a dozen doctors in this district if I could ever get them to come,’ she said, struggling to come to terms with too many emotions and match his composure. That was what she needed-composure. No matter that the man beside her made her feel so breathless she was practically gasping.

‘No one wants to be the only doctor in a small town, because there’s no back-up,’ she managed. ‘To find John was a miracle. You want to wave your magic wand and produce more?’

‘I’m no magician.’

‘No.’ She paused. Maybe no was the wrong word. He felt like a magician. Her personal genie, appearing when she most needed him.

‘No family at all?’ he asked gently, looking back at the clusters of people dispersing into their cars, and his look acknowledged that she wasn’t a part of any cluster.

‘No.’

‘Surely there’s someone…even back in England…Someone who cares.’

Hey, this was getting personal. What about composure?

‘I have lots of friends,’ she said, drumming up indignation, and he smiled.

‘I’m sure you do. But do you have any friends who might drop everything and race to the aid of a Maggie who needs them?’

‘I don’t need them,’ she said with dignity. ‘I…Thank you for coming, though.’

‘My pleasure.’ He hesitated. ‘If I’m welcome I thought I’d stay for the wake-or whatever you call it here. We’ve both done this,’ he added strongly, as she made to shake her head. ‘I’ve buried Alice and Daniel. You’ve buried William. This can’t be nearly as bad, but from what I remember it’s an endless process of standing, tepid tea in hand, thanking, thanking, thanking.’

She couldn’t think what to say. She glanced across and saw in his eyes the recognition of shared pain.

A funeral of an old lady should be a celebration of a life well lived-and this was-but it inevitably brought back memories of funerals that hadn’t been timely. Funerals where pain had been raw and deep.

‘You’ve got the whole day off?’ she asked.

‘I’ve rearranged things. I need to be back in Sydney tonight but I thought I could give you this day.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ she retorted before she could help herself, and his smile returned, deepening, making his grey eyes dance.

‘Noble’s my middle name and I’m addicted to tepid tea. You want to make use of me or you want me to go away?’

What was he asking? Was he mad?

Did she want to stand in the funeral parlour’s reception rooms, as he’d said, alone, drinking endless tea, receiving words of consolation from hundreds of people she didn’t know? Or did she want Max’s solid presence beside her? Just there if she needed him. There if she just wanted him.

This was an extraordinary gesture. If he’d phoned last night and said ‘Should I come?’ she’d have said no, but he was here now. He was here and it’d take a stronger woman than she’d ever be to knock back his offer.

‘Yes, please,’ she said, in a rush before either of them could change their minds.

He was offering his strength for a day and she’d take it.

Secretly, she knew she’d take anything this man was prepared to give.

It seemed, as he’d predicted, an endless day, and at the end of it, when everyone had gone, when the last neighbour had wrung the last bit of nostalgia from the occasion, Max drove her back to the farm.

It was still raining. They drove along the long line of tractors and Maggie felt herself trying to work out a way she could make him stay longer.

That wasn’t fair. She knew it. But…

‘Would you like to come in and have dinner?’ she asked as they pulled to a halt. ‘Margaret’s cooking for me as well tonight. I…I’m sure there’ll be enough to share.’

‘She already asked me,’ he said gently. ‘I refused.’

‘Oh.’

His face grew suddenly grim. ‘Maggie, I don’t think I can ever go down the road I went with Alice. I can’t get involved again.’

Well, that was blunt to say the least. ‘Involved?’ she said cautiously.

‘I think we both know what I mean.’

Whoa. Suddenly things were going where they had no right to be going. At least he was being direct, but…

‘You’re thinking I’m on the catch for another husband,’ she whispered, and suddenly anger was there, surging whether she willed it or not. She did will it.

He thought she was a victim, she thought suddenly, incensed by the knowledge. A passive, needy woman who might cling. A woman who’d kissed him the last time they’d met, whether he’d willed it or not, and he probably hadn’t willed it; he was probably just being kind. To a sex-starved widow, seven months pregnant with another man’s child.

‘I don’t think that,’ he started.

‘Just as well,’ she retorted. ‘So what about Fiona?’

‘Fiona?’

‘Your girlfriend.’

‘Fiona is my colleague. I don’t have a girlfriend. There’s been no one since Alice.’

‘How very noble,’ she snapped. ‘I hope Alice is up there polishing your halo, ready for you to join her.’

‘Look, it’s just that I can’t do relationships any more,’ he said, forcing out the words. Trying to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself. The impotence and the grief of not being able to help his lovely Alice, and the knowledge that such pain again would kill him. ‘It’s not fair to mess you around.’

But Maggie wasn’t looking at him with sympathy, or with understanding.

Whew. Anger was good here. Anger was great. It pushed away any embarrassment, gave her the words that needed to be said and the dignity to say them.

‘How can you be messing me around?’ she said, stiffly and coldly. ‘I kissed you-yes, I did kiss you, and very nice it was, too. Given half a chance I’d do it again. Only that’s all it was-a kiss-nothing to do with my life. And if you think I’m about to turn into some helpless, clinging female…’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t need to.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘Thank you very much for today. It was very kind. You’ve been very kind to me all round, and if there’s any way I can repay you, please let me know. But I don’t need anything else. I’m sorry you can’t stay for dinner, because you know what? John and Margaret are fun and the kids are gorgeous and it would have made a grey day better. You might even have enjoyed it. But for anything else, forget it. Okay, enough. Thank you again.’ And she grabbed her crutches from the back and climbed out of the car.

The rain was pelting down. He grabbed the umbrella and headed for her side of the car but she turned away from him.

‘No,’ she threw over her shoulder. ‘Go away. You don’t want to get involved and neither do I. And you never know when a desperate widow might change her mind, grab you by the hair and drag you into her lair before you can fight back. Get out of here, Max Ashton, and keep safe.’

‘I didn’t mean-’

‘Yes, you did,’ she retorted, and limped away fast through the tangle of garden. ‘Yes, you did,’ she yelled again. ‘Go find some other maiden to rescue. This one’s been rescued enough, so you need to move right on.’