Hijacked Honeymoon

CHAPTER SEVEN

ABBEY’S honeymoon lasted a week, and by the following Monday she was aching for it to be over.

Not that it hadn’t been wonderful. Abbey and Janet and Jack had had the time of their lives. Ensconced in absolute luxury, with nothing to do but enjoy themselves, it would have been churlish of them to have done anything else.

Jack had revelled in having his mother and his grandma all to himself. The child had blossomed, steadied on his plump little legs, attacked the water as if he’d been born to it and had chortled and grinned the entire time.

And Janet? The creases on Janet’s forehead had faded, and even the look of perpetual pain from her arthritis had eased. She was far fitter now for surgery than she had been a week ago, Abbey thought thankfully.

And Abbey?

Abbey was rested-sort of. It was difficult to sleep, though, lying alone in a king-sized bed with the thought of Ryan Henry’s mocking smile staying with her. After the first night Abbey hauled Jack into bed with her, hoping the toddler’s faint snoring would ease her sense of loneliness. It didn’t. Her sense of isolation stayed.

She should be used to being a widow by now, she told herself fiercely over and over again. There wasn’t room in her life for a man.

There was. If that man was Ryan Henry.

But Ryan didn’t return. There were a couple of curt phone calls, enquiring as to their welfare, but that had been all.

When Abbey had rung Cairns hospital she’d been told that Sam was ‘recovering nicely from his by-pass, thank you for your enquiry’. When she’d rung Sapphire Cove hospital Eileen had told her Ryan and Steve were coping brilliantly between them and had added, ‘Get back to your honeymoon, Abbey Winner.’

Only it was hard to do that when her heart wasn’t really here. It was hard to block out the thought of someone else doing her job. Especially when that someone was Ryan.

And Janet watched her daughter-in-law with troubled eyes and knew why the circles under Abbey’s eyes hadn’t faded.

She’d seen that kiss…

‘You’ve got everything you need?’ Abbey asked, as she stowed Janet’s hospital bag in the luggage compartment of the car. ‘Though I guess I can always bring in things afterwards. I’ll be in and out so often you’ll be sick of the sight of me.’

‘I’ve got everything I need except news that the hospital’s burned down,’ Janet said grimly. ‘Why I ever let you and Ryan talk me into this darned fool procedure… ’

‘Janet, you’ll be able to walk again. Pain-free. I promise.’

‘Yeah, and next year you’ll be at me to have the other hip done.’

‘That’s right,’ Abbey agreed serenely. She and Janet had come back to the farm to pack. Now Abbey handed Jack over to Marcia and pointed to the passenger seat of the car. ‘Janet, get in. One of the world’s leading orthopaedic surgeons is waiting to perform his artistry on your leg. Let’s not keep him waiting.’

That sounds indecent,’ Janet muttered. ‘Now if it were you I’d say Ryan Henry could go ahead, no sweat.’

What on earth…? Abbey took a deep breath and fixed her mother-in-law with a defiant look. ‘Janet, what do you mean by that?’

‘I’ve got eyes in my head,’ Janet said sagely, ‘so don’t think you can pull the wool over ‘em, Abbey Wittner.’ She gave Abbey a sideways smile. ‘And you’ve been a widow for close on two years now. Don’t you even think about letting the memory of my son get in the way of what’s happening between you and that nice young man.’

Abbey licked suddenly dry lips. ‘Janet…’

Janet arched her eyebrows. ‘Yes?’

‘Janet, Ryan Henry is engaged to be married. We haven’t heard from him for nearly a week. He might even be married by now so you can stop thinking indecent thoughts about the pair of us.’

‘Well, if he’s married then I’ll stop thinking thoughts,’ Janet agreed. ‘But you’re barking up the wrong tree if you think my thoughts are indecent. I happen to be thinking thoughts that are very decent indeed.’

After that, it was hard to get any sort of thought process operating for a while. Abbey eventually pulled up in front of the hospital and there was only one thing in her mind.

She’d see Ryan again.

And he might be married.

Ryan was waiting for them. The car pulled up outside Casualty and Ryan strolled across the car park to greet them. The same Ryan. The same smile. The same twinkle in his eyes. The same impossible charm…

‘Janet…’ He greeted Abbey’s mother-in-law first, and gave her a swift hug. Making himself right at home, Abbey thought bitterly. Making my mother-in-law putty in his hands. ‘Glad you decided to trust us.’ Then he turned to Abbey. ‘You shouldn’t be driving.’

‘I have full mobility of my foot and it’s my left one anyway. My right one’s for the brake and that’s all that matters.’ She said it promptly-so promptly that Ryan laughed.

‘You’ve been rehearsing that line.’

‘I knew you’d give me a hard time.’

She did, too. Abbey looked up at Ryan and felt her heart twist. She knew him so well. It was as if the years had peeled away and there was still the same Ryan… Wealthy and respected world-wide, she could still see inside his heart.

‘How’s Sam?’ she said faintly, and blushed. Ryan was looking at her, and if he could read her like she could read him then she was in big trouble. ‘How’s your father?’

‘He’s great.’ Ryan lifted Janet’s bags from the car and took the old lady’s arm. ‘He said to thank you for the flowers and the chocolates.’ He looked at Janet, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. ‘Oh, and he said to give you a message, Janet. He says he’s had a change of heart so now it’s about time you did. Do you think he was talking about your operation-or something else?’

And, to Abbey’s astonishment, Janet blushed bright crimson.

‘Get away with you,’ Janet said fiercely, but she smiled. ‘Silly old fool he is. When’s he due home?’

‘With luck, I’ll have him back at the farm by next week.’

‘Well…’ Abbey stared at her mother-in-law but Janet wasn’t meeting her eyes. No questions, her body language said, and Abbey could only acquiesce. Abbey picked up her crutches and the three of them made their way across to the hospital entrance. ‘And Felicity?’ she asked, still eyeing her mother-in-law.

‘She’s great, too,’ Ryan said curtly.

‘Are you married yet?’ Janet demanded, and Ryan shook his head.

‘Nope. Don’t worry. You’ll get an invitation. Now, Janet, have you been nil by mouth since midnight?’

‘If you mean has Abbey let me eat anything then the answer is not a drop,’ Janet said bitterly. ‘Not even my breakfast cup of tea. Well, what have you done with this Felicity if you haven’t married her?’

Ryan grinned. ‘You make it sound like I’ve stuffed her in a cupboard. You’ll meet her soon enough,’ Ryan promised, ‘but, meanwhile, you and I have a date with a new hip.’ He smiled across at Abbey. ‘Abbey, Steve’s giving the anaesthetic. He’s done his first part anaesthetics and is good-but I wondered if you’d like to scrub and assist. Can you manage it, do you think?’

There was nothing Abbey would like better. To sit out in the waiting room-to play the anxious relative instead of doctor-would just about kill her. She gave Ryan her very best smile and nodded.

‘Watch you work? I’d love to.’

‘Just count the swabs, Abbey girl,’ Janet growled. ‘I’ve heard all about surgeons who leave things behind. What goes in has to come out, and I’m depending on you to see to it.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Ryan’s preparations left Abbey stunned.

For a start, Ryan had the theatre as Abbey had never seen it. Designed to cope only with emergency surgery, there was equipment here now that Abbey had had no idea could be begged, borrowed or bought on Sapphire Cove’s limited budget

‘It’s borrowed,’ Ryan said briefly when Abbey queried it. ‘Some from Cairns and some from Brisbane.’

‘He’s pulling in favours all over the place,’ Steve told Abbey as they left Ryan, sorting equipment, and went together to don theatre gowns. ‘Ryan Henry’s one slick operator.’

‘Now this I don’t understand,’ Abbey complained. ‘How come Ryan can ask favours in a country he has no contacts in?’

‘If you think he has no contacts, how do you think he got me?’ Steve demanded. He shoved a theatre cap over his receding hairline and gave her a sheepish smile. ‘Favours owed.’ Then, at Abbey’s look of surprise, he explained.

‘Ryan’s a world expert in the orthopaedic management of brittle bone disease. He’s the best, bar none. And he’s generous. Unlike most researchers, he shares his knowledge all over the world. I’ve been using him as a source for my doctorate in medicine.’

‘You’re doing a doctorate?’

‘Well, at the moment. I spent a bit of time trying to figure out what I wanted to do career-wise. I tried general practice, then anaesthetics and then orthopaedic surgery, but I’m heading more and more for a research-based career. My home base is Cairns but I spent last year in New York, working with Ryan. And Ryan… well, he’s been so darned good to me that I can’t refuse. That’s why I’m here. And there are plenty more like me. He only has to ask.’

He only has to ask…

Abbey tied her gown and scrubbed while she thought this through. It was true enough. More than true. Ryan only had to smile… and then he hardly had to ask at all.

What followed was the slickest piece of surgery that Abbey had ever had the privilege to witness.

Abbey abandoned her crutches-her leg was weightbearing again anyway-refused Ryan’s offer of a stool and stood by to assist in any way she could.

Ryan hardly needed her help. He hardly needed anyone.

This surgery normally took a theatre full of staff. Here there was Eileen, Ryan, Steve and herself, and no one could doubt that Janet was in the best of hands.

From the moment Janet was wheeled into Theatre Ryan concentrated totally on the job in hand, to the exclusion of everything else, and Abbey could only marvel at the speed at which he worked.

He made a swift incision-tiny compared to the incisions Abbey had seen for this procedure before. He dislocated the joint with an ease that left Steve and Abbey exchanging wondering glances. Just as easily, the acetabulum-the cup of the pelvis-was cut away and the prosthetic cup inserted in its place. Then the femur was sliced neatly and the damaged sphere of bone removed. The stern of the prosthesis was wedged skilfully into the shaft of the femur, and the new joint enlocated.

Easy. Fast and simple.

It was just that Ryan made it seem so. It looked easy enough that anyone could do it. Only Steve and Abbey, watching in wonder, knew that the ease Ryan was showing was a skill they could never match with a lifetime of practice.

The last time Abbey had seen this piece of surgery performed it had taken close on three hours. Steve would be able to reverse the anaesthetic in less than one.

Finally Abbey watched as Ryan inserted layers of neat stitching. All Abbey had had to do had been to watch that the tools Ryan needed had been on hand, hold the flaps apart so Ryan could work and supervise as Eileen kept the site free of blood. Now Janet had a new hip and, by the look of Steve’s monitors, she’d come through the operation with flying colours.

A new hip… For Janet, that meant almost a new life. She’d been in constant pain for years.

She never would have done it if Ryan hadn’t come.

Abbey send a thousand tiny prayers of gratitude upward for this small miracle. She glanced down at her still swollen knee, the bulky dressing barely discernible under her surgical trousers. If it only cost one bruised knee to have Ryan here… well, the bruising was worth it.

How much more would she pay to have him stay? She couldn’t begin to consider.

The procedure over, Steve followed his patient out to Recovery. Eileen gathered the stained linen and took herself off to the sluice room, and Abbey was left alone with Ryan.

‘Tired?’ Ryan asked sympathetically, and immediately Abbey decided she wasn’t.

‘No.’

‘Liar.’

‘Well, I shouldn’t be tired,’ she said. ‘Less than an hour for a procedure such as this… I don’t know how you did it. Besides, I’m rested and raring to go. There’s no excuse for me not to be. I’ve just pinched your holiday.’

‘You needed it. I shouldn’t have asked you to assist today. ’

‘I wanted to,’ Abbey said warmly. ‘Ryan…’ She looked up and met his dark, concerned eyes. ‘I just want to thank you,’ she said simply. ‘If you knew how much I wanted Janet to have this done… The other hip’s not nearly as bad but now, even when it finally gives… Well, so far she’s come through this brilliantly. As long as her rehabilitation goes well, I shouldn’t have any trouble convincing her to do the other hip.’

‘I’ll fly back and do it for you,’ Ryan offered lightly, and Abbey found herself feeling suddenly less bleak.

Maybe when Ryan left here he wouldn’t be gone for good. Maybe he would come back in a year or so…

Yeah. In your dreams, Abbey Wittner. Or, if he came back, he’d come back with a wife.

‘Where’s Felicity?’ she said with difficulty, and watched Ryan’s face close.

‘She’s out at my father’s farm, working. I asked her to come in for lunch but she hasn’t time.’

‘I see.’ But Abbey didn’t. If this was supposed to be a honeymoon, Felicity was surely a trifle offhand about her husband.

‘You’ve not organised the wedding yet?’ she asked, and for the life of her she couldn’t keep her voice steady.

‘No. We’ll do that as soon as Dad gets back from Cairns.’ It sounded like changing a pair of socks. ‘We’ll do that.’ Just as unimportant.

‘Oh.’

This was inane. Abbey crossed to the sink and peeled off her gloves. Then Ryan was behind her, untying the tapes of her theatre garb, and Abbey started feeling really strange.

Really strange.

‘You… you can let Steve go back to his research now,’ she managed, and it was a real effort to keep her voice light. ‘I… You can see my leg’s almost back to normal. The lass who’s helping to babysit can keep caring for Jack, and I can take over work again.’

‘Not yet you can’t.’

‘Ryan, I must.’

‘Monday,’ he said. ‘You can start again next Monday, but you’ll take the rest of the week off, Abbey, and that’s an order.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘Ryan…’

‘Don’t baulk me here, Abbey,’ Ryan said heavily, and his hands suddenly fell to her waist. And gripped hard. ‘I want to do this. In three weeks I’m having to walk away from here, and I want to do it with a clear conscience. Allow me to give you a decent break. Then maybe-’

He broke off. His hands fell away and he stepped back as Eileen re-entered the room. Eileen looked curiously from Ryan to Abbey. And she smiled.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ she said brightly. ‘Would you like me to leave clearing this mess until later? And pull the curtains closed?’

Abbey gasped and moved away from Ryan. She hauled her theatre gear from her shoulders and shoved it in the laundry basket with unnecessary force.

‘No. No!’ The feel of Ryan’s hands on her waist was still with her. ‘We were just discussing Dr Henry’s wedding,’ she managed. She took a deep breath. ‘If you’ll excuse me, R-Dr Henry, I’ll go out to Janet. I want to be with her when she wakes.’ She took another deep breath. ‘And… I accept your offer to work until next Monday, though, if you change your mind…’ She faltered, knowing that Eileen’s interest was growing by the minute. Probably because of the mounting colour of Abbey’s cheeks.

She made a swift, desperate decision.

‘If you’re free… maybe before Sam comes back… how about on Thursday? Maybe you and Felicity could come to dinner out at the farm. Jack and I would enjoy having you.’

There. She’d got it out. She had to start treating this man as part of a couple, she thought bleakly, and the best way to do it was to put a face to this mysterious Felicity. The sooner the better.

‘You mean it?’ Ryan asked, and Abbey nodded.

‘Thursday. Seven o’clock?’ She cast a rather frantic look at Eileen. ‘Can you come too?’

‘I’m on duty,’ Eileen said sadly, but there was a hint of a twinkle behind her eyes. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t miss it for quids. I’m just not sure where Felicity stands in all this. I’m just not sure where anyone does. But I’d really like to know.’

‘Why am I doing this?’

Abbey stared down at her tousle-headed toddler and demanded an answer. ‘Jack, why am I going to all this trouble? It’s like those people who go swimming in the Antarctic in midwinter. I’d have to be a little bit crazy.’

Jack was armed with a spoon and was in the process of cleaning the chocolate mousse bowl. There was chocolate mousse from one end of his small person to the other and he had far more important matters weighing on his mind than his mother’s social life. Like how he could get the last scraps of chocolate right at the bottom of the bowl…

He gave up and did it the easy way. Abandoning the spoon, he stuck his head right down the bottom of the bowl and licked.

And Abbey chuckled.

‘Yeah, well, the ostrich approach may have its advantages, but they’re coming even if I stick my head in a mixing bowl too.’ She sighed and looked around her. At least the food would be great. If there was one thing Abbey could do well it was cook. If only the house didn’t look so… so… well, so darned poor.

It normally didn’t matter. It was just that tonight… tonight what she really didn’t want to happen was for Felicity and Ryan to feel sorry for her.

‘Which they shouldn’t,’ she said. She picked up Jack, bowl and all, and gave his chocolate-clad person a fierce hug. It was a bit tricky as he still had the bowl over his head, but Jack enjoyed the sensation and gave a chuckle from the bottom of the bowl. ‘I have you, Jack Wittner. And I have Janet. Your grandma is improving every day, little Jack, and we’ll have her playing hopscotch in no time.’

Felicity and Ryan arrived right on seven and by the time they arrived Abbey had the place looking as good as it ever could. She’d placed a white cloth (not too worn) over the scrubbed kitchen table and a bunch of crimson bougainvillea sprayed from a glass jar in the centre. With luck the flowers were so lovely that her visitors would miss the absence of a cut crystal vase. The meal was all ready. The smell from the chicken concasse was wonderful and Abbey was almost satisfied.

She gave herself one last critical look in the mirror before she went to answer the door. Maybe her soft white frock was a little worn but it was still pretty, with a low scooped neckline, no sleeves and a skirt that flared out into soft folds almost to her ankles. Abbey’s close-cropped curls were brushed until they shone and she’d even scrounged a little make-up from a store she hadn’t used since John died.

‘Your mummy looks pretty,’ she told Jack in a voice that sounded defiant. Jack was dressed in his newest pyjamas and was clearly not impressed. He had a new game. The chocolate bowl was now clean, but Jack had it permanently over his head. He staggered about like a flannelette and plastic robot, bumping into everything in sight and chuckling with glee. Now he hauled his bowl off his head, checked out the new version of his mother-and stuck his bowl back.

Abbey stuck her tongue out at her now blind son.

‘As a first comment, I’d have to say your appraisal stinks,’ she told her son, but she smiled and went to answer the door, feeling good.

That lasted a whole ten seconds. Abbey swung open the door and her feeling of satisfaction in her person, her little house and the evening in general faded to nothing.

Felicity was just gorgeous.

Of course she was. She was Ryan’s intended wife, after all, and Abbey might have known Ryan could never marry anyone second rate.

Felicity was tall-almost as tall as Ryan-and willowslim, with legs that seemed to go on for ever. Her dress must have cost a bomb and it was straight out of the New York collections. Elegant and understated, it was high at the neck and minimal everywhere else, sleekly black and hugging Felicity’s body as if it had been sewn on her. Felicity’s long blonde hair hung down freely, beautifully cut and silken smooth. Luminous blue eyes gazed at Abbey with lazy interest, and her perfectly painted mouth curved into a smile of greeting.

It was all Abbey could do not to slam the door shut again.

But Ryan was beside Felicity, looking so handsome he almost took Abbey’s breath away. His dark suit looked as expensive as Felicity’s gown, but the smile behind his eyes was infinitely warmer than Felicity’s. He smiled straight down at her and Abbey felt her heart turn to butter.

‘Boo,’ said Jack. He appeared from behind his mother’s skirts, lifted his bowl-and then saw the newcomers. Stunned by the power of his boo, he scuttled off toward the kitchen, his bowl back in place. He made it as far as the first wall, thumped against it hard, toppled over and started to wail.

After that, the evening went straight downhill.

The meal itself was fine.

Abbey’s cooking couldn’t be faulted. With Jack tucked safely in bed-still clutching his bowl ready for robotics in the morning-Abbey served and tried to take part in a conversation in which she felt increasingly uneasy. Felicity ate as if she hardly noticed what she was eating, making no comment on the trouble Abbey had gone to. She chatted brightly, with an air Abbey knew from long ago. Ryan’s mother had it down to an art form.

It was the air of a social superior putting the lower orders at their ease.

‘This house is charming, Abbey,’ Felicity said pleasantly. ‘It’s just so quaint. Almost an artwork in itself. If I could lift it up and take it back to New York it’d sell for a fortune.’

‘With or without the rising damp?’ Abbey managed a smile and then tried to at least make the conversation medical. When in doubt, work. ‘Ryan tells me you’re an oncologist. While you’re here I wonder if I could have a talk to you about one or two cancer patients and their treatment. I’d very much appreciate it.’

She would, too. It was hard sometimes to be an isolated family doctor, suspecting that the treatment she was giving was less than optimal but not sure. With simply no time to attend conferences and keep up to date, Abbey called for specialist advice often, but sometimes her patients refused to go to Cairns to see someone better qualified. If she had someone on the spot… a well-trained oncologist… she’d love to know what the latest treatments were.

But Felicity was holding her hands up in horror.

‘I’m in research,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t see actual patients any more. Ryan and I are heading for what we think of as ideal medical practices. Ones where we don’t handle grubby patients at all.’

‘Oh. Of course.’ Abbey cleared the dinner plates and counted to ten. Then she tried again. ‘Actually, I’d only like to talk to you about treatments. I am a bit out of touch here, and it’d be lovely if you could give me an hour or so of your time-just to answer a few questions that have been troubling me.’

‘That’s what journals are for,’ Felicity said lightly. ‘I think you’ve taken up enough of my honeymoon, don’t you, dear?’

It was the ‘dear’ that got her.

Abbey turned to find Ryan glowering, and she couldn’t figure out whether he was glowering at her for asking the question or glowering at Felicity for rebuffing her so well.

It didn’t matter. Ryan Henry was engaged to the cow and he was responsible. Abbey glowered right back at him. She glowered at the pair of them. She glowered at the kitchen in general.

‘There’s chocolate mousse,’ she said tightly, and dumped it on the table with a slap that would, if she’d been waitressing at the Ritz, have got her the sack before she could have blinked. Which was just what she wanted. She wanted to be dismissed. She felt young and country-bumpkin frumpish and she even wanted Ryan to go home. Just get them both out of here.

She ate one spoonful of chocolate mousse-funny that Jack liked it because as far as Abbey could tell it tasted like mud-and then the phone rang.

Thank heaven for phones. Only this time the thought was inappropriate.

Abbey lifted the receiver and it was Marg Miller.

‘Abbey… Abbey…’

Chocolate mousse, Felicity-even Ryan-forgotten, Marg Miller suddenly had Abbey’s full attention. There was no mistaking the terror flooding down the line.

‘Marg, what is it? No! Marg, you need to stop crying. Take your time. Three deep breaths and then say what’s wrong.’

Abbey waited while the ragged breathing steadied. When Marg spoke again, at least Abbey could understand her.

‘Abbey, it’s Ian. He came home last night. From Sydney. Abbey, he looks just awful…’

‘He’s ill?’

‘Yes, but… Not ill… I mean… Abbey, he’s gone…’

‘Is he dead?’

The shock tactic worked. Marg gave a terrified gasp and then steadied. When she spoke again her voice was almost calm.

‘Abbey, I just don’t know.’

‘Is he there with you?’ Abbey had visions of a heart attack now. Ian dead on Marg’s kitchen floor. She cast an urgent glance at Ryan, who was rising to his feet. She had Ryan’s total attention, as Marg Miller had hers.

‘No. He’s not. Abbey, that’s just it. I don’t know…’

‘Marg, what is it that you’re afraid of?’ Abbey demanded harshly, making her voice as authoritative as she could. ‘Quickly. Just say. I can’t help unless you do.’

Silence.

And then Marg’s voice, breaking with sobs again.

‘Abbey, he came home just miserable. He’d hardly speak to me. Just went to bed and stayed there. Today he went out for a walk. He walked for ages and when he came home he seemed… well, odd. But he wouldn’t say what was wrong. Then tonight… I had to go out to a CWA dinner and Ian said just go. He said I mustn’t stay home because of him.

‘So I went but when I got there I started thinking-you know when you think there’s something really, awfully wrong but you don’t know what? And I came home. But he’s not here. Abbey, there’s a note on my bed, saying goodbye. And he’s sorry. And… and his car’s gone and… Abbey, I know this is stupid but so is the hose I keep by the kitchen door. Abbey, he wouldn’t… You don’t think…? He wouldn’t-’

‘What’s he driving?’ Abbey snapped.

‘A red Corolla.’

‘Licence number?’

‘Abbey, I don’t know.’ Marg’s voice broke into a wail and Abbey clipped it off fast.

‘OK, Marg. Ring your sister. Tell her to come over and be with you.’ Marg’s sister lived on the adjoining property, Abbey thought thankfully, and Annette was a sensible woman who could be relied on in an emergency. ‘I’ll contact the police to get things mobilised, and I’ll be right there.’

‘You don’t think… Abbey, if I’m being stupid…’

‘Marg, do you believe Ian intends suicide?’

There was a sharp, horrible pause.

‘Yes, I do,’ Marg said bleakly. ‘I don’t know why but, God help us, Abbey, yes, I do: Please, Abbey, hurry.’

‘I’m coming.’